#entire journey so of course he would witness all her ups & downs. i dunno if he would indulge in poetry however but with all the

[chidoroki]

"Unstoppable" by Donna Ashworth

[tardis-sapphics]

24! ☀️

thank u!

24: ‘my child’

this one is perhaps a bit long but i do love this a lot. hope you enjoy! also, would recommend this absolutely gorgeous song to accompany your reading!

The end of war is a feeling as much as it is a moment, Yaz is discovering. It is a shared feeling, something so innate to a people, it is impossible to feel on your own. When the final order is given, the last papers are signed, and the last casualty breathes their final breath, there is all at once, and slowly, a burgeoning emotion.

It grows and grows. A new dawn: first comes the birds, the heralders of the new way; then the light creeps in. It will illuminate everything, even the things best thought of in shadow. But it is inevitable, and it is graceful.

When it illuminates the worst, it does not so do out of glee. It does so as an imploring—an attempt to make new a bitterly fought moment.

They all feel it, thrumming through their veins. This call of grace, this call to begin again.

In the battlefield, the four of them had held hands. They had witnessed the passing of war, and watched a new world begin.

Their tent, adjacent to the Commander General for their now-defunct role as brokers of peace, is gradually being illuminated in the same dawn light as every tent on this battlefield. And like the others, the material is not thick enough to blot it out. It creeps, but it is sure.

Yaz watches the slow brightening, the way one follows the curious journey of a single insect, focusing on every detail she can observe. For two days, her head has been full of nothing but war: the clashes, the screams, the consequences. There is something liberating about this—the chance for small things to be given equal eight once more.

The orange of the tent is lightening, from a dull and shade to something rich, vibrant. She feels her own vibrancy in it.

To her left, Ryan and Graham snoring away in their sleeping bags. The Doctor, she can hear, is in the front section, possibly fiddling with something or other. In moments of quiet, she usually is.

And Yaz is content to let the morning stay that way, to find richness in the slow, but the morning has other plans.

Outside, on the battlefield, she hears a child crying.

They must be crying loudly for the sound to reach them inside the tent. Many tents, in fact, with the way they have been clustered together. But these are soldiers, generals—not families. This kid must be lost. Her heart pangs for them.

Five minutes later, and the child’s cries have turned into weepy calls for their father. They sound young, so young, and no one is going to help.

What is this world, this new, hopefully world, if no one will help a child?

Yaz crawls through to the front section to find her shoes—and sees the Doctor doing the same. Quick fingers tie up her boots laces, and Yaz gets to work on her own.

When she looks up, finished, the Doctor is smiling at her. Two days’ worth of mud and hard work are showing on her clothes, her coat torn at the edges. But she looks as bright as ever. ‘The others?’ she wonders, her voice still a whisper.

‘Asleep,’ Yaz confirms. She nods at the Doctor’s boots. ‘You gonna look for the kid too?’

‘Of course.’ Something flashes in her eyes: sadness, but not just. ‘This is no place for a child.’

The kid is difficult to spot amongst the sea of orange; the sides of the tents dance in the whipping wind, as do their flags, and each movement is distracting. So, too, are the sentries who patrol the thin pathways between the rows of tents; most of them are in an early-morning daze, rendered almost useless by the cessation of war. There would be a perfect haze of suspension, a potent need to wait—if it were not for the child.

‘Papo!’ the child calls. Yaz grabs the Doctor’s arm. They are much closer now.

In the midst of war’s debris, they find her. Clad in what Yaz has to assume are pyjamas, she trails a blanket in the churned up mud, turning white cotton to mucky brown. Her light blue eyes are bright with tears like little crystals, her face puffy from crying, she staggers between the tents, searching.

Sniffing, unharmed, and innocent. At the sight of her, Yaz’s heart aches.

They walk towards her slowly, aware of her eyes on them. The entire time, doleful but curious. Yaz smiles as she bends down in front of her, waving a quick hello. The Doctor grins at her, but she is busy scanning the immediate area for any disturbances.

‘Heya,’ Yaz starts. ‘I’m Yaz. And this is my—’ she clears her throat ‘—this is the Doctor. It’s lovely to meet you! What’s your name?’

The girl pouts at her, assessing her. Eventually, she answers. ‘Vay.’

‘I love your name; it’s beautiful,’ Yaz smiles, and Vay brightens, just a little. ‘You look a little lost. Are you trying to find your Papo?’

It upsets Vay, who sniffles again. ‘Moma said I could see him today but I dunno where he is.’

Yaz nods. ‘Would you like us to help you, Vay? We know some important people who can find your Papo for you. Only, it’s very early in the morning and no one else is awake yet. D’you want to come with us?’

Vay takes a moment to consider this, but eventually she does accept, reaching for Yaz’s hand. Yaz breathes a sigh of relief.

Vay warms to the two of them quickly. She likes the way the Doctor talks, quick and fast and silly. She appreciates Yaz picking her up and keeping her close. Yaz is warm and kind and always asks if Vay is okay with what they’re doing.

They try their hardest to make Vay feel safe, on this battlefield with countless lives lost around them.

Back at the tent, Yaz introduces their new companion to Graham and Ryan, who are barely awake. Ryan is still groggy and moody, but Graham pushes away his exhaustion to play granddad.

The Doctor pulls Yaz to one side. ‘I’ve scanned her,’ she informs her quietly. ‘She’s not using a cloaking device, or a perception filter, and she’s not a different species.’

‘So she’s a child,’ Yaz says, a brow arched.

‘She’s a child. But you never know, Yaz! Some aliens are wily like that,’ the Doctor protests. ‘Anyway, her father will definitely be in one of these tents. That’s why she’s here, or at least why she’s been close, because according to the Renshaw Law these lot passed two centuries ago, children aren’t allowed anywhere near a battlefield.’

‘Which means she’s walked a long way,’ Yaz surmises.

The Doctor nods. ‘From the timeframe we’re working on, her mum was given clearance as soon as the war ended, last night. That means they’re family to a high-ranking official; they’re always the first to see loved ones.’

She looks as if she is about to say something else. There is a curious light in her eyes.

Yaz dismisses what she was about to say, and asks, ‘What?’ instead.

The Doctor simply smiles. ‘Just—you’re amazing, Yasmin Khan. You’re bringing a family back together. I’m very proud.’

Yaz flushes.

Even though the five of them can hear the squadrons around them waking up, the four adults know that no one will be ready yet. This is peacetime, and everything here is loose. The light may be here but the morning isn’t ready yet, so they stay, and wait for the first calls of action.

It helps, too, that Vay is a little charmer. Now fully awake, Ryan has been won over in an instant—but she is staying by Yaz’s side, so he volunteers to wash Vay’s blanket and win over her affection that way. Whilst Vay waits for her blanket to return, she allows herself to be entertained by Yaz’s tickles and silly faces. The Doctor supplies her with a few custard creams from her coat pocket—‘For breakfast!’ she grins—and Vay takes an immediate liking to them.

In a free moment, when Vay has launched herself, yet again, at Graham, Yaz notices the Doctor watching her. She doesn’t feel embarrassed, just settled. She smiles back.

Ryan returns half an hour later with a sopping wet blanket, but it is clean and Vay is delighted. Light is everywhere now, indistinguishable from the world, and the morning is warming up. So, it seems, is everyone else: pots are cooking hearty breakfasts, strips of meat and boiled grains. As they leave the tent, the smell of food hits Yaz square in the stomach, and it growls impatiently.

In her arms, Vay wriggles around to poke Yaz’s belly. Crystal-blue eyes narrow and she grins a growl in response.

Yaz laughs. ‘Perfect!’

The Commander General’s tent is far larger than theirs, and already busy with personnel. Any snippets of conversation that reach Yaz’s ears tell her they are co-ordinating the extracting programme. They are going home.

The five of them are not noticed by anyone, until the Commander General himself bustles through his throng of people. He is busy asking an adviser questions when he alights on Vay—and freezes.

Vay immediately perks up. ‘Papo!’ she crows delightedly. Yaz lets her to the ground, and she runs, wet blanket in hand.

She is in his arms in an instant. He scoops her up and swings her about, beaming. This commander, always hard and unfeeling the previous week, is sobbing as he reunites with his daughter.

There are tears in his eyes. Yaz’s heart squeezes at the sight. This man could have died today—but the war is over, and here he is.

She feels a hand take hers, and looks to her side to see the Doctor beaming at her.

‘Where did you find her?’ he demands. ‘My little miracle.’ Vay giggles, recognising the phrase.

‘We found her wandering the field,’ the Doctor starts. ‘Early dawn, by herself. Very brave.’

‘She was calling for her Papo,’ Yaz adds. ‘We kept her safe until we could find her dad.’

‘S’pose that turned out to be you,’ Graham says.

‘Yes. Yes, that’s me. Thank you,’ the Commander General breathes. ‘I cannot thank you enough. My child, my child.’ He kisses the top of her head. ‘My child.’

Leaving Vay is harder than Yaz expected it to be. But Vay is curious and silly and she is safe, at last, on this battlefield, with her Papo.

Vay doesn’t want them to leave, either. But when she understands they must, she gives Yaz her blanket.

Yaz leaves with tears in her eyes. Happy.

They don’t wait around. As the day beckons, so does the TARDIS; so does the rest of their lives. They are glad, at least, to be leaving on a successful note.

It could have been much, much worse.

Before closing the doors to the TARDIS, she takes one last look at the field. So much violence, and bloodshed, and loss—but hope now, too. A new world is waking up, a good world, where a child will find their father. And she is grateful for it.

Round the TARDIS console, Ryan teases his granddad about Vay defeating him in a tickle fight. The Doctor is typing up a destination onto the screen: Sheffield, Earth, 2020.

Silently, Yaz walks up to her. In one hand, she has bundled Vay’s blanket, cold in her palm. With the other, she reaches out for the Doctor.

The Doctor looks up and smiles. And links their fingers together.

send me numbers!

[kikcalum-blog]

no more bad days (part one)

prompt: after losing their home, shawn and his girlfriend must learn to navigate their newfound hardships of life together. [reader insert!]

words: 3.2k

category: fluff, some angst

a/n: i did not copy this from another user because i am that other user. thank ya:)

Shawn stuffed his face further down into his scarf as the two fought against the harsh snow falling down upon them. He held Y/N close to his side and gripped his suitcase a little tighter, grunting when he felt her begin to slow down.

“C'mon, baby.” Shawn nudged her gently, motioning just up the road. “We’re almost there, see?”

The city’s streets were unbearably silent save for the whizzing of freezing air that seeped into their skin and chilled their bones. He could tell she was extremely tired and cold just as he was, but he refused to let her give up now when they were so close.

He could hear her sigh of relief when he finally reached out to open a door, warm air hitting them instantly. Shawn quickly dragged her into the building and turned around to face her, examining her better now that they weren’t being berated by the snowfall. Her arms seemed stuck to her body and nearly her entire face was covered to keep out the cold, only her snow-frosted eyelashes peeking out.

Shawn moved his hands to begin unraveling her many layers until he finally saw her face, her pout and her flushed cheeks shattering his heart. She said nothing as she did the same for him, taking special care to run her delicate fingers over his cool cheek that was finally beginning to regain its color. Once they were finally done and settled in, they took a look around.

The place wasn’t the fanciest, of course; nobody ever expected a homeless shelter to be. The wallpaper around them had begun to split from the base and rot, giving the room a brown tint. The floors were of a hard wood that creaked with every other step one took, and the light overhead flickered with the promise of a short; however, anything was better than their former spot in an alley.

Y/N clung to him tightly as he walked up to the front desk, clearing his throat to catch the attention of the redhead sitting there.

“Excuse me?” Shawn prodded, biting down on his bottom lip. “Do you all have room for two more?”

The woman slanted her lips as if she were considering whether or not to tell them the truth- whether or not to let them stay the night. Her eyes flitted between the couple seemingly in judgement but it was the pleading look in Y/N’s eyes that finally broke her down.

“We have one cot left.” The woman let up, nodding her head slowly. “Write your names here and go through those doors, it shouldn’t be hard to find.”

Y/N pursed her lips to fight back any protest or outburst she was conjuring in her mind, instead deciding to merely pick up the pen, write their names, and grab Shawn’s hand to drag him into the next room.

The room wasn’t anything North of what they were expecting. The dimly lit room was packed with people just like them, scattered around on the many cots provided. In this sea of people were whole families, single men and women, and couples alike. Coughs and sneezes were commonplace and the smell was unlike anything they’d ever witnessed, but as they made their way to the one empty cot, all they felt was numbness and none of the aforementioned things mattered.

“Put your stuff down, let’s go get something to eat.” Shawn whispered, making sure to keep his hands on her at all times. He knew how anxious she could get in crowded situations like this but he would help her in any way he could, just as she always did for him. Y/N did as he said and set her things down on and next to the cot, following closely behind him as he led them to the kitchen portion of the shelter.

