#i'm reading too much into this but like. if someone gave me a replica of my sword they could swear up and down it's the same sword

[cillyscribbles]

thinking about how ballister's sword was given to him by ambrosius to aid him in becoming a knight and possibly as a token of friendship or love... and the director yoinked that shit and replaced it with a tool of destruction that almost cost ballister his life and resulted in ambrosius cutting off the arm he was going to wield that gift with

also let's not forget the director would've also killed ambrosius with ballister's actual sword if nimona hadn't gotten there first. she literally would've used something he gave ballister out of love to murder him.

man like. there's a 'g' turned to a 'b' carved on that sword. that's their names put together. that's their history together. that's nearly their whole lives spent together. loving each other. taken away and used as a weapon against both of them. this movie's great. i love this movie

[thelunarfairy]

While reviewing Hanako-kun after school I realized that Tsukasa can appear clearly in the photograph taken by the recording group, however, Hanako appears distorted and like a dark spot/shadow.

But, I thought it was weird that Tsukasa could actually come out, so I thought to myself that maybe it's because he's a yorishiro and not a ghost/spectre like Hanako is.

The first time I read it I thought it was funny (and a little sad because I couldn't get Yashiro and Kou in the photo) and a little realistic that it does not appear correctly in the image because it is a ghost and, in real life , this is how spirits usually look if they are captured in photos: blurs.

And that led me to think, what are yorishiros really? Specters, objects, the original or realistic representations and, dare I say, alive, real, brought back to life or taken from the afterlife in the case of Sumire and Tsukasa?

Maybe I'm wrong but, I'm very sure that Tsuchigomori's yorishiro is the real moonstone that Amane gave him and not a replica; He had to keep it and, when Amane's death caught him off guard and greatly impacted him, became his yorishiro; idon't think he threw her away, otherwise she wouldn't have become his yorishiro.

Yako's scissors were given to her as a gift and they were something precious to her, she protected them and took great care of them, her precious gift, the memory of her beloved Misaki. (Although it is unknown how or when it became one of the mysteries, I highly doubt that Yako neglected those scissors, so they must have been intact or, at least, at her hands at the time of her appointment as the Second Mystery.

Shijima-san's notebook belonged to Mei-chan, where she drew the sketch of the tower and Shijima-san. It's probably the same one, after all, it's where Shijima-san was born.

Even Sumire and Tsukasa (who was introduced to us first, but I'll be honest, it never crossed my mind that he could be a yorishiro:[) human yorishiros are introduced to us, and they're both dead.

How are they selected? ¿Are there requirements to be able to be a yorishiro?

With inanimate yorishiros it can be easy, a treasured memory, something that made you witness an event that you never believed would happen or was impossible, a wish of someone who could not fulfill and it is your turn to do it, something that you longed for or long for. Who knows, it's interesting how each yorishiro object that has been presented to us represents different things for each mystery, and it is beautiful and melancholic as Aidairo represents them.

Except Sumire and Tsukasa are yorishiros too, and they're both dead.

Are humans different? Do they have to be dead to be yorishiros? Or can they be yorishiros as long as their possessor is a Mystery? Sumire and Tsukasa died first than their possessors, one by a sacrifice to which they condemned and another by the hand of his twin brother.

However, I don't think their dead status has anything to do with it. Or at least, not their death itself, but what they represented and meant to Hakubo and Amane, and in which they both died.

Hakubo killed the village (for Sumire, a way to show how affected he was by her, his way of showing love perhaps) and Amane committed suicide (after killing Tsukasa, and we still don't know what led him to do it).

Although even then, it may just be what they both meant to each other respectively.Hakubo did not know any other way of relating beyond order-obey, although it seems that with Yorimitsu there was a bit of friendship, but with Sumire it was different. They both accompanied each other as friends/lovers/lifemates. Hakubo loved her, in his own way.

With Amane we know that he wasn't much of a friend in high school, and most likely only had his brother for company during school hours. Adding that we do not know the circumstances of Tsukasa and his family, did his mother continue with her accusations? Did she stop seeing him and treating him like her son? What about his dad?

(Also taking into account that, we know, the entire Yugi family died the same night, but what killed them, or what led them to suicide as the media mentioned/speculated at the time? If the authorities took it as a family suicide, there should have been signs of non-violence inside the house [everything in its place, everything in order], everyone should have been in the same room)

but anyway, there's a good theory about this from another account.

I just wanted to know your opinion about this that came up after going around the bush.

Initially I would just point out that it seems that the yorishiros are not spirits as such given the situation with Tsukasa and his photo with the broadcast group but I digress hahaha, aside, Mitsuba can also appear in the photograph and is a spectrum (made with other spectrums but details) so maybe Aidairo missed that detail, or they took a photo with an Old camera, or they were just having fun at Hanako's expense.

Nice day! <3

Wow, I loved how you built your entire analysis on contexts in general. I'll assume to you that I've thought about this too, about the photographs, but it seems to be something beyond death.

Hanako seems to be different from ordinary ghosts, he is not like Mitsuba, there is something about him that he himself fears. The photo in which he appears with Nene doesn't just have blurs, it has these souls that are apparently suffering, and they are accompanying him.

You see, the Mokkes are blurs too. Where are Hanako's Joudais? Do these souls have any connection with them? What is Hanako? He was shown with a large black hole in his chest in the original manga and in the pilot as well.

Is this something all ghosts have? Okay, we can think about it, but the logic still doesn't add up. Tsukasa also has a blur on his chest, so why is it in the photo?

There are two factors that we have to consider, Nene's cell phone, is it a cell phone that humans use, and what type of device did they use when they took the photo with Mitsuba?

There are pieces missing here.

About the yorishiros, yes, the objects seem to be the real ones, because they are so special and important to the owners, them still having them is something predictable (I wonder if they still exist after having the seals removed)

But the big question is about humans. It's so mysterious how a human can take the form of a yorishiro, is it real? is it a replica? is it a ghost?

Theoretically, Tsukasa should be a ghost because he floats, but Sumire doesn't. There is one thing we have to consider, Sumire was sacrificed, and Tsukasa initially sacrificed himself. Let's remember that Nene said he had a pulse and was warm when he was a child, that is, he wasn't a ghost, nor was Sumire.

But what about Tsukasa yorishiro? He was born when Hanako murdered him, that is, it was a concrete death and without "apparently" supernatural involvement, he stabbed Tsukasa and he died. It makes sense that he became a ghost and Sumire didn't.

But then, what does the creature in the house do with the sacrifices? Does it consume slowly? Anyway, I digress.

How can someone become a yorishiro? Initially we could even consider that it is the original because of the memories, but the objects also had memories, at the same time, if they are a replica, is the original really dead?

Are you listening? Yes, are you? The sound of silence. No one can answer our question other than Aidairo. We still have no clues as to how a yorishiro is born, only how he "dies".

So yeah, dead status doesn't seem to have that much value, seeing as Sumire was like little Tsukasa, apparently alive in a cursed house. Tsukasa later died, and the proof of this is that when he threw himself into the well, they didn't find his body, that is, Tsukasa was taken in one piece.

When he was stabbed I imagine he actually died, but if that's the case, death is not a prerequisite for becoming a yorishiro. That's because apparently Sumire didn't die, as she was sacrificed in the same way as Tsukasa.

Why didn't Yako turn Misaki into yorishiro? Is it because he had actually died and didn't become supernatural? Tsukasa died and became a supernatural, or he had already become one when he sacrificed himself.

The twins' relationship is very ambiguous, it is a love mixed with remorse, it seems to be a tiring and heavy love, I would like to see more about them, but we don't have many clues other than the current ones.

Anyway, we're still in the dark, it's hard to know how all this works when Aidairo doesn't give us any more clues.

[that--fish]

《Hellfire》

Chapter 1: The Wedding

Synopsis of series: Yn gets married off to the head of the Kamisato Clan. Yn's family, Inazuma's wealthiest tycoons, were nearly on the brink of bankruptcy so they arranged a marriage with one of Inazuma's most powerful politicians to maintain their power. Would Yn be a sacrificed pawn in a bigger game or would she turn the tables?

A jug of angst and a pinch of fluff ☁️✨️

The bachelorette party wasn't as fun as I expected. But what could I have expected? Mainly relatives and my step-mother's acquaintances. Mostly everyone had passed their 50s years ago, it was as if I was visiting a retirement home. Everyone were catching up, talking about life and gossiping. But I have no life to talk about and I have no one to talk to. I'm sure father spent most of our money on this. The well decorated room, a giant chandelier hanging from the ceiling; he almost made a replica of a ballroom.

Today is the day. The day where I'm going to start my miserable life as someone's wife. Will he treat me like a servant? Will I get my freedom? It dreads me to think about it. I don't even know him, I don't even know how he looks like. Father didn't give me any pictures of him. Let's just hope he isn't too...undesirable.

My wedding dress looks stunning nonetheless. It looks like a ballgown, like of those princesses I read in fairytale books when I was younger. I know how to sew dresses, I could have just sewn one myself but father insisted not to. The dress was adorned with shiny pearl beads and flowery lace patterns. Slipping on the dress was not an easy task. The corset is tight! It's very hard to breathe in this, I'm as slim as it gets! Wait...this dress comes with heels? I thought I can wear anything I want under this. The heels are the perfect fit, but they are very high. I've never worn heels this high, I didn't have the need to. It looks like a glass slipper but with diamonds, a lot of diamonds, I wonder if these are real? One of the bridesmaids are doing my hair into a bun and another is doing my makeup. Luckily the makeup isn't as cakey as my step-mother's, given that my bridesmaids are my step-mother's friends. I suppose she has chosen a maid of honour for me, I can't tell who it is though, they all don't look too different.

The reception is starting soon. I'd better be prepared to be under the eyes of many old men. Kamisato Ayato, my soon-to-be husband. I hope the age gap isn't too big. I wonder how much money did father give to get him to marry me. We don't have much money to offer, our company is going bankrupt soon. Well, father might have played some nasty tricks, but that's not for me to know. Sigh Let's get this over with.

The reception is held in a ballroom, a fairly large one. There are murals on the walls and ceiling depicting a heaven, with angels and clouds and a clear blue sky. I requested a piece to be played when I entered, Winter. (Vivaldi Four Seasons: Winter) There is a whole orchestra playing. The piece is very dramatic, like the climax of a story. I walked down the aisle, holding father's arm. He is smiling ear to ear, I'm sure it's a fake one. I plastered a smile on my face, walking towards my fiancé.

He is more handsome than I expected. Father made a good choice for once. The person who I'm going to spend my life with, this blue-haired guy who is a head taller than me. My neck hurts from looking up. He gave me a soft grin...

Remember dear, do not trust anyone.

Mother might probably say that to me.

His lavender-blue eyes, soft features, his hair tucked back into a sleek ponytail...GIRL, GET A GRIP! He is probably way older than me. Father must have bribed him into this, just as he does for other things.

I said my vows just as how I practiced weeks ago. It went flawlessly, no stuttering.

"You may now kiss the bride"

Okay, this part - father didn't tell me about this - I didn't expect father would do me like this - I am so not ready.

He leaned in for the kiss, one hand pulled me closer by the waist, the other cupping my face. Act natural, Yn. I put my arms around his shoulders, deepening the kiss. Haha~ I wonder what father has to say about this. I pulled away. Such a coward. His face was barely pink, he doesn't seem fazed.

After cutting the cake, popping champagne and all, I am tired. How late is it now? Ah, I need to greet the in-laws. How do I do that exactly?

"Ah, Yn, we heard so much about you from your father. We knew that you would make a lovely wife for our son." I suppose that's his mother. She seems rather sincere with her words. "You should stay at our estate, to get you used to it."

"Yes, yes I agree. Your step-mother and I will miss you so dearly, Yn." His menacing grin could go unnoticed. Who knows what he's plotting behind my back.

Well, smile and nod, smile and nod.

The night is still young, Yn. Ugh, when will this end? I don't do social interactions and plus, it was father's idea to keep me cooped up in the estate. Was this how mother might have felt on her wedding day? I wonder what did she see in father?

"Yn, is anything the matter?" He asked. His voice... i-it's so...calming? His voice makes me feel like I'm melting in a warm embrace. I doubt father has ever talked to mother like this.

"Oh, n-nothing."

It was almost midnight, and it ended. Finally.

As everyone left, father ushered me to my husband's limousine, which I could have done very well by myself.

"Take good care of my precious Yn."

"I will, Mr Tanaka."

Father waved goodbye, dabbing away his tears. It's all just for show. The Kamisato estate isn't far from here. Now, father can't interfere with my life anymore.

I am my own person.

Freedom.

[anxiously-going]

I keep seeing videos of folks doing like "Gotham FYP" stuff and if makes me desperately want to do one from the perspective of someone moving to Gotham from Night Vale, but I am too much of a coward to actually put my face on the internet like that, so I'm considering writing like...email correspondence from this person to Cecil.

Because like I've seen the "transplant" videos before where they're like "I had to get a gas mask???/They gave me this gas mask when i moved in??" But a Night Valean would be "Cecil, you're never gonna believe this! My apartment building just gave me this brand new gas mask for free! It's so much nicer than the standard issue WWII replicas issued by City Council! I'll see if I can get some extras to mail to you and the family."

And just like...telling Cecil how Gotham isn't nearly as bad as everyone says. "Heck, they haven't even outlawed autonomic breathing here!"

I've said before Gotham is East Coat Night Vale, I stand by that, but at the same time, the weirdness of Night Vale is so much more overt. I think it would be amazing to see that kind of crossover.

