#fic: i saw a brighter world beyond myself

[evil-ontheinside]

I saw a brighter world beyond myself: Chapter 2

"He must have something useful in his bag, right?

Michael moves slowly when he shifts his bag into a more accessible position. Holly’s arm moves along with his, letting go seemingly the last thing on her mind. Her eyes are still fixed on Batty who crouched down to examine the paper. They’re wide, a little terrified even though she has nothing to fear. Michael will face the consequences, no matter what happens.

With a hand deep in his bag, trying not to make a noise he will regret instantly, Michael tries to recall what exactly he threw inside. He doesn’t remember much other than Dustin’s bewildered look when he cut off the curtains—which he mostly only did to see his reaction and because he can. If he leaves the castle in a cloak-and-dagger operation he will leave his parents with a present. Or steal something, seems more accurate.

It isn’t like Michael has never done anything illegal before, and stealing half the curtains in his own room should hardly count as a crime.

The object he finally feels at the bottom of his bag is a different story."

Chapter 1

[notebooknonbinary]

Byler Fic Rec Week - Day 5: AU

I didn't really like AU fics before Byler fandom. That just goes to show how amazing Byler fic writers are, that it got me to change my mind--something Very Hard to do. All these fics are so so wonderful! Still, I haven't read all too many byler AUs, so I'm really looking forward to going through the recs for today!!

Keep an eye on the tags, please!

Love goes 'round And I saw a brighter world beyond myself - by @evil-ontheinside

A Flower That Resembles You And the truth beneath the rose - by @perexcri

the way her hair falls - by pale_interior

Monsters & Quests - by FrostyQueen

and at last i see the light - by paladinsscleric

til kingdom come by @andiwriteordie

[harry-leroy]

for the fic prompts, laertes and hamlet + “win” if you’re willing to write those two :)

Hi! I'm just having a look at my ask box, and goodness I know it has been a good while since I have even looked at things in my inbox. However, I just realized that I have not written anything (academically, or for fun) in several months, so I thought we would start with some fic prompts to settle back in with *words* again.

This was incredibly fun to write, though I am realizing how difficult it is just to get to 1000 words when writing prose - if anyone writes in prose on the regular, I bow down to you. I also kind of split up the characters (because of course I would), but I also used characters from that Hamlet play I posted snippets of earlier this year on my blog (because I'm obsessed with this little French OC boyfriend I've given Laertes), so that's the universe I'm operating in.

I'll leave it under a cut! Thank you again for all of your lovely asks (and if anyone wants to request a fic, you can totally leave something in my ask box, it just might take several months for me to get back to you ahahah).

“What is it today? I have grown bored of playing cards,” Etienne rolled over to kiss Laertes on the cheek, then on the nose, the mouth, marking a blazon with the repeated gesture.

“We all have,” Laertes returned, between breaths. “I have certainly grown too old to gamble,”

“Nonsense,” Etienne said. “You are young. Believe me,”

“Old in my heart then,” Laertes said. “They weren’t lying when they said France dulls a man’s senses. Libertines are about as common as beggars or whores. A fool I was to expect some kind of excitement away from Denmark,”

“Who else would give us our money?” Etienne asked. “No cards today, my love,”

“Swords then,” Laertes sat up, still following Etienne’s affection. “I can gamble with the rest of them, but perhaps I’ve grown soft in my physicality,”

“What? Do you intend to be a soldier when your fortune comes calling?” Etienne asked.

“If I must,” Laertes sighed. “You always challenge my thoughts, Etienne. More often than not, I find myself at a loss with you. I must win at something,”

“Do not trouble yourself with that loss,” Etienne pressed his forehead against Laertes’s. “Men like me must win at something, considering where our pithy fortunes are made. I merely tell you what I see. I must tell someone of interest,”

“What do you have to tell today?” Laertes asked.

“Even when you’ve put your cards away, you are still building your hand,” Etienne paused in his affection. “First, it’s sex, then it is gambling, then dancing, now combat. A fair hand, I will admit, though you are missing the winning trick,”

“Oh? What would that be?” Laertes asked.

“Diplomacy,” Etienne said, eyes grave, as though he were truly a way seer. It was like that with Etienne, Laertes knew. Every night was like having a counsel with a cautious God, profane as such a comparison felt. Laertes would often wonder if others had looked into Etienne’s eyes and saw the bold heaven he saw, the judgement, the doomsday book, written in fire. Some nights, he wondered if Etienne were real.

Laertes let out a laugh.

“Diplomacy is a dead man’s language,” he said. “Have you heard our new king? Just talking, talking, talking… the prince too. No one of any real consequence has ears, you know,”

“So, that is why you do not listen to me?” Etienne teased, placing another kiss on Laertes’s lips. To Laertes, it was God chastising him again, knocking down his attempt at pretty words in exchange for reason, self-reflection, guilt. Etienne kept talking between kisses. “Or to your father? Or to your sister? Because you are a man of consequence?”

“Some men must be,” Laertes’s face fell. “Whether we wish it or not,” In truth, Etienne was no better than any common whore. He took his gold and spent it where he could. He made love to other men under this roof, or perhaps out on the streets, if the price were high enough. France was nothing but a hell, gilded in pleasure to cover the sores beneath. Polonius was right to send a spy his way, though there were no real secrets to uncover. France was itself. Laertes his own self. The shame had long since melted away after Etienne’s tender kisses.

“Alright,” Etienne said, after a moment, tone brighter, keen on making the joy. In his heart, the love, whatever feeling came to him so fleetingly, last but only a moment longer. “Swords it is. Leave diplomacy for the little men. You better win. Make it worth my time to watch,”

* * *

“It is off,” Hamlet frowned. “The attack. It is all a simple matter of parry and riposte. Like the joke, you see, Horatio? Except I am at the end of it, stabbed through,”

Horatio only picked his head up upon hearing his own name, as he had been straightening the blade of his foil. His friend had been slightly off in his footing today, though it was nothing to wince at. Even in his tired state, Hamlet had still made a joke out of fencing, no matter how dire he made it sound. That blend of the humorous and the horrible was something only Hamlet could bravely serve and make it seem convincing, if not ridiculous.

“Would you like to stop?” Horatio asked.

“Stop? If only it were so easy… to stop.” Hamlet said before taking a sharp breath in and holding it, as if to demonstrate.

“I suppose, my lord,” Horatio said, his tongue quick despite how tired it felt, if only his friend would breathe again.

“Again, Horatio,” Hamlet rose to his feet.

“If you insist on it,” Horatio replied.

“What would you rather me do?” Hamlet’s temper rose, as it had been edging that way all morning. Temper appeared to be the curse of any royal line these days.

“I really don’t know,” Horatio shrugged with only one shoulder and readied his stance across their makeshift piste. “There are times when something such as a swordfight does not matter, in the end, win or lose. The world turns on and on, really, but… I speak too readily,”

“No,” Hamlet nodded. “No, you speak perfectly,”

“What is it that you fear, my lord? Truly? Deeply? Irrevocably?” Horatio asked, their friendship as schoolboys taking the greater part of his mannered reason.

“Truly?” Hamlet lowered his sword, “That what you say is true. That the odds are tossed against our favors by some terrible third hand,”

“The hand of God?” Horatio mused.

“Or that of my uncle,” Hamlet met the humor of Horatio’s tone.

“I could not imagine your uncle taking a sword against you,” Horatio said.

A moment passed. Hamlet turned away and off their piste.

“That is it though, is it not?” he asked, voice haunted. “He would not. He holds onto cards we cannot even see, much less imagine, until he plays them. Oh, and he plays them brutally, does he not?”

“I do not know what to say to that, my lord,” Horatio said after a pause, his manner returning, the Wittenberg friend lost once more.

“There is nothing to say,” Hamlet smiled, though it did not reach his eyes. “That is how you know we have hit a truth. Even at Wittenberg, when the truths we hit were just beyond the reality of our real lives, hypothetical and such, it always did taste bitter. There is loss for all of us, right at the end of the bout,”

“But fight we must,” Horatio held out a hand.

“Yes,” Hamlet took the hand in his own. “Yes. Fight we will,”

[somethingwritey]

my writing samples!

if you’re interested in commissioning my work (or you just like reading excerpts), i’ve taken some time to prepare writing samples! 

more commission information can be found here or you can private message me for further questions! 

-----

💖 dramatic

this is an excerpt from a rangi/kyoshi one-shot i did recently: 

Rangi’s exhalation is loud in Kyoshi’s head, but perhaps almost silent in the world. “I used to see you guys around the mansion,” she confesses. “I would… watch you two. It was my duty, of course, to watch him. But not you.”

This isn’t exactly news to Kyoshi. Rangi has spent lifetimes saving her from herself and the world. Her bodyguard before she knew she needed one.

“I know.”

“You wanna know what I thought?” Rangi shakes her head, a strangled bit of laughter escaping her lips. “When I saw the way he’d admire you? I thought… The Avatar and his servant… what a pathetically tragic way to love. So caught up in the power imbalance of it all.” 

“Rangi -”

“And then,” Rangi stares up at the sky now, squinting into the brightness of it all. “I fell right into it myself. Only you’re not the servant, Kyoshi. You’ve never been the servant. It’s me. In love with the great and powerful Avatar. Hopelessly and endlessly lost in the difference between duty and pleasure.” 

That is absolutely wrong. If nothing else, Kyoshi knows that. “You’re not.”

“In love with you?”

No. That’s probably true, even if Kyoshi still doesn’t know why.

“You’re not my servant. You’ve never been, and you never will be.” 

Rangi finally meets her gaze, and Kyoshi is surprised to see a glassiness there, reflecting in the bronze of her irises. She reaches out and runs a hand along the girl’s jawline, gently tracing every scar, every ghost of pain.

“Whoever made me the Avatar was really, really stupid,” she whispers. “You would’ve made a better one.”

“I’m not Earth Kingdom.”

“I don’t care.” Kyoshi knows how the cycle works. And she still thinks the Era of Rangi would outshine any past or future Avatar.

----

💖 comedic/light-hearted

 this is an excerpt from a jay/carlos de vil one-shot: 

“You have a crush?”

Carlos whipped around, staring at Jay who had just come up the stairs. “Where the fuck did you come from?”

“Uh -” Jay blinked, pointing down the stairs. “Downstairs? Look, someone said you go ... oh, you found a friend.” His gaze fell on the cat.

“He’s my new best friend.” Carlos was only half joking. “You’ve been demoted.”

Jay feigned hurt for a moment. On the whole, he didn’t look as drunk as Carlos would’ve expected. “So, this crush of yours,” he said at last. “Is he the reason you agreed to come?”

The irony wasn’t lost on Carlos, and if he weren’t too busy wishing the earth would swallow him whole, he might’ve laughed. “Uh - I don’t -”

“Come on,” Jay laughed. “I won’t tell anyone. Not even Mal. What’s he like?”

Carlos made a face. “The one time you’re not hammered at a party, huh? Just my luck.”

Jay shook his head. “Come on, man! Just give me a hint!” 

Carlos mimed zipping his lips. 

Jay is here. With you, his brain whispered unhelpfully. Not downstairs. Maybe you have a chance. 

Jay smiled, oddly genuine. “I get that parties aren’t your thing, ‘Los. Must be one hell of a guy if he’s worth all this.”

“Yeah, well,” Carlos mumbled, picking at a spot on the carpet. “He looks cute when he says please.”

----

💖 alternate universe/timeline adjustment 

this is a sneak peak of an unpublished equalist!asami/korra fic that i’m currently working on :) so stay tuned for more of this: 

“Miss Sato,” a voice called from beyond the reinforced door. “You have a visitor.”

Her father, surely! Or one of his associates. But when door slid open and someone stepped inside, it wasn’t Hiroshi.

Asami turned towards the wall. “I don’t want to talk to you.” 

“Asami, wait.” Korra didn’t try to get any closer. “I just -” 

“Just what?” Asami muttered. Her voice dripped with sarcasm. “Wanted to see me put away? Make sure they’d gotten the right girl? A non-bender standing on the sidewalk at night is so dangerous, see. Glad you’ve got the police force cracking down on the issue.” 

She could feel Korra’s frustration and revelled in it. She liked being able to get to Korra. 

“No! That’s not! Ugh!” Korra paced, her footsteps heavy. “I don’t have much time! I just wanted to ask you to meet me! Away from anyone listening! Under the Silk Road Bridge.” 

“I’d love to, but you see,” Asami gestured around her cell. She still hadn’t dropped the cynical act. “I’m kinda busy at the moment.” 

“Your father is already trying to buy your way out,” Korra told her. “You’ll be released before most of Republic City wakes up. I know you, Asami. You wouldn’t… you’re not -” 

“Not what, Korra?” Asami finally looked at her. Hard. “Like the rest of the non-benders? One of the good ones?” 

“You betrayed us!” 

“And you couldn’t save those people from being rounded up like animals!” 

Korra opened her mouth, but no words came out. She threw back her head in frustration. “Fine! I’ll leave you alone! But tonight, at midnight, I’ll be under that bridge. I hope you will be, too. I just want to talk.”  

-----

💖 angst/pining

this is an excerpt from a casey/izzie fic: 

Casey couldn’t breathe. 

She was used to the breathlessness that came with running, the burning and tightening of her lungs as she demanded more from them. But when her feet skimmed across the pavement, racing, racing, like her heartbeat, it didn’t scare her. Rather, she relished it, craved it. The way her whole body felt alive, how she could feel every tingle in her arms and legs, how everything seems to still and grow quiet around her - she loved it. 

This was different. 

Her vision tunneled, entirely swallowed by Izzie and the boy in the corner who had his tongue in her mouth. The people around her suddenly felt too close and the music too loud. She wished she had Sam’s noise canceling headphones. 

Casey wasn’t even trying to inhale anymore as she stared, watching the girl whose lips she’d taken a chance on kiss a boy - a stranger. She could feel her chest burning, could feel the rest of her body screaming at her to take a breath, to do something. But she couldn’t. She could only stare until the need for air became too much.

She gasped, her feet moving against her will. The room smelled like too much weed, stinging her eyes and nose. Casey began to back towards the door.

It wasn’t that she was heartbroken; no, she knew what heartbreak felt like, and right now, that space was occupied by Evan. 

This was on her. She’d decided to break off something good and consistent and wonderful to chase after someone who played hot and cold like Evan played video games. She had no one to blame but the person in the mirror. 

Somehow, after being jostled around by several other bodies, she made it to the hallway. It was quiet, thankfully, the noise of the party muffled to the pulsing of the base inside the hotel room where she knew Izzie was still liplocked with that tall stranger. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

How could she have thrown away something so good for this? 

She wanted to go back to being normal; to the time when she looked at Evan’s eyes and didn’t see Izzie’s reflecting back at her.

-----

💖 hurt/comfort 

this is an excerpt from a nico minoru/karolina dean fic: 

“You’re still glowing.” The words came out low. Nico’s eyes flicked up and down her girlfriend’s illuminated body, taking it all in. She knew Karolina could control her light now, which could only mean one thing.

“I wanted you to see it,” Karolina admitted, ducking her head. Now that Nico’s eyes were open, she could see just how much fear flickered behind Karolina’s warm glow. She had removed her arms from Nico now and twisted her hands together in front of herself anxiously. “I needed you to see it.”

Nico swallowed hard, unable to pull her eyes away. The light brought so many emotions flooding back. The first time she’d seen Karo glow. Early nights at the Hostel when the power would short out and Karolina walked around like a glowing flashlight. All the times Nico ran her hands down her hips and kissed her neck and watched her glow brighter than all the stars in the sky. 

“I see it,” Nico promised. 

“You’re not scary,” was Karolina’s response.

They were words Nico had said many times to Karolina, but never had anyone said them to her. 

“Then why am I… like this?”

“Nico.” Karolina shook her head. “Your darkness isn’t evil. It just… is. And I know you can master your magic without the Staff. You’re more than its power.” 

“Am I?” Nico didn’t know what she was. She’d been trying to figure it out for a lot longer than she cared to admit. 

She was the Dead Girl’s Sister. She was That Goth Bitch. She was a loner, an outcast, a freak.

“You’re Nico Minoru,” Karolina said quietly. “And that’s… that’s enough.”

----

💖 fluff

this mal/evie moment is an excerpt from longer fic titled In Loco Parentis:  

Evie had really outdone herself. She’d managed to put together a figure cutting, sapphire satin dress that fell off the shoulders in the most tasteful way possible. With her dark makeup and striking updo, Evie could’ve passed as at least twenty-five. And Mal had never wanted to kiss her more.

“I’m proud of you,” Mal said during a quiet moment, rubbing the other girl’s shoulders gently. “You look great. You did good.”

“Well,” Evie laughed, tipping her head back. “I did well.” 

“Whatever, princess.” Mal’s voice had gone soft, her chin resting on Evie’s shoulder. Unable to help herself, she pressed a gentle kiss there, glancing up to see if she’d overstepped. But Evie didn’t look upset; on the contrary, her eyes were wide and her cheeks pink.

“So that’s what it’s like when a girl kisses you,” she breathed, tucking Mal’s hair behind her ear.

“Believe me,” Mal purred. “You ain’t seen nothing yet.” She waited for Evie to correct her grammar again, but instead, the girl pulled Mal gently out from behind her, capturing Mal’s lips with her own. 

And just like that, Evie was kissing her.

“You’ve got lipstick on your face,” Evie whispered as she pulled away, doing her best to wipe it off.

“I don’t care.”

“I can’t fail you today.” Evie tugged at the hem of her dress, sighing. “I can’t. Mal, this means so much to you.”

But for the first time in a very, very long time, revenge on her mother was the last thing on Mal’s mind. Evie’s eyes and lips and voice took up all the space, blooming in her chest. “You can’t fail me,” she promised.

And that was the sheer and utter truth.

-----

💖 single character-centric

this is an excerpt from a catra-centric exploration:  

She’s lost count of the nail marks. 

When Hordak first threw her in this cell, Catra resolved to count every single tally Shadow Weaver left on the walls. But now that she’s fifty-two marks in - or maybe fifty-three? - her determination is beginning to waver. 

She also doesn’t remember Shadow Weaver being locked up for fifty days. Maybe the nail marks don’t represent days at all - or maybe the old lady is as crazy as she is evil. 

Lowering her gaze to the green glowing shackles around her hands, Catra tries - not for the first time - to wriggle out of them. Their buzzing is growing increasingly irritating.

How dare Shadow Weaver leave? Did she stop to think what would happen to Catra? Did it even cross her mind that she might be thrown in this cell as her replacement? Or maybe she did and just didn’t care? 

Catra’s face twists in a grim smile. Of course her own fate hasn’t given Shadow Weaver any pause. She got what she wanted.

She tries to think back, to find the place where she went wrong - a single moment she can pinpoint where her plans went to shit. But the pieces just don’t fit. Nothing adds up. 

Because Catra has done everything right. She’s climbed the ranks. She’s done her job well. She’s accomplished everything Adora could have and more. She’s surpassed even Shadow Weaver’s authority! 

And yet, here she is. In chains. Awaiting punishment. 

Adora always comes out on top. Hasn’t that been beaten into her since day one? Adora gets to walk away unharmed, with her new best friends and glowing hair. Adora gets Shadow Weaver, despite being a defector, a traitor, a failure! 

I would’ve stayed for you.  

Catra kicks out with her back foot and pushes away the tray someone delivered to her earlier. She’s not that hungry anyway - and certainly not for brown ration bars. 

The tray makes a satisfying clatter as it skids across the floor, and Catra bares her teeth in a halfway smile. If she’s going down, she’s going to go down fighting. She’ll make it as difficult and as painful for Hordak as she can - right until the very end.