The tomato soup was certainly nothing special, and the same could be said for the extremely hard, half piece of grilled cheese that went along with it. Y/N sat across from Shawn in the relatively empty kitchen, presuming that everyone had gotten their food earlier. He noticed she hadn’t spoken a single word since they started their journey to the shelter, always having her head down low and lips pressed tightly together.

She was trying her best to be strong for him and she knew that if she spoke, the quiver in her voice would give her true pain away. She certainly didn’t need to hide this from him as he felt her pain all the same, but Y/N was stubborn, so Shawn let it go for the time being, instead focusing on ways to make her smile.

Shawn pretended to bite down onto his piece of grilled cheese as if it were a brick, immediately retaliating and wincing jokingly. This brought that smile of hers that he loved dearly back to her face, her cheeks heating up. Even at times like this, he was still the same dork she’d always known.

He continued on with these gimmicks and jokes until he was down to his last spoonful of tomato soup, downing it quickly. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and it was then that he let out a roaring burp, his own eyes growing wide at the intensity of it. This was what it took for a genuine laugh to rip from Y/N’s throat, her eyebrows raised in disbelief.

“Oh my god, that was disgusting!” She continued to laugh, wiping away a tear at the corner of her eye. Shawn smiled brightly, relishing in the serenity of her beautiful laugh. It was a laugh that could mend spirits and souls and the warm sound did that for him every time he felt down, but it wasn’t often that he heard it nowadays, so he cherished this moment dearly.

He was surprised when she retaliated with a burp of her own, the loud sound ripping through her chest and into the small room’s air. His jaw dropped in disbelief that the huge noise just came from the small girl and she couldn’t control her giggles, covering her mouth with her hands.

“And you had the nerve to talk about my burp!” Shawn laughed, running a hand through his hair and shaking his head. When her laughs finally died down (To his dismay) she reached her hands out to grab his, staring into his eyes in deep thought. This sudden change in attitude worried him and he squeezed her fingers, cocking his head.

“What are you thinking about?” He inquired.

Y/N chewed on her lip and he could tell that she was tripping over herself, wondering how to word her next sentence. She eventually took a deep breath and shrugged, soothingly rubbing her thumbs over Shawn’s knuckles.

“I dunno, I just..” She trailed off, gaze flickering down to the table. “I think it’s time to call your parents.”

She felt Shawn begin to pull away with a groan which was the opposite of what she wanted, gently pulling him back as she insisted, “Shawn, maybe you’re being too modest. I know we were doing okay for a while but you know we can’t keep on like this. Something’s gotta give.”

Shawn bit the inside of his cheek and looked at her; really looked at her. The bags under her eyes were dark and deep, her skin dry and lips chapped. She’d definitely seen better days; Hell, they both had. He frowned at this and guilt overtook him. He was always saying that he’d do anything for her, so if that meant putting his dignity aside to get her out of the cold, he’d do it.

“Okay.” He agreed, gravitating back towards her again. She smiled as he continued, “I’ll call them first thing in the morning, I promise. Now hurry up and eat your brick sandwich so we can sleep.”

-

Shawn situated himself as close as he could to Y/N on their tiny shared cot, draping both of their heavy jackets over top. She pushed her back further into his chest and he snaked an arm over her side, nuzzling his face into her neck with a sigh.

Mostly everyone else in the shelter had turned in for the night save for a few people holding conversations here and there.

Time passed with the two merely breathing with one another, the feeling calming both of them. He wasn’t sure if she was sleep or not as he hadn’t heard her speak in a while and he didn’t want to ask in fear of waking her up, so he only resorted to running his fingers over her arm, shutting his eyes tiredly.

“I dunno if you’re asleep or not, but I just have something to say.” Shawn whispered as low as he could, taking a deep breath. “I love you more than words can describe. I know you want to give up sometimes but we can get through this as long as we stick together. I’ve got us, okay?”

Shawn wasn’t sure what answer he was expecting but when he heard her soft snore confirming that she was sleep, a warm smile blossomed on his lips, heart at ease knowing that she was resting; that she was okay.

He breathed out a short laugh and relaxed his muscles, knowing that everything would work out in the end.

“I’ve got us.”

-

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Y/N asked, unloading her suitcase from the taxi.

Shawn was unsure as he stared up at his childhood home. For most, returning home after years would instill happiness and good memories, but not for him. The falling-out he’d had with Karen and Manny left their relationship nearly nonexistent and coming back was the last thing he wanted to do, but he knew he had no choice.

He’d met Y/N when he was only 16; high school sweethearts, and made the decision to move out with her when he was only 18. His parents were never particularly fond of her to begin with and that was what stirred the pot and started the entire feud. Karen and Manny warned him of how stupid of an idea it was, saying that she wasn’t right for him and she wasn’t responsible enough. Shawn was set in his beliefs that he was making the right choice, though, spawning a series of bitter fights. It hurt that his family wasn’t accepting of the love of his life, but he had to make a decision.

And two years later, after cutting off his family, here he was, right back on their doorstep.

Shawn held onto Y/N’s hand tightly when the door swung open, revealing Karen standing with her arms over her chest. Her expression was hard to make out, a mix of happiness and anger all at once. Y/N shifted uncomfortably on her feet when she reminded herself that she was the reason for Karen’s latter emotion.

His mother stepped to the side and allowed the two inside, granting Shawn a “Welcome home”.

Shawn squeezed his girlfriend’s hand as they walked inside, instantly hit with a wave of emotions. The air was thick when Manny walked out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a paper towel. He eyed the two up and down before holding his hand out to Y/N, making her eyes widen in surprise.

“Nice to see you again.” Manny greeted, shaking her hand when she finally took it. “I wish it were under better circumstances.”

“Y-Yeah.” Y/N nodded, letting go nervously. “Me too.”

Karen cut her eyes at Manny’s hospitality and sighed, nodding to Shawn. “You both can sleep in Shawn’s old bedroom. Make yourselves at home.”

The couple could tell that she didn’t mean that but Shawn gave her a tight-lipped nod anyway, wasting no time in dragging Y/N and their luggage up the stairs and to his room. As soon as they’d stepped through the doorway he closed the door, groaning loudly and going to crash on the queen-sized bed.

“Well, that could have gone a lot worse.” Shawn muttered, running his hands over his face. When she didn’t reply he lifted his head from the bed, opening his eyes to see her still stationary at the door, nervously twiddling with her fingers. “Babe, what’s wrong?”

Y/N shook her head and took a few timid steps forward to sit on the edge of the bed. “I dunno. I feel so hated here. And I was expecting to, but now that it’s actually happening, it’s worse than I thought.”

Shawn frowned and sat up, scooting to sit next to her and wrap his arms around her. He leaned down to make sure she saw his face as he insisted, “They don’t hate you, Y/N. If anything, they’re more mad at me- you know that. But none of this is our fault. All that matters now is that we have food and shelter, and we can finally get back on our feet.”

Y/N wasn’t convinced though, changing the subject. “’M tired, I think I’m going to take a nap.”

Shawn considered trying to drill his words of encouragement into her brain more but he knew deep down that she wouldn’t listen to him. So, he let it go, allowing her to strip down and situate herself underneath his covers. He leaned down to kiss her forehead, lingering there for a second before disconnecting.

He would do anything for her, and he hoped that she knew that.

Shutting off the light, he exited his bedroom and mentally prepared himself for what was next to come. He knew that as soon as he walked down the stairs, his parents would begin their skepticism, their “I told you so"s, and their snarky comments. And he was completely right.

"So what happened exactly?” Karen instantly questioned when Shawn walked into the kitchen. She stared down into her teacup, stirring it slowly. Manny leaned against the kitchen counter with his arms crossed, choosing to remain silent.

Shawn cleared his throat and pocketed his hands. “We couldn’t make it with the jobs we had. Her college fees were piling up and the apartment fees increased and it was all too much.”

Karen stopped stirring for a few pulses before looking up at her son sadly, “I told you moving in with her was a bad idea-”

“Karen, stop.” Manny ordered sternly, shooting darts at his wife. “Look, the past is the past. We all make mistakes and ours was being so quick to judge. He needs our help now, isn’t that all that matters to you?”

She took a sip of her tea and looked between the two men, her mind trying to conjure a response. Deep down, she knew that Manny was right, and her bitterness was uncalled for. Still, she couldn’t completely let it go, settling with, “Dinner will be ready in an hour. Let Y/N know, please.”

It wasn’t much, but it was progress, and Shawn would wholeheartedly accept it for the time being.

-

“So, how do you all plan to get back out there?” Manny questioned, pushing up his glasses and stabbing at a piece of broccoli on his plate. It was more than awkward as both couples sat on opposite sides of the table, the air thick with tension once again. Shawn began to speak up but Y/N interrupted him.

“I have an interview tomorrow!” She sprung up, sporting a fake smile. “At Google. If I get the job, it could change everything for us.”

Karen pursed her lips, looking up from her plate for a second. “What do you do?”

“Software engineering!” Y/N nodded, making Shawn smile. She always got excited when she talked about her work and he adored her for it.

Karen hummed, staring at the girl. “Don’t you think that’s a bit far-fetched? You haven’t even gotten through college yet, why would they choose you?”

Shawn felt his anger rising already, his jaw clenching as his eyes cut up toward his mom. “Mom, I’m a high school dropout trying to be a musician. She’s doing much better than me, so I’d appreciate if you’d just drop this act.”

Everyone was shocked by his sudden outburst, the room quickly going silent once again. The dinner was over as soon as it started, and in this moment, it was like he’d never left home. His loved ones were still split and he didn’t want to choose between the two, but his family was making that hard.

He clenched his jaw and stood up from the table, grabbing his plate and motioning for Y/N to do the same.

“We’ll be in my room.”

-

“I know you want to defend me, but maybe that wasn’t a good idea.” Y/N hummed, looking up from her plate and at Shawn who was sitting in front of her on the bed. Her fork continued to lazily poke at the meatloaf Karen made as she reasoned, “We are staying in their house, after all.”

Shawn sucked at his teeth and shook his head stubbornly, “I don’t care, baby. They’re being assholes to you for no reason and I’ll live on the streets again before I let anyone disrespect you.”

She remained silent and Shawn went back to eating whatever food he had left, presuming she would do the same, but when he heard a sniffle come from her, confusion washed over him. He quickly looked up just in time to watch a single tear sliding down her cheek, her lips quivering sadly.

“No, no,” Shawn began to panic, quickly moving his plate to the bedside table and going to sit next to her. “Don’t cry- What’s wrong? Talk to me.”

More tears continued to fall by the second and Shawn pulled her into him, allowing her to wrap her arms around his middle and bury her face in his chest. Y/N didn’t hold back the sounds of her crying either, the loud sobs and heaving filling the room.

“I just don’t know what’s wrong with me,” She cried, squeezing him a little tighter. “Why don’t they like me? Why aren’t I ever enough for anyone?”

Shawn shushed her and gently pet her head, his heart hurting at the thought of her in pain. “No, please don’t say that. You’re enough for me, and when we get back on our feet, we don’t have to worry about any of this anymore. This is just a bad day, and we’ve been having a lot of those lately, but we’ll be alright.”

She stifled another cry and bit down on her lip, lifting her head to look up at him. He frowned seeing her eyelashes coated in tears and her face flushed as she clung to him.

“You promise?” She asked, voice no higher than a whisper.

He granted her a tiny smile and leaned down to kiss her nose, lingering for a few seconds before brushing a strand of hair away from her face lovingly. “I promise, Y/N. Come on, let’s go pick out your interview outfit, we gotta have you lookin’ snazzy.”

This comment elicited a giggle from her and the sound was music to his ears- Confirmation that his own words were true, and that everything would be okay.

So long as they had each other.

[agentunwin]

NO MORE BAD DAYS [PART ONE] [S.M.]

After losing their home, Shawn and his girlfriend must learn to navigate the newfound hardships of life together.

— A/N: This is barely edited, and there will only be one other part! 

— WORDS: 3.2k

— WARNINGS: Homelessness, cursing, angst.

-

Shawn stuffed his face further down into his scarf as the two fought against the harsh snow falling down upon them. He held Y/N close to his side and gripped his suitcase a little tighter, grunting when he felt her begin to slow down.

"C'mon, baby." Shawn nudged her gently, motioning just up the road. "We're almost there, see?"

The city's streets were unbearably silent save for the whizzing of freezing air that seeped into their skin and chilled their bones. He could tell she was extremely tired and cold just as he was, but he refused to let her give up now when they were so close.

He could hear her sigh of relief when he finally reached out to open a door, warm air hitting them instantly. Shawn quickly dragged her into the building and turned around to face her, examining her better now that they weren't being berated by the snowfall. Her arms seemed stuck to her body and nearly her entire face was covered to keep out the cold, only her snow-frosted eyelashes peeking out.

Shawn moved his hands to begin unraveling her many layers until he finally saw her face, her pout and her flushed cheeks shattering his heart. She said nothing as she did the same for him, taking special care to run her delicate fingers over his cool cheek that was finally beginning to regain its color. Once they were finally done and settled in, they took a look around.