"Yeah, sure, there are regular bank robberies, but I can go to the public library and not have to worry about being eaten in the history section (which is totally unrestricted?? You can actually read the books? They're not all complete blacked out except for the few coded messages that remind you to take your car in for emissions?) so is it really all that bad?"

I just think it would a fun little project and it absolute delights me to think that there might be a way to actually alarm the Gothamites.

[chelleztjs18]

Last minute shopping? Hopefully you guys didn't get into a lot of crazy shoppers trying to get stuff for tomorrow.

Ah, does it dry your eyes out too? I want to get Lasik because I am tired of wearing glasses.

I think you're a sap hahaha when I read the fluff ones, it was definitely shows like a sweet side.

Ah I see. So if you were able to get a sleeve..what would you get?

Maybe I should start calling you trouble. Sounds like a whole lot of trouble when you get drunk haha but that's good that you don't do that anymore. I try not to get black out drunk, but sometimes I just let loose and drink til I fall asleep.

I remember one time I woke up, and I had someone else's shirt on from the night before. And we were all sleeping in one room, so it was a mess.

What is your opinion on cheating?

-CuriousGeorge

Hi hi youu! I'm back! Prepare for the lefty eyebag is here!!😅🤣😂

Yeah it was a last minute shopping.. walmart was pretty busy. There were a lot of people n it gave me anxiety n mild panic attack. I got frustrated n felt claustrophobic.

Yes, i dont like it. Contacts make my eyes dry n iritated. I really wanna do lasik someday but if i do it someday, i would probably still wear glasses with fake glasses because i think i dont look good without glasses 🤣

A sap? What is a sap? Im confused. So u meant when u read my fluff u can see the sweet side of me? 😆

I dont know yet, but i am for sure want to put my daughter's name n her date of birth, n maybe a replica of my mom's rosary that she used to hold whenever she prayed. N i want to have it in the same exact burgundy color, wrapped around my lower arm with the cross placed on where my pulse is. I want to make all my tattoos connected.

Hahhaa so i'm the troubled left eyebag? 🤣🤣🤣

Hahaha as much as a trouble i am when i'm drunk, i never woke up with someone else's clothes. 😅 so i guess we both are trouble. 😆

Hmm cheating... i dont know what to say about that actually. I know it's not right. 😊

Next question?

Cheerio!

[katieraven]

sleep is so tough

Summary: your attempt at dealing with losing Bucky is unsuccessful and results in a sleepless night - for several reasons.

Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes/female reader

Warnings: angst!!, happy ending (because I can't write sad endings for the life of me), a lot of metaphors, thoughts about death, loss and grieving, a tiny description of a panic attack

Word count: 3227

Notes: @babycap you wonderful human! 600 followers is huge and i am very happy about this fic. the prompt was: "I wanna be in your touch / Sleep is so tough" - James Bay, Chew On My Heart and I wrote a lil something that i'm kinda happy with. do enjoy!

love,

katie

It’s the same nightmare. You recognise it from the last three weeks, you’ve been here before. Doesn’t make it easier to shake out of it. You watch him convulse, face torn and twisted somewhere between pain and the desperate attempt to keep his free will. The fight against the venomous words the HYDRA agent hurls at him. They’re like daggers, needles stuck into his brain, rewiring him. And all you can do is watch. You are frozen in place in the torture your subconsciousness puts you through. Again. And again. And again.

You can’t will your eyes to tear away from him. He snarls like a cornered animal at the agents around him. Then the final words. “грузовой вагон“. Freight car. You don’t know Russian, but those ten phrases have been burned into your brain. You could recite them in your sleep.

Bucky stills. He slowly stands up from his crouched position, cold stare fixed onto the speaking agent. “Я готов отвечить“.

You startle awake, the nightmare finally loosening its grasp on your consciousness. Immediately, your hands fly to the other side of the bed. It is cold and empty and your stomach drops when realisation hits you like a punch to the gut.

This is not a nightmare. At least not entirely, no. It is a memory. Because you saw the footage. You saw Bucky convulse and bend and snap and straighten. And you saw Steve, heard his scream as Sam pulled him away, forcing him to leave his best friend in the hands of his torturers. Steve knows it was the right thing to do. You do, too. The thought of Bucky being all alone behind enemy lines still makes your breath hitch in your throat, though.

They didn’t want you to see the footage, it wasn’t supposed to be something you get confronted with. But you slipped into the room, originally meaning to talk to Natasha about some software to try out in the next mission. They didn’t notice you entering, eyes trained on a screen, FRIDAY running facial recognition in the background. They kept playing the footage over, and over, and over, and again, looking for any kind of clue as to where they could find him, until your knees gave out under you and you fell with a whimper leaving your throat. Natasha was the first to understand the situation. Steve let out a string of colourful curses you would have never stopped teasing him about, hadn’t you been trying to wrap your mind around what you just saw.

If you had known they were back already, you would have noticed him missing and asked. But you didn’t even know they were back. And then he was gone.

You finally open your eyes. The New York night tints the white ceiling a blueish sort of grey and you feel like someone painted the inside of your heart onto the concrete. A perfect replica. Grey inside. Empty. Broken and alone, left to try and fail to put yourself back together.

Your fingers curl into a fist around the cold and empty bedsheets. They have been empty for three weeks now, and your body has no tears left to give. So you lie there, silent sobs violently breaking free from the void that is your chest. Sometimes you don’t know if your heart is beating, still, and your hands can’t find it in them to check. It wouldn’t be so bad to die, you think. There’s not much keeping you here.

Steve visits every few days. He carries the same hollow look in his eyes, like someone snuffed out the light behind them and carelessly forgot to turn it back on. With the sole difference that he is better at hiding it. It is only when he thinks nobody is watching that the sticky navy blue ink that is grief seeps into his face and turns his eyes empty and his face pale. You don’t mention it.

You know it’s supposed to help, sharing grief. Which is why you open the door when he visits, and don’t turn him away. He needs it, too, you suppose. So you sit on your sofa in front of the tv and watch something stupid and mindless that none of you pay attention to and both of you pretend to find acutely intriguing whenever the other is looking.

It’s all a giant game of pretend. SHIELD is feigning confidence in finding him. Everyone else oozes positivity whenever they talk about the mission. But it’s false, and hollow, and the truth of it sneers at you through translucent optimism.

You turn your head to look at the alarm clock on your bedside table. 4:36 a.m. That means you slept an astonishing three hours. That’s two more than yesterday. You’re not afraid of the nightmares anymore. You know they will come. The terror shaking you night after night has become a companion, just as the grief following closely in everything you do. It looms over you at night, hides in the shadows behind the furniture in your living room, joined by Steve’s whenever he’s there.

You were afraid to fall asleep, yes. Pulled two all-nighters in the first days after. By now you have learned to read the signs your body so openly presents you with and you know you will not fall asleep again tonight. So you lie there, hand splayed over the empty right side of the bed, eyes staring through the ceiling.

Fuck, you miss him. It rolls over you unexpectedly and your body seizes, curling up into a fetal position as your obviously alive and beating heart pumps sharp agony through your veins. He is gone. You know, of course, you understood before and this feeling is familiar, but for the first time, it truly settles inside you. Bucky is gone.

The man you imagined a future with, who handed you his broken and bruised heart and trusted you to fix it, is gone. The charming wooden home near the sea you always talked about when his nightmares were too much and too real slowly turns to dust between your grasping fingers. You feel it slip. The bell-like high pitched laughter of a young child evaporating in your mind.

You feel your heart break. There has been a dull ache in your chest for weeks. You’ve gotten used to it, embraced it into your menagerie of demons and ghosts, grief and loss. But it betrays you, right now, as you feel your heart pound against the cage of your ribs, and it burns. You still lie curled into yourself, blanket tangled between your legs. You will explode. You feel it with a new certainty, this will kill you. You breathe in and out, you know you do, but none of the air arrives in your lungs. It leaves you desperately gasping for oxygen.

Until you realise none of it is real. Because your heart is not here in your room with you, your heart lies in the mismatched hands of a broken soldier somewhere between here and the sea. It can’t kill you here, because there is an organ-sized hole in your chest and the coldness of the world tears at your exposed ribcage with icy shrapnel-sharp claws. Does it bleed? If so, you can’t feel the warmth. Blood is warm, right? Bucky always said it is.

You exhale slowly. Will your seizing muscles to relax, to let you go. To your surprise they do, and you inhale again, cold night air. It doesn’t yet escape through the wound in your chest. The hole hasn’t reached your lungs yet. But you know it will consume you, leave no part of you untouched, unbroken, will rip you apart for all your demons to finally feast on what is left of you.

Maybe he will find you first, you muse. Maybe HYDRA will find the last bit of mercy in them and send him after you, to cut his strings. You know you will not fight when he does. It would be a sweet oblivion with his eyes the last thing you see. Grey irises like molten silver when the sunlight hits just right.

Your arms fold against your chest. The skin is whole, not a scratch, no bleeding wound. You know it can’t be true. It is simply your minds way of processing this pain. Your imagination fixed the hole but you know it’s still there, still gaping. You can feel the edges burning where the hole ends and the marred skin starts. But you live. Still this broken body carries you on, one day after another.

You sit up in your sheets, hair plastered against your forehead by the thin film of sweat covering your body. As your back straightens, the metallic clinking of dog tags root you into this reality and you pull them out from under one of Bucky’s black shirts you’re wearing.

“Keep these,” he murmurs and presses something hard into your open palm. You look down and see the two thin pieces of metal piled on top of each other, embossed letters spelling his name, his full name. Your stunned eyes flicker back up into his and you open your mouth to protest, but he shushes you with a finger.

“It’s not like I need them. If I die, this thing” – he gestures to his arm – “will tell everyone who I am. But I want you to have these.”

Your thumb smoothes over the plates, shoving them against each other. “I mean … I won’t complain, but why do you …?”

He shrugs, embarrassment tinting his cheeks. “I don’t know, I guess it feels like a part of me stays with you, y’know? A physical part. So that you have something real to hold onto until I’m back.”

It hits you, then, that he’s leaving. He picks the tags up and puts them around your neck and you reach for his hands, fingers closing around his forearms. “Don’t leave me, Bucky. Please, I can’t lose you –“

He puts his hands on either side of your face and kisses your nose, before looking directly at you. “You won’t lose me, you hear? I’ll always be with you. Always.”

But now he’s gone, and you close your fist around the metal tags until they push into your palms, and harder until they cut the delicate skin. You want to be angry at him but you can’t. It’s not his fault. It’s not his fault he couldn’t keep his promise.

You steady your breathing. Eyes wander to the red numbers on your alarm. 5:23. No use trying to sleep anymore, you decide, and sit up. Might as well make coffee. Maybe you can get something done today. Clean the laundry up at least, so Steve doesn’t have this awfully concerned look on his face next time he visits.

It takes you a couple of minutes to actually, physically, move. In your mind you’re already in the kitchen, filling the coffee maker with water and watching the coffee slowly dribble into the pot below. It has something therapeutic, one drop at a time. Almost meditative.

But, well, you do have to walk over into the kitchen to reach this point of short-lived meditative oblivion. So you swing your legs over the edge of the bed, and your eyes fall onto the covered mirror in the corner. It’s floor-length, and you used to love being able to admire your whole outfit in there without having to stand on your tiptoes.

Like that one time before one of Tony’s extravagant galas, when you tried to get a good look at yourself and the glamourous dress that, as Natasha had pointed out, would look amazing on your figure. She had been right – naturally. But the tiny mirror in your bathroom hadn’t shown the whole thing and so you were leaning over the sink to try and look. Which was exactly the moment Bucky chose to walk into the room, only to promptly wear an affectionately amused smirk on his face, assuring you of your otherworldly beauty (“Oh come on, Buck, don’t mock me – “ “I’m not, you are otherworldly, doll, dazzling even!”) and pointing out that you were in desperate need of a floor-length mirror.

In the first few days of Bucky’s absence, you hung a bedsheet over it because you couldn’t bear the memory. In fact, you can’t recall the last time you actually looked at yourself. With utmost certainty, though, you can say that your skin must be grey and sunken and the darkened circles under your eyes a deeper shade of purple than when you were knee-deep in college finals. God, that time seems ages away. If you hadn’t gone to college then maybe you wouldn’t be in this situation – you would have certainly never ended up at SHIELD. For a second you wish you hadn’t. This pain would not be part of your reality, then.

But then again, you wouldn’t have met him at all. And as much as this, right now, hurts, you wouldn’t trade it with any reality in the universe if it meant not knowing him. Not loving him. Not knowing his deepest, darkest secrets that he only opened up about after one particularly bad nightmare, with his head in your lap, not daring to meet your eyes.

No, if this pain is the price for his love then you will take it. You will let it eat at you until there is nothing left except your hollowed shell of a body because it will have been worth it.

You walk past the covered mirror and open the door, bare feet against the cold kitchen floor. You go to reach for the coffee maker when something registers with you. Something out of place, a slight inconsistency in your regulated, never-changing surroundings. You barely see it in your periphery.

Your movements still and your head slowly turns toward what is undoubtedly someone sitting in your living room. The moonlight glints on his left shoulder and you realise, within the smallest fractions of a second, who it is.

The hollow excuse for a heart that sits in your chest sputters and stills, before springing back into action twice as fast. He came back.

A steady stillness settles over you as you understand the situation. They sent him. Loose ends and all. Yet you’re not afraid, this death will be quick and quiet. It gives you an odd sensation of peace, to know that his will be the last face you see – even if it is the Winter Soldier’s face. But they’re still Bucky’s eyes.

“It’s okay”, you whisper.