-----

💖 second person

this is an excerpt from a summer/tessa fic i wrote by request: 

She’s happy now, you know. 

She’s brighter and happier and just really fucking in love. 

You can see it. You can hear it in the way she talks and the way her eyes light up when she walks into the room. You notice how she perks up when her name is dropped during casual conversation and how she makes a point of talking about her at every possible offhanded moment.

And honestly, you’re happy, too. You’re happy for her. You’re happy for them. Because they’re just so cute, and everyone says so. 

And if you notice that Tessa is wearing her sweater - the one you used to wear because it made her mad and got those sparkling eyes to fix on you for just a few more seconds -  you don’t say anything. 

Because it wasn’t like the sweater belonged to you or was anything other than a polyester cardigan with a small hole in the elbow. 

It’s not like when you draped it over your shoulders, she would roll her eyes and grumble and demand you give it back. Your heart wouldn’t jump, and your mind wouldn’t rush with the adrenaline that came with shooting a snarky response. 

It’s not like you memorized the way she used to scoff - that sound in the back of her throat - or how she’d wave her hand dismissively while you wondered what it would be like to hold it and never let go.

 It’s not like you’ve ever wanted anything from her - attention or otherwise. 

It’s not like that sweater gave you an excuse to touch her shoulders, to catch a whiff of her perfume, to pretend the old sleeves were a good substitute for her arms. 

When words finally do form in your mouth, they’re not the ones you want to say. They’re snarky or sarcastic or snide. They’re perfectly in-character for you, the airhead, the fair-weather friend, or just The Bitch. 

Plain and simple. Easy to categorize and even easier to overlook. 

You won’t think about what it feels like to hug her or how comforting it is to rest your head on her shoulder for those brief, world-stopping seconds - so close you can smell her shampoo and whatever else she uses to make those curls behave themselves. Those moments are meant to be locked away, to be kept safe, where they can’t become anything they shouldn’t. Because the two of you have come so far, but nowhere near far enough. 

Yeah, you’re not my type. 

It’s confirmation of a dead end.

-----

if any of these pieces catch your eye and you want one of your own, please don’t hesitate to reach out to me! i’m in the process of working on some really cool commissions right now, and i’m more than happy to add yours to the mix!

♡  ♡  ♡

[chatonne-rousse]

Through a Different Lens

This incredible work of art by @lilianmorganart crossed my dash last week and has lived rent-free in my head since then. I made it my phone's wallpaper and found myself getting emotional every time I picked up the phone to use it (If that doesn't confirm my stratospheric level of unrepentant Adrienette trash, I don't know what does).

I told @tsuki-chibi about it and we discussed how Adrien would totally swoon over it, too, if it was the lock screen on his phone. And that's how this fic was born.

I hope you enjoy this little relationship study through Alya's eyes as she and Nino share life and love alongside their best friends.

Read it on Ao3 here.

*****

"Last set of the night, dudes and dudettes. We're about to be upstaged big time." Nino points out the bank of windows toward the already-glittering Eiffel Tower before needle meets vinyl and the music starts, soft and undeniably romantic. "Let's wind it down by slowing it down."

A blue balloon flutters to the floor beside Nino's feet as he hops from the DJ platform and winds through a sea of his classmates to his waiting girlfriend. Alya wastes no time wrapping him in her arms and pressing a kiss to his lips, turning the greeting into dancing with the sway of her hips that he matches after a few beats.

"How many songs did you line up?" she murmurs when they finally part.

He smiles and winks at her. "Four. It's about fifteen minutes till fireworks."

"Mmm. Nice."

The back of his shirt is sweaty under Alya's hands, but she doesn't care. The lovely chignon Marinette had pulled her hair into before the party has come a bit undone and she can feel the damp curls at the back of her neck. That's July in Paris for you; even the air conditioning in Le Grand Paris doesn't make much of a difference. Thank goodness for the ceiling fans that make the white and blue and red streamers rustle above their heads.

She hears Nino snort softly near her ear. "Are they magical or something? How do they still look perfect?"

Alya doesn't need to turn to know he's talking about their best friends, but she twists anyway, pressing the opposite cheek to Nino's shoulder instead.

And of course he's right.

She's spent the evening drinking punch and giggling with Marinette, shimmying and whooping with her in a happy little clump with Nino and Adrien, making the rounds of friends and food and fun over the past few hours. Marinette and Adrien have, too, but somehow the only sign that it's the end of the evening is that Adrien has loosened his tie.

Marinette's hair falls across her shoulders in the same soft cascade Alya styled it into hours ago. Her gauzy white dress drapes better on her figure than it did on the mannequin in her bedroom. Even the corsage Adrien had presented to her when the girls descended the stairs into Marinette's living room, a stunning red rose in full bloom, sits perfectly on her slim wrist, not a petal out of place. Her best friend really does look like she's limned in magic.

But perhaps that's because of the strong hand splayed at Marinette's waist, pressing her ever closer to her dance partner, or Adrien's cheek at her temple, his blond halo a perfect contrast to her deep raven hair. Maybe it's whatever he's just whispered in her ear that makes her smile up at him, a wide grin of exasperated fondness lighting her face before gentling after a moment into an expression of softest serenity.

Alya's first thought is that it's like the bright and beautiful partnership of the full moon reflecting the sun. But that isn't quite right, because her best friend glows from within, providing her own light to meet Adrien's, radiant and returned in equal measure.

Just how they got to this point remains as baffling to Alya now as it was a year ago when her friends finally put themselves and everyone around them out of their misery and started dating. The blushes continued and the occasional shy stammers never quite disappeared, but she'd watched them blossom together like a spring garden before her eyes, though what she'd been sure would be daffodils had bloomed into beautiful irises instead.

Suddenly Mr. Sunshine had gleamed brighter than ever, his giddy joy nearly uncontainable. So many puns. So much laughter. The former would be unbearable were it not for the latter, which always seemed to brighten Nino's eyes as well, a welcome side effect.

And oh, her best friend had come alive. It was more than having someone to love and love her in return. Alya knew from the day they met that love was second nature to Marinette. It practically shone from her pores.

But this was different - a touch more boldness, a blaze of fierce protectiveness in her eyes, an ability to read and respond to Adrien's emotions in just the way he needed, just when he needed it. How did she know to do that? How had this easy familiarity grown between them so quickly, not a tender new sapling but already an unshakeable oak?

She knows the truth is deeper than what she's been able to wrangle from Marinette, but Alya learned long ago that her best friend held those cards too close to ever let her get a peek. But she sure had tried at the beginning.

"You can tell me, girl! I'm so happy for you, but I don't get it! What happened?"

Alya wheedled, needled, begged.

Marinette just smiled and finished watering her roses before leaning against the railing of her terrace.

"I did tell you! Adrien and I talked. We were honest with each other. That's it." She shrugged one shoulder before her smile turned sly and she bumped her hip into her best friend's. "You know, we can't all find love by getting trapped in a panther cage by a superhero. Not every relationship has an epic origin story."

"Damn right! Seriously, though, I can tell there's more to this. There are deets you're not sharing, and your bestie needs those deets!"

"I don't know what to tell you, Als. I just...saw him. All of him."

Alya just barely resisted the urge to make the obvious joke.

"Mari. My love. My best friend in the world. What could you possibly see now that you haven't seen in the past two years of crushing, staring, memorizing, obsessing, and finally just getting over your fears and becoming real, actual friends with him?" She ticked off each point on her fingers, ending with a grip on her pinky and an imploring look she hoped would coax a detail or two from her all-too-cagey best friend. "If you can't throw a bone to your BFF, think of me as the coordinator of Operation Secret Garden and its many, many, many side missions. At least tell me one thing about Sunshine that I don't know, something you didn't know before, either."

Silence fell over them like a blanket. Just when it started to feel stifling and itchy, Marinette spoke.

"He's the bravest person I know," she said quietly, gaze straying across the rooftop horizon.

Alya thought of the myriad times she'd watched Adrien run away in the direction of his house as she herself had run toward danger in the name of journalism and morbid curiosity. He was sweet and exceedingly kind, but she'd never considered him a bastion of courage. Though of course there had to be lots of things she didn't know, details of life at home beyond the isolated loneliness they were all aware of, things that hadn't occurred to her that her best friend now saw through a lens of love and not just friendly compassion. If the reason they were already so close was because Adrien was able to share the difficult parts of his life that he didn't even share with Nino? Well, Alya could understand and respect that.

She reached out and covered Marinette's hand in hers. "His dad is kind of the worst, isn't he?"

"Oh my gosh, you have no idea. The absolute worst. The other day..."

Listening to Marinette that day, Alya had decided that if her friends were happy, she'd be happy right along with them. The details would come in time.

They'd taken silly selfies in Marinette's mirror as they got ready earlier this evening. They'd posed for portraits in the Dupain-Chengs' doorway as though this was a gala event and not a Quatorze Juillet party that Chloé insisted was fancy dress, and snapped shots of their BFF squad together all evening. So without thinking, Alya reaches for her phone - her dress is a Marinette original, of course it has pockets - to document exactly how besotted their preternaturally beautiful best friends are. She grabs three photos in quick succession, thankful for her state-of-the-art camera as she smiles at how it captures the play of light and shadow across their matching white.

"Paparazzi," Nino fake coughs in her hair.

Alya grabs his butt with her free hand in retaliation, and they both laugh.

Marinette and Adrien sway together in a loose approximation of a dance, eyes closed, just barely turning in place, lost in each other. When Adrien reaches for Marinette's hand on his shoulder, Alya has to let go of her boyfriend completely to set her camera to burst mode, but laid-back, ever-patient Nino just huffs a laugh and holds her waist tighter. It's all worth it when she's able to capture the moment Adrien brings Marinette's hand to his lips and presses a series of slow, reverent kisses to her knuckles. She snaps one more photo after he's tucked their clasped hands beneath his chin and settled her against his shoulder.

Alya turns in the circle of Nino's arms and gleefully scrolls through the vast number of pictures she's just taken, pausing near the center of the burst shots and cooing with delight at the treasure she finds. "Oh my god, Nino, look." She shoves the phone under his nose and his eyes cross trying to focus on it.

"Damn. They're too pretty to be real."

She snorts. "Truth. Seriously, though. Have you ever seen two people more in love? I'd say it's gross, but I could also cry just looking at them."

Still smiling, Nino pulls their hips together again and sets them in a slow spin, punctuating the beat with his fingers at the small of her back. Alya pockets her phone and cuddles up to him, grinning into his chest when he speaks quietly for her ears only.

"You know I love you just as much, right? I'm not a model, and um, I'm not as...gooey. But—"

He's cut off when Alya presses her lips to his to stop him.

"You're just the right amount of gooey, mister, and I don't need a model when I've already snagged the hottest guy I've ever met." She delights in his blushing cheeks as she kisses him again. "And yes, I know you do...I love you, too. Thank god it's not a competition, or we'd be losing."

"Naaah," Nino drawls softly, hugging her close. "I've already won."

Alya just closes her eyes and hides her grin in his shoulder, letting him spin them again as the music swells.

*****

Packed on the balcony and ready for the fireworks to start, she and Marinette are giggling over the photos on her camera roll from the course of the evening.

"I don't want to think about how much you pay for cloud storage, Als. You know you have a problem, right?"

Nino can't help his surprised laugh, but has the good sense to bite his lip and look away. Alya nudges him in the side and rolls her eyes good-naturedly. Scrolling through toward the latest photos, she stops on one in particular and flips the screen toward her best friend.

"Bet you're glad I got this one, eh, Mademoiselle Judgy Pants?"

Alya knows she's scored a direct hit when Marinette's eyes widen and her cheeks pinken visibly even in the ambient light of the city. In the same moment, Adrien breathes an "ooooh" in reverent awe from over her shoulder as he stares at the glowing phone screen. Impossibly, the look on his face as he takes in the image is even more tender than it is in the photo itself.

Marinette turns to press her burning cheeks to his chest and he wraps her in his arms, props his chin on her head and mouths, "Send me that, please," to Alya, gesturing vaguely from her phone to his pocket.

Request received loud and clear, she grins and gives him a quick salute.

When fireworks finally fill the Parisian sky, Alya attempts a few action shots, though she's well aware that fireworks photos rarely turn out. Next, she grabs a great picture of Nino with the lights reflected in his glasses that immediately gets posted on Instagram.

And when Marinette stands on her tiptoes, wraps her arms around Adrien's shoulders, and kisses him breathless, well, Alya can't resist snapping one last photo of her friends. Adrien's hair positively gleams in the ephemeral glow of the bright red firework that bathes flushed cheeks and white fabric in a dreamy, perfect pink. This one is sent straight to her best friend; she looks forward to the keysmash text of embarrassed delight she'll receive from Marinette later.

Nino's hand slides around her waist to pull her close and she snuggles into his side, stowing her phone in her pocket and simply enjoying the moment.

*****

"Babe," Nino whispers under his breath, accompanied by a nudge of his knee against Alya's under the cafe table, "he's doing it again."

Sure enough, Adrien is gazing down at his phone. It's not even unlocked yet - he's just looking at his lock screen, waking it up each time it fades back to sleep.

"I know. That's why I'm looking up the movie time. We'd miss it completely if we left it to Sunshine."

"This is technically your fault. You do know that, right?"

Alya shrugs. "No regrets."

Marinette returns to the table, picking her purse off the back of her chair and lifting the strap over her head to settle in its perennial position across her torso. Instead of sitting down, she wraps her arms around Adrien's chest from behind and leans down to kiss his cheek. "Did you figure out if we can make it to the movie?"

The question is clearly directed at Adrien, who was supposed to be looking up the cinema schedule, but he's already pocketed his phone and turned his head to nuzzle into her hair.

Okay, Alya may have some regrets.

It's been months since she took the now-famous photo and sent it to him. To no one's surprise, it became his lock screen wallpaper immediately. It also became a distraction.

Because Adrien melts every time he looks at his phone.

No one can truly decide if it's exasperating or endearing, but there are classmates and friends in both camps.

Nino begged him to change it back to the picture of the two of them together, if only to shorten the time between sending his best friend a text and receiving one in return. Alya is nearly at her limit for heart eyes, but she's still the captain of Team Endearing. She did take the picture, after all.

Max programmed Markov to recognize each time Adrien reached for his phone and the time it took for him to unlock it and use it. Markov has perfected the algorithm over time and now has a saved log of each occurrence down to the millisecond. There's no real reason to track this data besides curiosity, but it does help Markov refine his processes, so Max has kept it up. It is vaguely fascinating, though he does feel that it's a terrible use of Adrien's limited free time.

Nathaniel illustrated a cartoon rendition of Adrien, phone in his hand and literal hearts in his eyes. Alya offered him €10 for it, but Adrien himself came in at €20 and now it sits on his desk at home.

Once, Adrien spent so much time gazing at the lock screen that he never did answer his ringing phone. Of course it was Nathalie calling, and of course his father grounded him when he got home.

(Neither Marinette nor Adrien seemed as bothered by those two weeks as everyone had anticipated. That mystery remains unsolved.)

When she thinks about it, Alya decides there are worse things than Adrien loving Marinette so much that he has an emotional reaction to seeing the evidence through a different lens.

Alya just slips her phone in her purse and corrals her boyfriend and their best friends. They have a movie to get to and they only have twenty-five minutes.

*****

In time, the picture has found a place on the wall in Marinette and Adrien's apartment - printed on premium photo paper, lovingly matted and framed. No one would have expected any less.

And it has always made Adrien smile, sometimes when nearly nothing else could.

*****

Several years, several revelations, and enough trauma to last a lifetime have led them all to this moment, on this day that shines with as much joy and light and love as they can muster. It's what a day like this deserves, after all.

With too much behind them to call it a beginning and too much hope for the future ahead to call it an ending, Alya decides she's just watched her best friends walk through a door they'd unlocked years ago and finally found the right time to step through together. The path hasn't changed, paved in hurt and heartache and the kind of helpless hope a person chooses when an abyss yawns below and there are no other ropes to grab. But it has always been lit by the glow of an almost unfathomable love, and that's where healing begins, grows, and flourishes.

So here they sit, surrounded by friends and family, in the same room where the four of them had danced all those years ago on a hot July evening. A towering croquembouche waits in the corner and a table full of photos and memories is on display along one wall; that heart-melting photo of the happy couple as lovestruck teenagers has pride of place in the center.

Clad again in radiant white, Marinette is the perfect picture of a blushing bride, and her groom has been unsurprisingly entranced all day. Alya isn't sure Adrien has stopped smiling since they first saw him this morning, and she and Nino are enjoying every moment of it.

Part of the brilliance shining in his grin is natural, springing from a heart so innately kind that it has countered evil and wielded destruction, yet still beats with compassion. But she and Nino know, better than anyone else, that the Adrien in front of them is a previously-shattered vase mended in gold, stronger and more beautiful in the broken places, and some of his gleam is reflected from those gilded seams.

When it's Alya's turn to toast, Nino helps her to her feet with a smile and hands her the mic before sitting back down beside her. She starts with a story only a best friend could get away with telling, bolstered by the laughter of the guests around her and the grins of the bride and groom. She has a toast carefully planned and memorized, but for all her preparedness, Alya also knows how to improvise. When her gaze sweeps across the picture gallery on the table and the faces of two of the people she loves most, she veers off course but finds her words with confidence.

"I've taken a lot of photos in my life - silly, scary, funny, serious, everything in between. Many of those photos have featured many of you here today. I know I caused my saint of a best friend here a lot of undeserved stress by taking a vast majority of my life's photos in places where I shouldn't have been."

She pauses when a laugh ripples through the room and Marinette shakes her head even as her watery eyes beam back at her. "But I was in just the right place when I took that one." She gestures toward the framed picture on the table, sparkling cider sloshing gently in her champagne flute. "Because the right place for both of us—" she reaches a hand back toward Nino blindly, finding and squeezing his shoulder, "has always been next to you, the most ludicrously attractive, kindest, bravest, best people we know."

Alya takes a deep breath that only shakes a little bit on the exhale. "I'm so—" she blinks and swallows around the lump in her throat. Damn hormones! "I'm so lucky to know you, to love you, and to have been part of your lives and your love story all these years. That's why I wish you nothing less than a lifetime of that kind of love," she inclines her head toward the photo on the table again, "that kind of tenderness and devotion. No one deserves it more than you two, and no one will be happier than Nino and I will to be right there beside you on the journey. So...cheers to the prettiest lovebirds I know, Marinette and Adrien!"

Champagne flutes clink amidst applause and hugs and sniffles.

Her best friends grin at her before turning the same soft gaze toward each other again, just like the picture she took all those years ago that turned Adrien to goo each time he looked at it.

Alya knows now, of course, what she didn't understand back then - that in the same way their wedding today was more than just a beginning, so were those early days of soft looks and fierce devotion that seemed to transcend the blush of new romance. Unbeknownst to their friends, they'd had an ironclad partnership and years of trust in place already. Open eyes and honesty allowed the confluence of several different kinds of love, and it only made sense that the resulting alloy stood stalwart and shone dazzling-bright.

Well, it didn't make sense then, but it certainly does now, even if the luster sparkles through a patina of nicks and dents. After all, even the strongest steel and the brightest gold are refined by fire.

Nino hands her a tissue and presses his palm to her back as she settles in her seat again.

When ever-romantic Adrien reaches for his bride's hand to press gentle kisses across the back of her fingers, Alya can't resist grabbing her phone from the table beside her bread plate. They're a little older but just as beautiful and even more in love, and the photo she snaps captures that perfectly. She smiles down at her phone, pleased, before locking the screen and twisting a little in her seat to place it back on the table, face down.