The place wasn't the fanciest, of course; nobody ever expected a homeless shelter to be. The wallpaper around them had begun to split from the base and rot, giving the room a brown tint. The floors were of a hard wood that creaked with every other step one took, and the light overhead flickered with the promise of a short; however, anything was better than their former spot in an alley.

Y/N clung to him tightly as he walked up to the front desk, clearing his throat to catch the attention of the redhead sitting there.

"Excuse me?" Shawn prodded, biting down on his bottom lip. "Do you all have room for two more?"

The woman slanted her lips as if she were considering whether or not to tell them the truth- whether or not to let them stay the night. Her eyes flitted between the couple seemingly in judgement but it was the pleading look in Y/N's eyes that finally broke her down.

"We have one cot left." The woman let up, nodding her head slowly. "Write your names here and go through those doors, it shouldn't be hard to find."

Y/N pursed her lips to fight back any protest or outburst she was conjuring in her mind, instead deciding to merely pick up the pen, write their names, and grab Shawn's hand to drag him into the next room.

The room wasn't anything North of what they were expecting. The dimly lit room was packed with people just like them, scattered around on the many cots provided. In this sea of people were whole families, single men and women, and couples alike. Coughs and sneezes were commonplace and the smell was unlike anything they'd ever witnessed, but as they made their way to the one empty cot, all they felt was numbness and none of the aforementioned things mattered.

"Put your stuff down, let's go get something to eat." Shawn whispered, making sure to keep his hands on her at all times. He knew how anxious she could get in crowded situations like this but he would help her in any way he could, just as she always did for him. Y/N did as he said and set her things down on and next to the cot, following closely behind him as he led them to the kitchen portion of the shelter.

The tomato soup was certainly nothing special, and the same could be said for the extremely hard, half piece of grilled cheese that went along with it. Y/N sat across from Shawn in the relatively empty kitchen, presuming that everyone had gotten their food earlier. He noticed she hadn't spoken a single word since they started their journey to the shelter, always having her head down low and lips pressed tightly together.

She was trying her best to be strong for him and she knew that if she spoke, the quiver in her voice would give her true pain away. She certainly didn't need to hide this from him as he felt her pain all the same, but Y/N was stubborn, so Shawn let it go for the time being, instead focusing on ways to make her smile.

Shawn pretended to bite down onto his piece of grilled cheese as if it were a brick, immediately retaliating and wincing jokingly. This brought that smile of hers that he loved dearly back to her face, her cheeks heating up. Even at times like this, he was still the same dork she'd always known.

He continued on with these gimmicks and jokes until he was down to his last spoonful of tomato soup, downing it quickly. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and it was then that he let out a roaring burp, his own eyes growing wide at the intensity of it. This was what it took for a genuine laugh to rip from Y/N's throat, her eyebrows raised in disbelief.

"Oh my god, that was disgusting!" She continued to laugh, wiping away a tear at the corner of her eye. Shawn smiled brightly, relishing in the serenity of her beautiful laugh. It was a laugh that could mend spirits and souls and the warm sound did that for him every time he felt down, but it wasn't often that he heard it nowadays, so he cherished this moment dearly.

He was surprised when she retaliated with a burp of her own, the loud sound ripping through her chest and into the small room's air. His jaw dropped in disbelief that the huge noise just came from the small girl and she couldn't control her giggles, covering her mouth with her hands.

"And you had the nerve to talk about my burp!" Shawn laughed, running a hand through his hair and shaking his head. When her laughs finally died down (To his dismay) she reached her hands out to grab his, staring into his eyes in deep thought. This sudden change in attitude worried him and he squeezed her fingers, cocking his head.

"What are you thinking about?" He inquired.

Y/N chewed on her lip and he could tell that she was tripping over herself, wondering how to word her next sentence. She eventually took a deep breath and shrugged, soothingly rubbing her thumbs over Shawn's knuckles.

"I dunno, I just.." She trailed off, gaze flickering down to the table. "I think it's time to call your parents."

She felt Shawn begin to pull away with a groan which was the opposite of what she wanted, gently pulling him back as she insisted, "Shawn, maybe you're being too modest. I know we were doing okay for a while but you know we can't keep on like this. Something's gotta give."

Shawn bit the inside of his cheek and looked at her; really looked at her. The bags under her eyes were dark and deep, her skin dry and lips chapped. She'd definitely seen better days; Hell, they both had. He frowned at this and guilt overtook him. He was always saying that he'd do anything for her, so if that meant putting his dignity aside to get her out of the cold, he'd do it.

"Okay." He agreed, gravitating back towards her again. She smiled as he continued, "I'll call them first thing in the morning, I promise. Now hurry up and eat your brick sandwich so we can sleep."

-

Shawn situated himself as close as he could to Y/N on their tiny shared cot, draping both of their heavy jackets over top. She pushed her back further into his chest and he snaked an arm over her side, nuzzling his face into her neck with a sigh.

Mostly everyone else in the shelter had turned in for the night save for a few people holding conversations here and there.

Time passed with the two merely breathing with one another, the feeling calming both of them. He wasn't sure if she was sleep or not as he hadn't heard her speak in a while and he didn't want to ask in fear of waking her up, so he only resorted to running his fingers over her arm, shutting his eyes tiredly.

"I dunno if you're asleep or not, but I just have something to say." Shawn whispered as low as he could, taking a deep breath. "I love you more than words can describe. I know you want to give up sometimes but we can get through this as long as we stick together. I've got us, okay?"

Shawn wasn't sure what answer he was expecting but when he heard her soft snore confirming that she was sleep, a warm smile blossomed on his lips, heart at ease knowing that she was resting; that she was okay.

He breathed out a short laugh and relaxed his muscles, knowing that everything would work out in the end.

"I've got us."

-

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Y/N asked, unloading her suitcase from the taxi.

Shawn was unsure as he stared up at his childhood home. For most, returning home after years would instill happiness and good memories, but not for him. The falling-out he'd had with Karen and Manny left their relationship nearly nonexistent and coming back was the last thing he wanted to do, but he knew he had no choice.

He'd met Y/N when he was only 16; high school sweethearts, and made the decision to move out with her when he was only 18. His parents were never particularly fond of her to begin with and that was what stirred the pot and started the entire feud. Karen and Manny warned him of how stupid of an idea it was, saying that she wasn't right for him and she wasn't responsible enough. Shawn was set in his beliefs that he was making the right choice, though, spawning a series of bitter fights. It hurt that his family wasn't accepting of the love of his life, but he had to make a decision.

And two years later, after cutting off his family, here he was, right back on their doorstep.

Shawn held onto Y/N's hand tightly when the door swung open, revealing Karen standing with her arms over her chest. Her expression was hard to make out, a mix of happiness and anger all at once. Y/N shifted uncomfortably on her feet when she reminded herself that she was the reason for Karen's latter emotion.

His mother stepped to the side and allowed the two inside, granting Shawn a "Welcome home".

Shawn squeezed his girlfriend's hand as they walked inside, instantly hit with a wave of emotions. The air was thick when Manny walked out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a paper towel. He eyed the two up and down before holding his hand out to Y/N, making her eyes widen in surprise.

"Nice to see you again." Manny greeted, shaking her hand when she finally took it. "I wish it were under better circumstances."

"Y-Yeah." Y/N nodded, letting go nervously. "Me too."

Karen cut her eyes at Manny's hospitality and sighed, nodding to Shawn. "You both can sleep in Shawn's old bedroom. Make yourselves at home."

The couple could tell that she didn't mean that but Shawn gave her a tight-lipped nod anyway, wasting no time in dragging Y/N and their luggage up the stairs and to his room. As soon as they'd stepped through the doorway he closed the door, groaning loudly and going to crash on the queen-sized bed.

"Well, that could have gone a lot worse." Shawn muttered, running his hands over his face. When she didn't reply he lifted his head from the bed, opening his eyes to see her still stationary at the door, nervously twiddling with her fingers. "Babe, what's wrong?"

Y/N shook her head and took a few timid steps forward to sit on the edge of the bed. "I dunno. I feel so hated here. And I was expecting to, but now that it's actually happening, it's worse than I thought."

Shawn frowned and sat up, scooting to sit next to her and wrap his arms around her. He leaned down to make sure she saw his face as he insisted, "They don't hate you, Y/N. If anything, they're more mad at me- you know that. But none of this is our fault. All that matters now is that we have food and shelter, and we can finally get back on our feet."

Y/N wasn't convinced though, changing the subject. "'M tired, I think I'm going to take a nap."

Shawn considered trying to drill his words of encouragement into her brain more but he knew deep down that she wouldn't listen to him. So, he let it go, allowing her to strip down and situate herself underneath his covers. He leaned down to kiss her forehead, lingering there for a second before disconnecting.

He would do anything for her, and he hoped that she knew that.

Shutting off the light, he exited his bedroom and mentally prepared himself for what was next to come. He knew that as soon as he walked down the stairs, his parents would begin their skepticism, their "I told you so"s, and their snarky comments. And he was completely right.

"So what happened exactly?" Karen instantly questioned when Shawn walked into the kitchen. She stared down into her teacup, stirring it slowly. Manny leaned against the kitchen counter with his arms crossed, choosing to remain silent.

Shawn cleared his throat and pocketed his hands. "We couldn't make it with the jobs we had. Her college fees were piling up and the apartment fees increased and it was all too much."

Karen stopped stirring for a few pulses before looking up at her son sadly, "I told you moving in with her was a bad idea-"

"Karen, stop." Manny ordered sternly, shooting darts at his wife. "Look, the past is the past. We all make mistakes and ours was being so quick to judge. He needs our help now, isn't that all that matters to you?"

She took a sip of her tea and looked between the two men, her mind trying to conjure a response. Deep down, she knew that Manny was right, and her bitterness was uncalled for. Still, she couldn't completely let it go, settling with, "Dinner will be ready in an hour. Let Y/N know, please."

It wasn't much, but it was progress, and Shawn would wholeheartedly accept it for the time being.

-

"So, how do you all plan to get back out there?" Manny questioned, pushing up his glasses and stabbing at a piece of broccoli on his plate. It was more than awkward as both couples sat on opposite sides of the table, the air thick with tension once again. Shawn began to speak up but Y/N interrupted him.

"I have an interview tomorrow!" She sprung up, sporting a fake smile. "At Google. If I get the job, it could change everything for us."

Karen pursed her lips, looking up from her plate for a second. "What do you do?"

"Software engineering!" Y/N nodded, making Shawn smile. She always got excited when she talked about her work and he adored her for it.

Karen hummed, staring at the girl. "Don't you think that's a bit far-fetched? You haven't even gotten through college yet, why would they choose you?"

Shawn felt his anger rising already, his jaw clenching as his eyes cut up toward his mom. "Mom, I'm a high school dropout trying to be a musician. She's doing much better than me, so I'd appreciate if you'd just drop this act."

Everyone was shocked by his sudden outburst, the room quickly going silent once again. The dinner was over as soon as it started, and in this moment, it was like he'd never left home. His loved ones were still split and he didn't want to choose between the two, but his family was making that hard.

He clenched his jaw and stood up from the table, grabbing his plate and motioning for Y/N to do the same.

"We'll be in my room."

-

"I know you want to defend me, but maybe that wasn't a good idea." Y/N hummed, looking up from her plate and at Shawn who was sitting in front of her on the bed. Her fork continued to lazily poke at the meatloaf Karen made as she reasoned, "We are staying in their house, after all."

Shawn sucked at his teeth and shook his head stubbornly, "I don't care, baby. They're being assholes to you for no reason and I'll live on the streets again before I let anyone disrespect you."

She remained silent and Shawn went back to eating whatever food he had left, presuming she would do the same, but when he heard a sniffle come from her, confusion washed over him. He quickly looked up just in time to watch a single tear sliding down her cheek, her lips quivering sadly.

"No, no," Shawn began to panic, quickly moving his plate to the bedside table and going to sit next to her. "Don't cry- What's wrong? Talk to me."

More tears continued to fall by the second and Shawn pulled her into him, allowing her to wrap her arms around his middle and bury her face in his chest. Y/N didn't hold back the sounds of her crying either, the loud sobs and heaving filling the room.

"I just don't know what's wrong with me," She cried, squeezing him a little tighter. "Why don't they like me? Why aren't I ever enough for anyone?"

Shawn shushed her and gently pet her head, his heart hurting at the thought of her in pain. "No, please don't say that. You're enough for me, and when we get back on our feet, we don't have to worry about any of this anymore. This is just a bad day, and we've been having a lot of those lately, but we'll be alright."

She stifled another cry and bit down on her lip, lifting her head to look up at him. He frowned seeing her eyelashes coated in tears and her face flushed as she clung to him.

"You promise?" She asked, voice no higher than a whisper.

He granted her a tiny smile and leaned down to kiss her nose, lingering for a few seconds before brushing a strand of hair away from her face lovingly. "I promise, Y/N. Come on, let's go pick out your interview outfit, we gotta have you lookin' snazzy."

This comment elicited a giggle from her and the sound was music to his ears- Confirmation that his own words were true, and that everything would be okay.