His intent gaze never leaves you as you slowly, deliberately walk towards him, step by step. You know that Bucky is in there, too, and you need him to understand that you accept this. That it is not his fault. That you are ready to die if it is at his hands.

There is an unusual uncertainty in the Soldier’s eyes. You have seen footage of him, cold expression, a sort of stone-hearted efficiency about his movements, never a step too much. He has not moved yet. You feel every bit of skin on your feet connecting to the wooden floor as you move towards him, slowly, but steadily. If this is how you are meant to go, then you will.

You’re only three feet away from him as you stop. His eyes followed you all the way there. Now they start to flicker over your face, your body, confusion slowly but definitely showing in the crinkles on his forehead. He opens his mouth and you hold your breath.

“I –“, it comes out croaky, like he hasn’t used his voice in forever, so he clears his throat and starts again.

“I know you.”

Your lungs deflate, shakily. He hasn’t killed you yet. If he hasn’t killed you yet, why is he here? The Winter Soldier doesn’t hesitate. The uncertainty in his face sparks something deep, deep inside of you that you thought dead by now. Hope.

His eyes find their way back to your face and he is searching it now, not the stoic, cold mask of the Winter Soldier. You don’t dare speak. The fingers of his left hand flex with an electric whirr.

“I know you, but …” he trails off.

His right fist opens, fingers seemingly involuntarily reaching out. You step closer and lower yourself down, bare knees on the wood flooring, eyes not leaving his.

“I remember you.”

His voice is steadier now, more confident that he does, in fact, know you. That there is something inside his brain, something more than just the Soldier. More than just the missions. Just the trigger.

His hand, the real one, reaches towards your face and you close your eyes upon contact, a shaky breath leaving your lips. His index and middle finger trail across your cheekbone. Follow the curve of your lips. Trace your eyebrows. Your eyes flicker open and your breath gets caught in your throat because there he is, there he is, his eyes his own.

“Bucky –“

His name leaves your lips, a choked sob partially escaping. He blinks. Still, his eyes are his own. His lips part and then he whispers your name and you are certain this is a dream. A change of pace from the violent nightmares of late, but still a dream, because this can’t be true. How could it be.

But the hardwood floor is rough against your knees and his hand is warm against your cheek and he is there. He slides off the chair onto the ground before you and you feel hot tears spill from your open, disbelieving eyes. His other hand reaches for your face and then he’s holding you there, so unbelievably gentle, his eyes tortured and lined in purple but undeniably his own.

“You came back”, is the first real thing you say to him.

His thumb smoothes over the dark bruise under your eye, proof of sleepless nights and tired days.

“I’m so sorry”, is the first thing he says to you in his own voice.

You close your eyes, lids pushing tears over the edge and you let them drip down onto your bare thighs as you shake your head, a soft smile on your lips.

“There is nothing you need to be sorry about. None of this was your fault.”

“I – you’re hurt”, he states, matter-of-factly, and your eyes open again.

You try and put everything into your eyes, everything you feel, the hope, the relief, the love. Most of all the love.

“But you’re back. That’s all that matters. Do you hear me?”

His grey irises swim with regret and pain and fear and yet you see love in them. You gently touch your forehead to his and he sighs, eyelids fluttering closed.

“I love you, and you’re back, and that’s all that matters.”

The cold seeps into your body from the floor, your knees scraping against the hardwood. Neither of you dares to move, the calm of the situation too delicate, neither sure if this is real or just a particularly cruel dream. But it is too beautiful to disturb and so both of you remain where you are, hands gently touching the other. Thankful for this moment of peace.

**

Forgot my taglist consisting of one wonderful person: @mannien

[lmanburg-letter-service]

Hey Eret,

I've got a lot I want to say to you. I've got a lot of regrets when it comes to you, too. I regret not noticing that you were a traitor, I regret that you thought that betraying us was your best option, I regret that I couldn't stop what happened in the final control room. But, you wanna know something, Eret? My biggest regret when it comes to you was going to that damn museum in to apologize to you. I'm sure you're deciding not to read this letter now, right? Just.. wait. Please. I need you to understand what I think about it- What I actually think. I mean, you were lecturing me and giving me this whole big speech that whole time, so I think you can handle me doing it back at you, right? I won't be mean about it, I promise.

I don't think I owed you an apology, there. I think you were one of the last people who I owed an apology to. You remember what I was apologizing for, right? I was apologizing for not trusting you, for being upset about your betrayal and for viewing you as a 'villain' to L'Manberg, in a sense.

You remember why I saw you in that way, right? You remember the final control room? When you told us that you had something to help us win, when you lead us to our demise? You remember that? Of course you do. It's the same for you as the button room was for me, right? How could you not remember it?

Eret, did you know that your betrayal is what started up my downward spiral? I mean, my mental health wasn't the best even before then, with the issues with Phil and all, but when you betrayed us, that was the start of my trust issues. Because I trusted you, I saw you as family, I would lay down my life for you Eret! You were one of my closest friends! I loved you! And you just led them to kill us. The one person who I trusted who wasn't a kid at the time, and you led our enemy to kill us, and gave us false hope about it all the while. How was I supposed to trust people after that?

How was I supposed to trust you, after that? How was I supposed to be anything other than upset about it? How was I supposed to see you as anything other than a traitor, especially when you became the ruler of the country that we were fighting with directly after, and especially when you only came around to try to show that you changed during Pogtopia, y'know, when I didn't trust anyone, not even myself? How was I supposed to decide to trust you, a traitor who had me and my family killed for the crown, when I couldn't even trust my allies? That wasn't what you did it for, I know, but back in Pogtopia I didn't know that. You expected me to trust you in Pogtopia, when you had proven that I can't trust you, and when I thought that everyone was out to get me, including myself.

I had no reason to apologize to you in the first place, but I chose to anyways, and then when I did you demanded a better apology, when I hardly got an apology at all. No, your book does not count, not if my original apology that wasn't even needed didn't count. What were the chances of me even actually finding that book? What happens then, if I just never found the book? At least I had the guts to apologize to your face. I was terrified of you, but I still actually said it to your face. You just wrote a book with "I'm sorry" in it, left it in a chest I might never even open, seeing as it was inside of a replica of a place that gave me plenty of trauma, and called it good enough.

I don't even need a speech, Eret. I don't need a speech, or any symbolic sacrifices, or anything like that. I don't care about any of that, okay? I'd just like it if you'd apologize, actually apologize. It doesn't have to be much. Hell, it can be a ten second, brief little, "I fucked up back then, and I'm sorry about it," I don't care! I'd just like an apology beyond a little book that I might not have even found. I'd just like for someone who hurt me to acknowledge it and not demand that I apologize for being hurt, and you're the most likely person to do that seeing as you at least claim to care about me. That's all I want. Really, that's it.

And hey, Eret? I love you. I love you, I miss you, I forgive you. But it hurts me still, and I wish I could have a reason to forgive you so it wouldn't hurt so much.

Your friend,

Wilbur Soot

(Will💥💙)

[Letter Sent!]

[averlym]

omg.

omg.

hello???????? that au i'm- hello??? bestie??? your mind omg

literally at a loss for words rn that was beautiful. i read through the whole thing and omgggggg i wish i could elaborate further on the absolute joy and delight your au gave me but i'm not very good at articulating D:

but like. omg. by the way you are legally never allowed to say anything of detriment regarding your writing skills again because exCUSE ME that is some top-tier 5 star high quality writing right there-

legit the same abt culture though... speaking of which i hope u had a nice winter solstice!! idk the actual name of it in chinese (my family doesn't really celebrate it) but !! either way i know it was really recent so uh yeah :D

sobbing time what time. it's so ironic that i literally have to study the physics of time for one of my science olympiad events and yet time is the one thing i lack. "it's about time" is it really, though??? maybe time doesn't exist. it's all a lie. a hoax. time dilation is wack as heck i think it should be illegal that if one half of a pair of twins went on a speed of light space journey and came back a perceived 4 years later or something his twin would actually be 6 years older (NOT ACCURATE BUT I DIGRESS)

maybe time doesn't exist and einstein was wrong. placnk's law only exists if you want it to and i certainly don't. the 4th dimension doesn't have to be spacetime maybe it's a hidden eye that only shrimp can see.

(i'm so sorry for rambling omg)

uhhh h h hh yeah! i think i had a lot more to say buuut it's getting late for me (and also i have no focus ability ahahaha save me) so! more hugs, i hope you're doing amazing, and all that awesome stuff!!

-teanon!! (return of the scuffed older-than-me-i-think pc haha)

the pure serotonin this ask gave me

because i have no time to draw the comic the beiguang fic is below the cut for your reading pleasure

they are up in her floating palace of plaustrite, and it is an afternoon of negotiations. and liyue millennial.

beidou smirks across the board, and ningguang uses a perfectly manicured fingernail to knock over her chief piece. she won't admit it out loud, but she enjoys the challenge, and if that means she has to make some... concessions of her own, she is more than willing to accept it.

across from her, there is an victorious cry, and the piece is swooped up and tossed in the air, then caught deftly. the process is repeated several times, much like how that mondstatian cavalry captain does with mora. (she wonders idly if this is a habit that comes with eyepatches.)

"don't drop it, or you'll be owing me more mora than you already do," she cautions beidou, and the piece is placed back on the table. it is a miniature replica of the jade chamber, and floats with plaustrite, but if thrown hard enough, could always fall with the momentum and smash. ningguang does not care much for the thought of her jade chamber falling and being destroyed, no matter if it is a model version.

there's a signature cocky grin as beidou teases her. "why, lady tianquan, i was unaware that you were such a sore loser! did i not just win back the mora i owed you through fines?"

ningguang sips her cup of tea and tries not to smile at the pirate's antics. "merely the fines for your illegal trading," she points out, continuing, "ganyu has pressed me into ensuring i collect the taxes from trading that you do owe the qixing, and i am unwilling to wager that on chess and risk upsetting her."

"that's fine, i suppose," huffs beidou, conceding. ningguang is familiar with her soft spot for the half-adeptus secretary, and how beidou has often given in to the unrelenting stubbornness of someone thousands of years old. if it's ganyu pressing, few deny her. beidou knows it, and ningguang does too.

(she likes to think she knows the woman in front of her well enough for that, at least.)

"besides, the jade chamber is mine, and i much dislike having what is mine broken," she reminds beidou. there is an underlying subtext here, hidden in how ningguang gets upset when beidou comes back with new wounds, not quite healed. beidou is also, in a way, hers, this confident pirate captain with tilted smiles and a gleam in her eye. and ningguang dislikes what is hers being broken, takes care of beidou until wounds heal into scars, offers her guest room in place of a ship's hammock.

(she'd cried once, snapping, "why do you keep going out and hurting yourself," and beidou had looked torn between comforting her and snapping right back. ningguang dislikes what is hers being broken.)

beidou, across the table, not quite across the sea yet, softens. "ning," she says, looking at her with quiet affection.

"i dislike losing what is mine, too," she hears herself say, and beidou watches her, brow creased with confused concern, eyes flitting to the small jade chamber floating innocently between them.

ningguang follows her eyes, and stifles a laugh. she glances a bit pointedly at beidou, then pushes the piece gently towards her. this is not about the game they had just played- in the long game, she has yet to win or accept defeat. "i dislike losing what is mine," she repeats, voice softer, "but i do not mind, once in a while, losing to you."

unsaid are the words, "but i would mind losing you." it is still written in the space between them, as good a confession as any, hovering in the air like the tiny jade chamber. beidou accepts it, and cups it with gentle grace. holds it in her two palms, as liyue custom dictates one should receive a gift.

to anyone else, this would be surprising from the rough-and-tumble captain of the crux fleet. ningguang knows beidou better.

but she never fully knows what that woman will do next, as evidenced by how it still takes her by surprise when beidou presses into her hands the miniature pirate ship that represents the alcor.

ningguang had won it near the end of the game, then passed the ship back to its rightful captain after the round had ended. here is beidou, freely giving it to her. "a fair trade. i do not mind losing to you once in a while, too," says beidou, hands warm against hers.

"i suppose we shall both find victory, then," ningguang laughs lightly. across from her, beidou is still leaning over the table, and ningguang's laugh is mirrored in her smile.

between them are their pieces, held in their hands. below them, liyue and the open seas of its harbour are spread out. but the wood of the model alcor holds beidou's warmth in ningguang's hands, and that warmth lingers in the model jade chamber by her side.

and isn't that what it comes to in the end? beidou is ningguang's, in a way, but also entirely her own. ningguang does not mind losing her to herself once in a while, as she sails to new seas. but beidou does not mind losing to ningguang once in a while either, returning to liyue where ningguang can offer her safe harbour.

ningguang's jade chamber is beidou's, and beidou's ship will freely return to ningguang's hands.

a/n: ningguang's jade chamber is rightfully won by beidou in the game!!! like how ningguang feels that beidou won her affection through her persistence and general beidou-ness!!! but she sees it as a gift when beidou gives the alcor to her because that's how she views beidou's affection!!!! and beidou just sees it as a fair trade because to her ningguang deserves it???? if ningguang shares with her it's only fair that she share with ningguang because that's how it works and if she is willing ofc beidou will love her in return and wbwskdks

also like beidou as an independent person in her own right and ningguang's possessiveness making the exception of she can lose beidou only if it is to beidou herself and that's shown in how she views beidou as an equal and,,, i just think that 'i am yours but also my own person' is a good basis for any committed relationship

[xpeachesncream]

off the grid | four

summary: it was as simple as swapping places with a stranger from across the world to get away from everything back home. that is - until you meet Jimin. things become more complicated as he unfolds a new chapter in your life that you were initially trying to avoid.

pairing: reader x pjm

genre: post-college au, christmas/holiday au | angst, fluff, smut (to come)

words: 3.0k

chapter warnings: slight cussing, possible inaccurate depiction of transportation, events and whereabouts in South Korea since i only did my research thru the internet, flirty, sweet jiminie so pls tell your heart to be still

> series masterlist <

"Y/N." Jimin whined. "Just stay still for 2 more seconds, please." Jimin laughed at how much you were fidgeting as he rose his polaroid camera. He quickly snapped a photo of you sitting on the ground, in the middle of the white birch tree lane.