Alya gets comfortable, rests her head on her husband's shoulder, and simply enjoys the moment.

[rebelwrites]

Chapter Six: The Perfect Day - Nate

As this is an original fic it is hard to tag, so I’d really appreciate it is you reblogged and shared with your friends and followers 🖤 and if you reblog with comments I will love you forever

Join The Group Chat Here - If You Want Tagging Manually Let Me Know 🖤

Always My Ride Or Die Masterlist

This Months Writing

“Daddy, wake up.”

“Mmm” I mumbled, rubbing my fists against my eyes, my back was aching from the position I had slept in but I didn’t care as I still had my girl in my arms. “Morning, Princess,” I smiled at Shelby.

“When did mummy get here?” She asked with a confused look on her face.

“Last night, mummy was upset and came to daddy for help,” I said keeping the reason brief, I didn’t want to upset Shelby even further. “You gotta be quiet though baby, mummy is still sleeping,” I said as Shelby climbed into the sofa, nuzzling her head under my arm.

This was the perfect morning, it had been years since I had both of my girls in my arms, I had no idea how long this would last so I didn’t plan on moving anytime soon, mentally I prepared myself for Nova to freak out when she woke up, last night was heavy on both of our emotions and I had finally got her to start opening up to me.

“Do you think Mummy will stay when she wakes up?” Shelby asked, looking up at me.

“I don’t know Princess, it’s up to Mummy,” I whispered, kissing the top of Shelby’s head. “Do you want her to stay with us today?”

“Yeah,” she nodded eagerly with a bright smile on her face. “I want a movie day, just like we used to when I was smaller.”

Before I could speak I heard soft groans coming from Nova, silently I just prayed that she didn’t freak out, it had been so long since she had woke up in my arms, I had no idea how this was going to play out.

“Princess, why don’t you brush your teeth and I will start making breakfast?” I said to Shelby, if Nova was going to freak then Shelby didn’t need to see it.

“Okay, daddy,” she nodded as she clambered off the sofa, running up to the bathroom.

“Morning, babygirl,” I whispered, brushing my knuckles against her cheek.

“I need to go,” Nova said in a panic as she realised she was still in my arms. “I should have just gone home last night,” she mumbled, “shit, I’m sorry.”

“Nova, stop apologising,” I whispered, kissing the top of her head. “Shelby was happy seeing you here.”

“She was?” Nova said slightly surprised.

“Yeah she was, it’s the first time she has seen her mum and dad together in years,” I whispered. “I know you want to run, Nov, I get it. You are feeling vulnerable after last night but I know Shelby wants you to spent the day with us”

Nova didn’t respond for a little while, I knew she was deciding what to do, I just hoped she decided to stay at least for today.

“Do I get cuddles?” She asked quietly, making me smile.

“You know the answer is always yes,” I chuckled, squeezing her tight. I knew that she still felt vulnerable after everything, which meant that she would be clingy today. But I didn’t mind in the slightest if that’s what my girl needed, then that’s what she got. “Right, scoot over I need to start breakfast.”

“You best be making a coffee,” Nova said with a small smile on her face.

“Like I’d make that mistake again,” I laughed as I got off the sofa, stretching my whole body out, before heading into the kitchen.

This was like the perfect day, a day I had been dreaming of for a while. I just hoped this was the start of mending the relationship and brighter days were coming. My heart swelled as I heard the excited squeal from Shelby as she realised her mummy was still here. Maybe if today went well then we could start doing more things as a family.

As I walked back into the living room with the drinks, I couldn’t help but smile as I saw Shelby curled up on Nova’s knee telling her all about our day at the zoo, the excitement in her eyes shone bright as she rambled on about what the animals were doing.

The day passed by and none of us moved off the sofa, Shelby was in front of Nova and Nova laying with her head in my lap, something she used to do a lot when we were together. It was a comfort thing for her and probably always would be. I wasn’t focused on the movie that was playing, all my focus was on the two most important people in my life, I missed having them both in my arms so I was making the most of it whilst I could.

I didn’t expect to hear the sound that I had longed to hear for the last couple of years, the sound I had missed so much, the sound I would do anything to hear.

Nova laughing.

It wasn’t the fake laugh she did, it was a real laugh, over some kids film.

Shelby heard it too as the moment she did she moved from in front of Nova, clambering over her mum's body to get to me, her grin was wider than I had ever seen it before.

“Daddy,” she whispered in my ear, “the plan is working.”

“I know, baby,” I smiled, kissing the top of her head. I knew it would be a long road ahead and it would take a while for things to go back to how they were but this was small steps in the right direction.

If you had told me a couple of days ago that I would be snuggled up on the sofa with both of my girls curled up to me, I wouldn’t have believed it. I thought the relationship was broken beyond repair but now, now I had hope. Hope that me and Nova could work through the demons that hung around after that night and get back to the Nate and Nova that ruled the world.

@chibsytelford @everyhowlmarksthedead @talicat713 @little-diable @band--psycho @mrsmarvelous1995 @withmyteeth @pancakeisreading

[headbandsandflats]

I don’t even know what to say.  Not that anyone was waiting for me to say anything, or that anything more needs to be said - I’ve seen others put this far more eloquently than I will - but I feel like I need to get some of these emotions out (even though writing it out and posting it makes it feel even more real and more awful).

My love for this book, this movie, this fandom has been unprecedented.  I’ve always loved fiction, always loved movies and books, always loved losing myself in them.  But the feelings this story brought out of me were like nothing before or since.  I finished the book on a Saturday night, a few days before seeing the movie for the first time.  It was winter, but until I stepped outside that evening - running to get an unnecessary coffee, just to shake myself out of my post-book haze - I could have sworn it was a summer’s night in the 80s.  (I know how maudlin that sounds, but I genuinely mean it.)  I was bereft upon finishing it.  I felt so deeply entwined with these characters, with their emotions, with their story.  I went to see the movie for the first time with one of my best friends a few days later and we were transported.  We walked out of the theater into a cold January night, onto a crowded subway car, and felt so deeply the loss of a summer in the beautiful Italian countryside that was never even ours.  I went on to see it six more times in theaters during it’s traditional run (twice with other people, four times on my own) - it became a kind of joke with those who knew me best, the way New York was eventually going to have stop showing it (after about SIX MONTHS), for my own good, since I was unable to resist.  But I’d never felt that way before.  There were movies that I’d loved, devoured, thought about after watching them.  But nothing had ever been a siren’s call like this.  I’d check the movie listings and when I saw that it was still playing, and knew I had the free time, it felt like I was unable to resist going back again and again.  It was the first movie I saw even close to this many times.  (And I’d see it on at least another three occasions, at special showings and Q&As.)  It was the first movie I ever went to by myself.  (Again, and again, and again.  And again.)  I can still remember the theaters, remember the showings (like the one in the village that I went to on my own at around midnight, not getting home until around 3 in the morning, still floating on that warm, Crema air), remember the anticipation in the pit of my stomach every time it started.  It’s like it put me under a spell, one that went unbroken for years.  I don’t know if I’ll ever know exactly what resonated so much.  Maybe it’s just that it filled up an emptiness that had started to develop in me by that time.  Maybe it was a glimpse into a world of emotions I hadn’t ever really known myself.  My copy of the book, signed by several and something I don’t dare look at at this moment, is highlighted throughout, something I hadn’t felt compelled to do in years, maybe since before I studied literature in college.  I read every review, watched every interview, tried to absorb every mention of or allusion to it anywhere.  It was too much and never enough and that never really went away.

With this deep obsession, came my first foray into real fandom.  I’d read fic for my favorite pairings since I first discovered it, as a way-too-young fan of Buffy in elementary school.  I’d joined tumblr during my Gossip Girl years to ogle over beautiful gifsets of beautiful people and gorgeous tributes to my favorite pairing.  But it wasn’t until this fandom that I ever actually interacted with people.  Took the chance when I saw a link to a Discord (something I’d never even heard of before) and became part of a community.  Interacted with people who wrote stories I loved and made gifs I looked at over and over, but also people who just became friends.  We got to know each other, and each other’s lives.  I’d never had something like this before - people who became friends over a shared obsession, this thing we were all nuts for, together - and it was intoxicating.  People who never got tired of talking about this movie and these people I never got tired of talking about?  It was like a dream.  Some of these people I chatted with online.  Some I met in real life.  (A huge, crazy first for me - I grew up in the time of internet stranger danger, after all.)  We talked endlessly about everything to do with this fandom over brunches and dinners and drinks.  We talked about other things too.  We laughed and cried and spent evenings at each other’s apartments and took loud car rides home together from the city.  I did things, and experienced moments, with them that I never would have without them.  It’s this, all of this, that I hope I’ll be able to remember fondly some day.  (And writing it all out, in this moment, is making me feel slightly lighter and brighter about it all, in this moment - which is unexpected, but lovely.)

This fandom has held some of my highest highs and lowest lows over the last couple of years.  I made friends (as an adult, with cool people - something I never could have predicted), I lost friends (something more expected, but still, a devastating blow, especially during a pandemic), reached something close to friendship with some of them again (an unsteady but nice surprise).  I had experiences I never would have imagined.  And I depended on it way too much over these last three years, as my own personal issues increased, something I was aware of, but not aware of the extent of until this last week or so.

I don’t know how to move past this in this moment.  I’m devastated.  I’m wrecked.  I’ve been stick to my stomach.  I haven’t slept.  I’ve overslept.  I’ve cried (not much, not enough probably, but even a few tears is a somewhat shocking amount for me).  My mental health is, quite simply, not what it used to be.  That’s a problem that is separate from this, that started before any of this came into my life.  But it’s tied to all of this in an uncomfortable way, and it’s making this emptiness, this sadness, this hopelessness feel unbearable.  And there’s a lot of shame thrown into all of this as well - shame for being so deep into and obsessed with a fandom, shame for being so deeply affected by something and some people who have no actual bearing on my real life (or shouldn’t, anyway).  Of anything I could have tried to predict, having this comfort movie/book/actor/fandom destroyed so ultimately was beyond my wildest nightmares.  I thought the spell might be broken on my end at some point, that eventually it wouldn’t mean as much to me, but now I’m afraid I’m doomed to feel too much, in every way, in terrible ways, forever.  I can only hope in this moment that I will move past this all one day.  That it won’t hang over me forever.  That I’ll, at the very least, be able to separate the good from the bad.  That some things will remain unforgettable, but in a good way again.

Thank you to everyone I ever interacted with in this fandom.  Thank you to the mutuals who brightened my day.  The friends who became such a part of my life.  The creators who filled up the good days and especially the bad days with their beautiful works.  I won’t be deleting at the moment, and anyone who sees this is always free to reach out and chat, as long as this blog is around (and via other social media of mine if you have it).  I’m heartbroken, and seeing tumblrs disappear, seeing all of the posts similar to this one - it all makes it so much more real and awful.  But there were good times and good things and good people.  And I hope with everything in me, that people can appreciate the goodness that came from this (and that I can one day too).

[subjectsix]

tag game: 5 songs I associate with my main character/general WIP

thank you for the tag @turbo-toast!! ;u;

okay so. imma do this for grow brighter even tho its fic and kinda not a wip kinda is (i still have things in the continuity in the works but the fic itself is done) mostly bc all my oneshots are too... oneshotty to have 5 songs associated with them kejshfjshe and its too hard to pick for botan city ;o;

grow brighter

i was wrong - the oh hellos

And I was young, and stubborn to the bone As I took from the tree that was rotting I took my chance and bit down deep The weight of the world was crippling Now I'll hide my shame with woven leaves

I was wrong, I was wrong, I was wrong And I'm so so, and I'm so so sorry I knew you'd never forgive me (I was wrong, I was wrong) And I'm so so, and I'm so so I am sorry

the meaning switch in the phrase “I was wrong”-- from admitting a mistake to instead saying “I was wrong to think you would never forgive me”-- the fact that this song is sung by a brother and sister together-- the fact that at the slower part (3:12) i can picture a slide projector changing slides, showing them together as kids in their childhood until the final picture of them burns, and the camera follows the embers up into the night sky, where theyre both standing together as adults in the junkyard, saying to each other “I knew you’d never forgive me (ohhhh, I was wrong)” and then they hug each other on the i am sorry

i cry.

alligator - of monsters and men

I see color raining down Feral feeling, swaying sound But I don't know what you want I am open and I am restless Let me feel it out Let it all come out

Wake me up, I'm fever dreaming And now I lose control, I'm fever dreaming Shake it out, it's just what I'm feeling And now I take control, I'm fever dreaming

if fics had credits this would be the music for it~

tugrul - ochre

I wrote with this in the background a lot-- it gives me vibes like it could be in the game somewhat!

advanced tree surgery - ochre

another one like above-- you are sitting in central research, enjoying the strange seemingly sourceless “daylight” and green of the plants~

dear wormwood - the oh hellos

There before the threshold I saw a brighter world beyond myself And in my hour of weakness You were there to see my courage fail For the years have been long And you have taught me well to sit and wait Planning without acting Steadily becoming what I hate

I know who you are now I know who you are I know who you are now

I have always known you You have always been there in my mind But now I understand you And I will not be part of your designs

I know who I am now And all that you've made of me I know who you are now And I name you my enemy

I know who I am now I know who I want to be I want to be more than This devil inside of me

letting go of the hiss :’)

imma tag @ollierachnid @spacekrakens @einsesk (no pressure obvi! <3)

[besidemethewholedamntime]

now that i see you

I couldn’t help myself and ending up writing another fic. I hope you don’t mind, and i hope you enjoy! 

Summary:

'“I know you,” Jemma says, her voice a soft whisper. “Isn’t that strange? As soon as I saw you I knew you. It feels like I’ve known you my whole life.”'

A moment between Jemma and her baby.

{Read on Ao3}

or read below!

The thing about space is that there is no time, so Jemma has no idea whether it is early or late as she lays in their bed, holding their newborn baby girl in her arms. She doesn’t know if it’s been hours or minutes since she was placed there, and honestly, she doesn’t care. Right now, she would be perfectly happy to take this moment and live in it forever.

“Hello, you,” Jemma says softly as her daughter snuffles a little and opens her eyes. “It’s so very good to meet you.”

She’s not accustomed to holding children, and during these seemingly never-ending months of pregnancy, it had become one of many irrational fears. What if I don’t know how to hold them, Fitz? she had cried into his shoulder once, voice full of terror. What if I drop them?

You have never failed at one thing in your life, he’d said quite firmly, though he’d been rubbing her back in slow, comforting circles. There is no way you will fail at holding a baby.

Looking back on that moment now feels so silly with her daughter now safely in her arms as though she’s always belonged there. Jemma knows all about intuition and instinct in parenting, but she just never imagined how it would feel. Their daughter hasn’t been in the world a full day yet, and already the time before her arrival is growing fuzzy, fading away into irrelevance. In this moment she cares very little of all that has come before.

She runs a gentle finger over their daughter’s forehead, her nose, her chin. Impossibly small and incredibly perfect. Their daughter’s blue eyes follow her movement, but she doesn’t cry or give any other indication of upset. She watches her mother, just as her mother watches her.

“I know you,” Jemma says, her voice a soft whisper. “Isn’t that strange? As soon as I saw you I knew you. It feels like I’ve known you my whole life.”

Ever since they have known they were going to become parents, Jemma has loved her daughter, and what has surprised her is how it is so different from the way she loves Fitz. He is her best-friend, her partner, her soulmate, he always will be, and she loves him endlessly. Or she thought she did. Looking down now into this tiny face, each detail already committed to memory, she knows that it’s not quite true. As much as she loves Fitz, she will forever love their daughter more, and there’s nothing within her that makes her sorry for that.

He feels the same way, she knows he does. In those precious few moments just after their daughter was born, Jemma had caught him looking at her with an indescribable look in his face. It’s a look that Jemma’s only caught in flashes over the years, a moment seen out of the corner of her eye before it disappeared. When they were standing in front of the sunrise. When he told her she was something magnificent. When she found him in space, and then again the second time. When she married him. That look that does such funny things to her heart but that she’s never caught more than a glimpse of in all the years she’s known him.

When he had held their daughter for the first time she had seen it clearly for what it was. A thousand other things, but the greatest of these was love. Pure and simple love that asked of nothing in return. That look that she’s felt on her skin all these years in flashes was now being given completely unreservedly to their child, and Fitz’s heart, which once had its home with Jemma, now fully belonged to their daughter.

“You are so perfect,” she says now. “So beautiful.” The baby looks up at her, slowly blinking. “Magnificent.”

How fitting it is that she was born in space, all of the majesty of the cosmos lying before them. All those years ago when she hoped of finding something magnificent, she never could have dreamed it would be their daughter. But it makes sense now, it all completely makes sense. There is nothing more magnificent than her.

Jemma looks to Fitz, who sits in the floor next to the bed, back against the wall. Giving them space, but also unable to be parted from them even just into the other room, he’d sat there and tried his hardest to stay awake. It had been in vain, however, and his eyes had shut not long after. His breathing is deep and even, but she knows even the slightest noise would wake him and he’d be by her side in an instant. He deserves a rest, and Jemma, who up until now has had the most intimate bond with her daughter, would just like a moment before she has to let that go.

“It might be a little strange around here at first. Well, not for you I suppose. This is all you’ll have known. But for us it might take some adjusting, so if you could just bear with us until we do, that would be great.”

It’s not how she wanted to do it. She wanted to be retired from SHIELD first and be free from the danger and uncertainty that had followed her and Fitz for so long. She wanted to have a house first, and a big garden that her child could run around and play in. It would have been nice to have her parents there. She hasn’t seen or even spoken to them in so long. It feels cruel to have kept this away from them, even though she knows there was no other way. Her mum and dad, who have always given her so much and encouraged her to chase every opportunity she had. What would they make of all this?

She understands them more now than she ever has before. To love your child is to want them to have the things you never did, and for them to find the world in a better place than before. This may not be how she would have chosen it, but it’s the way it’s happened and Fitz is right – they do deserve to take some time and just be. Of course they will save their friends and the world, but their daughter now comes before all that. She deserves some time to just grow, and they deserve that time with her. In case the worst does happen when they have to return to their mission, Jemma wants to ensure that their daughter knows them. She won’t let them become a ghost in a photograph or a voice in a half-faded memory. Unable to give their daughter everything she would like to at this moment, she will damn well give her that.

“I’m afraid I don’t have very much practice with babies,” she says. “Neither of us do. But we’ll figure it out, alright? You don’t ever have to worry about a thing because we’ll fix it together. Just like always.”

She glances over at Fitz. Dear, sweet Fitz who has always been by her side. They have been torn apart so many times, but just one more and then that’s it. They’re done.

“We’ll love you forever,” Jemma says, needing it to be said. “You never have to keep secrets from us, and we’ll never keep them from you. You can always tell us anything.” She laughs a little.  “I promise you there’s not a lot that can shock us anymore.”

Shock, no, but surprise? She is surprised every time she wakes up and finds Fitz still next to her, one arm curled around her so he can feel if she moves in the night. She was constantly surprised all the way through her pregnancy, from the little kicks and lazy somersaults she felt. She is surprised now every time her heart beats, because it beats with so much love for this tiny being whose very existence in this world is nothing short of a miracle.

“There’s so much I want to share with you and tell you about how we got here.” Jemma sniffs, but a tear falls on their daughter’s forehead anyway. Gently she wipes it away with her thumb, and their baby just keeps on looking upwards, completely enchanted.