So long as they had each other.

[ayakashiramblings]

WTFur-Real Episode 2: Nachi’s Real Age

Right under our noses, in homes, cities, sofas and even laps. One in five of us owns a cat. Yet, only one person in the entire Capital knows what is called…. a Nekomata.

The passion for loving a Felis Silvestris Catus yokai has yet to take off. Dozens of experts just have to attribute such a blasphemous phenomenon to the fact that… it is hard to determine a true Nekomata’s age. That, and maybe the fact we don’t even know if it is an Ayakashi or not.

Is his age merely defined by the very lips that move to meow… but like a newborn kitten instead of a teenaged cat? Will we have to accept that his frolicking in the fields is to be expected of long-honed instincts or new urges surging through a young body? How are we to capture the timely essence of this puzzling creature? To do that, we…

You.

RA! Yura wants you to do this.

Damn it.

Gaku… are you still mad at me?

No, I am simply wondering how did you restore this in perfect condition with that wand of yours while I had to hunt down all those expensive components to make ANOTHER unnecessary one. Nope, no big deal. So, what are we doing?

We are turning into Ayakashi detectives, unravelling this feline enigma from the mystic mountain shrines to a Milk Hall swarmed by dozens of dust bunnies and even random streets Nachi just has to travel on.

Our journey begins here, at home, and the first piece of information I offer is a confession: 

I know Nachi cheats on his diet.

A lot of my research takes place out in the field so I can study how he moves in his natural environment. Studying an animal in the wild without disturbing his natural behaviour has never been easy, but over the past few years, ever since I turned five, I have learnt to gather intel… from sources that he encounters along his perilous journey for defying everything the veterinarian has told me to give him as we follow him.

With a bounce of a ballerina, senses so acute, he can pinpoint all the food coming his way from every vendor… dried sardine, vegetables, flowers…

Damn, this guy gets a parade every time he’s here.

Here, it seems, Nachi will now take a cat-nap right in front of our first stop: Milk Hall Raccord. We must hurry to meet someone who could possibly provide valuable insight into the shared history of the Nekomata and the people he has entranced.

Living for a long time (longevity) and the growing old (ageing) are two entities fused at the hip (original or replacement). Those very processes elude several fine specimens. Like how living a century is something all too familiar for this Domeki proprietor: Oji-san.

Here, he is busily practising his energy-saving methods with his Tengu-branded cigars. He always welcomes customers, and that is what we are to him at this very moment stepping through the empty halls of Raccord.

"Ah, bright eyes and... Gaku? Weird pair. Guess the 2nd date went well?"

Dementia is seriously creeping into his poor body just minutes into the very serious interview.

"Just so you know, this interview it better not be the omurice recipe because if Aoi ever finds out the secret ingredient, I know he will kill me in my sleep."

"We just want to ask you some questions about... what you have seen."

"Well, I saw this pretty lady..."

Ok, leave this one to me. It needs a blunt touch.

"No. We mean, when you were younger. Like, way much younger. And if you ever saw an unusual cat."

"Exactly, I was talking about a pretty lady. A pretty cat lady."

Who would have thought at the very first stage of our travels we would chance upon this rare fountain of knowledge? Fountain being that he is flooding all of our senses with some tales of all the ladies the used-to-be-young Oji once tried to court. We silently sip on the milk in serious contemplation… of how this lady has… and I quote from the notes I am taking… ‘long hair’, ‘manicured nails’, ‘pearly whites’, ‘an amazing… derriere’, ‘poor balance’, ‘was a vegan’...

"Wait, you said it was a cat lady?"

"Yup."

"She... sounds a bit too human."

"Oh, she was one. And she is dead by now I think."

"... Then why did you say she was a cat lady."

"Because she loved showing off her claws. Rawr, she was feisty."

It was then we knew… we should have gone with Ginnojo and Kuro first.

Then, after what seems like an eternity, the very pair marches in.

Here is the cool man who works at Kusanagi Books, the small book lenders next to this very restaurant and witnessing legendary events.

Why does the title card say Gin-Gin?

One word. Kuro.

"Hmmm.. A nekomata in the Edo period..."

"Truth be told, I haven't even encountered that many ayakashi species. It was only when the era ended that I saw more coming into the Capital."

Alas, it seems that Nachi has not crept into the hearts...

"Then again, I did meet a Bakeneko once."

"Wait, really? What about it?"

"It screamed a lot."

…

...

"The blood was more purple than red."

Make. Sure. Nachi. Never. Ever. Sees. This.

Noted. Cue transition?

Please.

Here we meet another loyal regular and possible informant: Kuro! He is a performer in the wildly successful Lorenzi Circus Troupe, this happy-go-lucky guy can put a smile on anyone’s face with one of his signature hugs.

D’aww.

Gack!

Hugs that should have embraced the fluffiness of a beloved Nekomata in his younger days.

“Hmmm… I have hugged a tiger!”

… I am changing the questions.

Go ahead, I give up.

“Ok, since everyone is gathered here… ahem, to put it lightly, how does it feel being more… senior or junior to the others?”

“It’s interesting learning from the others and seeing how the Capital has grown. Nobody even knows that more Ayakashi are coming to the city so we remain vigilant.”

“But also welcome them. You youngsters these days have all sorts of interesting things.”

“It’s great hearing all sorts of stories from Old Man and Gin-Gin! And they are living proof!”

Could that be Nachi’s feelings that have sustained his cute, fuzzball form? The indomitable thirst of justice, love and patriotism? Oh, such loyalty only possible in...

Er… MC?

Shh… this is getting good.

Yeah, so is Nachi getting good-to-go for home.

Gagh! After that cat!

MC, are you sure you can handle the camera and cue cards? It's pretty bulky.

Oh, I'm not holding the cue cards, Kuya is!

... He is just snoring... Wait, there is something floating above... Oh wow, he is actually... lifting them with his snores…. Also, what is he doing here?

Koga had some business with my father so he dropped him off here. Also, Koga’s distracting Nachi with petting him as Tama.

Indeed, observe how Nachi/Tama’s head lolls back, eyes closed in pure bliss as Sir Koga gets just that right spot. That’s it, Koga, scratch it. Scratch it while we scratch the surface… of Nachi’s 9 lives with two beautifully aged instruments.

“Hehe, oh my lady. Ne’er is there a dull moment when thou art beside me.”

The mysterious Yura used to dwell apart from society in an abandoned shrine. Having lived for over 1,000 years, his wisdom is an invaluable asset to the team and now, could be our greatest asset in this mystery.

“Maybe because she was dull enough to forget that we had known her past-self.”

A machinist by trade, this genius craftsman is known throughout the Capital by his pseudonym “Mr Kakyu.” Frankly, Gaku should have been called ‘Silver Tongue Tangled By MC’.

“By the way, how is the popcorn brother?”

“Sweet enough to sate my cravings. Many thanks, brother Gaku and milady MC!”

As Yura happily indulges in the caramel treat, he reveals,

“Well, there is one thing that I think is pertinent to this fine entertainment form...  pray, may I know what are those Nachi dons in his human form?”

A cheap abomination. We already did that with Kuya.

“Hmm… well, the only cat I saw with thee 1000 years ago wast just a kitten.  Weak at yond, and not coequal medicine couldst solveth half of its ailments.  Only thy loveth hath kept that him going.”

“I… didn’t really interact with Nachi in the past that much if he really was that cat 1000 years ago. All I remember was him tailing you even though he was bo-legged.”

“Hey, MC, why aren’t you narrating?”

“... Sorry, just had something in my eye.”

“What? Oh, don’t worry MC! I got you something!” came the boyish exclamation out of nowhere.

To MC’s shock, Nachi had suddenly thrust a whole bouquet of flowers, vegetables… and dried sardines and chicken wings into her face.  

“Hope you like it, MC! I got it from all these nice people!”

Of course, he is enshrouded by the warmest of sunlight and MC’s arms at that moment. So, we have come to the stunning conclusion… he is a baby to be protected. People say you choose a dog but the cat chooses you.

What people can’t say but I can say is that Nachi is the best friend you can have in any book of your life. From Dawn to Night.

Epilogue

Nachi tried to get both cameras working with his claws. This time, not even the Kagura bell wand could save them.

We then deduced he is probably really one of those naughty teenagers. 

A/N: OMG. I did it. I... dunno if it is worthy of being a series though, LOL. But this has been fun! I hope you guys like it and if you didn’t or found this weird (because I did at some points), feel free to shoot a message here.

Bold: Gaku’s voiceover

Italicised: MC’s voiceover

Normal: Characters conversing/MC or Gaku narrating

[megape]

Gifts (Blog Post)

Hi, I haven’t made a blog post in awhile regarding my growth, but that’s because I’ve been in a wishy-washy way of thinking. A lot of decisions are in my life right now, at least it feels like it, and I suppose they tend to overwhelm me. But I’ve been on new meds and I’m super stoked to see if they help out so anyway, regardless of this way of thinking, I’ve been bestowed a new healthier one! It’s like a new pair of glasses!! (Get ready for the sappiness because you guys that I tagged know I love you all to bits and if you don’t it’s about to be obvious.)

There’s a lot to point out for me in this blog post so I’m just going to ramble a bit as always.

First off, my relationship with YHWH hasn’t been the best lately. I dunno, I’ve been distant because of my depression. It got so bad a month or two ago that suicide was all I had thought about. For years I had prayed for a miracle, like They would swoop down and save me from my illness. I think I may have disregarded a lot of what They did for me on a day-to-day basis because I was looking for Them to take the Depression/Anxiety away and not just to help me through it. This put a toll on the relationship. Especially when it got to those suicidal thoughts I was having. I kept asking Them, “Am I suppose to die young? Am I being punished? Do I deserve this? Why am I hurting so much? Where are you?” 

And I remember one night I was crying to Them, specifically Him because I needed a father that night, and I told Him if he couldn’t be there beside me (which was a lie I was telling myself because of course He was right there beside me) that the least He could do was make me laugh. Ironically the next day was Easter so YHWH decided to bust out some dad jokes to make me feel better. He asked me, “What’s a bunny’s favorite way to hop?” And I remember sniffling in confusion as if he was about to tell me the stupidest joke known to man. And he responded, “To the Blitzkrieg hop! Get it? Because bunnies hop and the Blitzkrieg Bop is a song?”

I got a little off tangent, but the point of saying this experience is because that was a miracle. I may not of thought about it as so at the time, but They spoke to me and I let myself hear Them. 

It wasn’t until like two weeks or so ago that my therapist was telling me that maybe They had been sending miracles this entire time and I just never noticed because I was so stuck in my box of depression/anxiety. Which was true because I had more faith that my depression would consume me than that YHWH could save me! 

So she started to ask me the things I had been praying for and ways that They had been providing for those prayers already. I liked the way she worded it too, she called them “gifts.” So I started thinking about things differently and picked out scenarios in my head that were probably gifts from YHWH to help subdue my depression/anxiety.

One of the biggest wishes I’ve had is to not feel lonely. Specifically I kept praying for a romantic partner, but I never stopped to realize that in order to get there I had to have friends to create that from. And regardless of that, They provided me with plenty of friends when I needed it most and I completely disregarded it because it wasn’t a boyfriend or girlfriend. To point out, I sometimes appreciate the way the wind blows and completely forget to appreciate the fact that I had my best friend come down from Canada for over a week. I miss huge things because I get so stuck in the gloom that I look for tiny things too much. They’ve blessed me with some amazing people in my life right now and I never stopped to realize that they’ve been planted in my life as gifts to help with my depression/anxiety. This entire struggle where I ask for all these different prayer requests are being answered in smaller and bigger ways than I’ve cared to notice. I’ve been so stuck in my box that I haven’t gotten the chance to thank them for actually being a part of my healing.

I kept wanting Them to rescue me from my illness, but I forgot that in order to be saved I have to acknowledge and use the tools given to me so that I can be saved! It’s like someone throwing down a rope or giving me a boat or throwing me a float while i’m stuck in water. I kept wanting them to just take me from the water and didn’t realize they were giving me SO many options to get out and I just had to use the tools given to me. Granted, this healing will take time, but that’s why They’ve provided lots of tools and opportunities. 

So in essence of this realization I’m going to list some things off that have made me super happy and were probably gifts that They’ve been handing to me to help myself heal and grow.

-I made a really amazing friend at my old job and he’s been with me through thick and thin at this point. I don’t know what I’d do without him. He’s constantly reassuring me he’ll stay by my side and ilhsm. I don’t know what I’d do with you Chris.

-The friends who kept me going through school. Wow, I don’t think I would have made it without your support and goofy antics.

-Um, I went to Pride last year and that was SO much fun!!!!!!

-I have the opportunity to go to this church that’s nondenominational and they’ve been really accepting and loving. I also might try a universalist church because I feel like I want to go and create a community in order to help push me forward in healing.