"I'm so happy I'm here!" You squealed as you stood up and dusted yourself off. Jimin had taken you to Nami Island for the day, being that you had talked all night about the infamous gingko trees and how beautiful they looked in pictures. Unfortunately, since it was winter, the trees barely had any leaves left, but you didn't mind. You were just happy to be there.

"Okay, come on. There's still so much more to see." He led the way with you following behind him. You continued to walk through the remaining tree lanes before heading over to the gardens and the petit french village.

"Wait, this is so pretty." You gasped, instantly posing in front of one of the colorful replica houses. Jimin snapped his picture before you decided to capture some footage for your instagram and snapchat stories.

"I'm really glad you're enjoying this."

"I hope you are too."

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because you've probably been here thousands of times. You must be tired of it." He shook his head and pouted.

"Nope." He chuckled. "Absolutely not."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Huh." You scratched your head. "Like Disneyland is a huge staple of LA but I'm tired of it." He shrugged.

"I don't know, this is probably a little different. We're not really waiting hours in line for rides in a super packed amusement park. Plus, waiting under the scorching hot sun? No thanks."

"Very true."

"I just enjoy being out and exploring, even if that means doing it over and over again with you. I don't mind." You smiled. The feeling you felt being around Jimin, the butterflies - you couldn't explain. It felt new, yet unreal, almost like you had to pinch yourself to remember this was actually reality. You were living it right at this moment. How could he exist as the pure, wholesome angel he was? You had no idea, and it caught you off guard every single time.

But you were scared, because when this is all over, what happens? You and Jimin go back to living life before you even knew the other existed? That'll suck.

Fuck that. You weren't trying to think of that now.

"I really do appreciate you taking me around."

"It's nothing." He flashes his pearly whites. Majority of the time, you're running to pose for the camera, already feeling completely comfortable in Jimin's presence. He took you through the village and through the gardens, where you strolled slowly side by side. His arm brushed against yours a couple of times, and you couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to experience a super affectionate and flirty Jimin. The thought kind of intrigued you. What if you were reading too deeply into this? What if he was just really nice and didn't have feelings for you like that? What if—"Y/N." You heard him call your name as he looked down at you and laughed. "Did I lose you?"

"No, sorry, I'm just taking it all in." You chuckled.

"No, that's okay. I was just saying that Jungkook fell into the bushes over there." He pointed at the shrubs.

"Wait, what?"

"He tripped and couldn't catch himself in time so he fell in there. It left an indent." He laughed.

"Are you guys always chaotic when you go out?"

"What, us? Never." He smirked. "Seriously, we aren't. But we do have our moments." His smile instantly fell when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. "Speaking of—" He quickly flashes you his phone, showing Taehyung's name on the screen. "Mind if I pick this up really quickly? Just in case the boys need me to bail them out."

"No, go for it." He smiled toothlessly before picking up the call. You both continued to walk slowly while he spoke to Taehyung on the phone. He began to laugh, his cheeks tinted with a rosy color. He rose his voice and groaned playfully, which was followed by a ton of 'okays,' 'shut ups,' and 'ughs' before finally telling Taehyung he had to go and that he would see them later. "Is everything okay?" You giggled.

"Yeah, they're just being a pain in the ass." He cleared his throat. Little did you know that Taehyung and Seokjin just spent the last couple of minutes teasing the hell out of him about you. "So, the guys wanna head to the ice skating rink tonight and told me to bring you along. Only if you wanna go, of course. No pressure."

"That sounds fun! I'll come. But, I have to warn you. I'm not very good at ice skating."

"It's okay, I'll be there. Taehyung isn't either, nor is Hoseok. I've had to hold them a couple of times." You laughed. "I'd definitely rather hold onto you than them." He quickly looked at you, realizing he let that slip out without catching himself. He felt his cheeks get hot due to the embarrassment that overcame him, but instantly felt relieved when he saw you smile and laugh at the statement. He definitely meant it though. 

"I'll be sure to not be a piece of work tonight."

"Ah, you'll be okay. I believe." The rest of the time at Nami Island was spent walking through the the rest of the garden and going through the Gapyeong Rail Park on a two-seater bike. The view was spectacular and you honestly couldn't picture doing this with anybody else. At the end of the ride, Jimin took you to get some hotteok, which was just the snack you needed after the activities and walking you had done on the island. Before leaving, you saw a musician singing at the entrance while playing his guitar. There was quite a crowd, so you gently pulled Jimin to your side to stand and watch with you.

"He's really good." You clapped quietly to yourself as he wrapped up a song. "You should go sing up there!"

"I don't sing, though."

"Really? So all those times I've heard you, you weren't singing?"

"Mmm, nope. Don't know what you're talking about."

"Please?" You pouted and clasped your hands together. Your pouty face was becoming a huge weakness for him, making it incredibly difficult to say no to you.

"Y/N, I-I don't even know if he's--" You rose your hand and dragged him to the front. You signaled to the musician that Jimin wanted to sing. Jimin politely asked if he could sing a song, which the musician happily stood aside to let him take over the mic. Jimin showed him a song on his phone and asked if he could somehow strum along to the tune. He began to sing We Don't Talk Anymore - Charlie Puth x Selena Gomez, which had your heart skipping a few beats. His voice was the most angelic thing you have ever heard and he looked so fucking good singing. At the end, he smiled sheepishly and thanked the crowd and musician before waddling back over to you. "I hope you feel special."

"Me?!"

"I obviously don't like to put my singing voice out there, but I knew it'd make you happy."

"Why not? You have such an amazing voice."

"I don't know, it's just a fun past time for me. Nothing serious."

"Well, I really like it and I wanna hear more of it." He chuckled and nodded.

"I'll see what I can do."

"Jimin." You whined.

"No promises, princess." He shrugged. "Race you to the car?" He flipped the switch and began to run off before you could even respond. You ran as much as you could because running definitely wasn't your thing, but eventually you made your way to the car, where Jimin was catching his breath.

"See, look at you. All tired from that unnecessary effort." You laugh.

"Good race." He high-fived you before unlocking the car. The ride back would be about 2 hours, so you both would be making it just in time to meet his friends at the ice skating rink. You had fallen asleep without realizing, with Jimin smiling and silently laughing to himself as he glanced over. He made sure the car was warm and comfortable enough for you, before taking one more glance at you. He didn't know how someone could be so effortlessly cute, and it's crazy, because before you came around, he was fine minding his own business. He wasn't looking for love. His last relationship ended a year ago, and he had just been taking it day by day with the boys. No negativity on his end, no bad blood, nothing.

Then, you came along. You came along and changed things for him. Quick, too. He couldn't even explain it, even if he tried. He just knew he had become undeniably attracted to everything about you and he didn't give a fuck about anyone or anything else.

"Y/N." Jimin gave you a gentle squeeze on the arm. "We're here. Are you still okay to ice skate?" You opened your eyes and fixed your position in the passenger's seat, catching his concerned facial expression.

"Yeah, I'm okay." You gave off a good stretch just to fully wake yourself up. "Shoot, I didn't even realize I fell asleep."

"That race to the car really did it to you." He laughed, making you playfully hit him on the arm. Getting out of the car, you both had to walk quite a bit before finally seeing the ice rink in view. The first person you spotted was Taehyung, but he was speaking to another tall gentleman, who was dressed in a plain white tee, light denim jacket, black distressed jeans and black chucks. He had on a black hat, where the brim covered his face pretty well.

"Jimin-ah!" The unknown gentleman yelled as he held his arms out, in which Jimin openly accepted. They hugged each other and patted each other on the back before Jimin turned to playfully smack Taehyung on the arm as his greeting.

"Hey Y/N! I'm glad you came along." Taehyung engulfed you into a hug.

"I can't miss out on ice skating!" You chuckled.

"Y/N, this is my Jin-hyung." Jimin stepped aside as Jin also held his arms out to hug you.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N." He caressed your back as you pulled away. "I'm surprised you're not sick of him yet." He tilted his head towards Jimin.

"Eh, he's not too bad." You joked, watching Jimin shake his head and bite onto his bottom lip. "Where's Jungkook?"

"Buying a snack with Hoseok." Jin replied as he dug his hands into his pockets. "Which reminds me, did you want to eat now or later Y/N?"

"It doesn't matter to me, whenever you guys want."

"Are you okay to hold off until after ice-skating?"

"Yeah!"

"Hey, why don't you ask us?" Taehyung nudged him, making him shake his head.

"It's simple. You guys don't matter. Only Y/N does." Jin winked at you.

"Stop flirting, hyung. It'll make Jimin ma--" Jimin grabbed Tae by the shirt and pushed him against the wall, pretending to beat him up. You bit your lip to prevent yourself from laughing and smiling too big, but you heard that for damn sure. As the two stopped playing and made their way back to you and Jin, Jungkook finally made it back with another gentleman dressed in a black beanie, black and white track pants, a black fitted hoodie, brown coat and sneakers. How in the hell were Jimin and all his friends so damn good looking?! You couldn't understand it for the life of you, but you sure as hell weren't complaining.

"Y/N! Jimin-ssi!" Jungkook yelled as he waddled over to you and hugged you before making his way to Jimin.

"He always calls me like that." Jimin murmured as Jungkook swung him around. Jin laughed and pointed at how ridiculous the two looked on the side.

"Y/N, Hoseok." Jin took the initiative to introduce you while Jungkook and Jimin continued to play around.

"Hi!" Hoseok waved and smiled sweetly. "You can call me Hobi."

"Nice to meet you." You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

"How was Nami Island?" Hoseok walked by your side as you followed the group to get your tickets and skate rentals.

"Fun! It's beautiful."

"Isn't it? I'm glad you were able to go with Jimin. It's definitely a must."

"Yeah, he's been taking me to a couple of places already. I appreciate him enough." Hoseok smirked.

"You two are cute."

"Need any help?" Before you could respond, Jimin interrupted as he walked over, already on his skates. You bent over to slip the skates on, doing your best to tighten the laces as you tied them.

"I think so." You tried to get up, but instantly stumbled on your own two feet, causing Jimin to hold your wrist.

"Woah there." He laughed and held your hands to help stabilize you as you tried to stand. "Good?"

"Yeah, I got this, no biggie." You chuckled nervously. You held onto his arm as he walked you into the rink, where Taehyung slowly took his time to try and get used to the feeling and Jungkook was already skating freely. Jin was accompanying Hobi on the side, giving him words of encouragement to get him to let go of the wall.

"Okay, take it slow and hold onto the wall until you get a feel for it." Jimin stayed by your side as you tried to get your two feet to work properly in the skates. It didn't feel too bad, but every time you got a little too excited, you squealed and clung onto the wall due to your skates betraying you. Jimin laughed and held out his hand. "Come on, you can do this Y/N." You grabbed his hand, your legs stiffening without the support of the wall.

"Ah, Jimin!" You yelped. "Please don't go too fast!"

"We're going a whopping 3 miles per hour. Maybe even less."

"I am not that slow!"

"Highly debatable." He laughed. "But it's cool because you'll become a pro in no time." He reassured you and pointed. "See! We're getting faster. Progress." You started to get the hang of it, releasing the stiffness as Jimin continued to coach you through alternating the movement with your legs. Sooner or later, you were feeling a little more comfortable as you held onto his hand and kept a solid, slow and steady pace.

"I got it!"

"Wanna try to go alone?" At this moment, Jungkook appeared in front of you, holding his hands out, signaling for you try and skate to him alone. He nodded and reassured you, watching as Jimin slowly released his hand from yours. You stood there in a slightly bent position, afraid to move an inch.

"Y/N, I promise you'll be okay! Come to me." Jungkook said. You practiced the movements you had just done not too long ago and quickly grabbed his hands as soon as it was in reach. Because of the abrupt movement to rush over, Kook had to hold onto you to make sure you wouldn't fall, making Jimin laugh.

"So cute." Jimin said as he bent over to grab his stomach while laughing. "Y/N you don't need to rush, we aren't going to leave you."

"I'm just scared!"

"You're doing great! Look at Hobi, he hasn't even left the wall. The kids are skating around him." You laughed as you began to slowly skate on your own, eyeing Hoseok and how frightened he looked while hugging the sides and damn near doing the splits trying to move from point A to point B. Jin had obviously given up on reassuring the guy, leaving him to do whatever he pleased to do at this point. You had gained more confidence as time went on, skating on your own with Jimin popping by your side every now and then. It made the hour and a half go by rather quickly, but you all were starving by the end of it.

The group decided to walk down the street to a nearby boba cafe that apparently also had really good rice bowls and snacks. The walk wasn't too bad, but your jacket wasn't thick enough to mask the cold. Jimin had taken notice of you shivering, peeling off his coat without hesitation to put on your shoulders.

"Here." He says as you grab the coat to wrap it around you tightly.

"Aren't you cold?"