“It took us such a long time, but we made it. I’ll tell you all about it someday, about how once upon a time there were two young scientists who embarked on the biggest adventure, and how it changed their whole lives forever.”

Sixteen and achingly shy, to having a daughter in the sky. Is the ride worth it? she once asked. Oh yes it is, she wants to tell her younger self. It’s worth everything you’ve ever done or had done to you. You will get there one day. Just hold on, and keep holding on tight.

“The important bit, though, the only part you need to know right now, is that they loved each other. They loved each other more than there are words or stars, and their love was so big it could overcome anything that was in their way. And a love like that, stronger than any curse, brought them you.”

Their baby shifts and Jemma feels her heart flip over on itself. She holds her closer, knowing that she is living in a moment that is already a memory.

“You are extraordinary. No matter what you do or who you become, know you always will be.”

She’s crying now, but from the sheer happiness she feels inside her heart. The complete and utter joy that this small being who is half her and half Fitz and just wholly herself exists. Softly she kisses her on the forehead, looking down into those eyes that already seem wise beyond their years, as if they hold the secrets to the entire universe.

“You’re our everything,” she says thickly, trying so very hard not to sob and wake up Fitz. She doesn’t want to worry him. “The biggest star in star in all of the skies. We’ll make it all better for you. Just you wait and see.”

Once upon a time she said that the answer was in the stars, and only now does she realise just how right she was. Their daughter is the answer to every question she could ever have, the reason for every decision ever made. She is the beat in their hearts and the breath in their lungs. She is the promise of a brighter, better future to be made, where they can all go on despite their losses.

The brightest star in all of their skies, she is what they are fighting for.

[wolfinshipclothing]

Summary: I need to hurry up, she kept thinking. Any minute now, her dad could come home early, tired from a lazy dayshift. Or her mom could drop with the excuse she forgot something, and use the opportunity to check out on her daughter. Her independent, smart and intelligent daughter. Then Connie would have to explain to her what said daughter was doing sitting on her bed, in her bathrobe, fresh from the shower, holding a blood-stained shirt over her forearm, with a pair of scissors resting at her side.

The same pair of scissors that went missing a month ago, by the way.

Excerpt:

But what about you? You never tell me what's up," said Steven and Connie perceived the sourness. "How's cram school going?"

"It's going," she said flatly.

"That's good. How about Lion? I haven't seen the little rascal since forever."

"You know him. He comes and goes as he pleases."

"Right, right." Silence. She wished Steven would stop asking questions and just talk. "Connie, are you alright? You sound a bit under the weather; and I am the one about to be soaked."

Steven's attempt at humor was ignored; the red lines over Connie's arm caught all her attention. There was not a discussion inside her head. There was a whole fucking debate, with a hundred people committee and a chairman that was chewing her nails as she waiting for the lunch break.

"I don't know," she said, choosing simple words.

"What do you mean? Did something happen or…?"

"It's just one of these days, you know?"

Steven's silence asked her to elaborate. The cuts of her arms seemed to shine brighter, mocking her for her weakness.

Welp, i came crawling back from my hole with this fic. Mind you its a very angsty, sensible fic bout self-harming and unhealthy coping mechanisms.

I wrote this because 1) its always Steven the one that is hurting and needs helps, and Connie the one who is there to put him back on his fic. Few times i have seen the opposite.

And 2) this has been a shitty year. To everyone in the world, obviously. Just have been very garbage to me. Or maybe I AM the one who was being garbage to myself. In any case, i haven’t been feeling well, and decided to write up my feelings into the characters i am currently hyper-fixating on.

Is it healthy? Who knows! But it DID made me feel better. I hope this fic, if it doesn’t trigger some catharsis in you guys, at least entertain you all for a while.

Anyway, that’s all. Happy Holidays and Happy New Year folks.

(You can also read it in Fanfiction, btw)

"You might imagine that a person would resort to self-mutilation only under extremes of duress, but once I'd crossed that line the first time, taken that fateful step off the precipice, then almost any reason was a good enough reason, almost any provocation was provocation enough. Cutting was my all-purpose solution." —Caroline Kettlewell, "Skin Game".

Connie’s mind was beyond herself; far, far away, where she couldn’t reach it. Her body was heavy; lead weight held together by rusted tin bolts. And Connie was trapped inside it, with no company but the stinging pain on her arm and the weight of the shirt she kept against it.

How long have I been like this? She wondered. It felt like hours. Her legs were like paper; where she not sitting on her bed, she would have already plummeted to the floor.

I need to hurry up, she kept thinking. Any minute now, her dad could come home early, tired from a lazy dayshift. Or her mom could drop with the excuse she forgot something, and use the opportunity to check out on her daughter. Her independent, smart and intelligent daughter. Then Connie would have to explain to her what said daughter was doing sitting on her bed, in her bathrobe, fresh from the shower, holding a blood-stained shirt over her forearm, with a pair of scissors resting at her side.

The same pair of scissors that went missing a month ago, by the way.

Connie lifted the shirt. The bleeding had stopped. The cuts were all dry out now —probably had been for a few minutes— but they still shined with a disgusting color. The marks from last time were underneath; red rivers over dried out canals. Feral slashes over healed scars.

Connie dropped her head onto her hands, elbows on her knees, and applied pressure over her temples. That usually helped her think.

“Stupid,” she said with a sore voice. “Stupid, stupid. You always do the same.”

Connie’s harming habit have come, less like a metaphorical descent into madness and more like a —also metaphorical— walk down a descending staircase, where each step would disappear behind you, leaving you no choice but to go further down, into the dark.

It gradually became a routine. If she’d messed up a test, she would spend all night studying the subject. If she’d snapped at her mom in a moment of hormonal-fueled rage, she would skip dinner —breakfast too, if possible. If she’d been so absorbed in her own world she’d ghosted her friends, she would train with her sword until her palms were all blistered. Small pinches of pain she could administer, in measurable doses and only when it was justified.

It was astounding how quickly she lost sight of what was measurable and justified.

But the real aggravating part of it, in Connie’s opinion, was how much of her time it takes. It’d taken her a whole morning of self-loathing for the static to take over her body. Once it did, she lost control and started attacking her outer forearm with swift, brutal slashes, instead of the controlled cuts she usually administered. When she saw what she’d done, she panicked and reached for her neatly folded white shirt. What a waste. She had barely bled a few fat drops, yet it was more than enough to ruin her favorite shirt.

She’d been quiet since then, holding the soon-to-be-rag over her arm and trying to grasp her slippery psyche at the same time. She could feel her body, but she wasn’t in it. Her brain was working itself to death, but she’d no control over its thoughts. Like Schrodinger’s cat, it was like she was there and not there at the same time. Alive and Dead. Connie has come to call this dissociative state ‘the limbo’. And she was knees deep in it now. And it must be past noon already!

If I could make my butt to get up and clean up this mess, maybe I could sit down and have some work done. Otherwise, this would be a lost day.

The thought loomed over her. A lost day. She couldn’t let that happen. Now she just had to find a way to get out of the fog of her mind…

The phone ringed. Connie as much as jumped from the bed, dropping the shirt and scissors on the floor. She reached for her phone on the table.

BISCUIT

Just left the hotel and hit the road. The engine sounds like it’s about to choke to death, tho. I hope it doesn’t break before reaching New Orleans. Call me when you have a break! Love you!

Connie sighed; her heart’s palpitations echoing in her ears. How ridiculous! Jumping to grab her phone as if she’d been caught. Like some bad horror movie; someone on the other side would said ‘you have been seen’ and then hang up, leaving Connie panicking like a fool. Ridiculous!

She grabbed the scissors and the shirt with one hand, the phone with the message she ought to respond in the other. She glanced at the bed; the sheets were wet, she ought to change those. Her arm was still stinging; she ought to treat the wounds. Also, she ought to get properly dressed. And her test was still on the desk, waiting for her…

Connie groaned and gravitated naturally towards the bed and felt into it. She’d never had trouble compartmentalizing before. She also had never been in the limbo this long before, however.

She found herself thinking of Steven; living on the open road, driving that tank with radio he calls ‘car’, doing whatever he wants, going whenever he wants to go —previously checking his rigorous list of places to go. Being whoever he wants to be.

This made Connie mad. She didn’t want to be mad. She rotated her phone in her hand several times, thinking.

I could call him, she thought. You are supposed to reach out when… in situations like this, right?

Her stomach grumbled with acid reflux. She definitely didn’t want to talk to Steven —nor anyone else, really. But hearing a friendly voice could be what she needs to get back on her feet.

She pressed the name on the screen and put the phone on speaker. It rang. Please don’t pick up, please don’t…

Schick.

“Hey Connie! What’s up?”

“Hey Steven. Are you busy?” she asked.

“Not at all. The road’s pretty calm. I think there is a storm coming though; there are some mean-looking clouds above me,” said Steven, a bit uncertain. “Are you on your break?”

In a manner of speaking. “Yeah. I just thought… you know, checking out on you.”

“Making sure I didn’t pick any new hitchhiker? I’ll let you know I haven’t done that since Miami Beach,” he laughed. “Seriously though, you should have seen the motel I crashed last night. ‘Sir-sleep-a-lot’ was the name, and it was great. There’d a real-looking imitation sword and shield above the bed! That’s the stuff you won’t see in any fancy-brand hotel.”

Connie smiled briefly. Despite everything that’d happened to Steven —and he really broke the limit of shit that could happen to a person—, he was still the same kind-hearted boy that got emotional over the simpler stuff.

“But what about you? You never tell me what’s up,” said Steven and Connie perceived the sourness. “How’s cram school going?”

“It’s going,” she said flatly.

“That’s good. How about Lion? I haven’t seen the little rascal since forever.”

“You know him. He comes and goes as he pleases.”

“Right, right.” Silence. She wished Steven would stop asking questions and just talk. “Connie, are you alright? You sound a bit under the weather; and I am the one about to be soaked.”

Steven’s attempt at humor was ignored; the red lines over Connie’s arm caught all her attention. There was not a discussion inside her head. There was a whole fucking debate, with a hundred people committee and a chairman that was chewing her nails as she waiting for the lunch break.

“I don’t know,” she said, choosing simple words.

“What do you mean? Did something happen or…?”

“It’s just one of these days, you know?”

Steven’s silence asked her to elaborate. The cuts of her arms seemed to shine brighter, mocking her for her weakness.

“I’m doing badly,” Connie said quickly. “I’m feeling real bad right now and I don’t even know why,” she added, only half-lying.

There was a long mmm on the other side of the line.

“Alright. I’m going home,” said Steven.

Connie’s heart started to race. “You can’t do that. You are driving... a-and your schedule-”

“I’ll just park on a side of the road. There are some nice trees I can park under. Then I’ll call Lion and be there in a flash.”

No, no, NO. “Steven, you really don’t have to.”

“It’s no problem at all! I want to be with you-“

“Steven, I don’t want to see you, OK!” Connie bolted upright, sitting on the bed. “Nobody asked you to do anything! Why do you always have to make things about yourself?”

Silence. A gust of wind came from the window, chilling Connie to the bones. She squeezed her left hand until it hurt. The scissors were still there. She glanced at her right arm; smooth and clean of any mark. Connie was right handed, but she could make an exception.

The thought alone shook her to her core, making her open her palm. The scissors felt with a clink-clank. She brought the phone closer to her face.  

“Please,” Connie muffled a choke with her free hand, “please don’t go. Can you just talk to me?”

More silence, and there was a moment in which Connie knew ‘this is it, my best friend hates me forever’. But then there was a sliding noise, and the rumble of dirt being removed. There was also a distant boom; a storm was about to drop.

“I stopped the car,” said Steven. “I’m here for you, if you want.”

Great. It’s not like that’ll deepen Connie’s guilt.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“I’m so sorry,” she repeated. Dark walls were closing around her, and the only source of light was her phone and the person on the other side. Obstinate tears rolled down her cheeks. “I’m such an idiot.”

“Please don’t say that. I know… you know that’s not true,” Steven measured each word as he spoke. “Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said, “I’m just being a big baby, that’s all.” No answer. He’s not gonna make it easy for her, is he? “I’m mad. Really mad.”

“Mad at me?”

Connie grumbled as an answer. She heard Steven’s struggle to swallow.

“Right. Not about me.”

“Exactly,” she said, although it was a half truth.

“I’m mad at myself,” she proceeded. “I’m mad because I fail at everything I do.” Connie took several breaths. Here comes the bomb: “I flunked at my practice college entrance test.”

More silence.

“Go on,”

“Aren’t you gonna say its stupid?” she asked cautiously. She’d expected a scoff, a snicker. Maybe even some laughter.

“I’m listening,” Steven insisted.

Connie tried to put some verbal sense in the ball yarn that was her mind.

“I really flunked it, you know,” she said, waiting —hoping— for a reprimand. “Even the stuff that I’ve studied and re-studied.”

“But it was just a practice test. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“It means everything, Steven,” she cried. “If I’d taken it today, I would have gotten a garbage grade.”

Connie cleaned the tears away with the back of her hand. The gust coming from the window was making her shiver. Her wet hair and the soaked sheets were not helping either.

“It like everything I had done, all the hard work I put into it was for nothing,” she said. “Everything feels so pointless.”

“I don’t think it was,” said Steven, carefully. “Even if you failed, you still practiced for the real one. Don’t give up. Going to college was your dream.”

“Was it? I don’t really know.” Connie bit her lip. “No, that’s a lie. I do want to go to college. I just wonder if it’s worth it. I mean, what’s the point of trying so hard if I fail anyway? Do you have any idea how many nights I lost for this? O-or how many times I had to put my friends on hold because I was busy studying?”

She stopped. She felt as if her breath was stolen from her.

“Of course you do,” she sighed. “And it was all for nothing. I failed at this as I fail at everything else.”

“What is ‘everything else’?”

Her blood was freezing cold, as was her answer. “You know.”

There it was again; the roar of thunder, followed by the sound of a million drops falling down. It was starting to rain somewhere.

“Connie,” said Steven, on the verge of shattering. “Have you been thinking about Homeworld?”

Connie clenched her free hand, her teeth, and everything else that required physical exertion.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“Don’t be.”

“I know I have no right to feel bad about it. You are the one who suffered the most from it-”

She was cut by her own throat shutting down, and for a moment only tiny hiccups came out. There was a blinding, white rage inside her. It commanded her to grab her sword and slash, lunge and cut all her problems away. But she didn’t. She stood still and cried.

“But I was there too. I saw what White did to you and I couldn’t do anything.” Connie gasped for air. “I trained so hard for nothing. When you needed me I… I failed you.” She stopped to gasp and clean her tears. “H-how can I know I won’t be a mess in everything else I do, that I won’t flunk on my first year of college? Studying was the only thing I was good at and… and I’m not even good at it anymore and just…”

She stopped to let the tears roll freely. It was too much; too much weight, too many tears. Everything was in the air now. All her failures, all her fears, like an enveloping toxic cloud around her; it’d always been there, but now someone else could see it. In the middle of her wailing, she caught Steven’s concerned voice.

“Connie, can you hear me?”

It could be easy to hang up now, forget this ever happened, and call back when she was strong and put together. ‘Hey Steven, sorry about that, everything is better now’. But Connie couldn’t do that —not to him. She mumbled a reply.

“Alright. I want you to breathe with me, OK? Can you do that?”

Well, that’s easy for him to ask. He’s not the one hyperventilating. And to think many times she’d said the same, when Steven was going through a panic attack. How the turntables indeed.

She knew the instructions to the letter, but she coordinated them to Steven’s voice. Four seconds inspiration. Hold it for seven seconds. Eight seconds exhalation. They repeated it until every corner of Connie’s mind was occupied with this routine.

“Feeling better?” Steven asked.

Connie noticed she wasn’t crying anymore and with one last sniff she said: “A bit.”

“Good. Now I want you to listen,” said Steven. “First, just because I was the one who was attacked doesn’t mean I got the monopoly on trauma.” He stopped to see if his joke caused any effect. ”What I mean to say is, that day was… it was a literal hell for all of us. Maybe more to me than to the gems, but it was so for you too because, like you said, you were there with me.”

“Which brings me to the second point: nothing of what happened in Homeworld, or that happened to me, to us, was your fault,” Steven said, firmly and fluently, like a practiced speech. “And there was nothing you could have done to prevent it. I know you are mad because you couldn’t take a swing at White’s giant nose…”

Connie laughed. She imagined Steven raising a triumphant fist into the air.

“But you did help me. You carried me to… to me! If I’m alive now, it’s because of you. And I should…” Steven stopped. Connie could see him, hand on his mouth, trying to hold the tears back and be the rock she needed. She knew that feeling too well. “I should’ve told before how much you did to me. You saved my life back then, a-and then you saved me again, months ago, when I got corrupted.”

Connie gasped. Steven never brought that topic unprompted, and he never called it for what it was. It was always ‘the incident’.

“You were there for me since day one,” Steven laughed dryly. “Actually, I should be the one apologizing. You had to go through all of that because of me.”

“I wanted to do it,” Connie retorted. “I wanted to go through all of that with you.”

“That doesn’t make it right. It wasn’t fair.”

Connie huffed. They were scratching the surface of a deeper conversation. Because Connie was mad for wanting to go to Homeworld so bad, and for all the times her life was in danger before that. And she was mad at her parents —what were they thinking? They shouldn’t have let Connie run around with a sword, fighting a war that wasn’t her own; they should have locked her up until she was eighteen. Damn, she was mad at the whole Universe for needing to be saved. They were kids! Stupid kids who didn’t knew better than to take such a task over their shoulders.

And deep down, in a corner she dared not to look, she was mad at Steven. Because from the first day they meet, he chose her. To be his friend, his partner-in-crime, his… And in an even deeper place, Connie was mad at herself. Because she had chosen Steven too, and if it came to it, she would do it all again. Back then, in the middle of the chaos, with the fear of death and the threat of the destruction of the Earth as her everyday bread and butter, life made sense.

But now the war was over, and the books Connie studied so much felt as unreal as any fantasy novel. How do you go back to being normal after having a destiny?

Connie let her head fall back and softly touch the wall. She was far too tired to shine light on those darks corners. She just wanted to rest. She was half-way napping when Steven’s voice brought her back.

“Connie? Connie, are you there? Please talk to me.”

Connie slapped herself awake. “I’m here Steven. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” she said, as convinced as anything. “How about you?”

“Don’t worry about me.”

“But I do.”

“Well I… I worry about you!” Steven protested. “So I guess we are in a loop here.”

That comment wasn’t particularly funny, but Connie started to laugh; a short, weak laugh that grew up to be a roar. On the other side, Steven laughed too.

“Oh man. This sure feels familiar doesn’t it?” said Steven, and eased a bit on the laughter. “I guess you are better at making me feel better than I am doing it for you.”

“Oh, don’t sell yourself so short. I do feel better. A little,” she confessed. “I’m sorry you had to deal with me being dumb. I don’t know what came over me.”

Steven was quiet for a while. When he spoke again, it was with the clearness of a professor giving class.

“Connie, do you remember one of the first things Dr. A. told me when I started therapy?

“Life sucks?” She heard Steven breathing raggedly, trying not to laugh.

“That is the first thing,” he said in a short breath, “but I mean the second first thing.”

Connie scratched her head. “The thing about the pond?”

“The frozen lake,” he corrected. “She said that, for people with depression —not saying you have it— or have gone through some trauma —again, not pointing fingers—, anxiety is like a frozen lake. Every day you bring new problems to the lake; little, everyday stuff that’s not too heavy. Then some days you bring heavier stuff, and the ice starts to crack, but you don’t notice because you hide the heavy stuff under the lighter stuff. Finally one day, you bring a new little problem and you put it on top of the pile. You know what happens next?”