-I made a super fucking awesome friend through this cute lil dating app and he’s been like the light of my life lately. Honestly I’ve done so many fun things with him these past couple months and he’s opened my life up to Dungeons and Dragons so that’s pretty radical!!! You may not know it, but you’ve been a really big blessing to my life. I’m glad you’re here on this planet at the same time as me. Sorry about the sappiness, but it’s true. :p

-I have this sweet lil bb of a friend that always checks in on me and sends me cute and funny things despite the fact that I’ve been a distant friend to her. ilysm Snikkers <3

-There’s yet another friend who has been there since practically my childhood who I’ve connected with progressively more as I’ve grown up. She’s amazing and funny and we laugh so much when we’re together. Whether it was webkinz and One Direction or to laughing about boys and sexuality you have been the best, Faith.

-My therapist. <3

-I have a really big imagination and it helps being able to create characters, I guess sort of like imaginary friends, that I can go through it with. Also, my imagination helps me have more faith that YHWH is beside me because I can imagine what it would be like and know that it’s happening. Even though I can’t “see” YHWH holding my hand or dancing in the car with me... I can imagine it and know that that’s exactly what’s going on.. even if my (earthly(?)) eyes can’t witness it yet. 

-I have the raddest and most amazing internet friend in the entire universe. She’s constantly there through thick and thin and wants to help even though I push her away sometimes. She’s been a definite miracle from God because I prayed for her a long time ago and she’s stayed in my life for MANY years now! wow, claps to you my best friend and soul sister

-My parents are the bomb. they’re funny and constantly asking how I’m doing and wanting to help in any way they can. They ask me all the time what they can do if I’m feeling sad and help me when I’m stressed. They’ve come along for a tough journey and I’m glad YHWH gave me parents that handle my issues with love. Though it may be hard at times and we may not see eye-to-eye they have always been there to learn and grow beside me.

-And lastly, all of these people and experiences (plus so many more I didn’t list, but will list below) have fulfilled my love languages in ways I never noticed until now. Like, YHWH has provided me with some pretty wicked people and I never really stopped to say thank you to anyone. 

So thank you:

To my friends @youcant-takemysky @imagine-starco @el-ahrairahthefakeghost @hamilzies @pontmarius and the others who don’t have tumblrs or I didn’t mention here. Here’s to the fun memories and quality time, conversations, words of encouragement, acts of service, physical affection, and gifts along the way. To me you’ve been gifts I couldn’t be more thankful for!

Sorry if this is too sappy for you; I just want everyone to know I love them unconditionally. If you know me, are getting to know me, or are a complete stranger: our interactions together make life worth living. If we can all give love and learn to receive it we can make this world a better place. :) ~

[higglety]

The (somehow, improbably) Ongoing Adventures of Bibigul and Gurgle

Ok guys, I gotta tell you what happened in our game last session, because I have never in my life had a plan go SO COMPLETELY OPPOSITE of the way I intended, and yet, somehow, still work.

Ok so quick recap:  the campaign concept is “One of you is the Hero of Legend; the others are not. Go out there and keep killing bad stuff until I dunno, one of you proves yourself or you all die or something.”  I’m playing Bibigul, a wildly impulsive halfling rogue/favored soul/swashbuckler, whose patron god is Olidammara, and who adheres very strongly to the idea that “whatever happens is destined to happen and it’ll all work out fine cuz I’m the hero of legend”.  We also have an elf Warlock whose whole schtick is knowing things, who has proven in actual play to know next to nothing, yet still be able to figure things out via sheer luck, a human scout who is extremely laid back and go-with-the-flow, and whose major character quirk has been a poorly-taxidermied snake with extreme sentimental value which he wears as a stinky belt, and Gurgule, my main man, an enormous bug-man who is a Barbarian (and, as of our last level-up, a summoner), who didn’t really dump Int Wis and Cha, so much as completely annihilate them.  

As you can see, our party is completely terrible, and that we’ve survived this far can be chalked up to sheer, blind, stupid luck.  It certainly couldn’t be attributed to any real skill or strategy employed by either we the players, or our characters.  In fact, the player who plays Gurgle and I have had backup characters made and ready to go for MONTHS now, because literally every session we almost die, and are absolutely certain that next session is when we finally kick the bucket.  The only uncertainty in our minds is whether we’ll accidentally force a TPK or not.  But I digress.

The session before last, we were offered a choice:  go kill the rest of the goblin horde who had been harassing a nearby town.  One relevant detail?  We had just come back from the neighboring town, which had been dealing with a zombie problem, and ran into the goblins on the way out.  We killed their leader, and a good chunk of their fighters.  This would be a mop-up mission, since we’d already accidentally done a good chunk of it.  OR, we could go help a halfling monastery that was being attacked by giants.  Because we’re idiots (and I, the idiot halfling who does not fear death, will take full responsibility for this), we pick the giants.  We pick the giants, by the way, because I talked the squad into accepting the result of a coin flip to decide the question.

So anyway, off we go to the monastery.  It’s a few day’s journey away, so we have a few random encounters along the way.  One of which happened on a bridge we had to cross.  As you might have guessed, we encountered trolls.  Now, they didn’t immediately attack us - they were gathering tolls, rather than dinner.  I felt confident that I could have talked our way through the encounter without having to fight, except - - - well, except for the fact that Gurgle had some past.... negative experiences with folks collecting tolls.  Long story short, he raged, they raged, we fought, it all got rather hairy there for a bit.  Fortunately I was able to talk everybody down and convince them to accept the human’s horse as a toll, and they let us go on our way.  This is very fortunate, because it became rapidly clear that there was no way we could have beaten these trolls.  (This doesn’t bode well for how the encounter with the giants is going to go, of course).

So then, as we travel along, we come to the next town.  We get a cordial welcome, which becomes even friendlier and more excited when they learn we’re the Heroes of Legend come from the Citadel.  The excitable halfling I had pulled aside to chat with informs EVERYONE that holy cow look!  It’s the Heroes of Legend come from the Citadel to save them from the problem they’d reported!  Hooray!!!  What was the problem, you ask?  TROLLS.

Now remember, I believe in luck.  I believe in fate.  I believe that no matter where I end up is exactly where I should be, and by the way, my dude Olidammara’s got my back.  I even have proof - along the way, we’d met a mysterious old beggar man who was Not What He Appears.  He had offered each of us a chance to play a challenge of skill, wits, or chance.  Our Scout chose chance, and lost his snake, to his great consternation (and the relief of the entire party).  The warlock gambled the party in a contest of wits, and only won because the player who plays Gurgle gave her a hint on one of the riddles, and I used my luck powers to force a reroll when the GM decided to roll a die to decide whether to accept her answer or not.  I, of course, chose a game of chance, and the old man granted my request to invoke my god ahead of time.  No, there was no cheating - just a simple appeal.  “Yo, Olidammara!  Hey dude, can you help me out here real quick?  Just gonna do a couple dice tosses, and it’s kinda important.  If you feel like it of course - no pressure.”  I figure of anyone, Olidammara is probably a god who appreciates a casual, low-key approach.  And he must have, because the old man rolled snake eyes thrice in a row, and I rolled high on each toss. Now, I had made the rookie mistake of not specifying terms ahead of time.  He wanted the enormous glowing, necromantic green gem I carry strapped to my torso like an magical crystalline pregnant belly.  I wanted.... him to not have it.  So, by way of a prize, the Mysterious Old Man assured me that the baby would be MINE.  Previously, it would been Not Mine, and that would have been Bad.  So anyway, the point of that anecdote was to illustrate that Olidammara’s got my back.

So, riding high on luck and fresh proof of my god’s interest in me and what all I get up to, I agree.  “Sure!”  I say, “We’ll make your troll problem go away!  No sweat!”  And we party the night away.  But, while’ we’re partying, I’m also making preparations.  I talk with the local halflings to get that hot gos, and I also buy the worst horse in town.  I’m ready.  

Next day, we go back out to the trolls.  I call out to them while we’re well away from the bridge, and tell them I want to talk, so they don’t ambush us.  They’re confused, but send one out to talk with us.  He reminds us that there is a toll to cross the bridge, and I assure him that I know that, and I didn’t actually want to cross the bridge, I just want a chat.  I ask him how the toll collecting business is going, and he says it’s going great!  Every few days, merchants come through, the trolls kill their guards, and the merchants give them money!  It’s fantastic!  There’s no end in sight!  I probe to see if they’ve noticed the merchant traffic slowing, as the town has, and they have not.  As far as they’re concerned, this is a viable situation that will continue indefinitely.  I clue them in on a secret, that there are giants to the north that have just PILES of gold, but they’re not having it.  I took the wrong tactic, I immediately realize - the trolls don’t want big targets, they want easy targets.  In my desire to steer the trolls to the giants and so benefit by them fighting each other, I fail to motivate them in a way they will accept.  Even bribing them with another horse to eat isn’t going to get them to budge, I immediately realize.  Fortunately, Gurgle had another moment of inspiration (the last of which was making an enormous explosion, so I’m On Board), saw what I was trying to do, and was able to talk with them On Their Level.

“You know what I heard,”  he tells them very seriously.  “I heard there’s halflings in the mountains, and they have gold.  PILES of gold.  They’re pilgrims, so they take the gold up to their gods, and they just leave them there!”

“Really?”  the troll is intrigued, but wary.  “But the bridge is right here.  Why should we leave the bridge?”

“Think about it,” says Gurgle.  “Not everybody uses bridges.  Bridges are ok, but even people who have never used a bridge can name two, even three gods!  And people give gold to gods.  Look at me!  I don’t have any gold, because I gave it all to the gods!”  The troll finds this to be a very compelling argument.  “Besides, you can just eat the halflings, too!  It’s not like it’ll be hard to kill them, they’re all small and squishy.”  At this point, I voluntarily roll a will save to keep my mouth shut.  Fortunately for us all, I succeed.  “Good cooks, too - they always have good food.  Here, look!”  I’m ready for this, because I see where he’s going with this, and I produce a bucket of ogre slop I’ve been carrying around in case it comes in handy.  Whaddaya know, it did!  

The trolls LOVE the ogre slop, and they think Gurgle is talking good sense.  They are convinced.  They set off north to the halflings in the mountains.  The path to which runs directly through the town we just came from.  Crap.  I ride on ahead as fast as I can like a demented Paul Revere to warn the town to stay indoors for the next little while.

“But why?”  One man asked.  “You said you were going to kill all the trolls, right?”  

“We’re solving your troll problem”  I reply tersly.  “So the trolls are all dead?”

“WE ARE MAKING THEM GO AWAY NOW PLEASE GO INSIDE.”  I am out of time.  I roll Diplomacy, and crit.  They go inside.  A few minutes later, a parade of trolls trundles through the town, off (unknowingly) to do battle with giants.  What will happen if any of them survive the giants and decide to start eating halflings and looking for gold?  I guess we’ll figure that out when we get to it.  

HEROES OF LEGEND

[eiden-squid]

20 Marchant Stories - Part 4: The Proposal

(( It is here, finally. After running this blog for nearly 2 years now, we have almost reached the end of Eiden’s story. This will be the second-to-last story in this blog, and the remaining 15 stories will be found over at @marchant-girls.

The very last story will be posted on July 21st, the same Friday when Splatoon 2 releases to the public.

This fic features a special squid from @a-demo-of-a-hero‘s blog

Without further delay, enjoy this reading!))

The day has finally come. Eiden Marchant, a 19 year old purple squid from Inkopolis, was set to change his future for good. He dressed up nicely, hid a nice pink leather box in his pocket, called Eimie and Eika over to meet at the Inkopolis Fair, which had just recently opened again. He then called Demo, his girlfriend, over to come to the fair again. 

Eiden was waiting patiently at the fair entrance. He had been here nearly half an hour early. He saw Eimie and Eika far in the distance, waving excitedly.

Eika tackle-hugged Eiden. “OH MY COD! IT IS FINALLY HAPPENING, ISN’T IT?!” He said, snuggling up to him.

“Agh! E-Eika! Calm down..! As promised, you will get to witness this magical moment..!” Eiden hugged Eika back.

Eimie caught up with the hugging siblings and smiled faintly. “Hey loser... I just wanted to say... thank you for calling me over. Kinda nice that you considered me to be here... despite all the bullying that I have done to you...” Eimie felt a bit ashamed. She had given Eiden a lot of hell before. Now that he will be gone, she felt a bit guilty.

“Oh, come on Eimie... it’s not that big of a deal.. I mean, you are older than me, so it is your job to ‘bully’ me, right? It is like an established rule for siblings..!!” Eiden tried brushing it off, as if it were nothing. Yet, Eiden was still careful around Eimie.

“Y-Yeah, I guess... Also... hope everything turns out well for you once you are up there in the ferris wheel. Eika has told me that you revealed your feelings for Demo up there? I mean, kinda cliché, but I guess it is meaningful to you...” Eimie said, helping Eiden back up and taking Eika off him.

“Yep.. Oh! Here she comes!” Eiden waved at Demo, who quickly showed up in front of them. “Shall we?” Eiden extended his arm, which Demo quickly and happily clinged to.