"I have this cardigan on, I'll survive. I'm used to this." He smiled down at you. Entering the cafe, you all had ordered your food and drinks and sat on the barstools near the wall. Jimin stood in front of you, while Jungkook and Hoseok sat on the remaining stools next to you. Jin and Taehyung pulled up some chairs from a nearby table, and you all had faced each other to talk about the day and everyone's whereabouts. Not to mention, there was a whole Hoseok roasting session due to his performance on the ice today. Jin had discussed his plans for his late birthday celebration coming up and demanded ever so politely that you grace him with your presence.

Getting home later that night, you felt exhausted to the bone. But, you had a ton of fun and really enjoyed spending more time with Jimin and his friends. The loft was quiet, only bringing in sounds from the cars out on the nearby streets. You revisited your photos and videos from the day, smiling to yourself at the memories you were able to capture, especially of Jimin enjoying himself and having fun with you.

[Y/N] 11:38: I know I say this time and time again, but I really do appreciate everything you've been doing for me, Jimin.

[Jimin] 11:39pm: You're welcome, cutiepie. Glad you're enjoying yourself. Get a good night's rest for me. I'll see you tomorrow.

undefined

Alexa, play: Good Company x Mahalia

[halfway-happyyy]

Until We Meet Again

this is absolutely something that nobody asked for, but here it is. short ‘n sweet and full of fluff.

A grotesque concoction of alcohol- some variant of overpriced vodka and lemon liqueur if she had to guess, set the delicate lining of her throat ablaze and she winced as she set the empty coupe glass on the tray of passing waiter. She glanced down at the watch face on the underside of her wrist and frowned at it.

An hour late to the event, and an hour left to go.

Eliciting a dejected sigh, she gazed past the expansive tent above her and at the night sky beyond it that blanketed the fountains of the Pacific Design Center in West Hollywood in inky darkness. The cacophonous roar of hundreds of conversations and pulsating music was unbearably loud and she cursed herself for leaving her phone at home. She could picture it now, lying face down on the glass coffee table just inside her front entrance and in total darkness and for a fleeting moment she found herself inexplicably jealous of it. She had given up on trying to locate her friends fifteen minutes ago- though she thought she had just spotted Keane through throngs of expensive suits and dresses in a straight bee-line for the bar and thought that she ought to head there. Taking a deep breath, she stepped out into the crowd before her in search of him, but stumbled back awkwardly when the bottom of her gown caught on something and ripped.

“Oh my gosh, I just ripped your dress. I am so sorry.” She peered up at the man towered above her, at the glassy blue orbs that somehow still glittered lively under the minimal lighting from the chandeliers around them. Everything about him was immaculate. From the perfectly combed back sandy blonde hair, to the blonde mustache that grew above his pink upper lip, to the black silk bowtie that sat snug against the base of his throat.

She found his visage oddly familiar, but could not place where she might have known him from if her life depended on it. She found herself shrugging. “Honestly don't worry about it. It's one of the many reasons I try to shop thrift before big events.”

Though he offered her a shy smile, his glassy blue gaze remained unsure and it was obvious that he still wasn't convinced. “No really- is there any way it can be fixed? I can get someone over here right now to look at it for you...”

She glanced down at the sizable rip in the fabric and knew with a slight pang that the damage was irreparable. “No, please. It's really fine.”

He chewed at edge of his lip as he mulled something over and cocked his head to the side, his gaze narrowed. “At least allow me to pay for it?”

She had purchased it off the rack at one of her favourite thrift haunts on Melrose for thirty bucks, two weeks ago. She couldn't, in good faith, agree to that. “Listen- this dress has probably had a fantastic life, you know? She finished it this evening at an Emmy award after party. How many other dresses can say that? She's good. This is the end of the line for her.”

They stood in thoughtful silence for a moment, the only sign of his defeat came in the form of a resigned sigh. “Alright. But please know that I still feel slightly terrible about it.”

“I can live with slightly terrible,” She smiled knowingly at him. “Are you having a good night, then?”

He gazed at her, a funny expression coloured his features and she suddenly felt very vulnerable. “I am having a great night, actually.” He eventually confirmed. “Are you having a good night? That is- despite the gown crisis.”

She hugged her arms tight to her chest and glanced around in awe at the sheer sumptuousness of the tent in which she was currently in. Massive, golden lion statues guarded pillars around the room and gilded archways had been erected over ponds so that guests could traverse them at their leisure. No matter how many evenings she spent this way, she doubted that she would ever grow accustomed to it.

“I've never really been one for big parties, but it's been alright so far I suppose. Even despite the gown crisis.” She found that she enjoyed the way a subtle, rosy hue tinted the apples of his cheeks at her slightly teasing lilt. Her stomach gurgled warningly just then- a gentle reminder that she had not consumed an adequate amount of food and she eyed the lavish, twenty-foot replica of a dragon above her head with mild contempt. “God, I'd fight that dragon for a plate of fries right about now. Every year I tell myself I'm going to be on time for one of these events, and every year I let myself down.”

He dropped his head to his chest and elicited a hearty laugh. “You missed out this evening I'm afraid. It was Wolfgang Puck on the buffet.”

“Damn it,” She giggled under her breath. “Every single year.”

He gestured out at the mass of conversing industry people and raised his voice so that she could hear him. “You work for HBO?” He asked.

She shook her head. “Nah, I snuck in an hour ago under the guise of free food and booze.”

“Neither of which you have yet to receive…” He grinned.

“Not exactly,” She giggled. “I snuck a cocktail minutes before the old dress debacle. Tasted somewhat like what I would imagine lemon pine-sol tastes like.” Genuine laughter rose up from the base of his throat like a favourite song and she waited for it to subside with an unabashed smile on face. “I'm a freelance photographer.” She admitted, eventually.

He cleared his throat, poised to ask her another question when his gaze lit up and he cocked his head to the side in thought. “Would you excuse me for a moment? I think I've found a way to repay you for your dress.”

Her eyes widened in mild horror and she shook her head in protest. “Oh- no. Please don't…” But her objections were for naught as she watched his imposing figure vanish into the thickening swarm of people. She chewed anxiously at the soft flesh of her inner lip as she awaited his return and when ten minutes elapsed, she began to grow skeptical.

Too tall. Too Scandinavian. Too beautiful.

But then, and to her pleasant surprise, she spotted his face through the crowd and her heart thrummed in her chest as he approached her. There, in the flat of his palm and high above the heads of everyone else so as not to drop the dish- was a plate heaped high with piping-hot French fries. “This is akin to Christmas,” She sighed longingly once he had rejoined her. “But somehow a little bit better. Thank you very much.”

Wiping the proverbial sweat from his brow, he managed a nonchalant shrug. “Oh, they were exceedingly difficult to procure, but I was persistent.” He handed her the plate with a lux serviette underneath and a fork on the side. “Wolfgang and I uh… we go way back.”

Glancing over her shoulder, she spotted a vacant table a few yards away and decided to be brave. “You know… If he supplied you with a second fork, I'd be happy to share some of these with you.”

His gaze followed hers to the table and he smiled sadly. “Alas Wolfgang let me down and I was not offered a second fork, but I would be delighted to sit and chat with you for a few more minutes.”

Sinking into the refuge of the chair beneath her, she was suddenly aware that she had barely been offered a chance to do that all day long. She was content to listen to him speak while she tried not to inhale her entire plate of perfectly fried potatoes.

“I'm sure your date is probably wondering where you've wandered off to.” She offered, after a few moments of comfortable silence had lapsed.

He smiled and shook his head. “I’m sure she’s used to it by now. Probably been wondering that very same thing for most of my life.”

She cocked her head to the side, and narrowed her gaze at him. “Have we met before? You seem so familiar.”

His expression dimmed and that same shy smile that he had given her half an hour earlier presented itself again, causing butterflies to take flight in the pit of her belly. 

“I don't believe so,” He gave his head a half-shake. “I would have remembered your face anywhere.”

Utterly grateful for the dim lighting around them, she opened her mouth to counter his last statement when a man she didn't recognize appeared at his side, in a hurry and out of breath. “Alex- you need to take this back now. I am sick of people congratulating me for it and I am entirely out of answers as to how it came to be in my possession.” Without another word, the man placed an Emmy award unceremoniously in front of Alex's amused figure and hurried away.

She nodded at the unsuspecting statuette of a woman laden with a golden atom and quirked an eyebrow in mild amusement. “You are having a very great night indeed, hm?” She simpered.

Sensing that her cue to leave had arrived, she rose from the table to bid Alex goodnight.

“Your company has been a pleasure this evening… I am sorry about your dress.”

She glanced down at the French fry plate, the few scattered crumbs the only indication that something had once been there. “Your penance was plenty.”

“Two questions before you go,” He murmured.

She peered up at him expectantly.

“A photographer without her camera?”

She shrugged and offered him a wry smile. “Everyone gets a night off every once in a blue moon. Next?”

His gaze travelled to the fabric napkin poking out from beneath the empty plate, then back to hers. “Thanks to Paul, you now know my name. What's yours?”

She tilted her head to the side, a half-smile tugged at her lips. “It's Grace.”

“Grace,” He repeated it in a whisper and she ignored the way that it caused goosebumps to bloom in patterns over her bare arms. “Goodnight Grace.” He rose from the table with his award at his side but faltered and turned back to her, remembering something. “Oh- and Grace? Maybe don't leave behind the serviette.”

Puzzled, she watched a hive of bodies swallow his frame, and when he was gone, she reached for the weighted crème fabric, smiling softly to herself. There, in loopy black script from a fountain pen was Alex's name and phone number and a short note that read,

“Until we meet again…”

[liemonyellow]

i’m not calling you a liar - chapter 1

read on ao3

prologue | one | two | three | four | five | epilogue

Summary: Five times Janus apologized to the other sides and one time he didn’t.

Warnings: Food mention (Please let me know if there is something I should add as warning)

[patton] walks

Feelings were a funny thing. There were good ones, like the ones that made your insides ooey-gooey and soft and squishy, or the ones that made you go all fluttery and electric like they wanted to explode out of you as loudly as possible. And there were not-so-good ones, the ones that weighed you down like an albatross made of stone hanging around your neck, the ones that cut like a dull knife, a perpetual pain that left a jagged gash that never healed quite right. Merriment and misery and more, all wrapped up in a single person.

While he wasn’t exactly a person, Patton did have a whole lot of feelings. So did his fellow sides, whatever they might say, because he could feel their feelings, too, although those were usually more muffled and muted than his own. He always did his best not to pry, to give them their privacy to deal with their feelings however they needed to. But no matter how much someone tried to hide them, Patton could always sense them, especially if they were strong.

Unless it was Janus.

Because, despite the deceptive side’s blustering and blundering when he was put into the spotlight, he was actually pretty good at his job. Patton had once thought it was just part of the whole “Deceit” thing, due to his powers of denial, but he’d caught more and more emotions from Janus recently, enough to know that the concealment was deliberate. To be sure, his role as Deceit had a part in obscuring him from Patton’s empathic senses, but it looked like Janus’ walls were finally starting to come down.

And yet, Patton had awoken that morning feeling a knot of something in his gut. Whether it was anticipation or apprehension, he didn’t know. He just knew that today had to go well, or….

Or….

The feeling eased a bit when he descended the stairs and saw Janus and Roman both sitting on the couches, the former marking something down in a small notebook before slipping it back into his personal pocket dimension, while Roman not-so-subtly tried to look like he wasn’t peeking.

The deceptive side had changed into something a little more casual than his usual outfit, his trademark yellow gloves tucked neatly into the sleeves of a plain, black turtleneck sweater, though it looked a bit thin to be very warm. Still, the dark wool appeared comfortably soft and stylishly sleek, which seemed to be Janus’ preferred look beyond “lots of black.”

Patton’s approach caught their attention. He gave them both a sunny smile. “Morning, Janus! Hey there, kiddo! Getting along?”

“Patton. Good morning.” Janus stood up, giving him a much more genuine-looking smile than he had the day before, before turning to nod to Roman. “Thank you for keeping me company while I waited, Roman.”

Roman scrambled up to his feet and bowed deeply, his dramatically gesturing arms just barely missing being smacked into the corner of the coffee table. “Of course! What sort of gentleman would I be if I let you wait all alone?”

“And you’re sure you’ll be fine making breakfast with Remus?”

“I look forward to it!”

Janus raised a doubtful eyebrow, but said nothing else. “Alright, then.” He turned back to Patton. “Are you ready?”

Patton nodded, smiling widely and rocking on the balls of his feet. “What did you have planned for us today?”

Janus gestured for Patton to follow him. They walked over to the front door of the house, their soft footsteps filling the silence between them. Janus held it open for Patton, who politely thanked him, and they stepped out and into the imagination.

The world outside shifted from a replica of reality into a forest in the midst of fall, a dusty footpath forming before them with every step.

“You already know,” began his walking partner, “that I'm not exactly the most… forthright side in the mindscape. So I hope you understand and appreciate how difficult this is for me.”

Patton gave him an encouraging smile. “Aw, Janus, I think it's great that you're trying!”

Janus gave back a tight, humorless smile. “Nevertheless, it is important that I do this.”

Patton nodded, looking down at his feet, trying not to let his instinct to crinkle, crackle, crunch through the crisp, crimson leaves take over and drown out Janus' soft-spoken speech. This moment was serious and important to Janus, and Janus might consider Patton’s playfulness an insult to the severity he seemed to be giving it.

It took a few more steps for Patton to realize Janus had stopped a few feet behind him. Patton turned around fully after he glanced over his shoulder and saw Janus standing ramrod straight with a grave expression.