“The ice breaks?”

“It breaks,” said Steven, like a satisfied lecturer. “It breaks and you fall in the frozen water, with all of that heavy shit you have been hiding.”

Connie’s hand grabbed the front of her bathrobe. She was still not used to hearing Steven Cutie Pie DeMayo Universe curse —even if she was the one who taught him the coolest words (besides Amethyst, of course).

“I remember the story now,” Connie scratched her head, feeling the hard knots of her hair. “I always thought it was a bit complex as a metaphor.”

“My point is-“

“Why not use a house of cards? Every anxious thought is a new card, and as you pile them up, the house loses stability. Finally, one day, it just falls under its own weight,” Connie explained with renewed vigor. “See? It paints a much clearer picture.”

“The point, Miss Wiseguy,” grunted Steven, and Connie could see him folding his arms. “Is that if you don’t want the ice to break-“

“Or the house of cards to fall.”

“Or the house of cards to fall,” he conceded, “you have to deal with that heavy stuff before you are overwhelmed. You don’t need to do that now,” he added, predicting her complain. “But at some point, you will need to talk to someone. Your parents or your friends… Or I can give you Dr. A.’s number. She knows everything we went through.”

“That ought to save me some time,” she said. “Maybe she’ll give me a discount card of ‘Friends of Steven Universe’.”

“See? Now you are being positive,” Steven laughed.

Connie smiled sadly. “What about you?”

“I’ll always be here for you. By phone, video chat, or to visit you… If you want me to,” he whispered that last part.

“Only if you promise to not turn into a Kaiju when we start exposing my inner demons.”

“Ha ha,” he said robotically. “I’ll assume by your sarcasm that you are the same old Berry now.”

Connie mulled about it for a few seconds. The cloud of anxiety was slowly banishing, and she no longer felt the claustrophobic walls closing around her.

“Yes, I’m good now. Thanks to yo-aaah” a loud, long yawn took over her. “Sorry. Guess I’m more worn out than I thought.”

“Yeah, I can tell… Have you really not been sleeping at all?”

“Unless you count passing out of tiredness as sleeping,” she joked.

“Ah,” said Steven. “Have you been, well… you know?”

Connie didn’t answer. She knew what he meant, but she’d no voice to say it.

“Connie, have you been hurting yourself?”

“This conversation is hurting me.”

“Connie.”

The phone vibrated and got hot to the touch, before cooling down real fast. Connie’s head vibrated too, like a snow globe being shaken. Steven’s control over electric devices had been growing.

She lifted her arm to look at the cuts; they still stung, although she hasn’t been paying attention to it. All the slashes were dry and had a dull color.

Fuck it, why not?

“Just a few cuts,” she said flatly, “with my mom’s scissors.”

There was silence for a while, but Steven’s was still there; his breath was ragged and odd. Has he turned pink? Did Connie throw him into a panic attack?

Finally, he spoke: “Connie, I need you to do me a favor.”

Oh boy, that doesn’t sound good at all. “What is it?”

“Throw those scissors away.”

Connie pursed her lips. “Steven, I can’t do that. My mom would be mad,” she said, although it was a poor excuse. If Connie cared about her mother’s feelings, she wouldn’t have stolen the scissors in the first place.

  “I know. I don’t pretend to tell you what to do,” he said, measuring his words like a baker measures flour, “but it’s something that helped me a lot. I mean, when I was in a bad place, I would go into these blank moments when I wasn’t thinking at all.” Connie nodded. He was talking about the limbo. “When I started therapy, I was told to try to be more conscious of myself. More present. So when I felt I was, you know, getting in the mood,” Steven groaned at his own choice of words, “I would take a step back and do something different. We can’t always control our situation or our mood or even our actions, but we can make small changes to have some power over ourselves.”

The way Steven spoke in plural said that he wasn’t doing vain motivational talk; he was talking from a place he’d been in… and maybe still was. Connie remembered sitting on Steven’s bed, trying to cheer him up to eat or step outside and get some fresh air. She also remembered coming home, locking herself in the bathroom and taking a long shower while she cried.

Connie held onto that thought and sat on the bed. She picked the scissors with her free hand and put that memory in them. She also put the memories of White Diamond, the monsters’ attack on Beach City, the arguments with her mother. All her anger, her insecurities, her fear of not knowing who she was— she grabbed all of it and put it into a ball, one she was carrying in her throwing hand. She extended her arm all the way behind her back. And when the wind blew the curtains opens, she propelled her arm forward like a whip.

The scissors —and metaphorical ball— broke free of her hand, made a straight line and finally flew out of the window; out of sight.

Connie stood still, catching her breath. The first thing she noticed was that her chest, while still swelling with anger, felt notably lighter. The second thing was Steven’s voice calling her from the phone. The final thing she noticed made her scream:

“Holy shit!”

“What? What happened?” she heard Steven calling to her.

“I threw the scissors out of the window!”

“…WHAT?”

Connie dashed towards the window, holding her bathtub with her free hand, and stuck her head outside.

“Is everyone ok?”

“Yeah… yeah I think so,” said Connie with a relieved breath. “The street is desert at this time. Anyway, I think I can see the scissors. They felt right by the trash can, so maybe I accidentally stabbed a rat?”

Steven was hyperventilating, but he took a break from it to scoff at her. “Now is no time for jokes, missy! Oh man… you could have killed someone! Why did you do that?”

“Because you told me to, you dumb-dumb!”

“I didn’t tell you to throw a sharp object out of the window, you dumb-dumb!”

Connie shook her head. “Forget it, I don’t want to fight.” She leaned against the wall and let gravity slid her to the floor.

“Me neither,” said Steven. The sound of rain was quieter now. “At least did that helped?”

“Yes. Almost killing innocent bystanders always cheers me up.”

“That’s my girl,” Steven laughed and so did Connie, albeit weaker.

Still, she felt better. Her body was recharging energy quickly and her mind was emerging from whatever black hole it had been hiding in.

“I think I can go on with my day now,” she said and she meant it.

“Are you sure?” Steven asked. Connie reaffirmed her decision. “Well, that’s awesome. So… would it be cool if I drop by and check on you?”

Connie’s heart started to race up again as the anxiety came back. Check on you. Like she was sick and she needed to be taken care of.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea right now,” she said, firmly. “But later. Definitely later. I’ll call you.”

“But I… OK. Alright, w-we’ll talk later then.”

Steven sounded really bummed out, but Connie could pay it no mind now, lest she wanted to feel down the whole again. “Thanks for everything. And I’m sorry I made you stop in the middle of a storm,” she said.

“Oh it’s not so bad. Kinda weird though,” said Steven. “You know, usually you hide from the rain, lock yourself inside and look at it from the window of your house. But I’m under it right now. The sky is falling around me but I’m as dry as clean clothes. And, I don’t know, it’s beautiful. It makes you appreciate everything there is, even stuff that’s supposed to be ugly. Does it make sense?”

The words struck something deep inside Connie, but whatever meaning Steven was trying to transmit was ignored. She was not in the mood for lessons right now.

“I know what you mean,” she swiftly said. “So I guess I’ll talk to you later.”

“Alright then. Please be safe. And call me.”

“I will.”

“Ok… I love you.”

Connie blushed. “Goodbye.” She cut the call. She should have said something else, something more. She didn’t know why she had been in such a rush to hang up.

She just knew saying ‘I love you’ was easier when they weren’t dating.

  With one long, invigorating breath, Connie stood up. She stretched her arms over her head until her bones cracked, then she bended and touched her finger toes until her legs were burning.

With the sudden rush of adrenaline, thinking became easier. The rage was gone and her chest didn’t feel as heavy. Connie has left the limbo, at least for now.

She looked for her phone. Her last study break was one hour ago. Most of that time had been spent talking to Steven. So much time —hers and his— wasted in vain…

Alright Connie, compartmentalize. There’s a lot to do. What comes first? She asked herself. Well, her red, stinging arm would be a good starting point. She headed for her bedroom’s bathroom and closed the door shut.

The bathroom was still mildly warm from the shower she took. The first aid kit was where she left it; resting over the sink, opened. It’s where Connie usually hid the scissors. She hung the bathrobe on a perch and checked the cuts on the mirror. They ran deeper than Connie’s usual handiwork, so she applied the process she used for her training injuries. Soap and water to wash the wounds. Dry well, apply antiseptic to prevent infection and then bandage the whole thing, from the elbow to the wrist. She’ll have to change the bandages after tomorrow at least.

Some petroleum jelly could help the wound heal faster and prevent scarring, and Connie’s mom had some in her first aid kit but she discarded that thought. Explaining to her mom how she got these wounds was out of question.

Connie was about to put the kit away when an idea hit her. She brought the bandages out and applied them over her right arm —her clean, unharmed right arm. There; now if anyone, be it her mom or her friends asked, she could appeal to a training accident. And if her mom wants to check the wound herself, Connie will show her the right arm. Her mom will comment on how well the injury had healed, or she’ll simply believe Connie was overreacting to a minor rash. In any case, she’ll be none of the wiser.

Connie looked at herself in the mirror —naked, except for the bandaged arms. Her reflection smiled sadly. You think you are so cunning, don’t you?

With that done, she left the kit over the sink and tiptoed into her cold room. She went to the wardrobe and chose a long sleeved shirt, some jogging pants, and a sweater.

Next thing were the sheets. They were soaked; perfect to catch pneumonia. Connie started to take them off. She stopped and instead she left her room —with the same feeling as Robinson Crusoe leaving his island—, and headed for the kitchen. She poured herself a glass of juice and drank it like an old man in the desert. She poured another glass and headed back upstairs.

Once in her bedroom, she took off the sheets, rolled them all into a ball and poured the orange juice over the sheets, with extra care as to not wet the mattress. The textile absorbed the juice like a sponge. Finally, she went back downstairs, threw the sheets into the dishwasher and set it on. In the unlikely event her mom questioned Connie about her dropping a glass of juice on the bed; Connie only had to point at the orange colored stains.

They’ll disappear after a few washes, anyway. Ironically, the marks on Connie’s arm might last longer. She entertained the idea of putting her shirt to wash, but she scratched it off. Being a doctor’s daughter, she knew blood stains were a pain to get rid of.

Satisfied with what she had accomplished, Connie’s heart gave a little thud as she approached the door. She didn’t feel like going for a walk, but she’d to recover the, sort of speak, crime’s weapon. She stepped outside and walked aimlessly around the sidewalk for a minute, looking for the scissors. She found them on the floor right next to the trash can. Five inches left and they would have landed on top of the trash. It really makes your mind think.

Or someone else’s mind. Not Connie’s. She didn’t have time to metaphors.

She knelt to pick the scissors. And then she saw them; or rather, they saw her. On the other side of the street, a young couple crossed sights with her. They keep their glance on her for less than five seconds before walking away, laughing. It was enough to throw Connie down a hole. Eyes seemed to materialize out of thin air, staring faces, judgmental glances; all of them pointing at Connie. All of them knew what she’d done. She’d been seen.

Connie dashed inside the house and slammed the door behind her. She felt to the ground, short of breath. That couple must be on their way now, totally oblivious of the effect they caused on Connie, and she can’t blame them; she couldn’t predicted that either. Her social anxiety had been tame for so long, Connie thought it was a thing of the past. That’s another thing to scratch out of her accomplishments list.

Nevertheless Connie had the scissors in her shaking hands, and all she wanted was to put them away.

She stood up and moved around the house exhausted. She picked a pair of clean sheets and went back to her room. She locked the door, shut down the windows and closed the curtains. She breathed out loudly. Now she was unseen and nobody could judge her.

She set the clean sheets on the bed. A strong scent of lavender hit her. Finally, she went to the bathroom; put the scissors inside the first aid kit, under everything else, and put the kit on the back of the cabinet, until next time.

Next time… now that was an upsetting thought.

With everything else done, she just had to get rid of the shirt. She had second thoughts about washing it, since throwing it away would be complicated. Feeling a headache incoming, Connie opened her closet and threw the bloody rag inside. It wasn’t like her to postpone things, but… who was she kidding? This is standard Connie’s stress dealing procedure.

Connie looked at everything she’d done, and felt at peace for the first time that day. Then her eyes felt onto her standing mirror.

Oh no, this won’t do, she thought, meaning her hair. More specifically, the crow nest that had taken over her head and that she usually called hair.

She grabbed her blue hairbrush. Her hair was so entangled the regular ministrations won’t do, so she attacked it with brutal brushing motions. In the meantime, her mind kept producing images. Steven under the heavy rain, checking the soaked engine that broke down when he stopped to talk to her. The disappointed glance of her mom when she finds out all the scheming Connie went through to hide the truth. Her own hands shaking with anxiety as she takes the real test and she realizes she doesn’t know any answers.

She set the brush down. There. Now the image in the mirror was presentable —although some days, Connie wasn’t sure if it was really hers.

“I’m alright,” she said, with a voice that felt alien even to her. “I’ll be fine. I’m a warrior,” she added, more convinced with each word.

She was a warrior. Maybe she’d lost her center, but she could find it. She could be strong again. Once she gets a grip of herself and gets into college, everything will be alright.

Right? Right.

With this new resolution, Connie walked to her worktable. Her failed test was still there. Next to it was the half-done new test she had been working on when the static became too much.

Now, she could keep working and pretend all of this never happened. That this was just a very long study break, that everything she did was normal and healthy. It’s what she was expected to do, right?

Once again she thought of Steven, taking time from his trip to sit down under a deluge to talk to her. Breathe with her, as if they were one.

Connie’s hand reached towards the test… And then went left, grabbed the nearest book and dropped it over the papers.

This can wait… she thought, uncertain.

“This can wait,” she verbalized defiantly to the World.

With that problem done for, she had a free afternoon. She tapped her chin —she hasn’t had this free time in a while.

She picked her phone and flipped through the library. There was this reboot of ‘Crying Breakfast Friends’ that Steven had been bugging her to watch, but she’d been rain checked until she could pass the test. Maybe it’s time to keep the study waiting. She shuddered at that inch of her rebellious younger self taking over.

She picked her earphones and lay comfortable on her fresh, lavender-scented sheets. Five minutes into the first episode and she was cackling and crying with a cartoon about animated fruits while her papers —her physical future— waited on the table. And they’ll keep waiting until tomorrow.

Connie didn’t know if this was a step forward or backwards. But a step’s a step nonetheless; and she was still moving. 

[evil-ontheinside]

Chapter 3 wip of I saw a brighter world beyond myself (I really need an abbreviation for this) (also chapter 2 is coming on Saturday if I don't forget, for those that are interested :))

It’s not that she expected him to be early. He usually isn’t and when it comes to this little business they have going on, he likes to take his time just to get on her nerves. Usually, that wouldn’t be a problem. Most days, she still has a decent collection on her table before he comes around to drop off the new items. But for some odd reason, the royal physician and the delegate for scientific advances had decided to overrun her stall the day prior and bought almost her entire stock. It was a good day, profit-wise, but she doesn’t like when her stall is empty. It feels wrong, somehow, to see the bare surface of her table—the spot of burned wood all too easy to see that has been there since a little lava plant accident two years ago—like she failed some strange challenge among vendors and stall owners when they already eye her with poorly disguised animosity. And, after all, a good day followed by a bad one only amounts to the average at best. Max can’t afford average right now. And either way, Max hates waiting. It feels pointless. She could do so much more with her time if she could plan for her stupid business partner to actually show up around a reasonable hour. If she had known how the day was about to play out, she would have gone out herself to search for new things to sell, just like in old times. Max doesn’t even mind it sometimes, the waiting. When it’s for a good reason or for someone she actually likes and not only tolerates, at least. She can seldom muster up the patience for her own mother, Murray Bauman hardly earned the privilege.

[thefangirlslair]

Free At Last (A Sasusaku One-Shot Fanfiction) x Purple Love VI

Note: Okay, okay. I know it’s been a while. I’ve been busy not being completely mental because of some stuff, and then this corona virus comes up and just messes up with my head furthermore. Ugh! Well, I hope you’re all safe and doing well. And of course, enjoy Sakura Day! It is our queen’s birthday, and I know i’ll never forgive myself if i don’t participate on her special day. So i hope you appreciate this one because i took a break from angst and tried a light and fluffy one. I am sO NERVOUS OMG thanks so much to everyone who keeps on reading these fics i have. Thank u thank u!!!

PS. This is also up on my ffnet! Let me know your thoughts! Again, Happy Birthday Uchiha Sakura!!!!!!!!!! MY QUEEN I LOB U

-

Excerpt:  This might be her second birthday since he knew her, first as her boyfriend, but he feels like he’s known her for a long time. He wants to be there on her birthday every year, forever, as long as she’ll have him.

--

SasuSaku Pairing (2,578 words)

A Poor Attempt at Writing Fics

Sasusaku Edition XXV

Free At Last

Not even grainy resolutions of webcam cameras and shitty internet connections can ever hide her wide-blown grin. May it be over a monitor, your smartphone or in person, Haruno Sakura’s smile will always be as beautiful as its owner. And it’s even much brighter now that her team is singing her happy birthday through her computer screen.

Boisterous laughter followed after all the singing because was that Lee-san who croaked that last note?

“That was awful, Eyebrows!”, laughed Naruto, some dramatic tears leaking from the corners of his happy blue eyes and his tongue slipping the familiar nickname outside work. “Was that you or you have a pet frog?” The addressed man cannot be seen beyond his webcam because he was busy lying under his desk because Sakura-san! I have failed to sing the best happy birthday song! Shame on me!

Almost choking on her drink, Tenten interrupted, “Hey Naruto, we’re still technically at work even though we’re working from home. Stop with the nicknames until later!”

“C’mon, buns! It’s not as if Boss is here to murder us with his glare! And it’s just another 10 minutes before our shift ends; we need to celebrate Sakura-chan's birthday at least!”, the blond whined as an answer.

“Aww, thanks so much guys!”, Sakura smiled. “Naruto, stop teasing Lee-san. And listen to Tenten, we still need to be professional while we’re still at work. I wish we are together at the office though! I would’ve loved to celebrate with you all, too.”

Another blue-eyed, blonde person answered. “Ugh, tell me about it. I’d rather be at the office right now and listen to Naruto’s obnoxious voice than be with a lazy ass and be bored out of my mind like someone over here..” Ino’s annoyed face and an even more annoyed voice rang through their earphones and speakers, noting the emphasis on some words about her boyfriend who rolled his eyes. In the background, you can hear Tenten’s Language!

They can all see Shikamaru, the boyfriend, who simply smirked, looked sideways at his workmate/girlfriend and lazily drawled, “You love this lazy ass.”

Series of ‘OHHHHHH’ can be heard from Kiba, Tenten and Naruto while Lee choked some more and laid again under his desk. Sakura just laughed at her best friend’s face because Ino was trying so hard not to blush that she covered her almost-red face and slapped Shikamaru’s arm at reach. Sakura even heard the man chuckled under his breath.

“Shika, you smooth fucker,” Kiba teased. “Teach us your ways!”

Tenten growled, “Inuzuka, if you don’t shut the fuck u-”

“Weren’t you the one who said to remain professional and mind our language while at work, Tenten-san?”, Lee’s head came up to peek onto the camera and asked his innocent question. He ducked again when the brunette’s eyes flashed for a second and escaped before she unleashes her rage on him.

Sakura’s laughter was light and happy, her green eyes sparkling with mirth. These people’s faces on her screen belong to not just her team at work but her friends. Her second family. Or maybe third? she thought.