Eiden, Demo, Eimie and Eika got up on the ferris wheel, all in the same cabin. It was even the same as the one before, since there were crude repais done to it. Demo had cracked it open to escape the cabin, back when the ferris wheel failed to work.

Eimie nudged Eika’s arm. “Psst.. record this.. It will either be a hit or miss..!” She said. Nonetheless, Eimie was nervous for Eiden. She has known how easily Eiden gets nervous. Would he be able to pull this off swiftly?

Once at the top, the ferris wheel stopped abruptly. Demo groaned. “Oh damn is this happening YET AGAIN?!?” Demo stood up to try and force-open the cabin doors. Eiden quickly jumped to action.

“D-Demo.. wait! D-Do you remember what happened right here, in this same cabin, months ago..?” It was happening. Eiden had set this plan to motion.

Demo stopped to remember, which caused a small dark blush to fill her cheeks. “Oh yeah! Heh, you snuck up here a bag of marshmallows. You were so nervous back then, doing the whole “Oh I love you” thing. Really sweet of you, by the way!” Demo smiled.

“Yep! What a scene, I remember...” Eiden said, standing up next to Demo, and admiring the whole city from the top of the ferris wheel. Eika took out her phone and started recording. Eiden and Demo didn’t noticed, as they were looking out at the rising sun.

“Actually D-Demo... ever since t-that day... you helped me realize something...” Eiden’s little heart started pumping faster. 

Demo looked back at Eiden and was able to notice. She couldn’t help but to giggle at the little babi getting nervous, just like always. But this could only meant one thing.. Demo started blushing.

“Back that day, y-y-you made me realize that... that I had a new purpose in l-life. I n-now wanted to accomplish new t-things... I started thinking... that I w-wanted to travel the world and have n-new stories to tell...” Eiden gulped. The phrase was coming up.

“I... I realized that I wanted to... t-t-to share them w-with you...” The time had come. Eiden looked at Demo, directly into her eyes. He took her hands and slowly knelt down. Demo knew what this meant, she had seen these in cheesy movies. But it was now happening here, and happening to her.

“A-And.. ah!... I w-want to know... i-if you are willing to... to accept t-this journey I w-w-want to start... !” Eiden reached for his pocket. Eimie and Eika were both screaming internally, showing an enormous grin.

“D-Demo... Demo Woods.. my tall and strong squidfriend...” Eiden nervously opened the leather box, revealing the shiny ring that he had bought weeks ago.

“W-W... Will... Will you marry me...?” Eiden muttered the magic words he had been practicing for weeks now. Demo was covering her mouth with one hand, as Eiden held the other. She was speechless. Little smol Eiden had now proposed to her, making her an engaged squid.

“N..Nerd... Of course I want to be your wife, you cheesy gremlin!” Demo lifted Eiden up from the floor and planted her lips on his, engaging on their first romantic kiss as future Mr. and Mrs. Marchant.

Eimie and Eika stood up, clapping and holding back their tears. Eimie smiled and Woomy’d, while Eika giggled happily. 

After their long kissing session, Eiden took her hand and slid the ring in her finger. Demo was internally screaming as well. She admired it from close. Eiden had this enormous grin and huge blush across his entire face.

“Demo.. I love you...” Eiden hugged her tightly. He was the happiest squid in the world.

“And I love you as well, my little flustered smol boi...!” Demo giggled through her overwhelming emotions. She hugged back as well, even tighter than his embrace.

Eimie and Eika went over to both hug and congratulate Eiden and Demo. They all shared this happy moment in Eiden and Demo’s life.

The day has been perfect. Eiden and Demo exited the fair after playing all the games and eating tons of food. Eimie and Eika followed behind, but not to close to allow them to share their moment.

“Wow.. he actually did it..!” Eimie whispered to Eika. “I... I actually though he would bail and just leave it as it is... but I guess he built the guts to really do it..!”

Eika smiled back at Eimie. “Yup! Eiden is a really strong squid! I never doubted him and his skills. He might be like the most anxious and nervous squid in the world, but he found someone who he really loves. Love can do anything, Eimie!” She whispered back.

Eimie was about to reply, but those words from Eika struck hard. Eimie took a deep breath, and relaxed. She will need to remind herself those sentences, as she patiently waited for Fynn to come back.

After walking out the fair, Demo used an app in her phone to request a special ride back home. They were patiently waiting for it, so Eiden and Demo could spend the night together.

“Alright you two, we are heading home. You go spend the rest of the day together, as the engaged squids you now are!” Eimie cheered on them.

“Yes! You now go watch Squidflix and chill, or something! I dunno what engaged squids do, but just go and have fun!!” Eika also cheered. “See ya around~!” Eika and Eimie started walking the opposite way, leaving Eiden and Demo alone.

As soon as their requested ride arrived, the driver squid stepped outside the car to open the door for the couple.

The driver looked at his phone to identify the squids. “Alright, got a request to travel back to Downtown Inkopolis from.. Demo Woods?”

Demo nodded her head. She then had the idea to tease Eiden even more.

“Demo Woods is fine, although you may now call me Demo Marchant!”

[airanke]

@madmadameem I ended up “re-writing” that prompt you sent me a while back, but with Nadia instead of Vol’jin anditbecamereallylongRIP... or at least it seems long aaaaAAAA WELL I HOPE YOU ENJOY IT REGARDLESS--

Amita would always be in awe of Orgrimmar.

It had everything to do with the fact that she spent most of her time in the Northern Barrens, journeying every now and then to the Crossroads when she needed supplies; sometimes she would venture as far as Ratchet, especially when the goblins threw their parties.

As a result of her absence from the orcish capital city, she was in awe of it every time. The gates would never cease to give her a chill, and all the bustling bodies in the city could entertain her for hours. The children pranked and played, adults sometimes getting involved in the childish antics. She vividly remembered once getting dragged into a mess of a snowball fight during Winter’s Veil. Several of the mages had decided to use their expertise with frost magic to make it snow, and the mostly desert dwelling races excitedly pelted each other with snowballs.

What a day that had been.

Even now, Amita perched on a crate, watching people come and go. The city seemed to be in more of a fuss than usual, and the troll druid started to take notice that there were… non-Horde races tentatively roaming the streets.

Most of them were mages, and in her curiosity, Amita hopped off the crate, flipping her hair over her shoulders as she looked over the humans, and elves. They wore purple robes, and were being escorted around by whom Amita could only assume to be the blood elven grand magister.

Could they be from Dalaran? Amita had been there, once, when she had ventured to Coldarra to master her arcane form. At the time, the peoples of Dalaran seemed very… pompous? Proud? Snobbish? She wasn’t entirely sure how to describe them. All she remembered was them looking at her as though she were a harlot and offended them with her very presence.

Amita would be lying if she denied that she enjoyed reveling in their stutterings when she drew too close, and flirted too boldly. It had amused her for the few days she spent there.

Things could very well be different now as opposed to then, of course! And despite the fact that these Dalaran mages appeared worried, their expressions were more prominently creased with curious excitement. The poor grand magister appeared to be swamped with questions, and from the way he was now looking between several of them, he was trying to answer all of them at once.

The druid picked up on a name; she tilted her head, finding it to be curious, and wondering who it belonged to all the same.

She clasped her hands behind her back, and turned on her heel when one of the mages looked in her direction, deciding she had been staring long enough. Time for her to go do something else.

But that name haunted every conversation she overheard. Amita found herself listening more when it was brought up, and the more she heard it, the easier it became to pinpoint those that were gossiping.

From the sounds of things, the name belonged to a woman of curious descent. She was spoken of as being intelligent if a bit sassy, and confident in her skills as a mage.

All of this only made Amita more curious, and the druid continued on her usual route around Orgrimmar, sweeping through the Valley of Spirits, traipsing through the Drag, and heading on her way to the Valley of Honor.

She came to an abrupt stop when she caught sight of raven black hair, and dark skin - a woman clad in mage robes, and being curiously looked at by several to the right, down the path that would lead one to the Valley of Strength.

The mage didn’t appear lost, but she appeared frazzled - what by, Amita wasn’t sure, but she flounced over within seconds, green eyes sparkling. She had raised her hands as if to grasp the mage by her shoulders, but thought better of it.

After all, Amita knew better than to touch without asking.

“Aaah!” she exclaimed, dancing around the mage, “wohw! Lookit ya!”

“Uh!” the mage seemed to grip her staff tightly, watching Amita dance around her with furrowed brows and half-smiling lips. If anything, she seemed as equally marvelled by Amita’s appearance.

“Ya right beautiful mon!” Amita chirped, finally stopping in her dancing and standing still before the mage, arms still raised because really, the druid had no idea what to do with herself, “who you be??”

The other woman’s smile widened, and her expression relaxed. She dipped her head, brushing hair behind a clearly pointed ear before responding, “oh, well, thank you! I’m… Nadia Ravenscroft.”

Amita’s eyes lit up, “you be de one errybody be talkin’ about!”

Nadia huffed, “it would seem that way, yes.”

My, she seemed like quite a reserved woman. Nadia relaxed her posture, looking Amita up and down before speaking again, “and you are?’

“Amita~” the druid purred, “Amita Dakini.”

“Dakini?”

“Ya mon!” she laughed, finally settling her erratic hands on her hips, “I be likin’ dat… human an’ elf an’ orc an’ lotta othah races ting. Wit de two names. So gave m’self a second name.”

This time, Nadia was the one to laugh, though she cleared her throat to stop the sound, for the most part, “I see. I was about to say I haven’t met many trolls who have last names.”

“Ya be havin’ one,” Amita said, pointing at her. Nadia smiled, though there was a spark in her eyes that belied she would rather not have the one she had.

So, naturally, Amita changed the subject from second names, “I love ya hair! C’n I touch it-- ah,” she pressed a finger to her lips, “I mean, may I touch it?”

Nadia tilted her head, deliberating, then nodded, “yes, you may.”

Amita excitedly bounced closer, drawing another laugh out of the woman. The druid ran her fingers through the ends of Nadia’s hair, marveling over the thickness. It was so voluminous, and felt silken as it slipped between Amita’s hand; similar, but so very different from Amita’s own.

“Ahh! It’s so pretteh!” Amita cooed, mindful of her sharp claws as she continued to comb through Nadia’s hair, “makes me wanna’ braid it.”

She didn’t miss how Nadia’s eyes seemed to light up, “would ya mind?”

“No! No… I wouldn’t, but perhaps we should go somewhere else.”

“Oh, sure!” Amita grasped Nadia’s hand and started pulling her in the direction of the Valley of Honor, “I was jus’ on mah way t’ de Valley o’ Honah! We c’n go dere!”

“Of course,” Nadia said on a laugh, “lead the way.”

As excited as she was, Amita was mindful of her stride. She wasn’t that much taller than Nadia, but she was a druid, and noticed on one too many occasions that she often pulled ahead of groups because she was so eager to go places.

She hummed to herself as she went, and as the two were coming through the gate that led to the valley, Nadia spoke.

“I don’t recall seeing anyone like you around here before.”

“Oh no, mon! I don’ live here. Or on de Echo Isles. I be livin’ up in de Northern Barrens. Took an oasis fa myself.”

“A whole oasis?” Nadia questioned, and Amita grinned at her.

“Oh yah! Dem centaurs dunno wat ta do ‘bout big snakes,” she gave Nadia a cheeky look, “I be one.”

Nadia blinked in surprise as Amita pulled her into the inn that was sitting near the gates, known as the Wyvern’s Tail. She sat the mage down at a table and perched on the table herself, already starting with sectioning off Nadia’s hair.

“Then that means…” Nadia began, hesitance in her voice, “that you’re a druid?”

“Ya mon~”

“A Druid of the Fang?”

“Yes,” Amita looked up from the hair she was swiftly braiding to Nadia’s face, “ya sure be well read on dat!”

“Well! I happen to be well acquainted with some druids from the Cenarion Circle! They had made mention of other druid sects before, though most druids go with the way of the wild. Can you only turn into a cobra, or, do you have other forms?”

Amita snickered, green eyes shifting back to Nadia’s hair, “cobra fa damage, wind serpent fa flyin’, hydra fa takin’ blows--”

“Wait, wait,” Nadia interrupted, turning her head to look at Amita. The druid puffed out her cheeks, her eyes flicking to Nadia’s face, “you can turn into a hydra?”

“Ya mon! Not dat hard, actually,” Amita sighed, moving on to another section of Nadia’s hair, having finished the first braid, “but usually only one head. It be hard ta maintain t’ree. Takes a lot more of mah enahgy ta do dat.”

Nadia’s eyes were wide with curiosity, and it soon became clear to Amita that this mage was fully interested in having an engaged conversation. Smiled softly, Amita grasped Nadia’s chin in her hand, turning her head back to face forward, “c’n’t be braidin’ ya hair when ya so excited fa stories, girly.”

“Of course I am! This is the first time I’ve met a Druid of the Fang, and more so, one that can turn into other… reptiles apart from the general cobra! Wait, you also mentioned you could turn into a wind serpent, how did you go about learning how to do that--!”