“Patton,” he began, “I know we haven’t always seen eye-to-eye, and that we probably won’t ever agree on most things. In my role as Self-Preservation, I have always done what I thought was best without any regard for what anyone else thought or felt, and I apologize for my inconsiderate behavior. I assumed I wouldn’t be listened to and my attempts to be heard helped to put us on the path toward self-destruction. Perhaps if we had cooperated from the start, things might not have gotten so extreme.”

“Thank you, Janus,” Patton said. “Maybe you’re right, and we could have avoided all this mess if we tried to work together first.”

Janus’ eyes twitched and his lips thinned, and Patton had the feeling that he was stopping himself from saying more. He blinked once, slowly, looking off to the side, before blinking again and meeting Patton’s gaze. Then, he nodded curtly and with that, Janus continued walking as if he had never stopped, his voice regaining its airy affect. “Now that that’s done, I hope you’re ready for your surprise.”

Patton wasn’t sure that Janus was actually satisfied with leaving it at that, but maybe it was just the way Patton had responded. Maybe Janus had wanted to say something sarcastic, but decided not to. At least now he had apologized, and Patton had done his best to graciously accept it. Maybe that would make apologizing to the others a little easier. Not knowing what he could do about it, Patton kept quiet and followed along. One day, he hoped, one day, Janus would trust him enough to tell him what he thought, instead of clamming up like that.

It was that kind of behavior that got him into trouble, after all. Thomas had looked to him for guidance, and instead of being honest about not knowing where to go, he had led them straight into, as Janus put it, self-destruction. But now, Patton had regained the others’ trust and faith. They supported him, even when he failed or took a wrong step.

Patton wanted to be that support for Janus. He was sure he wasn’t the only one who noticed how the snakey side had started being more and more distant than usual lately. Though now, he figured it was probably just because he was trying to figure out how to apologize to each of them! With the way things were going, Patton was certain whatever Janus had planned for everyone would be just doggone delightful.

“From the way you keep talking it up, I just know I’ll love it!”

Janus smiled wanly at him. It made Patton’s chest all toasty and soft and suddenly he couldn’t stop himself from hopping with both feet onto a nearby pile of leaves to hear that gratifying crunch. He continued on in that frolicking manner, trying (and failing) to get Janus to join him, but all he really cared about was the way Janus’ lips trembled as they tried to keep from smiling more and more.

They came to the end of the dirt path a few minutes later, the woods around them opening up into a cozy clearing, the tall, ochre-colored grass waving to them in welcome with the breeze. Large flat stones marked a walkway toward the small cottage in the center of the clearing. Patton almost ran straight into the meadow to spin and frolic some more, but held as still as he could to follow Janus’ lead.

Janus strode down the way and up to the door, holding it open again for Patton. Poking his head in, Patton was pleasantly surprised to see a whole zoo of cats and dogs and bunnies and other furry friends everywhere. That is, if “pleasantly surprised” meant “frozen in place with his hands balled up at his chin and squealing like a boiling tea kettle whilst vibrating rapidly”.

The door shut quietly behind him, and Janus gracefully made his way to the table and pulled out one of the chairs for Patton, who plopped down so energetically he almost missed the seat entirely. His host busied himself with serving tea and snacks as a cat immediately claimed Patton’s lap.

“I made sure they wouldn’t trigger your allergies,” Janus said conversationally as he poured Patton a steaming cup of what looked like chamomile tea before returning to the refrigerator and pulling out a few things from inside. “Feel free to shower them all with attention, heaven knows they’ve been absolutely starved of pampering all their lives.”

And Patton did just that, scooping up the fluffy white floofball and giving it a big hug and nuzzling his face into its fur and enjoying the way he didn’t immediately break out into hives and tears. Janus glanced over at him every so often as he cooked, lips quirked up in a small, fond smile as animal after animal worked its way into Patton’s arms, begging for pets and scritches and rubbing up against his legs. It didn’t escape Patton’s notice that none of them seemed to want to approach Janus. Still, their presence helped calm down some of his restless energy.

When he’d finally gotten a chance to grab a mini scone offer to one of the fuzzies, Janus had finished plating the meal and set one down in front of Patton. The animals thankfully left him alone to eat, though that first cat still laid claim to his lap.

His breakfast buddy sat down across from him with his own plate, adjusting his shirt before picking up his fork and spoon with immaculate gloves.

“Shall we?” Janus asked politely before returning his attention to his over easy eggs.

Patton had hardly been able to contain himself until now, and he finally realized why. He was nervous. Why?

One glance at Janus told him the reason. He wanted to give the other side a hug, to shower his friend with some of the affection he so sorely deserved; affection Patton could tell he had not gotten nearly enough of. He tried to draw on that restless energy from before, only to find it suddenly missing.

However, his mouth had already formed the question before it got the memo to not ask at all. “Janus?”

He paused, giving Patton a pleasant smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yes?”

Where did all his courage go? Well, he’d gotten Janus’ attention now, so there was nothing for it but to just ask. “Can I… can I give you a hug?”

He could see from the way Janus instantly stiffened that the answer was no.

“I…”

The hesitation was enough that Patton knew he’d strayed over a boundary. He’d have to keep working on that.

“No, I’m sorry,” he cut Janus off. “Just got a little overexcited. You know me.” His awkward giggle petered out instantly.

Janus said nothing, lips pursed as he considered what to say next.

Patton’s eyes drifted over Janus’ uncertain gaze for a quiet moment. He at last mustered up what remained of his bravery to at least say, “Thank you. For all this.”

Janus smiled, though only after the split second feeling of the sharp stab of… something in Patton's heart. It disappeared back behind Janus' walls so swiftly that Patton couldn't identify it, replaced with that aching softness once again.

“Of course, Patton. I do my best.”

Patton watched Janus for another moment before choosing to let the matter lie. Janus had made it clear that he didn’t want to talk about it just yet, and Patton could only wait and let Janus approach him when he was ready. And when he was, Patton would listen and offer his support. That would have to be enough for now.

[felsartdump]

I wrote a fairly lengthy accompanying tale to explain this scene in its entirety that you can find beneath the read more if you so choose.

Parsley watched a very harrowing scene in one of our recently passed DnD sessions for Red Roses by the Crypt, and I just had to draw it after realising how many emotions she no doubt processed in this moment.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

Parsley hammered on the barrier with all she had. She retrieved the shoddy Clairvoyance replica Salem had tried to taunt her with and subsequently left behind and broke it against the Forcecage. She even tried to plunge Sololoqui through it, but nothing worked. She was about to chase after Alias & Alojzia in their pursuit of Salem when she heard Reverence beg in a broken voice; "Please, don't leave me alone."

The sharp memory of Rosemary leaving her all those years ago assaulted her in that moment. She saw herself silently wishing someone would stay with her too and turned back to Reverence with a new desperation. She had to get him out. She had to be the person she needed ten years ago.

The Elf turned back. She begun trying to do everything she could to break Reverence free at that point; she'd claw him out with her nails if she could. She'd not abandon someone trapped to go fight a battle that she may not return from. Under her breath, she apologized to Alojzia and Alias. Was she abandoning them with this decision? Her frustration let itself out in the form of desperate blows to an invisible barrier that simply would not yield to her cries. Her body was giving up: her limbs ached and screamed for relief and her vision continually swam in tears.

Striking at the Forcecage was still doing nothing. Eventually she ran out of stamina and broke down when the realization of the situation overwhelmed her. There really was nothing she could do. She apologized profusely to Reverence again and again as she fell against the invisible wall in defeat. If she couldn't get Reverence free, then, at the very least, she could stay with him. It was the only thing she could do. It was the only thing she could do right.

She couldn't save people, that wasn't her role. Rosemary. Malec. Irina. Mirja. Reverence. The Tiefling before her might very well despise her forever for her inability to save Mirja and she knew all too well why it made sense. When she told Felix of this incident, would he turn away from her too? She sobbed harder. All she ever did was watch as others suffered. All she could do was watch when Salem toyed with people just to get at her and she hated knowing it was working.

She watched helplessly as Reverence himself curled up and started to cry. Parsley felt her heart sink even further into her ribcage and spoke strangled words around the aching thumping in her ears; "I don't know what to do, but I'm here Reverence. I'm still here. I won't leave."

An hour passed like a kidney stone. Every painful breath only stretched on a longer reminder of her inability to change the painful situation. It gave her too much time to think about how she'd failed to help Reverence get Mirja back. She'd gone silent and kept her palm on an invisible wall that taunted her in its strength and numbed herself to all of the sounds around her until the force cage finally faded without a sound. 

Blue eyes met red ones and in the next moment Reverence and Parsley immediately ran to one another and shared a tearful hug full of sobs and apologies;

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

[lifeisadoozy]

sharing a short dousy video edit i made.

i don't know why but i really like this and thought i'd share it on here too.

should i rant about what goes in my head while making this video? no. will i? yes.

basically the song is beginning middle end by leah nobel from to all the boys i've loved before part 3. this song is basically about two people falling in love from the early years of their lives. since lara jean and peter met when they were kids. but then started (fake) dating in high school and their adventure together started right then and there. anyway, watch the movies if you haven't already. this song fits lara jean and peter so well (i don't know if it was written specifically for them or not).

but daisy and sousa didnt meet when they were kids because of one obvious reason: when daisy was a kid, sousa's dead; and when sousa was a kid, daisy hadn't been born yet. they weren't supposed to meet. so their journey started off separately.

daisy's beginning in shield was rocky, to say the least. but she found a home there with coulson, fitzsimmons and may (i'll get to ward) in season 1. they bonded quite quickly, mainly daisy skye and coulson. i think it shifts when she got shot by ian quinn. everyone in the team, especially ward was terrified and angry at the situation. now. she had a relationship with miles early on in the season, which was broken off. but within the context of the song, her beginning was ward. he was her s.o. she was falling for him when she uncovered that he's hydra. add that trauma to the ones she already had prior to shield. no wonder she has trust issues.

her middle was her powers. even though the story started early in the series, it's still the middle. because she struggled with her powers throughout seasons 2 - 5. the middle would always be the bulk of it all. it's where everything happens. it's the crux of a character, of a person. it's where daisy became daisy. now, in the middle of her middle (pun very much intended), was lincoln. the first inhuman who helped her and understood her. i'm sure they've got their own problems and everything, but it doesn't change the fact that he was someone who knew what she's going through. none of her found family could help her the way he could. this is where i think it gets interesting. seasons 2 - 5, where i said was her middle, and basically the peak/climax of daisy as a character, she was falling for and fell for lincoln. it was known that daisy was still in love with lincoln in season 5. possibly around 2 years after he died. but then we found out that she had moved on from lincoln in the beginning of season 6.

season 6 and 7 is the end of her journey with the team. they're still a family. just a family who occassionally see each other. now in season 6, like i mentioned previously, it was acknowledged that daisy had moved on. the past will always be with her, no doubt. the trauma would stick. hopefully just bits and pieces. but it would still be there until she either had alzheimer's, dementia, any other retrograde amnesia injuries or diseases, or the day she died. she would never forget lincoln or ward, heck even miles. she won't forget her past. unless it was taken away from her. so, back to the topic at hand, she wanted her own fitz. she had grown from the woman she was in the beginning, she had grown from the woman and superhero that she was in the middle. she knows who she is now. with the people she worked with. and the people she calls her family. and also with anyone. daisy's ending was perfect (to me at least). she wasn't looking for love right then and there. she was burnt one too many times. but she wanted that kind of love and support. the love and support that fitz and simmons have for each other. something that daisy lacked all her life. she ended up with someone who gave her what she wanted. and what she needed.

with sousa, it's a little different. because we didn't get to see much of his background and family life. we didn't get to know what his life was like during the war and before the war. we begin to see him in the ssr. we all knew, literally everyone knew, even the characters knew that sousa's practically in love with peggy. except for maybe peggy herself. but i'm sure she had an inkling. she definitely had an inkling. but then things go on and he became chief of the west coast office and he was in los angeles while peggy was in new york. he moved on (or so we thought). he started dating violet and was ready to marry her. he told her he loved her. and he did. it's just that he was also in love with peggy. still. and violet saw that. it's as clear as day. and they broke it off.

we didn't get to see much of sousa's middle. mainly because ac wasn't renewed for a third season. which was such a waste because it ended with so many things left unanswered. but we know that between 1947 - 1955, peggy and sousa broke up. we have no idea why. we don't know if steve was back. nada. all we know is that they broke up. when did they break up? again. no idea. but we know that peggy means a lot to sousa. she's like (sorta; i don't like making comparisons but anyway) sousa's lincoln in a way (i'm not saying that they're the exact replica. daisy/lincoln and peggy/sousa are quite different. but they do have similarities. those pairings are the kind where they want to be together forever but knew that it wouldn't work; my interpretation). she didn't die, we know that. but she's sort of the one that got away. my guess is that it's because shield and the world was more important than each other. which wasn't dissimilar to daisy and lincoln's situation. so, yes. peggy's sousa's middle. she influenced him a lot. and he found himself amidst ssr and shield (just like daisy did).

sousa's end was again, perfect. he went to the future. got to see what the organisation he helped build came to be. he went on an adventure to explore space. which he would geek out over. instead of dying, he got to live. with the love of his (new) life. he may be a man out of time, but with daisy and their ragtag family, he is right where he belongs.

daisy and sousa began with "who the hell are you" and ended with "it's beautiful" (just putting this here because i love that fact).