They spend more than 40 hours a week together whether it be stressing over clients at work, drinking coffee at the pantry, pizza parlor visits after shift, and ice creams every payday. And now that she realized that it has been two long months since they worked from home, now at their last day of quarantine, let alone on her birthday, she misses them. Terribly so.

“I miss you guys. Really,” she said, her voice a bit lower than usual, which means she’s serious. Her friends saw it and immediately stopped their bickering. “I didn't have anyone before until Naruto and Ino came along. Then came Tenten, then Shikamaru... until Kiba and then lastly, Lee-san. It’s been 10 years since my first celebration with the blonds, but I feel like I’ve been celebrating it with all 7 of you ever since.” She smiled again, “Thank you for always being with me on my day.”

A few moments passed and finally, a chorus of incomprehensible words were heard through Sakura’s speakers because they all reacted at the same time:

���Sakura-chaaan! Don’t be sad! I’ll be sad too!”

“Cut... hik... cut the drama f-forehead! I d-.. I don’t want it!... hik...”

“Ah... now you want me to fall for you now, huh? Stop, damn it Sakura..”

“Girl, don’t touch my fucking heart like that. You already know we got you always.”

“SAKURA-SAAAAAAAAAN!!!”

Sakura watched it all with glowing eyes and a full heart. She looked one by one on their blurry little faces and she felt love just seep through her pores. She’s finally seeing them next week since the quarantine is finally over and there will be no need to hide from the pandemic that affected the rest of the world.

They’re still busy reeling over Sakura’s mini birthday speech and the rosette is overwhelmed with emotions when they heard Shikamaru asked, “Seven?”

“Huh?”, Sakura confusedly asked back.

“We’re only six here, excluding you, but you said ‘all 7 of you’ earlier.”

All eyes turned to her and she felt nervous. Crap, I slipped!

“Oh,” she started, nervously added an awkward laugh. “I meant six! I might be more tired than usual then. We had to talk to a lot of clients today anyway, right?”

She knew she didn’t convince Shikamaru and the rest of her friends, so she thanked all the deities she knew when her phone rang and Kakashi’s name flashed on her screen. She took it as an opportunity to escape more questions from them and so she said, “I gotta take this call, it’s my old high school teacher.”

She muted their audio of their conference call and opened the window of her emails instead to hide her screen and chat box. Sakura went to the balcony to answer the call.

Little did she know that she forgot to turn off her camera.

--

“Did you notice she was acting weird?”

“She absolutely did, right? She looked nervous earlier. Do you know something about this, Naruto?”

“No! She tells us everything but for the past few months, she’s been a little secretive, I think. It also doesn’t help that we’ve been in quarantine for 2 months! Is she still my best friend, Ino-chan?”

“First of all, I am her best friend and not you. And second, I agree. Ugh, this Forehead is making my head hurt!”

“Don’t judge Sakura-san! She’s a good friend! If she wants to tell us something, she will!”

“I don’t care about her secret or whatever, all I want to know where her house is because look at her room. So fucking huge!”

“That’s not her house, Kiba. Forehead said she’s staying at her mom’s friend because she’s alone at her apartment.”

“Yeah, Sakura-chan's room is much brighter and full of flowers! The room they gave her now is so boring, look! It’s either black or gray!”

“I wouldn’t mind. The size of that room is almost as big as my entire apartment. That bed looks something I want to break with Neji.”

“Tenten-san!! Control yourself!!!”

“Y’all are so noisy even in chat.”

“Shut up, ponytail!”

A movement from Sakura’s camera caught everyone’s attention. Her computer is located at the corner of the room so they could see a part of the queen size bed and has a direct view of the bedroom door. The knob turned and someone entered the room.

“WHO’S THAT?!!!”

“SOMEONE ENTERED SAKURA-SAN'S ROOM!!”

“Is that her mom’s friend?”

“Stop panicking idiots!”

“THEY BETTER LEAVE SAKURA-CHAN ALONE!!!”

“Wait...”

“Is that....?”

“OHMYFGOFDD”

“IS THAT BOSS TEME???!”

“Holy shit..”

“Damn he’s so fucking hot in sweatpants...”

“Why is he there??????”

“UCHIHA-SAN IS IN SAKURA-SAN'S ROOM!!!!!”

“I see... this could be why Sakura said 7.”

“NOOOO! THIS CAN’T BE! SAKURA-CHAN WON’T DATE THAT ASSHOLE! SHE CAN’T!!”

Stood inside the room is no other than their young CEO, Uchiha Sasuke, dressed in casual gray sweatpants and thin white t-shirt. If not because of his wild black hair and intimidating aura, they wouldn’t even know it’s him. They have always seen him in crisp suits and perfect posture, maybe once in a bomber jacket and ripped jeans, but this is the first time they’ve seen him in comfortable clothes with his usual stiff shoulders a bit relaxed and his hands casually tucked in his pockets.

Another movement from the other corner of the room, and Sakura came into view. They didn’t know she was only wearing a big shirt that barely covered her thighs, and the chat room exploded again.

“Sakura’s so hot, damn..”

“HOY DOG-BREATH, LOOK AWAY!!! STOP HOUNDING SAKURA-CHAN!!”

“YAAAS GET THAT ASS GIRL!!”

“I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS! FOREHEAD IS BANGING OUR BOSS! THAT’S SO HOT”

They watched in awe when the two met in the middle of the room and Sakura tiptoed and wrapped her arms around Sasuke’s neck. Their boss leaned down and held her hips, his face hidden within her pink locks.

The scene didn’t have any audio for their mini audience but even without it, they know the two are speaking in whispers, with Sakura’s head nodding and Sasuke’s hands running over her waist and back as indications. They felt like intruders and most of them almost blushed because of the affection and intimacy, excluding one who definitely passed out under his desk, so they decided to leave the two.

“Let’s leave them alone now, things might get pretty hot. I don’t wanna see my best friend shagging my boss, no matter how proud I am of her.”

“INO-CHAN! WE GOTTA HELP SAKURA-CHAN ESCAPE! WHAT IF HE’S HOLDING HER HOSTAGE???”

“Idiot..”

“Sakura can take me hostage any time though..”

“Wait, I just want to see Boss Uchiha topless before we go!”

--

Sasuke pulled away for a bit to look at Sakura, his birthday girl, and poked her forehead with his two fingers. His two arms wrapped around her waist again after the gesture, “Are you done for today?”

She nodded in affirmative as her hands roam around his shoulders and looped around his neck, “I almost slipped earlier though. They almost knew I have a b-..boyf-”

He smirked. They have been secretly dating for almost 4 months now but she still blushes more than usual when she tries to address him as her boyfriend. He remembered the time he introduced her to his parents as his girlfriend and she was redder than his favorite fruit the entire dinner. That was fun.

She’s his employee, he knows. Sakura’s been working for his company for more than a year now and ever since he laid his eyes on her and saw her potential, wit and charm—he knows she’s his endgame.

It’s been a long pursuit for him, being her boss and all, and her righteous perspective about everything. So when she finally gave in to her own feelings and decided to say yes to being his, he decided to never let Haruno Sakura go. Even if she decides to fight tooth and nail for her freedom from him, he will do the same to keep her. Maybe not as an employee, because that would mean he will be free to take her on lunch dates, but as his lover.

I like that, he thought. Lover.

Sasuke peered at her blushing face, her emerald eyes downcast because of embarassment, her enticing full pink lips on display that she keeps on licking and biting. Sasuke’s eyes twitched because of the sight.

“Annoying,” he almost growled under his breath. Is she aware of her effect on him?

Before she could even ask, Sasuke ducked his head down to press his mouth on hers. His hand went to the back of her head to tilt it a little upwards so he could taste deeper and he was rewarded by the opening of her mouth and the quiet moan that he drank greedily from her.

As much as he wants to call it a night and just bury himself with her and in her, she hasn’t eaten yet because his hard-headed and annoying employee still worked at home on her birthday. He baked a strawberry cake downstairs while she thought he’s busy working with investors on his office. He spent the entire day in his kitchen Facetiming with his mother to guide his baking. He’s never seen his mother so ecstatic because of him.

He came back to his senses when he felt slightly cold hands under his shirt and he fought the urge to throw her onto the bed they have been occupying for the past 2 months of quarantine and just ravish her all night. Sasuke moved both his hands and held her face as he savored more of her lips by a few flicks of his tongue before he gently pulled away.

This might be her second birthday since he knew her, first as her boyfriend, but he feels like he’s known her for a long time. He wants to be there on her birthday every year, forever, as long as she’ll have him. “Happy birthday,” he simply said, tenderly looking at her gorgeous face.

Her smile was blinding and her green irises glimmer against the setting sun. “Thank you, Sasuke-kun,” Sakura softly answered. “I love you so much.”

He pecked her lips again, lingering a bit more, and murmured against her mouth. “Love you.” He felt her smile, and he smiled back.

A small blink from the corner of his eyes got his attention and he noticed the tops of her laptop’s screen with a little light, indicating that the camera is on. Sasuke turned to Sakura, “Go downstairs and wait for me. Let’s eat dinner. I’ll just take a shower.”

Sakura nodded and happily skipped across the room and slipped outside the bedroom to wait for him downstairs. Sasuke stood for a moment looking at the door and slowly walked toward his, their, dresser. He took off his t-shirt and tossed it carelessly on the floor. He took a deep breath and finally approached Sakura’s computer on the side.

He clicked the program that runs the conference call and was greeted by her team’s shocked faces. He saw one window where Rock Lee was supposed to be but he didn’t see anyone aside from the crooked angle of the camera and are those his feet under the table? He scoffed inwardly. Guess you’ll give up pursuing her now. She’s mine.

He did a lazy sweep of his dark eyes one by one on their faces and remembered them in the future if they decide to blame Sakura for not telling this secret. Of course, they both wanted to show the world that they’re together but they still need to be a little cautious. Yes, they’re her friends and her team, but he’s not gonna be lenient especially when it comes to Sakura.

Sasuke thought the look in his eyes were effective because they all sat a little straighter. His job is now done, and now it’s time to shower so he could celebrate the entire night with Sakura. His spine tingled in anticipation.

He looked directly at the little camera above and gave his signature smirk before he logged out her account and closed Sakura’s laptop. He stretched like a feline and his grin went wider as he stripped for his shower.

Let’s just say it was an interesting first day back at the office the following Monday.

--

~fin~

[thethousandyearwitch]

The Sinking Ship; The Grand Applause

A Pariging Proposal - Marriage - Divorce fic. 

All Angst and Hurt, No Comfort <3

Ging didn’t look like the kind of company that Pariston would keep. And he didn’t keep him. Because no one got to keep him.

AO3 Link

Pariston liked the city. He liked the constant noise, the different sights, sounds and smells to take in. But most of all he liked the people, in all their beautiful and vile variations. From the up-and-coming popstar that was wearing her new wealth on her sleeve, to the plain elderly gentleman covered in scars sipping calmly on some whiskey, a high-end restaurant like this one was a beautiful gathering ground for personalities of all kinds.

He wondered what others saw when they looked at him, what they would notice first. His blond hair that he tried to comb to perfection? His newest suit, a vermillion designer piece with a subtle sparkle in just the right light? His spotless black leather shoes? Or the man seated across from him, whose palm he was mindlessly tracing with a finger, dressed in an ill fitted cheap suit, 5 o’clock shadow with tired eyes and wild hair?

Ging didn’t look like the kind of company that Pariston would keep. And he didn’t keep him. Because no one got to keep him. He was always on the move, always enticed by some far away treasure he wanted to discover, some dusty cave he wanted to explore.

When they met for the first time, introduced through Netero as if it were an arranged playdate, Ging smelled of the sea, salty and airy. The time after that, he smelled of the jungle, all moist earth rich wood.

But nowadays he smelled more of the city, because even though Pariston couldn’t keep Ging, he stuck around on his own accord. His trips had gotten shorter, merely days before he’d reappear on the others doorstep, asking for coffee, a shower, and a bed. Going out for dinner together had become a weekly ritual, other days just spent in Paristons apartment cooking together.

No one expected the two of them to get along so well, but they formed a terrifying team during Zodiac meetings, personalities coiling around each other in pointless arguments that could go on for hours, driving the other Zodiacs mad (Something the two of them greatly enjoyed). It was after one of those hours long pointless discussions, that Gings hand had lingered for just a second too long on the nape of Paristons neck, their eyes locked on each other like hunter and prey.

“What’re you thinking about?” Gings rough voice pulled Pariston back into the moment, and he finally stopped tracing circles into the open palm.

“Our first kiss.”

“Getting nostalgic already?” Ging smirked, and Pariston just let out a light laugh, his head tilted to the side.

“I’m too young and handsome to be nostalgic about anything.” He looked out of the large window of the restaurant, onto the rainy city below. It was most likely one of the last spring showers before the summer would unfold. A bitter taste spread through his mouth, though his smile didn’t fade.

“Are you going to go out to sea this year again?” He thought about Ging leaving and he didn’t want to sound insulted or clingy, though he was also thinking about an empty apartment and boring evenings.

“Would you miss me?” Ging was obviously hiding something, his smirk widening in satisfaction.

“I’d miss your cooking, not your pile of dirty laundry.” They laughed, and Pariston mindlessly intertwined their fingers.

“I’m not leaving, Paris.”

“You aren’t?” He felt Gings grip tighten around his fingers, and his beautiful golden-brown eyes mustered him like a hidden treasure, only meant for his sight. Don’t you ever dare look away, Pariston thought, I want these eyes only for me, only on me.

“If you’ll let me stay, I will.” Gings thumb started tracing circles over Paristons individual fingers, slow and patient starting with the thumb. “I could cook whatever you’d like for you, and we could get kicked out of every single restaurant in the city.”  Index finger. “We can watch all those art movies you like, and all the documentaries I like, comfortable on the couch.” Middle finger. “If I end up missing the sea, we can just rent a beach house at the coast.” Ring finger. “If you’ll have me.”

“Ging?” The room fell silent, as Ging left his seat and went down on one knee, holding Paristons hands as if it might break from just a slightly wrong touch. In his free hand, a sparkling golden ring.

“Pariston Hill, will you marry me?”

From the young popstar, to the scarred man at the bar, to all the waiters in the restaurant, everyone’s eyes were on them. But Gings eyes were only on Pariston. As they are supposed to be.

He hesitated for a moment, taking in the transfixed faces of the onlookers, as if his decision would affect their life in any way. The only one who didn’t seem tense was Ging, fully aware that the other one would want a scene, for better or for worse.

Finally, he presented his fingers with a satisfied smile, eyes glistening as his fiancé slipped the ring upon his finger.

“Yes, always yes.”

And as the crowd started clapping, and Ging kissed Paristons lips so sickly sweetly, it hit Pariston.

I won’t be able to keep this.

.

.

.

Being married wasn’t bad. The ceremony had been a small, private celebration. Neither Pariston nor Ging were exactly thrilled to invite family, so they chose not to. Pariston insisted on having the picture that was taken during their vows framed and hung in the living room, as a proof that Ging could look presentable if he tried, and Ging would kiss him and tell him that he’ll try again next time they get married.

Not much had changed from their regular lives. They were already sharing a bed, the little possessions Ging had were already spread throughout the apartment, and they were still taking their time discussing formalities during Zodiac meetings (Though the other Zodiacs would testify that it had gotten worse).

But somehow it still felt more intimate now whenever Ging would absentmindedly kiss the ring on Paristons finger or refer to him in passing as his “Husband”. Neither ever got tired of that word. The first few nights after they had officially gotten married, Pariston would roll over in bed, and ask for Ging to say it again, just to hear his voice and know its real.

“You’re my Husband.”

“Again.”

“You’re my Husband, and I love you, Paris.”

“Again.”

“My Husband needs to let me sleep if he wants French toast in the morning.”

“That’s fair~”

Pariston started getting used to being a morning person, bribed with a fresh espresso and breakfast of his choice. Old habits die hard, and Gings biorhythm clock would chase him out of bed at 5 am the latest, leaving his husband half asleep in bed until breakfast was ready to be served.

“Am I spoiling you too much? You probably already forgot how to cook yourself.”

Pariston tugged a napkin into the collar of his suit as not to let any maple syrup soil it. “Why would I need to stress myself with cooking, if I have a husband who’ll do it so lovingly for me~”

“I’m afraid you’re gonna starve to death, or just start living off of greasy take out, next time I leave.”

“Just don’t leave. Or at least take me with you.”

They didn’t look at each other, and the room fell cold. He wants to leave. The blond discarded his Napkin and stack of half-eaten French toast, followed by a lax wave of the hand. “Just kidding.”

Before his husband could reply, he had left the apartment. Newly appointed vice chairman, his very own agency, Zodiac work; He had a lot on his plate to keep him busy and distracted, because he was an efficient, capable worker. Chairman Netero didn’t seem to mind that his new right hand had a tendency to take on tasks beyond his position, and never questioned any ulterior motives, despite an obvious difference in political opinions and directions.

The night Pariston came home after their small confrontation, Ging greeted him with a set of car keys, both of their things packed, and a smirk. “Come to the coast with me.”

.

.

.

Ging seemed happier at the beach house. He didn’t seem unhappy back in the city apartment, but after a few weeks by the seaside, his skin tone had gotten richer, his smile more radiant, his eyes brighter. He smelled again like the first time that Pariston had met him, and every kiss had a faint salty smell to it. They started eating more fish, freshly caught by Ging each day.

As his husband started to thrive, Pariston withered. He thought himself a fool for moving closer to the mistress of the love of his life. Because no matter how often Ging would say he loved him, he saw his golden eyes search across the horizon.

“You’re my harbour, Paris.” He’d whisper in his ear, tired and drifting. But he didn’t want to be a harbour. He didn’t want to be a place to come back to after weeks to months out in the world. Ging wasn’t as much of a fool as others made him out to be, he wouldn’t get himself killed out there, he’d always come back safe.

But Pariston wanted to keep him safe right here. Not let him escape, refuse his longing for the mysteries that other places keep.

He pulled his husband closer to him and pressed a kiss on his messy hair. “More of a prison, really.”

.

.

.

It was bound to happen, he thought to himself, all good things must come to an end.

The signs were all there. It was the last few days of the summer, a golden autumn reared its head in the distance, Ging had gotten quieter. Going out for fishing took longer and longer. Every kiss felt agonizingly long and sad. But he said everything was fine. Denied any hurt or misplaced feelings. All Pariston could do was hold him tighter at night, his fingers tangled in unkempt black hair. “Please don’t hurt me, Ging,” his voice unheard in the darkness of their bedroom “Or I will have to hurt you worse.”  

.

.

.

Pariston awoke alone in the big bed, his husbands’ side already cold. It was dead silent in the house. His chest tightened as he left the bedroom and stepped into the large living area. He hoped to find Ging cooking. Maybe ask how he’d like his eggs this morning, an espresso already waiting for him.

Empty. The house was cold and empty.

The first autumn rain started hitting against the windows, a gentle pitter-patter quickly escalating to large, loud droplets that sounded like bullets on impact with the glass.

Slowly he walked towards the dining island, on it a single card with Gings signature crude handwriting.

“I’m so sorry.” Next to it, his wedding ring.

This was bound to happen, echoed in his head. Pariston took the abandoned ring, mustered all the little details of wear on it. Just as he brought the cold material to his lips, he noticed the tears rolling down his cheeks.

This was bound to happen, and it still hurts.

The rest of that day, Pariston let his practiced perfect-ness slip, hidden from the judgement of the outside.  He drank the bottle of wine the two of them had bought on the day of their engagement, there was no need to save it anymore, and he sat on the couch that the two of them had shared for many loving moments, and he cried.