“Shhhh shshshsh,” Amita hushed, though the laugh on her voice was obvious, “so many questions! What d’ya wanna hear first, wind serpent, or t’ree headed hydra?”

Nadia deliberated for a moment, giving Amita a small window of time to complete the second braid.

“... the hydra. Since that’s what you started with.”

“Okie dokie,” Amita set the braid to rest, taking a moment to section off more hair before she continued, “since learnin’ othah forms aside from de cobra is hit an’ miss, I had ta go see hydras fa m’self. I went and saw de um, thundah hydras! But, I didn’ hafta go ta Draenor fa dat, at least, I found a huntah who had a couple, he let me look at dem. I be studyin’ deir structure, ya know, feelin’ how deir muscles worked, how de t’ree heads split away. I c’n only hold de t’ree headed form fa so long, but wit it my strengt is pretteh impressive. I be real savage in dat form too, so I prefer ta go one-headed. Dat still be trowin’ people off.”

“Right, makes sense…” Nadia mused, leaning her staff against the table, “what about the wind serpent? Was that one easier?’

“Ya! All I had ta do was learn how ta shift mah hair inta big enough wings ta carry mah body,” Amita moved onto another braid, “it be like de cobra in dat sense. Hair equals cobra hood, so, hair equals wind serpent wings.”

Nadia hummed, muttering several other things under her breath. Amita continued with her braiding, pulling gently on Nadia’s hair to get the other woman to turn her head.

“I know that druids of the wild had moonkin forms, for their spell casting, and trees of life for their healing. So, on that line of thinking… and, based on what you said earlier, your cobra from is the equivalent of their cat form, the hydra the bear, and the wind serpent the bird, or bat, correct?”

Nadia attempted to look over her shoulder at Amita, and the druid released a soft hiss, “dat be correct, yah!”

“Oh, right, there was also a travel form… so? What about those forms?”

“Mm… travel, fa me, be de raptor. Dat is… a long storeh. Actually didn’ mastah de hydra form till I learned how ta turn inta a raptor,” Amita took a deep breath to steady her now quivering hands, “fa moonkin, I had ta be in Coldaarah fa t’ree years. Spent dat time wit de arcane worms dere an’, it be anothah form I c’n’t hold fa very long. So much magic!”

The mage was obviously aware that Amita had grown nervous after mentioning her travel form, and part of Amita was glad that she became distracted by the fact, “where did you learn how to be a raptor?”

“Em… I dunno how I be gettin’ dere, but, at some point I wound up stranded on a Zandalari island--” she pressed her lips together at Nadia’s surprised gasp, but continued, “when I be tryin’ ta git away, I be turnin’ inta a wind serpent. Saw sea fa miles, couldn’ git anywhere safe, and dey be sendin’ deir skyscreamahs aftah me. So I got caught, but… deir Dinomancahs, dey took interest. So dey be teachin’ me how ta take on a dinosaur form, ya? Den I applied wat I learned from dem to de hydra,” she couldn’t stop the fond smile from crossing her lips, but shook her head to be rid of it, “dey seemed… real proud.”

Nadia was silent for a long minute, but at least the act of braiding her dark hair calmed Amita’s nerves.

“I’d ask how you got away but, maybe that would be a conversation for another time.”

Amita hummed in agreement, then released something akin to a whine when Nadia asked her next question;

“What about restoration?”

“Dat, um, dat…” her hands stilled. Nadia took the chance to turn around in her seat and look at Amita, her eyes seeming to glimmer.

“Amita?”

“... is a naga.”

Nadia’s eyes widened, and Amita tapped her fingers against the table, looking askance, “ya. Is anothah form I c’n’t hold fa very long, but!” she easily slipped back into her cheery demeanor, “enough ‘bout me! Wat ‘bout you? Wat ya doin’ in Orgrimmar?”

While it was clear that the mage wanted to know more about the naga form, she took a breath, and began, “well, I’m currently working into the position of an ambassador, but before that, I was - and still am - Khadgar’s apprentice…”

[daimonic-clown]

A Deserved Curse

              The woods always whisper, even if one does not notice it. The Gilneans always chalked it up to unexplainable means. Something that would always haunt them, even without death at their border, or the bipedal lupine menace that an archmage of the royal court unleashed unknowing of the consequences of such actions. It was chilling in the woods, as it always was, though this was no simple woods where the fauna gathers, and the predators encroach upon to try and nab their fill of game.

              Henry wanted answers, for even without the whispering of the dreary woods, he felt off. Even outside of the woods, he knew something was awry. He knew it ever since his child was conceived. His faith was challenged, though he often concluded that it was because his faith was in forces far more eldritch than that of the Light. The Alliance was no longer about to judge the man on his faith. The stranger faiths of the Gilnean people were not in question anymore. So, he left for the woods in search of a coven of chosen women. Witches.

                He moved with some precision and kept a healthy sense of denial that he was actually lost. He muttered phrases under his breath; songs sung by the witches themselves in the hopes that they would hear him and have mercy on getting any further lost in the woods. There was a breeze that grew as he went deeper into the wooded area. Further, the sky was coated in blackened clouds that seemed to merge and chant omens of inevitable rainfall. The deeper he went, the more trees that blocked his vision. It almost seemed that they appeared out of sheer magic to make his journey harder.

                He wanted to speak with them. They did not want to speak with him.

                Frustration started to pile up on top of him. He found himself picking up his pace until he was in a full-blown sprint through the woods, branches slapping his face and body as he ran. He started to yell as he ran, fists clenched.

                “Face me dammit!” The branches grew thicker and started to quite literally open wounds on him. It was nothing serious, though thorns began to sprout and rip at clothes and skin. “Face me an’ tell me wha’ I’ve done! I want to atone!”

                That was when a blunt object collided with his gut and sent him to the ground. He gasped out for air and groaned aloud. The sound of feet stepping onto leaves became clear to him. It was a consistent set of crunches. The sound of bare feet destroying dried leaves. When he looked up, he saw barely any trees, and much fog covering what was once the background of the mountains of Gilneas. To his other side was three bodies, all covered in tattered clothes, and decorated in animal bones and furs.

                “You do not know what is good for you, Wyrmsbane.”

                “We figured you would get the point,” A different among the three spoke each time.

                “But now we must clarify, it seems.”

                Henry Wyrmsbane had to catch his breath. The debris of wood was scattered around his gut where he was hit. It must have been a branch that had harmed him. He started to get up, weakened from the pain, but he was a soldier, he knew he would tough it out.

                “You cannot take my son.” He declared. He seemed very certain of himself, facing the three witches and puffing his chest.

                They all looked to one another, heads tilted. They seemed slightly confused. Their faces were young and seemed untouched by age. Henry knew that to be a lie in of itself. They were decades old, perhaps older than Greymane himself, or any of his relatives. Magic kept them looking young and fruitful. Rituals, too.

                “You think it was us?” Said the witch in the middle, who had bright red hair that was near as long as her height – nearly six feet. “We do not want your first born, he is not even born yet, Wyrmsbane.”

                Henry looked between them, a hint of desperation sparking his gaze. “She’s… they said she’s not gonna’ be able to carry it much longer… s’was a bad omen, am I wrong?”

                The left witch and middle witch bowed their heads as the one on the right spoke. “We are not taking him,” she began, her hair golden and voice silky. She was the shortest of the three, barely breaching five feet in height. “But yes, it is a bad omen.”

                Wyrmsbane seemed unconvinced. But he knew it was the best he would get. Even a lie from these three was better than no information at all. “If not you, then who? Surely this is an omen of death.”

                They all looked up at him. “You are so ignorant, aren’t you, Wyrmsbane?” They spoke in unison. Then had shaken their heads in disappointment.

                “Stop speakin’ in fuckin’ riddles an’ give me real answers, dammit! I deserve this! I hold no contempt for you, or your coven! I have held nothing but loyalty for our ancient rites!” Henry was angry, and about to lash out. Though the witches showed no signs of fear. His hand clutched the longsword at his side.

                “Sweet Wyrmsbane,” the right witch spoke. Her voice seemed the most matured of the three. And it seemed almost to match her age. She seemed early in her thirties, which was by the far the eldest presented here. Which likely meant she was the oldest of this gathering of witches. “Your child will not perish. But he is destined to be cursed.” The witches all nodded in agreement.

                “Cursed?” Henry asked, his hand slipping off his longsword. “What do you mean?”

                The witches lingered a while longer, then the left and right witches started to turn and leave.

                “Where are you going? Stop!”

                The middle witch stayed and reached out to touch Henry’s arm. “Gilneas cursed itself the moment it left the Alliance to suffer to plague and ruin.” She looked down, wearing a solemn expression. “In time, we will all pay, Wyrmsbane. You will see. You will not live to see it all, but you will see regardless. Your son will know.”

                She finally showed her full face and showed a sight that surprised Henry. It caused him to gasp and swallow loudly. The witch’s eyes were full of the age she concealed. Wrinkled beyond the recognition of the young woman she bore the guise of. Her eyes looked as an elderly’s might on their final hours. Red within and around.

                When Henry closed his eyes from the shock, turned away, then looked back, they were all gone. He stood there, trees surrounding him again. In the distance he saw the hills and mountains of Gilneas. To his other side was the wall.

                The symbol of Gilnean pride.

                 “I’m tellin’ you, captain, it isn’t like him.”

                Barmin Whitmore sat in a small office, on the walls were the flag of Gilneas, medallions for honors in combat, and various animal hides from hunting.

                “’ow long’s it been?” The blue-and-grey uniformed captain leaned back in his chair and looked over the two that sat in front of him.

                “One week,” the other answered, Rose Langley.

                Barmin and Rose were both quite young, just after twenty years old. They were also uniformed, though not as decorated as the captain in front of them. Barmin held stained hands from his work as an engineer, and Rose looked entirely untouched, up to and including her longsword on her hip. Their shoulders held a custom design; one of a wolf howling on a rock. It was their callsign; they were a task force dedicated to rooting out and apprehending rebels. Deadly force was authorized if necessary.

                They were composed of three members as to keep the secrecy of the group low. Barmin Whitmore, who managed contraptions and formulated plans. Rose Langley, who often infiltrated groups under disguise. Finally, Vhoorl Wyrmsbane was their final member; he was the sharpshooter, and plans B-through-Z, assuming anything ended up going wrong on a plan. It was a perfectly crafted trio. Vhoorl and Rose handled the harsher parts of the job, Barmin worked the wit, and all three of them had some of the best chemistry of any regiment bigger than them, and with more experience in all of Gilneas.

                Vhoorl was missing, however, so lately they had been doing nothing. Tensions were higher in the city as word leaked out the crown was becoming aware of a plot. Some of the most devoted supporters of the rebellion were under the roof of the city: the noblemen. Something was in store for everything, and it was believed the next course of action for the rebels was to try and spring one of their most valued members: Darius Crowley.

                Time was of the essence. If that was not enough for putting strain on Gilneas, the world had started shaking. Quakes rocked the land, and it seemed that the ground itself threatened to break apart beneath everyone’s feet. Some shouted in the streets that it was a sign of the end times. Others simply grumbled and complained about the planet’s natural oddities – such as a Gilnean should.

                Vhoorl going missing was the own little panicked situation that Barmin and Rose had to deal with. They sat at the desk wringing their hands and rubbing their neck, unsure of how to proceed. They never processed the consideration that they should continue their duties without an entire piece of their team. If Vhoorl had been the one to not be missing and Barmin or Rose disappeared, Vhoorl would have marched out in the direction of where they had been last seen and searched up, down, left, and right until he finally found them. He would have done it for weeks, months, years even. If ordered to stop, Vhoorl would have flipped them off and continued right on doing what he would have most certainly sought to finish. Even if futile.

                Even though Barmin was the brains of the operation, he was at a loss. Vhoorl was the heart of the trio. A saying was often had – that Barmin may have made the bombs, but Vhoorl definitely lit the fuse. It was the essence of their need for guidance.

                 The officer, James Tanner, rubbed his unkempt and scratchy facial hair. “It unlike him to do that?”

                Rose was the one to cut in and answer. “Yes, Captain. Vhoorl simply said ‘e was goin’ to travel out on a… ‘pilgrimage.’”

                The captain hummed. “His rites an’ such. his family always ‘ad strange customs.” He sighed loudly. “I dunno’ wha’ you wan’ me to do though,” he concluded quickly, though.

                 “We mainly wanted you t’know ‘e isn’t betrayin’ anyone. ‘e isn’t a rebel, Captain.”

                The captain narrowed his eyes, there was a brief second of doubt over his gaze. Then he simply nodded in understanding. “Righ’,” he bluntly concluded. “Tha’ everythin’?”

                Rose and Barmin looked a bit nervous, but they looked at each other, then nodded. “Yes, Captain,” they both said, Rose first, then Barmin. They left the office silent. They stepped alongside one another, and walked down the streets of Gilneas City.

                Barmin seemed lost. He looked forward, distractedly. Rose kept looking at Barmin, and after she let him be lost for just under ten minutes, she ended up pulling on his tunic and tried to talk to him.