so. they started pretty quickly, didn't they? 4 episodes in and sousa fell in love with daisy. 7 episodes in and daisy fell in love with sousa. though i doubt that they thought they're in love. but they're falling. or walking towards it. 7x03 was when they met. it's where it all began. in area 51 of all places (foreshadow much?). but what's even more interesting is that technically, they began twice. from daisy's perspective, they met in 6x13 (which plenty of people had pointed out; but @agents-of-fangirling was the most recent). even though they didn't actually meet because sousa was wearing that blue (seriously his colour really is blue) hazmat suit and daisy was disoriented (may dying and all that jazz). but from sousa's perspective, they met in 7x03. where they actually made eye contact and conversed. how many couples can say that the when of their first encounter was debatable?

now. their middle, in the video edit, i used the scene from 7x10. because i think that's a pretty good middle. they had their first first kiss. sousa had no idea that happened. yet, there he was, wanting to help. just like his time-loop self. he extended a hand and she accepted. she accepted help. do you know how much of a development that was??? because i think that it's a huge character development (i still haven't rewatched so don't take my word for it). i think that's a good depiction of their middle. oh yeah. before i forgot. they also had two first kisses. and again, i say, how many couples can say that they had two first kiss? figured i'd choose the scene in the middle of those first kisses (pun intended lmao).

sidenote: did y'all see the devastation in her eyes when sousa volunteered to stay in the 80s? or how her eyes went wide and she started to panic when he was injected in the time loops? sousa's a man of action. and when he says something, he means it. so, his constant concern over daisy and him wanting to help in any way he can, it's his love language.

and then we have their ending. the perfect end to an imperfect couple (because nobody's perfect *cue hannah montana*). daisy got sousa a typewriter. because he's from the 50s. since when did daisy buy gifts for her boyfriends/partners/lovers? and they watched e.t. together? that's normal couple things. even though they are far from normal. but they get to experience it all together. daisy didn't get to in the past. none that we know of anyway. and now she does. also, that smile when she talks about him. that fond smile that grazed her lips at the thought of him. i've never seen her smile like that before (none that i remember; and if she did, well then i'm so so happy for her). she looks happy. serene. and her saying "he's a dork" twice in the season just makes my heart burst with happiness for them.

sidenote: my headcannon is that "he's a dork" is code for "i love him too much to explain it in words."

i'd like to believe that even though it has ended, their story has just begun. they're going through their middle right now. and i hope that they won't end. in other words, their end was not an ending. it was a beginning of a new life.

as daisy said, "we're loving the journey together." keyword: journey. it's a long road up ahead. with countless of challenges and obstacles in the way. but in the end, all that matters is that they face it together.

that's it. thanks for coming to my ted talk (for those who actually read it all the way through, i love you).

[tiffdawg]

Hey Tiff, here for the mod mfk game 😊

I'll try and make this short! I tend to babble. Apologies for the inevitable.

I'm INFP-T (mediator). When I originally took the test, I sent it to all my female friends to take because I wanted to know their types 😂 (I didn't think my male friends would give a sh*t).

I hold strong opinions, I know my faults, I find it hard to ackowledge my good traits, I've been through a fair deal of trauma and abandonment (lol), I deal with my baggage through humor (and lots of therapy, too), I used to see myself as a poor sad girl but have grown to see I'm far more than that (thank f*ck), I swear daily but probably less than I did when I was a teen (and I had a filthy mouth then), I dealt with the death of a close relative at a fairly critical time in my mental development and so I think I have a fair view on death and how to comfort someone going through that, if they desire it from me. I am quite proud of how present I was for that relative when they were dying, even if I didn't truly understand what they were going through, at the time, I hope they were comforted by me spending so much time with them.

Less dark sh*t: I love to sing, even though my voice is shrill and can actually pierce my ears at times (so I try not to do it around others ((like it took 4 years to sing infront of my partner!)). I'm infatuated with the filmmaking process and general processes behind creating worlds on screen and page. (I was around 8 when I asked for my first prop replica as a birthday/christmas gift. I just love props and the work and detail that goes into making stuff for sets/costume etc. That's like thee subject that will get my passion fired up all the way. I buzz.) I can be really dumb, something that's developed with age. My mind will just omit information when I'm trying to form a sentence or reference to something. It's probably down to poor concentration (and one summer I smoked a bunch of weed every other day.)

Umm yeah. I f*cking love coffee. I can have up to 4 a day (either just black or a soy cappucino). It's one of my only dirty habits, really. (I rarely drink alcohol, smoke, or take drugs, bar that summer.)

When I was younger I took a couple of psychology courses 'cause ain't the brain fascinating? The subjects I got high marks on, in high school, were Literature, History, Creative Arts, and Science. I sucked at maths but was placed in a higher intelligence class because I was in those for other classes and the timetables for lower sets clashed (it honestly sucked. Like my tutor even said 'you shouldn't be in this class'. Thanks dude!). I dropped out of college because I had severe PTSD, and am yet to go back 👎I don't think I want to.

I have a couple of tattoos. I prefer the summer to winter. I love house plants but I'm terrible at keeping them alive. If I'm travelling somewhere where the main language isn't english I will learn that language! I have an extensive vinyl collection. I'm annoying.

I'LL SHUT UP NOW SORRY I AM SO SO SORRY FOR THIS DUMB INFORMATION THANK U FOR READING I BET YOU PAIR ME WITH FRANKIE. I USUALLY GET FRANKIE OR DIN 😂

Ezra + Rivals to Lovers

You and Ezra first met while harvesting gems on a small moon. Two loquacious leaders on competing teams, neither were surprised when the confrontation ended in a shootout. Despite your past and the nature of life as a floater, you held your head high and held strong morals. You didn’t compromise for anyone. Especially not a sharp-tongued man with wicked intentions.

The fifth time you crossed paths with Ezra, you noticed the blade of your knife had left a white scar on his cheek, marring his handsome features. Pride swelled in your chest. And the smirk on his face told you he knew exactly what was on your mind.

It went on and on like that for years. Your heated encounters became a regular occurrence and even as he tried to kill you, he was perhaps the only reliable person in your life. You tried and tested each other, pushed the other to their limits, and offered a tether for your wandering souls.

Somewhere along the line, things changed. In the most inopportune moment on a planet with a toxic atmosphere, your breathing apparatus malfunctioned. Fate was not on your side, but Ezra was.

As you laid on your cot one night in your run-down pod, you realized you hadn’t run into the prospector for a few months. Your heart sank in your chest as you imagined all of the things that could’ve happened to him. You lived a dangerous life. Loosing people, friends and rivals alike, was expected. Something you were well accustomed to. That was why you kept yourself so closed off and kept everyone at a distance. So how did Ezra, of all the people in the galaxy, have such a hold on you?

You sat in a canteen aboard the ship taking you to your next harvest, pushing around the food on your tray with your fork. Your mind was elsewhere as you desperately tried to plot a new course for your life as you knew you couldn’t do this any longer. You didn’t even look up when someone sat across from you until you heard that familiar, deep baritone. 

“I have missed you, birdie.” Your head snapped up. Eyes never settling, you took him in, not able to believe that he was real. That he had returned to you. With tired eyes, a few new scars, and only one arm, he looked… well, he looked like shit. “Might I inquire where you are headed next in this vast and ever-expanding galaxy?”

“Somewhere warm,” you said with what voice you could muster. “Somewhere safe. Somewhere… with you.”

You held your breath as you waited for his answer, prepared for rejection. Surely, after all these years contently at each other’s throats, you’d misread the situation. He hummed a little as he nodded thoughtfully, but the glimmer in his dark eyes gave him away. A smile pulled at your lips.

“In all my years, I have never struck such a fortune as the day I met you,” he grinned.

[shi-daisy]

New Beginnings

Hello again my fellow shippers! Today's day three of Ulquihime week and I'm not gonna lie, this theme was giving me a bit of trouble, since I had an idea for it but used it last year with another prompt. So instead I just made a sort of sequel to that particular entry. If you don't want to go back and read that one I'll just give you a mini summary here.

Basically this is a canon divergent AU in which Orihime dosen't marry Ichigo and runs away from the wedding when she finds out he's not truly in love with her. After her escape she reunited with Ulquiorra and he helped calm her down. That's where the first prompt ended. So here's what would happen after. Hope you all like!

@ulquihimeweek

Ulquihime Week- Day 3- Reunion/Caught

New Beginnings

"Ulquiorra, you've been glued to that phone for almost three hours now. Please stop before you go blind." Halibel chided him.

"Leave him be Hali, he's still waiting for pet-sama to reply," Nnoitra told her. The comment earned him a cushion to the face, courtesy of Zommari.

"All of you be quiet! I am not waiting for a reply. Orihime answered already."

"Would ya look at that, Ulquiorra's finally getting some!"

Once he silenced Nnoitra with cushions Ulquiorra went back to the chat. It had been almost a month since he last saw Orihime.

After she ran away from her wedding and they met by chance, he had allowed her to spend the night in his house. The next day one of her friends came to pick her up, and the redhead promised to keep in touch with him. He hadn't seen her personally since, but they messaged each other very often. Last week however, the messages had abruptly stoped, and he'd gotten worried.

Today those worries ended, as Orihime not only wrote to him but she asked to meet him in a cafe tomorrow.

"She says she's got a surprise. Should that be concerning?"

Halibel was standing nearby. She chuckled at the question. "Not really. I'm sure she's just happy to finally see you. From what you tell me, the girl needed comfort desperately."

"I'm still enraged at Kurosaki for what he did. A part of me wants to get revenge."

"That's not gonna be possible. Unless you want to get smashed against the wall again." His friend replied sarcastically.

"A small price to pay, but the woman told me not to get in 'trouble' for her sake. So I won't interfere unless she asks."

"Good. It's nice to know someone in this house isn't a reckless moron." The green-eyed blonde glared at Nnoitra, who rolled his eyes.

"I only tried to fight a cop one time!"

Ulquiorra decided to ignore the bickering and concentrate on hid phone. Being a human might've gotten easier, but not dealing with his old comrades.

***

"Now remember, be nice, let her speak but don't stay too quiet, and for the love of all that's good just ask her out properly."

Halibel and Szayel had been helping him get ready for the meeting. Ulquiorra was still nervous, but he hoped for the best.

"You two are going to ruin his chances of scoring. He looks like he came out of a band Tesla likes."

"Says the man who looks like the lovechild of a sewer goblin and Slenderman." Szayel didn't even turn to look at Nnoitra as he finished brushing Ulquiorra's hair'. "Done! Now the princess won't take her eyes off of you."

"Thank you Szayel, thank you Halibel."

"At your service!"

"I'll get going then, I want to be early for our meeting."

"Just make sure that if you bring the cutie home, you put a sock in the door."

Ulquiorra ignored Nnoitra's comment. Letting Szayel deal with him.

"I'm beginning to understand why I am the only one with a boyfriend here," Szayel commented. "You need an intervention, Jirga."

"Me? You're the one dating Starrk!"

As the bickering began Ulquiorra headed for the door and waved goodbye to Halibel.

The cafe was near his house, and from what he could see it was not too busy. Orihime's hadn't arrived yet. He picked a table and was ready to sit down, until he noticed someone skating right towards him.

"Watch out!"

He recognized Orihime's voice, and caught her before she could crash into him.

"Orihime?"

"Hi Ulquiorra! It's been a while. You look great!"

When she smiled Ulquiorra went speechless. He recovered quickly, and let her sit with him.

"I take it you work here?"

"Yes. My friend Riruka is the manager and I've been working here for a week now. That's why it took me a bit to reply, sorry if you were worried."

"Don't apologize. I'm glad you've found a job you like. The uniform suits you as well."

"Really? I didn't think black was my color."

"To be fair, you look good in any clothes."

Orihime blushed from the compliment. "Thank you. So, what have you been up to? Are the others still around?"

He sighed. "Regrettably so, Cyan and Tesla moved out a while ago, and if Starrk proposes to Szayel soon then it's likely they'll move out as well."

Orihime giggled. "I know they drive you mad sometimes but I'd love to live in house that lively."

"Tell me that after you spent a week with Nnoitra as a roommate. Speaking of which, are you still rooming with Arisawa-san?"

"Not exactly, Tatsuki-chan is traveling due to competitions, but she did leave me the apartment. Once I get a place of my own I'll move out, being on Karakura it's a little draining."

He knew what she referred to, it was clear in her voice. Ulquiorra found it hard to hide his rage, still, he managed to calm down.

"You know that if you cannot stand to stay in Karakura any longer, you're more than welcome to stay with me."

"I know, and I'm incredibly grateful for that. But when I finally settle in Naruki, I want it to be on my own. I can't keep depending on others forever. Besides, you dealt with enough of my crying, that night, already."

Yes, that fateful night when they met again. It was supposed to be her wedding that to the man she loved, and instead, all she could do was cry.

And yet, a part of him was happy things turned out the way they did. That he got to see her again, and even establish a friendship. 'But at what cost? This isn't what she wanted and you know it.'

"Ulquiorra? Are you ok?"

Orihime must've noticed his change in mood, so he hid it away yet again. "I'm fine."

"You're thinking about the day we met again, aren't you?"

"My apologies. You probably don't even want to think about that night but I can't seem to let it go.

It's selfish of me to be happy about this when you lost the man you loved."

Orihime put her hand over his. "Ulquiorra, you're not the only one who's happy things turned out this way.

I did love Ichigo, and I was fully ready to marry him, I gave up college and internships to stay in Karakura with him, but he burned that away in just a moment. I refuse to be the one grieving.

He's the one who lost out on a devoted loving wife. Let him carry the grief if he has any at all.

I'm immensely happy to have gotten out when I did. My life's not going to be wasted on a loveless marriage, and I'm happy that you're a part of my new life. So don't be angry on my behalf."