But as the sun crept up the horizon again, the mourning period was over.

He cancelled the contract on the beach house and hired a moving company to bring his things back to his apartment in the city. The beach house was infested with Gings smells and memories, and there is one reliable way to deal with an infestation.

He threw all of Gings possessions, clothes and pictures and books and trinkets, on the beach, and burned them. The large flame of the fire complimented the darkening horizon, and he took a picture with his phone, committed to send it to Ging as soon as he got hold of his new number.

Back in the city, he put all his time into his work, into his political standing and power in the association.

Ging was bound to return, and Pariston needed to make sure he’d return to see Pariston thriving. Thriving and in more control than he’s ever been and maybe ever should be.

 It still hurts, and I will hurt you back.

[ragewerthers]

Autumnal

Summary: All Prompto wanted to do was have a nice evening ready for Gladio when he got home from the Citadel.  Sadly Ramuh seemed to have other plans in store.

But with the help of a caring Alpha, poor eyesight and a Christmas gift gone wrong... maybe this evening won't be so terrible after all?

A/n: Hello there!  This is an F3S work for my friend @bgn846​!  I had far too much trouble deciding on which prompt to write so... I did them all in one fic!  The prompts were:

'1.One of the bros gets locked out of their apartment in the rain or snow or something terrible.  They call someone to come help, cuddles and fluff may occur.

2.A/B/O if you wanna try or just regular… Alpha Gladio surprises Omega Prompto with some flowers or something after a long day.  This is purely an excuse for fluff and purring.

3.”Is that a boob mug?”  This has absolutely no context for a reason. Hahah'

They were all so fun how could I pick?!?!? XD  

You can also read on AO3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26590126

Enjoy! :)

Word Count: 4187

-----------------------

“You have got to be kidding me?!” Prompto growled under his breath, his fingers fumbling inside his soggy pants pockets as he tried to desperately locate his house keys, shifting his couple bags of groceries from one arm to the other in his search.  Was it unseemly for an Omega to growl?  Maybe.  Did he give any butts about it now?  Absolutely not.

The poor Omega had found himself swept up in an early fall downpour on his way back from a quick excursion to downtown Insomnia and really, why wouldn’t it have happened on today of all days?  It had been spiracorn dung since the beginning and no matter how much he’d hoped for it to get better it appeared it truly wasn’t in the cards.

Another gust of wind whipped its way along the street where his and Gladio’s townhouse resided, sending sheets of rain cascading over him once more.  Why was Ramuh being such a dick today?!

He could hear other people rushing behind him along the sidewalk, seeking shelter in their own homes because they could at least remember to grab their keys from the little bowl at the front door.  Hadn’t Gladio literally put it there months ago to make sure he would remember to grab his keys because he knew something like this was bound to happen?

After coming up short in searching his jacket pockets as well, the sound of something tearing and things hitting the ground instantly made Prompto want to scream.  And so he did.

“Oh come on!” Prompto shouted to no one in particular.  Glancing down he saw the paper bags he’d been using had become so soggy that literally everything he had bought now lay scattered along the stoop or was rolling down the few steps that led to the sidewalk.  At this point, though it stung to see his purchases become waterlogged, he couldn’t bring it in himself to chase after them.  If Ramuh wanted his groceries that bad he could take them! With another unseemly growl that made him feel slightly better, he thumped his head against the door as he tried to figure out what his next course of action should be.

There was always trying to call someone, but at this point his phone was probably so full of rain water it was useless.  Even then who was he going to call?

Noct was in an incredibly important meeting with the delegates from Altissia. It was supposed to help rebuild some of the trading deals that had been in place before Insomnia had fallen all those years ago.  He’d been working so hard to rebuild everything from the ground up and there was no way that Prompto was going to bother his best friend for something as silly as this.  Besides, he could stand some soggy underpants if it meant that Noct could continue to raise Insomnia back to where it should be and far beyond it as well.

There was always Ignis, but today really would be an ill advised day to bother the Beta as well.  If Noct was busy working on building trade deals then Ignis was more than likely pulling the work weight of five men to ensure that it happened.  The man had become more and more reclusive when it came to his time in the archives and pulling out as much info as he could to help create a better and brighter Insomnia.  And while there was definitely a reckoning coming for the Beta in the form of his three friends forcing him to take some sort of break or vacation, today was not going to be that day.  That being said, he would also rather face a thousand feral daggerquills then interrupt Ignis while he was in extreme Adviser mode.

Bringing a hand up, Prompto went to wipe at his face to clear away some of the rain water cascading off his fringe, but aborted the movement a moment later.  At this point it would be replaced in a nanosecond and he couldn’t find the energy to care anymore about it.  With a deep sigh of defeat he took a seat on the soaked cement stoop and tried not to think of his last option.

Gladio.

Prompto gave a quiet, little whine as he thought of his Alpha.  Gods he wished he could just warp back to this morning, wrapped up in the man's arms without a care in the world.  It was a simpler time.  A less soggy and cold time.  He remembered only briefly waking to the brush of soft lips against his brow, his nose and then his own lips as Gladio promised to be back as soon as possible.  The next time Prompto woke, the early morning sun had been replaced with fluffier autumnal clouds and the bed was far cooler without the living furnace that was Gladio

The Alpha had to get up early to be at the meeting with Noct and though the threat from Altissia was non-existent after everything, it still was better to err on the side of caution.  And if there was going to be a force to dissuade any brazen acts of unrest, Gladio’s presence was more than capable of stopping it.

So sadly that meant enjoying a little breakfast together, or a few extra stolen kisses on the front stoop before Gladio went off were off the table for the day.  Prompto found lonely mornings like this to be the roughest to start.  However, he also knew that Gladio preferred them having their mornings to themselves as well and that always filled the Omega with a little extra warmth in his chest.  Knowing that Gladio was going to have such a full day and that his own presence was not needed at the Citadel he’d decided that he would surprise his lovely Alpha with a nice home cooked dinner for when he returned to their cozy apartment.

Thus after spending the better part of the day buying groceries for a ramen dish he knew Gladio would love, and maybe buying a small dessert for them to share together later, everything went to heck in a handbasket.

If he’d spent more time thinking to grab his keys and check the forecast instead of imagining the smile on Gladio’s face he wouldn’t be in the predicament he was in now.

Soggy groceries strewn about the pavement, a chill settling deep in his bones and a wish in his heart greater than anything that he could just be back inside and restart the day from the beginning.

“Prompto?  Prom, what happened?!” The sound of someone shouting to him through the downpour and rumbling thunder had Prompto’s head shooting up, not even realizing he’d ducked his head down to hide against his knees to begin with.

His eyes had to take a moment to focus, but as soon as the familiar warmth of the person’s hand touched his cheek he instantly sagged forward.  Strong arms wrapped around him without hesitation and he felt the rain lessen minutely against his shivering frame.

“Gl-Gladio?” he stammered, nuzzling his face into the crook of his Alpha’s neck, taking in the scent of cool forests and wildflowers.  A scent unmistakably Gladio’s, but with an underlying hint of firesmoke.  The man was upset and Prompto hated knowing he’d caused it.  “S-Sorry… sorry, Gladio.  I… I was st-stupid and for-forgot my…!”  His voice was cut off by a rather unmanly squeak that escaped when Gladio’s arms shifted and he found himself being lifted like a blushing bride and held against his Alpha’s broad chest, shielded from the unkind weather.

“No apologies, Sunshine,” Gladio murmured softly and Prompto felt the way his partner easily moved toward their door with him.  After a little jostling he heard the familiar jingle of keys and soon they were entering into the small hallway of their home.  Prompto could tell he was without a doubt drenching the little carpet they had down with the water coming off of him and he was probably making Gladio chilled by being held so close in his soggy mess of clothes.

A miserable little whine escaped Prompto without him meaning to and he felt Gladio give him a soft squeeze.  “Let’s get you out of these wet clothes.  You feel like an ice cube,” he murmured softly and this only made Prompto frown more, especially as he felt himself being carried toward their bathroom.

“I-I can go myself… you… you were wo-working all day.  I’m s-sorry,” he stammered only to find a soft kiss pressed to his forehead.  Looking up he caught the small smile on his Alpha’s lips.

“Please stop apologizing, sweetheart.  It’s not your fault.”

“But…,” he murmured only to find the man's lips now pressed against his own to stop him from finishing his sentence. As Gladio leaned back he nuzzled against Prompto’s nose, the deep rumble of a small purr vibrating through his chest and making Prompto’s bones feel like they were turning to liquid.  It only lasted a few seconds, but it was more than enough to quiet him and make him pliant for what Gladio had to say next.

“None of that,” Gladio murmured softly as they finally reached their bathroom. “The only time you should ever have to apologize is if something is directly your fault.  Do you control the weather?   No.  Would you have apologized to me on a sunny day?  No.  This isn’t your fault, Sunshine. Just a little bad luck.”

Prompto felt himself carefully set down on the bathroom counter, Gladio’s large frame moving around their small bathroom easily as he went to turn on the shower spray and grab his own towel for Prompto to use.  “Why does it always seem like I have bad luck though?” Prompto asked as Gladio closed the shower curtain and turned back to his mate.

“I don’t see what happens to you as bad luck.  Merely… inconvenient moments?” Gladio tried to offer, getting an unimpressed looked from his Omega as water still dripped from his fringe and down his freckled face.  “Okay… so maybe some of it is bad luck.  But it just means I get to come in and be your knight in shining armor and you know how much you love that.”  

The cocky little smile Gladio flashed him after that made Prompto snort, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth to quiet the noise. “You’re ridiculous,” he murmured.

“But I’m not wrong,” Gladio teased, stepping forward and sweeping his mate’s damp fringe to the side to press a gentle kiss to his brow. “Now go on.  I’ll leave you to warm up a bit and I’ll bring in a change of clothes, okay?”  With another soft kiss to the tip of his chilled nose, Prompto already felt himself warming just from the presence of his Alpha.

Once Gladio stepped out, Prompto scooched himself off the edge of the bathroom counter, moving a bit slowly as his fingers still felt a little numbed and chilled from the rainfall.  Soon he was free of his soggy clothes, quickly put in the hamper, and was stepping into the wonderfully warm spray of their shower.

It wasn’t much longer that he was feeling more human and less like the Astrals personal punching bag.  The feeling had returned to his fingers and toes and if he chose to use Gladio’s body wash to wrap himself up in the man's scent a bit more he was sure his Alpha wouldn’t mind.  Pulling the curtain back he saw that his favorite pyjama’s, the sweats with chocobo’s on them and his favorite band t-shirt, were already on the counter waiting for him.  Apparently he’d been so engrossed in getting the icky feelings and weather off of him that he hadn’t heard the door open and close.  For such a big guy it always surprised Prompto how stealthy he could be.  Which generally made impromptu games of hide and seek a nightmare for him because the man was a walking shadow!

Soon he was changed, his hair toweled off with Gladio’s towel and hung back up to dry.  Now to figure out how he was going to save the evening from his ridiculous ‘inconvenient moment’ and do something nice for Gladio! Opening the door to the bathroom, Prompto only had a moment to think before he found himself literally enveloped in a blanket and hoisted back into the air with a squeal that would’ve put the best horror actress to shame!

Gladio’s booming laughter echoed through the hall a moment later and as Prompto wriggled his face out of the warm fabric he glared at the man.  “Wh-what are you doing?!“ he squeaked, finding himself once more being carried around in his darling's arms like a bride in a quilted gown.

“Making sure my Omega is taken care of, sweetheart,” he cooed, making Prompto try to hide his flushed face in the blanket which, he realized, was radiating heat.  He nuzzled his cheek against the fabric and a soft little trill of content escaping him making Gladio chuckle again.

“I see putting the blanket in the dryer for a little bit worked its magic,” he teased, making Prompto flush more, though his soft smile on his lips stayed.  Soon he was being deposited on their sofa, his favorite tv show already playing and something warm and delicious smelling steaming on the small coffee table in front of them.

“Did… is that Cup Noodle?” he asked as he saw the noodles presented in a far fancier mug then he had ever realized their house had and a fork already nestled in it, only waiting for him to pluck it up to dive into the meal.

“It is. I went back out to clean up what was left of the groceries and I saw what you wanted to make,” he murmured, taking a seat beside Prompto and wrapping his arm around the man to hug him close to his side. “I know it’s not homemade, but I hope it will still do.  If nothing else it should help warm you up even more.” Prompto felt his cheeks heating for the umpteenth time now at the sweetness of his mate, but also at how spectacularly he had failed.  Sighing quietly he nuzzled closer to Gladio, taking in a deep breath and just focusing on his Alpha’s warmth for the moment.  “I wanted to surprise you,” he whispered quietly. “You had such a busy day and… I just wanted to give you a relaxing evening.  All I managed to do was make you worry about me and look after me.”

Closing his eyes as he spoke he curled up a bit more in the blanket.  “I’m sorry.”

Gladio’s arm around him moved slightly and soon Prompto felt strong, calloused fingers gently soothing through the damp knots in his hair.  “You have nothing to apologize for, Sunshine,” Gladio whispered gently.  “And I’ll keep reminding you of that.  That you don’t have to apologize for things like the weather, or dropping something, or forgetting something... until one day those apologies don’t happen anymore.  Because there is nothing you could ever do that I would think you should be sorry for.  You’re my sunshine.  And sunshine has only ever made me smile and happy. No apologies needed.”

The soft reassurances and the gentle soothing to his hair was almost enough to make Prompto’s barely held together composure break and a quiet sniffle escaped him.  “Y-You’re too good to me, ya know that?” he murmured, a watery little giggle escaping when he felt Gladio ruffling his hair lightly.

”No… you deserve the world, Sunshine.  Don’t ever doubt that,” Gladio murmured softly, pressing a kiss to his temple before shifting and leaning forward.  “Now.  I think the noodles have cooled long enough and if you wait any longer they’ll lose their chewy integrity.”  

“Chewy integrity?” Prompto questioned, bringing a hand up to soothe his hair back down and feeling the weight in his chest lifting more and more.  “I feel like only Cup Noodle addicts would believe in such a thing.”

The dramatic gasp that left Gladio and the scathing look he was given had Prompto fighting another round of giggles as he brought a hand up to cover his mouth.

“I am not an addict!  I’m a connoisseur!” Gladio huffed before passing over the ceramic cup, fighting a smile of his own.

“Mmhm.  And I’m the queen of Duscae,” Prompto teased, stirring his fork into the noodles in search of a few veggies.  

“I’m gonna tell Iggy you don’t believe in the integrity of noodles.  You’re going to get such a lecture,” Gladio huffed, leaning back with his own cup and twirling a fair amount of the noodly goodness onto his own fork.

“Oooor… you’ll get an earful about your sodium intake again and… then… uh…,” Prompto paused as he turned to look at Gladio, watching as the man stared back at him in confusion.

“And… what?  Everything okay, Prompto?” Gladio asked carefully around a mouthful, but Prompto’s eyes narrowed slightly as he tried to process what he was seeing.

“Is… is that a boob mug?” he asked, looking at the coffee cup Gladio was currently enjoying his meal from.

Gladio almost choked on his half chewed bite, coughing and smacking his chest before looking at Prompto like he was the crazy one.

“What?!  No this isn’t a boob mug!  Look at it,” he said, raising up what was clearly the mug of a female torso.

Prompto stared at his mate in disbelief before pointing at it.  “I am!  It’s a mug… with boobs!  Where did you even get that thing?!”  In the few years they had been living here he had absolutely no recollection of that hideous thing and if he had seen it, it wouldn’t have stayed in this apartment for very long. “Cor gave it to me last year for Christmas.  He said it was a bag gift, which was weird because it was wrapped, but still!” Gladio groused as he narrowed his eyes at the mug, apparently trying to see what Prompto was seeing.  “It’s obviously two moogles next to each other!  Look!  They even have their bright red noses!”

Prompto slowly started to see all the pieces coming together in this one moment and honestly, it was both endearing and hilarious.  “Uh… I’ll be right back, big guy,” he said lightly, only just keeping the tremble of laughter out of his voice as he wiggled out of the warm blanket and ran to their room.  Quickly locating what he was looking for he returned with his old glasses in hand and handed them to his Alpha.  “Would you please, please, please humor me and put these on?”

Gladio had waited patiently for his mate’s return, but seeing the glasses instantly had him grumbling.  “What are you trying to say?” he questioned, holding the glasses as if they had personally offended his honor.

“Nothing!  Nothing, just… please?” Prompto asked, jutting out his bottom lip and making his eyes go extra wide in that way he knew Gladio couldn’t fight against… adding in a little whine making it a sure thing.

With a growl, Gladio begrudgingly unfolded the glasses.  “Fine.  But I’m gonna tell you the same thing I said earlier,” he reassured as he perched the glasses on his nose before picking up the cup again.  “This mug is just an innocent picture of… shiva’s tits!”

“Exactly!” Prompto crowed as Gladio’s now seeing eyes beheld the world’s most atrocious mug.  The absolute shock that crossed his mate’s features had the laughter Prompto had been trying to hide finally break free.

“It’s not funny!” Gladio whined, still gripping the mug in his hands and staring at it with betrayal.  After a moment his eyes widened in horror.  “I’ve been drinking from this at the Citadel!  I brought it home because it chipped and wanted to fix it!  Oh my gods I must’ve looked like such a dick!”

Prompto was positively beside himself now, his laughter high-pitched and squeaking as tears of mirth clung to his eyelashes.  Oh his poor sweet Alpha!

“Y-You… dihihihihidn’t?!  O-oh my gahahahad!” Prompto wheezed out, laughing so hard he was leaning on Gladio who looked like he wanted nothing more to have the sofa swallow him up.  The mug was now abandoned on the coffee table and Gladio had his head in his hands.

Slowly Prompto started to calm, a few stray giggles still bubbling up as he wrapped his arm around his Alpha’s shoulders.  “I’m sorry, big guy.  But… I think what Cor might have said to you was that it was a ‘gag’ gift.  Not a ‘bag’ gift,” he murmured softly.  Gladio groaned even louder as he heard that and shook his head.

“So not only is my eyesight going, but I can’t hear as well?” Gladio mumbled and Prompto smiled gently, pressing a soft kiss to the man's shoulder and soothing his hand over his broad back.  

“First of all, I was at that Christmas party and if the music was any louder you would’ve had to send flare signals to talk to anyone,” Prompto said gently, getting a little huff from his Alpha as he wrapped his arm around him and hugged the big guy closer.  “But as for your eyesight… you’ve definitely been squinting a bit more lately.  But… those glasses are cute on you.”

Prompto watched as Gladio’s ears tinged red at being called cute and he bit his lower lip as a smile appeared over his lips.

“Shields don’t wear glasses… and they aren’t cute…,” came the haughty little reply and Prompto found himself rolling his eyes.

“Well… my Shield just mistook a boob mug for moogles so I think there maaay be an exception to the rule,” he giggled softly.  “And while I hate to argue with my Alpha… he most definitely looks cute in glasses.”

Gladio finally peeked his eyes out, his cheeks matching the light pink of his ears and making Prompto’s heart flutter a bit.  Leaning forward he pressed a soft kiss to one of those warmed cheeks and finally saw his Alpha’s smile returning.

“I guess we both had a tough day, huh?” Prompto murmured softly.  “I got caught in a rainstorm brought on by the rage of Ramuh himself… and you found out you’re getting old,” Prompto teased his Alpha lightly, giving his side a little pinch and earning a squeak from the man.