                “We have to do somethin’, Barmy.”

                “He’s fine.” Barmin looked to Rose, then stopped walking near a bench.

              “Don’t you care?” Rose asked with a convincing tone of frustration. Barmin had grunted and waved her off.

                “Fock off with that, you know I care, Rose. I’m just givin’ the bloke credit: he’s fine.” Barmin then sat himself down at the bench. “If he can’t make it out there, then we’re all screwed.”

                Rose sat on the bench, too, and instinctively reached for Barmin’s hand. She squeezed it. “Don’t you think it would make sense to at least try and find him? Maybe the rebels found ‘im?”

                Barmin looked at Rose’s face long and hard. He then sighed. “After this bloody plot’s dealt with, yeah? Rebels aren’t going to stick their bloomin’ claws in our city.”

                Barmin stood up and adjusted his tunic. “After the city’s safe, then we’ll find Vhoorl. And be sure he gets nice and jealous we had fun without him.”

                  Red. All that could be seen was red. The occasional shadow of smaller, weaker bodies flashed before his eyes. He could hear himself panting. He could feel the pain of the transformation still coursing through his system. His mind was an avalanche of various primal urges. He needed to feed. He needed to kill. He needed to gather his pack and lash out at the others who sought to slay his kin.

                In order to do that, his primal instinct encouraged him to first rough up the lesser leaders of packs and lead them himself. He had to prove himself to be worthy of leading his own pack. He shed much blood and lost some of his own. Though soon he had over a dozen of his kin huddled around him. They all stared in anticipation of what he would do. The bloodied mass of two others that challenged him were off to the side. They were injured, but not dead. It was not in his nature to kill his own kind. If he had done so, he was no better than the enemy that threatened the safety of his kin. He then growled and sniffed the air. He ended up charging, dripping occasional droplets of blood, though nothing about his injuries was truly horrible, or ghastly. He ended up on top of a hill overlooking a large cluster of structures.

                He held his head high, opened up his maw, then let loose a mighty howl. His pack followed in suit, howling after him. On his right shoulder, the tattered patch of a wolf on a rock howling at the moon shined ever so slightly, glistening with spatters of blood. Down the hill and beyond the fortified walls lay the towers that made up the Gilnean Cathedral. His pack charged down before him, but they were not the only ones.

                Dozens of worgen climbed over the walls and jumped from roof to roof. Some leaped off the roof earlier than others, all to maul citizens and guards. All to satiate an endless bloodlust.

                Deep, deep in the alpha’s mind, a voice rang out. Though it was so faint, it was practically a gust of wind. Ignored, useless. It said:

                Stop.

[chocobroobsession]

The Red String - Chapter 10

Author’s Note: The next chapter in my soulmate AU fic about Ignis x fem!OC. This chapter heavily features Prompto. I am super excited about Episode Prompto coming out! I can’t wait to find out more about his time in Niflheim (I wrote this before all the trailers came out). I didn’t really take any liberties with that aspect of his story here, but his background is mentioned. Trigger Warning: mention of self-harm, talk of depression and suicide. Side note: If you find yourself struggling with depression/suicide/etc, and you need someone to talk to, I’m always here to listen. As someone who has struggled with depression and suicide, I try to be a good listener. I won’t know exactly what you’re going through, but I probably have an idea at least. *hugs* Word count: 2118

Chapter Masterlist

Chandra figured Ignis had gone back to the guys’ room to hang out. Either that or he went out for Ebony. She noticed he drank it all the time. It explained the scent she picked up on his jacket before. She contemplated the future laid out before her. The guys knew where to find another boat to head towards Lestallum. Prompto had invited her to continue to tag along, but she was unsure.

When they first arrived in Altissia, she had a strong sense of déjà vu. Though it was dark and the city had been torn apart by Leviathan, she could see the beautiful buildings and stand in awe at its grandeur. “My dream definitely took place here,” she had mumbled to herself. She had guessed that she had glimpsed the Hydraean and based on the guys’ stories, she knew they had been in Altissia before they came to Gralea. They had been traveling with that Prince Noctis guy until he was absorbed into that crystal that the Empire had stolen from Lucis. They had explained their journey to her, though they left out specific details, refusing to elaborate on certain events, such as their run-ins with the Empire and Chancellor Ardyn Izunia. “Yep, they definitely took part in the battle here. Did I really witness what happened to Ignis during the fight? And did I somehow intervene?” she wondered.

She rose from the bed and checked the bandages on her wrist. If she had roomed with the others, she would have had to sleep in a long-sleeved shirt, which was always too hot and uncomfortable to her. The only good thing about Ignis’s handicap was that he wouldn’t see the bandage and ask about what was there or what happened like the others ultimately would have.

She pulled the bandages off to survey the damage. Crusted blood covered the barcode, but the red lines made it less legible. She’d have to cut it some more to make a lasting impression, however. She went to the sink and scrubbed off the caked on blood. Just as she turned around to grab a towel, a knock came at the door and Prompto immediately burst in.

“Good morning, Chandra! Iggy’s back at the room so I thought I’d just see how you—holy shit what’s on your wrist?!” He noticed her barcode midsentence and couldn’t tear his eyes away. He had caught her off guard and she hadn’t had the time to react.

“It’s nothing! Nothing! You didn’t even give me the chance to respond! You just came bursting through the door! Shit, just forget it, okay!” She blushed and hid her wrist behind her back as she glared into the floor.

Prompto shut the door and made his way over to her. She backed into the sink, refusing to look at him. His voice came out soft, filled with understanding. “Chandra. It’s alright. You don’t have to hide it. I know what it is. I have one too.”

Her head shot up, and her eyes widened. “What?”

He pulled off the black band that encased his right wrist and he held it up to her face. She recognized the barcode and grimaced. For a second, she thought maybe he had been a scientist too who managed to escape, but his past was much worse than hers. She’d been caught red-handed, so she figured she may as well fess up. Prompto seemed to be the most understanding of the group, and now she knew why.

“Prom…it’s not exactly the same. Here, take a look.” She lifted her wrist and he gasped, taking in all of the cuts which crisscrossed over the thick black lines.

“Wow. I mean, I just cover mine, but you’re trying to mutilate yours.”

“No, that’s not what I meant. Look at the lettering.”

Prompto grasped her hand and studied the tattoo. “See how the barcode starts with ‘SCI’? That’s short for ‘scientist’,” she explained.

Prompto dropped her hand as though it was on fire and suddenly glared into her eyes. “Scientist!? But…but you said you were a doctor! You lied to us? Even after I stuck up for you? How could you? I trusted you, and all this time you were one of the people who…who would have turned me into a mindless killing machine if given the chance?!” Prompto’s freckled face reddened as he turned to exit the room. Chandra lunged after him, grabbing onto his wrist. He tried to shake her off, but her grip tightened.

“Wait, Prompto! Please let me explain! I swear I’ll tell you the truth! Just please believe me!” Tears started streaking down her pale cheeks as she held onto the blonde.

Prompto sighed and turned towards her. He always tried to see the best in people, and he couldn’t help but want to give her another chance despite the feeling of betrayal. “Fine, but seriously, don’t lie to me again.”

“Okay,” Chandra whispered. “Truth is, I’m not actually from Niflheim. I’m from Tenebrae. I was essentially kidnapped and brought to Niflheim to be part of their science program. I didn’t want any of that, but I had no choice. I don’t exactly want to go into detail, but let’s just say they made good on their threats, and so I was forced to work in those labs. I really did want to become a doctor, but I guess my fate lied elsewhere. It was either work in the lab or suffer the consequences.” The tears were forming rivers down her red cheeks as she confessed to the man.

“You really had no other choice?”

All of her fears and insecurities were rearing their ugly heads. If someone like Prompto, who was sweet and friendly, couldn’t see past what she had done, then how could anyone else? She couldn’t help but allow herself to be swallowed in all of her depressing thoughts as she answered. “I didn’t. Plus I had nowhere else to go. I had no one left in Tenebrae. I mean, I guess I could have just killed myself, but I was selfish enough to not really want to die. I did at first, but I couldn’t bring myself to go through with it. Maybe I would have been better off dead.”

Prompto felt guilty. “Don’t say that!” He turned to her and wrapped her up in a hug. She stiffened initially, but allowed herself to hold him back and cry into his shoulder.

“I know what it’s like to be depressed and suicidal. Believe me, I know better than you’d think. No matter what though, it’s never worth it to kill yourself,” he assured her, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m glad you didn’t kill yourself, actually. I don’t know what your purpose is in life, but there must be a reason you’re still here. I mean, you didn’t take pleasure in what you did there in Zegnautus Keep, did you?”

“It was the absolute worst,” Chandra sobbed. “I can’t even describe the things I saw there. I still have nightmares to this day. You don’t understand just how horrid Niflheim can be.”

“I believe you. I don’t know exactly how I managed to escape my fate, but I was supposed to become an MT,” Prompto quietly admitted.

Chandra pulled out of the embrace and held onto Prompto’s tattooed wrist. “I recognize your barcode. You’re right; you were born to be an MT. I’m glad you got out. Maybe there were more of you who didn’t have to go through that.” She smiled slightly, though the sentiment didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m sorry I lied to all of you. I was afraid of you hating me. I really like you all, even Gladio, and if this doesn’t change anything, I would like to continue on with you, if that’s okay.”

Prompto smiled. “Of course it’s okay. We’d love for you to stick with us. I’m sorry I lost my cool with you. I’m still coming to terms with what I am. I literally just escaped torture at Zegnautus Keep, so you can see why the subject is a little painful for me.”

Chandra hurt for him, but didn’t want to press him into talking about it. “I’m so sorry, Prompto. Believe me, I never wanted any of this to happen to anybody. I’ve done monstrous things that I’m not proud of, but I want to spend the rest of my life making it up to the rest of humanity. Niflheim does not own me anymore. I don’t want to be the reason for other’s nightmares.”

Prompto patted Chandra’s back and started to bid her goodbye so she could clean up and pack, but he couldn’t help himself from asking what had been on his mind the whole trip. “Changing the subject, can I ask you something?”

“What?” she sniffled.

“Why are you so drawn to Ignis? I can’t help but notice that you stare at him a lot and you gravitate towards him. Do you have a crush on him or something?”

That was not what she had expected him to ask. She briefly considered lying by omission, but she decided that Prompto deserved nothing but the truth from her from then on.

“Can you keep a secret?” she whispered.

He chuckled. “I’ve keep secrets from even my best friends my whole life up until now. Pretty sure I can take yours to the grave if I have to.”

Chandra grinned. “I just had to make sure.”

“So, what, you like him?”

“Well, it’s more complicated than that…” She went on to explain the dream to him. He stood wide-eyed, staring off beside her as she spoke. When she got to the part about the blast, his gaze shifted over to her eyes.

“So that’s how Iggy lost his sight!”

“Well, I’m not sure, entirely. I didn’t actually see him after I turned to run away too. We’re making assumptions here. Besides, I wasn’t actually there, was I? I mean, he said he didn’t recognize my voice. It couldn’t have been real.” She tried to reason.

“I dunno. It seems like you were there. How else would you have known him? Gladio did find him in the area you described. Maybe you weren’t physically there. Maybe it was just your…spirit or something? Yeah, you were able to like, project yourself to him.” Prompto suggested.

“And here I thought I sounded crazy,” Chandra grinned. “You’re trying to justify this! It’s absurd! I don’t know how or why I am involved with him, but I am. I’m drawn to him like a moth to flame and I can’t explain it. I guess you could say I am developing a crush on him, I suppose.”

Prompto debated on whether or not to tell her about finding her. He decided it could do no harm at this point. “Wanna know how we really found you in the snow?”

“How?” she raised an eyebrow at him.

He went on to explain how Ignis suddenly made them stop and how he miraculously navigated through the storm to find her and have them dig her out and drag her back to the train. She sat there in awe.

“So he feels drawn to me too?” she timidly asked.

“Yeah, I guess so. Now I don’t know if he has a crush on you exactly. I hadn’t asked. But I can if you want me to?” Prompto smirked.

“No! Don’t! Besides, didn’t you say he doesn’t remember Altissia? Maybe I really did just coincidentally dream about the event. It would be one thing if he recalled seeing me, but he doesn’t remember anything about his accident. How about we just not tell him about any of this, hmm? It can be our secret. We can just go on and act like nothing happened.”

“Well, we don’t have to tell him anything yet, but I still feel like there’s something big going on between the two of you. I feel like if you want to get close to him, you will have to tell him these things. You can’t keep secrets like that from someone you love.” Prompto explained.

“I never said I loved him!” Chandra blushed. “I just…I don’t know. I’m still trying to figure out what’s going on here, okay?”

“Fine. I just wonder what the Astrals have in store for the two of you next,” Prompto mused. “Now hurry up and get ready. We have quite the trip ahead of us!” With that, Prompto marched out the door.

The Astrals? What? Chandra was lost in thought when the story of the red string of fate hit her.  Was Prompto hinting that maybe Ignis was tied to her like a soulmate?