Ulquiorra smiled. "I've always known you were a strong woman, but this is far more than I expected. You've grown a lot Orihime. You should be proud."

"Thank you. It’s nice to know that someone thinks of me as such.” Orihime smiled. “Now, let’s go onto more cheerful matters. I got you a gift! Here!"

She handed him a small dark blue box, Ulquiorra opened it to find a replica of the bracelet he had given her when they were enemies, only this bracelet was made to fit him.

"Do you like it? It's not real silver but it matches the one I have. So we can both wear them at the same time."

In the past six years he'd been a human Ulquiorra never felt moved to cry, until now. "I shall treasure it forever. Thank you." He immediately put it on, the bracelet was a perfect fit. "Now, I'll be the one to spoil you for a while."

***

The evening only had so many hours, but he intended to make good use of them all. After having a nice dinner at the cafe, he took Orihime to the movies. It was about a SciFi story he had yet to read, but seeing how happy Orihime was while watching he knew he made the right choice. After that he let her pick the activity.

"We could go skating. Would you like that?"

"I have no problems with that, but aren't you tired of skating at work?"

"Not really, I love doing it. Besides it's different when you skate carrying food and when you do it with a partner."

"Alright then, let's go to the skate park."

Relief washed over him when the park was almost empty. Truth to be told Ulquiorra wasn't proficient at any sport, including skating.

While Orihime was busy putting on her skates, he went over to nearby post and got a bouquet of hibiscus flowers.

When he got back she was done with her skates and had tied her orange hair into pigtails. He thought she looked even cuter.

"Here. I thought it would be fair to get you a gift as well." Ulquiorra handed her the bouquet.

Orihime was almost gentle when holding the flowers. She took a deep breath, enjoying the secent. "They're gorgeous, thank you. How did you know this was my favorite flower?"

"They're the flower on your headpins."

"True. I like that you always notice things like that. It's one of your best traits."

That made him flustered. It didn't matter how much time they spent together he would never get used to Orihime's cute compliments.

Once the the two were ready they headed for the track and began skating. His balance wasn't the best but thankfully he didn't slip.

"Ulquiorra."

"Yes?"

"Thanks for tonight. It's been the most fun I've had in a while."

She gave him a kiss on the cheek, that almost made him fall. Orihime held on tightly to him.

"Caught ya!" she chuckled. "You don't skate much, do you?"

"Busted. I rarely do anything sporty. Although that's likely to change."

"Really?"

"Yes. If I am going to be spending time with you, I'll learn in no time."

"Are you asking me out?"

"I am. Would you accept this invitation?"

"Yes, absolutely."

[pizzahorse]

Replica

Title: Replica

Description: Who is the shadow and who is the caster?

[Read on AO3]

Lena stared at the face in the mirror. It was one she'd only actually seen a couple times before, during the eclipse, although her image was the last thing she'd seen before being banished to the shadow realm (twice), so it was deeply ingrained into her psyche. Magica De Spell.

Except it wasn't quite Magica. The curvature of the face and beak matched almost to a T, but white plumage revealed itself where green would normally be settled. There was a faint trace of purple eyeshadow from the day before (Lena had a habit of not wiping off her makeup before bed). The hair was different, too, although it had recently begun to take on a similar style to that of the witch. Her bangs were more or less the same, swooped to the side and colored, but still… There was a stripe down the edge of it where she'd grown it out, blue where Magica's was purple, but if she turned to the side at just the right angle, the resemblance was almost uncanny. The hair had been a subconscious decision on Lena's part, merely wanting to try something new, but one that led her to take a good hard look at herself when she finally noticed.

Half-awake, the face in the bathroom mirror startled her. So familiar, yet so foreign. She blinked, trying to find her way back to reality, but found nothing changed. She knew it was her own image, because she saw that same image just about every day. And yet, this morning, it felt like there was a little bit of her aunt staring back, too. The longer she stared, the more unsettled she became, until she finally pulled back her fist and slammed it into the glass.

It was hard enough to shatter it into hundreds of pieces and rattle it so much the medicine cabinet to bounced open, resulting in several bottles clattering into the sink or onto the floor. It was a wonder the thing stayed attached to the wall. Lena drew her hand away and without its support a few fragments broke off and fell into the sink with a clink.

For a moment, she stood, hands braced against the sink as her form quivered. Her chest felt like someone was squeezing it, like there was so much pressure she could barely breathe. The world felt far away, and only the coolness of the porcelain beneath her fingertips kept her grounded. She didn't bother examining her hand after her outburst. It stung, a little, and small red droplets were beginning to show on the surface, but they went unnoticed.

Lena finally backed away from the mess she'd made, not stopping until she felt the wall behind her, sliding against it down to the floor. She curled her knees up to her chest, burying her face in the space between and wrapping her arms around them. She choked out a sob, trying to muffle her whimpers in the hopes she wouldn't be discovered.

Of course, in a house with two ex-spies and an extra curious ex-spy's granddaughter, very little went unnoticed in this household. Webby had heard all the commotion from down the hall, and it was mere moments before a light knock came at the door.

"Lena? Are you okay? I heard a lot of noise."

If Lena answered now she'd definitely hear the thickness in her voice, and if she tried to get rid of it before speaking Webby would definitely hear the sniffle. Her keen senses were invaluable on adventures, but when it came to trying to hide things in the manor, they made it nearly impossible. Maybe if she was quiet, Webby would go away.

"Is this a prank? You know your traps hardly ever work on me."

Lena should have known better than to think she could get rid of her that easily.

"Lena?" she knocked again, louder this time. "I'm coming in. O-Okay? I just want to make sure you're alright."

If she'd thought about it, Lena could have gotten up and locked the door. Not that that would have stopped Webby. At most it would result in a minor delay in her entering, although it would really only take her a few seconds to completely rip the doorknob off. So perhaps it was for the best that she hadn't thought of it.

Webby entered slowly, the old door squeaking on its hinges and announcing she had made good on her statement. She was indeed entering the room in which Lena sat, curled into herself, and upon seeing her friend in such a state Webby closed the door behind her and rushed over.

"What happened?"

There was no way to hide the fact she was crying, but Lena looked up anyway, swiping a hand across her eyes. Unfortunately she'd momentarily forgotten about the cuts on her knuckles and ended up smudging some blood on her face. She realized her mistake when she looked down at her hand, then back up at Webby who was more than a little concerned.

"It's not a big deal," Lena spoke softly, trying to keep her voice level.

"You cut yourself! Let me see," Webby gently grasped the hand and examined it, turning it over so she could see both sides. It looked worse that it was, now that the red liquid had been smeared around. When she looked up, Lena had buried her face into her free arm, but her unabashed sniffling could clearly be heard.

"I don't think it's bad, but it definitely needs to be bandaged. "Let me-" Webby stood quickly, observing the cracked mirror on her ascent now that she was facing it, piecing together the clues around the room and speculating what may have occurred when she was absent. There would be time later to find out the actual story from Lena, but right now she had to focus on gathering a towel, an antiseptic, and something to wrap up the hand.

She wet one edge of the towel with warm water, crouching down onto her knees with all the supplies so she could get to work. The cuts were small and the bleeding had mostly stopped, but it would definitely bruise and be sore for awhile. Nothing to be too worried about. It had looked a lot worse than she let on when she'd first seen it, although Webby had initially lied about it not being bad, Lena's hand was in much better condition than she'd thought.

"This might sting," Webby warned as she poured some of the disinfectant on a dry part of the towel, before applying it to the still open wounds. She thought she saw Lena shrug an acknowledgement, but she wasn't sure. In any case, her friend had grown quiet while Webby went about her task, her breathing leveling out and her sniffling growing infrequent.

She was worried there might be some glass in the wound, but a thorough inspection indicated it was a fairly clean injury to begin with. That was good. Webby may not have been a doctor, but her grandma had taught her enough about first aid that even a doctor would be impressed with her training and knowledge.

"We should get that blood off your face, too," she stated, once she had finished wrapping the hand up with gauze and tape.

Lena glanced down at her knuckles, noticing Webby had finished her work, and curled it back over her other arm. She stared, expectant, until the other duck took the initiative and used a clean part of the wet cloth to wipe the red from her cheek. She also took the opportunity to dab at Lena's eyes, clearing away some of the salty dampness that had soaked into her feathers, along with dark traces of leftover eyeliner that had gotten horribly smudged amidst everything.

Blood in her feathers, runny makeup, hair all askew, Webby had to admit this was probably the most vulnerable she'd ever seen Lena. She had caught glimpses of this Lena when she sometimes woke up from nightmares, crying and shivering in her bed, but the light was always dim and the focus was on consoling her friend and helping her get comfortable again. Lena was always so confident and sure of herself, and it broke Webby's heart to see her pained like this.

When she was satisfied, Webby disposed of the towel into the hamper, and put everything back in its place before washing her hands. This included everything that had been knocked from the cabinet above the sink, and it gave her an opportunity to better examine just how damaged the bathroom mirror was. It would definitely need to be replaced, but what exactly had driven Lena to smash her fist directly into it? The cuts being on her fist indicated that it wasn't an accident, as if she'd slipped and tried to catch herself (badly). No, all the evidence indicated her actions had been deliberate.

Webby settled herself next to her friend, barely touching, but close enough they could feel each other's presence. They sat quietly for awhile, burning questions on the edge of Webby's beak, but she knew better than to try to pressure Lena into talking. She'd open up when she was ready. Patience was the best way to get her to explain.

Eventually, Lena leaned her head on Webby's shoulder, at the same time reaching out her hand to grasp the others, entwining their fingers as she peered down at the bandage.

"I don't want to grow up. I'm… afraid."

Webby waited for there to be more, but when Lena didn't elaborate she decided to take a gamble and offer a response. "I think everyone is a little afraid of growing up. You don't have to change just because you get older."

"But I am changing. Every day I feel like I'm morphing into her. I'm so terrified that one day I'll wake up and I AM her. I look so much like her, as if I'm some kind of a clone. I came from her shadow so I'm not exactly my own person. She might still have some kind of hold on me I don't know about. She could come back and control me again."

It was so rare for Lena to admit she was afraid of something, even it it was evident to those around her. So hearing her admit to being scared must have meant this was a fear far different from the norm.

"She won't. I won't let her get to you. I love you too much to let her do anything to you ever again."

"I look in the mirror and I just see- I just see-"

Well that more or less explained what had occurred. Webby turned to her friend, using her free hand to cup her face. "When I look at you, I see Lena. You are Lena. You always will be. That doesn't have anything to do with what you look like on the outside. It's the person I know who's on the inside that counts. If I went blind and I couldn't see you, I'd still know who you are. What you might look like on the outside does not define who you are on the inside. You chose to fight Magica at the bin, you chose to try to rise up against her before the eclipse. Even without a body, Lena still existed. You still existed. I know who you are. You're not Magica. You're my best friend. I've known who you really are since the day I met you. I never stopped believing in you. You ARE a real person. You'll always be real to me."

Lena swallowed back the lump in her throat, mirroring Webby's gesture and cupping her face as well. "How do you always know the right thing to say?" she grinned fondly down at her.

"I just speak from my heart. And you- you're in my heart. That makes it easier," the slightest bit of color appeared on her cheeks as Webby made her confession.

The other duck hmmm-ed lightly in response, leaning down so their foreheads were touching. She was still scared, a bit, but this felt so warm and safe she could almost forget her trouble. Lena always tried to be brave, and fearless, like she didn't have a care in the world. Maybe her desire to appear tough was a remnant from her time with Magica, and the need to keep any sort of emotional vulnerability hidden. That was all over now, and the truth was it was extremely comforting to have Webby pledging to protect her. For perhaps the first time, Lena felt secure. If Webby believed in her, believed she could be good and believed she could be better than her lineage, maybe it was true.

"I'm sorry about the mirror."

"Don't worry about that. It can be replaced. You can't be replaced."

Lena pulled away, sighing as she gazed affectionately into Webby's eyes. "I don't deserve you."

"Of course you do! You deserve everything. The world! You went through so much and you still came out of it all being the sweetest, kindest person I've ever met."

"Then you've got to get out more."

"Stop it! I'm serious. You are amazing and beautiful and nothing can stop me from being your friend. Not threats, not curses, not disasters, not even Magica. I'd like to see her try to get to you now!"

"Thank you for giving me a chance. I literally wouldn't exist without you. I'd be stuck as a part of Magica's shadow. Some days, it feels like I still am. But seeing your face every day, it helps me stay grounded. I can never forget it was you who brought me back, and it's you that constantly reminds me I don't live under Magica's rule anymore. I get to be free. There's no way I can repay that, but, if you ever think of anything comparable, I'll do it."

"Lena, you silly darling. Your friendship has paid me back enough. I've never met anyone like you, and I never will. There's only one you, and it'd be impossible to find a replacement that's just as amazing as you are."

Before things got too sappy, Lena came up with an excuse to change the topic. "This is kind of starting to hurt. I didn't think this through."

"Let me see," Webby lifted the hand to her beak, placing a gentle kiss on each knuckle. "You have to tell me if you need help with anything while it heals. I'll be right there to assist you."

"I think I can handle it."

But she had to admit to herself it felt nice to have someone around to care for her. Someone to pick her up if she got hurt, someone looking out for her. After so long of having to be guarded and having to face the world on her own, she could finally afford to let herself bask in the compassion allowed to her.

They lingered in each others company, quiet and still, until the smell of the housekeeper cooking breakfast drew them out. Despite the rough start to the morning, both were now in good spirits. Life was full of obstacles and adversity and bad memories, but maybe, if they had each other, they just might get through it all together.

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