“Hey!  I’ll show you old!” Gladio growled, quickly tackling Prompto onto the sofa and gathering up his giggling Omega in his arms, pulling him flush against his chest. “Do old Alpha’s cuddle?  I think not!” he mumbled from somewhere above Prompto’s head, making the blond giggle harder as he wrapped his arms around Gladio’s waist and snuggled closer to the warmth he adored. “I don’t know.  Should I do tests to find out?  Find some nice young Alphahaha’s!  Okahahay!  I won’t!  I w-wohohon’t!” Prompto squealed out as Gladio’s fingers teased at his vulnerable side, tickling him mercilessly for a few seconds before stopping.

“Shush it, you,” Gladio chided with a soft smile, glancing down at Prompto with a look that always managed to melt Prompto’s insides.  The omega gave a happy little trill at that and snuggled closer as Gladio’s arms wrapped more snugly around him.

“Well… now that your Cup Noodles have lost any and all texture and you’ve managed to lure me into a cuddle pile… why don’t you get some rest, Sunshine?” Gladio murmured, the quiet, deep timbre of his voice already starting to have an effect on the Omega.

Cuddling closer and hiding his face against Gladio’s chest, Prompto felt his eyes already starting to close.  The warmth of his mate’s embrace that he had missed since this morning enveloped him completely and finally, finally every bad thing from the day felt like it was starting to ebb away.

He felt Gladio shifting for a moment, hearing the faint sound of his glasses being placed on the coffee table before the man settled once more.  A hand soon made its way up to his hair, gently running through it and lightly scratching over his scalp and truly, this was all Prompto ever wanted or needed.

It wasn’t much longer that Prompto found a soft purr starting to escape him and a little smile flickered over his lips as Gladio soon responded in kind.  The Alpha’s deeper purr made Prompto’s mind go wonderfully fuzzy and he sighed softly.

Finally, after the struggles and ups and downs of the day he was able to be back where he had longed to be since the beginning.  In the strong arms of his Alpha, a soft smile on his lips and knowing that regardless of what little turmoils and inconvenient moments happened, he would always have Gladio there to pick him up, making him laugh and offer him comfort.  Hopefully he could do the same.

Perhaps he’d start by getting rid of that mug for him?

But that could happen after a nice autumn nap.

[benperorsolo]

Do you have any songs that remind you of Ben? Or Reylo? Most of the playlists I've come across are for Kylo and it's just metal. Which I don't think matches him at all!

I have a Ben playlist that’s nearly 13 hours long and a reylo one that’s about 12 hours. They’ve both been curated since early 2016 and I still add to them. I keep meaning to upload a “final” canonical playlist (the Ben one started as a fic playlist for my redemption fic back in Ye Olden TFA Days) but it’s just so damn big. Since you probably don’t want 25 hours of music(?), here’s...idk a selection of them under the cut.

some ben songs:

Flares — The Script

Did you lose what won't return? Did you love but never learn? The fire's out but still it burns And no one cares, there's no one there

But did you see the flares in the sky? Were you blinded by the light?

I’ll Be Good  — James Young 

Grace is just weakness Or so I've been told I've been cold, I've been merciless But the blood on my hands scares me to death Maybe I'm waking up today

I'll be good, I'll be good And I'll love the world, like I should

CASTLE OF GLASS (esp the acoustic version)  — Linkin Park

Cause I'm only a crack in this castle of glass Hardly anything there for you to see

Nobody Can Save Me  — Linkin Park

So tell me it's alright, tell me I'm forgiven If only I can save me now I'm holding up a light Chasing up the darkness inside And I don't wanna let you down But only I can save me

(Un)lost  — The Maine 

Unaware of where I'm going Or if I'm going anywhere at all I'm not looking to be found Just want to feel (un) lost

Outrunning Karma  — Alec Benjamin 

He's never gonna make it, all the Poor people he's forsaken (karma) Is always gonna chase him for his lies

Saul to Paul  — Red Jumpsuit Apparatus 

For all the times I looked into your eyes and said you lie Oh, I'm sorry For all the times I looked into the sky and said I hated you I'm sorry, God forgive me

Oh, Lord please help me change From Saul to Paul Before it's too late (before it's too late)

Gabriel  — Bear’s Den

It's a part of me, Gabriel, I wish I could deny  The face that I can barely recognize  He lives inside of me every day of my life  And I can hear him, screaming in the night 

Is this all I am? And all I ever was? All that he has won is all that I have lost  Won't you hear me out, Gabriel? Can't you see the shape I'm in? Just don't leave me alone 

The Only Fire  — Motherfolk

Taught to fear my God Then that fear became a cancer And I take medicine to destroy the sin But I know, in the end it's killing me

With my heart in my hands I am ready again I am a broken man, I am

Let It Burn  — Red

I watch the city burn These dreams like ashes float away

How long can you stand the pain How long will you hide your face How long will you be afraid Are you afraid? How long will you play this game Will you fight or will you walk away How long will you let it burn Let it burn (let it burn)

Black Eyes — Radical Face

When you last left me my blood was in a jar And you kept it on your mantelpiece I couldn't count on anyone to stand there behind me And keep the dogs from dragging me off with them While I slept you crept in and pulled the rug right out from under me Then the rain stole away and took the parts that kept me functioning

Welcome Home, Son  — Radical Face

Peel the scars from off my back I don't need them anymore You can throw them out or keep them in your mason jars I've come home

Great Divide  — Ira Wolf 

I wish I could take the hands of time and turn them in reverse I'd take back every long goodbye with venom in my words The only way to be being found is getting lost at first But all I find are more bridges to burn

So am I too far gone To be running home Cause I'm longing tonight To be somewhere 'cross that great divide

Dear Wormwood   — The Oh Hellos

When I was a child I didn't hear a single word you said Things I was afraid of they were all confined beneath my bed The years have been long, and you have taught me well to hide away The things that I believe in You’ve taught me to call them all escapes

There before the flesh I saw a brighter world beyond myself In my hour of weakness you were there to see my courage fail The years have been long and you have taught me well to sit and wait Planning without acting Steadily becoming what I hate  

The Driver  —Bastille

Shout out from the bottom of my lungs A plague on both your houses This thing It's a family affair It's drawing out my weakness

Failure — Breaking Benjamin 

Tired of feeling lost, tired of letting go Tear the whole world down, tear the whole world down Tired of wasting breath, tired of nothing left Tear the whole world down, tear the whole world down

Ashes of Eden  — Breaking Benjamin 

Will the faithful be rewarded When we come to the end Will I miss the final warning From the lie that I have lived

Will the darkness fall upon me When the air is growing thin Will the light begin to pull me To its everlasting will 

Some reylo songs:

Halo — Beyonce

It's like I've been awakened Every rule I had you breaking It's the risk that I'm taking I ain't never gonna shut you outEverywhere I'm looking now I'm surrounded by your embrace Baby, I can see your halo You know you're my saving grace

Just My Soul Responding  — Amber Run

Oh, and I wanna be here when morning comes When the stars in the sky fade into one Oh, and I wanna be here when times are hard When the beating of your heart is like a drum But every day I found new ways to hurt you And every day we took our sides

Reminder  — Mumford & Sons 

A constant reminder of where I can find her A light that might give up the way Is all that I'm asking for Without her I'm lost Oh my love don't fade away

I Will Follow You Into the Dark  — Death Cab for Cutie 

Love of mine, someday you will die But I'll be close behind and I'll follow you into the dark No blinding light or tunnels to gates of white Just our hands clasped so tight, waiting for the hint of a spark

My One Safe Place  — Andrew Peterson

You're my oasis The eye of the hurricane One look at your face is all I need to remember my name So I run away home (yes I run away home to you) I was an orphan caught in a thunderstorm You open the door and welcome me into your arms So I run away home Yes I run away home to you

Save Yourself  — My Darkest Days (this is really more of a Ben POV song, so it’s like the angsty woe is me I’m a monster you shouldn’t be with me song)

I'm the devil's son, straight out of hell And you're an angel with a haunted heart If you're smart you'd run and protect yourself From the demon living in the dark There's nothing to be gained, 'cause I can never change And you can never understand my sickness (I'll never understand my sickness)

Never Giving Up On You  — Of Mice & Men

You hit the wall, lost it all And I'll find a way to wake you from this bed you've made Even though I know you want me to I'm never giving up on you

Little Light  — Lewis Watson

And all my days were young and wasted When I was waiting, oh for you And all the plans that I've been chasing are always fading But ever since I found you A little light is breaking through

Sinner  — Andy Grammer

I've been throwing stones, waiting by the river I've been on my own, praying like a sinner You've been gone too long, I'm waiting out the winter I've been on my knees, praying like, praying like a sinner Well you've built a city right in me And brick by brick and piece by piece And love in both your hands Try to make an honest man

Halo  — Starset 

I can see you running, running Every night from the same darkness It's coming, coming But you are not alone If you just say the word I'll be there by your side

Armor — Landon Austin

I'm not bullet proof when it comes to you Don't know what to say when you made me the enemy After the war is won There's always the next one I'm not bullet proof when it comes to you

Maybe I'll crash into you Maybe we would open these wounds We're only alive if we bruise So I lay down this armor

Not Alone — Red

And I'll be your hope when you feel like its over And I will pick you up when your whole world shatters And when you're finally in my arms Look up and see love has a face

I am with you I will carry you through it all I won't leave you I will catch you When you feel like letting go Cause you're not, you're not alone

Ghost (acoustic)  — Tilian 

Is it too late to go back down that road? Or take the backroads, we're not the same no Tell me I'm not dreaming again Our love is not a ghost, our love is not a ghost Could build a brand new home

Even When I’m Gone  — Quietdrive 

There's a light in my heart That can't be contained You knew right from the start That there's no one here to blame

So send me off with your love, I'll fly like a dove into the sunset of my teenage adolescence And if you're ever feeling alone Know that I'll never forget you Even when I'm gone

[shitiger]

The Perfect Job for a Postman ch 2

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21656926/chapters/51699055

(Read the full fic at the link above) (ROTG x Klaus crossover)

When Jesper opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was the moon.  It was full and round, and he could almost swear that it was watching him.  Man, how much did I drink last night?  He stumbled to his feet, pressing a hand to his forehead to soothe the ache that was slowly ebbing away.  It was obvious that he’d fallen asleep in a snowbank, but he could barely feel the cold wind that normally blew through Smeerensburg.

“Okay, Jesper.  This is fine.  You just need to find somewhere warm to get out from the cold,” he whispered to himself.  Glancing down, he could make out the large, postman-issued bag draped over his shoulder, his familiar blue cloak, and his uniform — when had he put on his uniform?  Snow blew around him, causing him to fumble with his gloved hands for the most important tool he carried in this type of weather.  “Lantern, lantern… Where is my lant…”

It was suddenly there.  Floating in the air inches from his nose.  The lantern that he KNEW hadn’t been there moments before. “Okay… this is getting weird.” He glanced around for the source, but found nothing but snow and trees.  He wasn’t sure where he was or how he’d gotten there, but he did know that he needed to get moving, or he’d likely freeze to death.  Hesitantly, Jesper reached out, and grasped the handle of the lantern, only to feel it pull his arm down, as if it had suddenly regained its full weight.

The postman shook his head, and raised the lantern again, peering into the moon-lit darkness.  “Which way do I go?  How am I supposed to find the path out of this place?”

 ~Think of where you want to go.~

“Who said that?” Jesper shivered, taking a step back.  The wind echoed through the trees, but it sounded nothing like the strange voice he could have sworn he’d heard.

 ~Who do you want to see the most?~

“Who do I want to see the most?  What kind of question is that?  I want to see Alva, and my kids, and… Klaus.” Jesper felt his heart clench as he thought of his best friend’s warm eyes, and kind smile.   His late best friend, he remembered with a sinking feeling in his gut.   Klaus was gone.

Wait, was it Christmas Eve?  Klaus visited him every Christmas Eve.  He’d be waiting for him at the house, and Jesper wasn’t even there to see him.  He needed to get home. He needed to see… “Klaus.  I want to see Klaus!”

 ~Think of him.  Focus on him.  Let the light guide you.~

“Okay, weird voice in my head.  I’m really hoping you’re not leading me astray here.” Jesper closed his eyes, and concentrated on the memories of his dearest friend.  His secret crush. His long-lost love. Feelings that he had never once voiced aloud seemed to rush through him all at once, and when he opened his eyes, he could see the lantern shining in his gloved hand.  Raising it, he noticed that it glowed brighter as he held it to the right, and dimmer as he moved it around.   “To the right we go.  I really hope I don’t fall off a cliff.”

North had awoken to a chill in the air, and had realized quite quickly that the window in the study had somehow opened during the night.  Once he’d wrestled it closed, he’d sighed at the sight of his desk covered in snow.  It was only after he’d cleaned up the mess that he’d wandered back into the bedroom, and discovered that Jesper’s cap was not in its normal place on the top of the dresser.  He’d searched for nearly an hour, but there was no sign of the sturdy blue cap.

Finally, he’d admitted defeat.  He could not continue to spare the time looking for the cap, even if it had held a multitude of prized memories.  Feeling old beyond his extended years, North trudged down to the lower levels of the workshop to join the yeti.  The building would not repair itself, and many hands made for lighter work, after all. He could continue his search that evening, once the day’s work was complete.

“Okay, is it getting colder out here?” He could see his breath in the air beyond his lips, even if his body had clearly numbed past the point of feeling the cold.  As the forest around him became denser, the moon’s light no longer seemed to chase away the darkness.  Instead, Jesper found himself relying on his lantern to see even a few steps ahead of him.  He wasn’t sure how far he’d managed to travel, but the little voice kept reminding him to focus on his old friend. “How much farther do I have to go?” he groaned aloud.  “Great, now I’m talking to myself.”

 ~Close your eyes.~

“Close my eyes?  I know I’m crazy enough to listen to a voice in my head, but I’m not crazy enough to walk around a forest, in the middle of a SNOWSTORM, with my eyes closed,” Jesper snapped, glaring up at the sky.  Beyond the trees, he could see the barest outline of the moon shining down on him.

A laugh, as soft as a snowflake, seemed to brush against his mind.  ~Close your eyes. Focus on HIM.  Trust that the light will lead you to him.~

What else could he do?  There were trees as far as the eye could see, and the snow covered any possible path he might have followed back to the town.  So far, his lantern, and the strange voice, were the only things keeping him from certain death.  “Alright. You win,” Jesper finally sighed.  Closing his eyes, he took in a deep breath, and let it out.   Taking in another deep breath, he tightened his grip on the lantern, and focused his thoughts on his favorite toymaker.  “I’m coming, Klaus.   Please wait for me.”  He took one blind step forward, and then another. Unbeknownst to the postman, the light from his lantern began to swirl in the air before him.  Without realizing it, he stepped into that light, and out onto the snowy path on the other side.

 ~Open your eyes, silly.~

“First you tell me to close my eyes, now you want me to open them,” Jesper grumbled lightly, but he did as the voice asked.  “What in the world?” There, in the distance, was a giant building with a domed roof.  Light burst from every window like a beacon in the darkness.  It was built into the side of an icy mountain, but the winding path leading up to its doors seemed more inviting than treacherous.

“This is it.  I’ve gone mad.  There is no way this could be real,” the postman said, nearly dropping to his knees in shock.

 ~Don’t stop now.  You’re almost there.  HE’S waiting for you.~

“You’re telling me that Klaus is here?  How could he be here?  I don’t even know where HERE is!” He turned away from the castle-like building, searching for a way back home.  To his surprise, the forest seemed to have disappeared, along with the snowstorm, but there was still a blanket of snow as far as his eyes could see.  And strange footprints… Jesper leaned down to get a better look.  “Am I being followed by some kind of goat?  Wait, where are my foot…”

“An intruder!”

The postman spun around, his heart nearly dropping out of his chest.  A giant burly creature with grey and white fur was stalking toward him from the left, and several other equally-hairy creatures were coming from the right.  There was only one clear way to go.  Panicked, he rushed up the pathway as fast as his legs would take him, his lantern swinging at his side as he ran.  What even were those things?  Oh man, he was so going to get eaten.  And he would never see his wife or his kids again.  He’d never see Klaus agai…”

And then there he was.   The toymaker himself.  Standing in the doorway of the building, the light silhouetting his broad-shouldered form.

“Klaus?”

***

After a long, and to be honest, disappointing day, North finally took the elevator to the main floor.  The main floor was a place where he entertained guests, created toys in his private workroom, prepared and ate his meals, and took the time to relax by the fireplace.  Tonight he was restless.  Finishing his meal, along with a heady glass of mead, he made his way to the bay window.  From that vantage point, he could see beyond the far reaches of his home.  

His gaze flickered up to the full moon. “Hello, old friend. I hope you are well.  You wouldn’t have happened to see a blue postman’s cap?  It may have blown out my window last night.”

The light from the moon seemed to flicker with amusement.  North fought the urge to rub his neck, certain that the tips of his ears were now burning from embarrassment.  “It was the last memento from a friend.  I would very much like to find it…”

An unusual commotion on the path leading up the mountain caught his attention. Pressing closer to the glass, he narrowed his eyes to try to get a closer look at the blue figure racing toward his door.  There was a strange bounding motion to its run, but that fact soon escaped his mind as his eyes began to truly see the figure’s outline.

Blue cap, blue uniform, golden tassels in the proper places, a lantern dangling from its… no, HIS hands.  The man was getting closer, clearly terrified at the sight of the yeti chasing him up the pathway.

A postman?   At the North Pole?  And one not even properly dressed for the sub-zero weather.  North shot a concerned glance at the moon, before racing toward the door.  He needed to get that poor man indoors before he froze to death.

Flinging open the doors, the guardian took a few steps out into the frigid cold.  Even with his immortal powers, he still preferred to be properly dressed before heading out.  He wasn’t blessed with yeti fur, after all.  Raising his hands, North tried to wave the man forward.  Honestly, what kind of person was traveling this far north without proper…

The man in the postman uniform stopped a few feet away, the light finally catching on his features.  North froze, his words stuck in his throat.  Brown eyes stared back at him, equally as shocked as he was.

“Jesper.”

“Klaus.”

North stumbled forward, barely noticing Phil and the yeti guards who had finally made it to the top of the walkway.  “Jesper!” He opened his arms, and the shorter man threw himself forward.  Their arms clasped around one another as each man attempted to hold the other as close as possible.

“Klaus, Klaus!  I can’t believe I found you!  Do you know how long I’ve been looking for you?”

The Guardian of Wonder chuckled, cuddling his old friend closer.  The other man should have been frozen stiff.  How did he get all the way to the North Pole?  He should have been home in Smeerensburg… North’s eyes widened as he stared over the postman’s shoulder, his brain finally catching up to him.  Jesper shouldn’t have been there at all.  The Jesper he knew was…

Pushing the other man back, he kept his hands clasped firmly on the postman’s shoulders to keep him from slipping away.  “You can’t be Jesper.  My friend is…”  But he was Jesper.  North had known that the moment he’d looked into his eyes.  Even if he was less human now than he had been on his deathbed.

“What are you talking about?  Of course, I’m Jesper.  I get that you’re all magical and stuff now, but I’m still me,” Jesper said, clearly amused at North’s confusion.  Furred ears stuck out on either side of his head, just below the line of the cap.

He likely has no idea how much he’s changed, North thought to himself.  He could see the changes quite clearly now, as could the yeti hovering behind them.  It seems the Man in the Moon sent him his wish, after all.  Casting a thankful glance, and a brief nod at the moon, North waved the yeti back to their posts, and led his old friend into the warmth of the workshop.

“It is good to see you again, Jesper.”

“It’s good to see you too, Klaus.”