#it wasnt enough snow to cover the ground so it was a very :< walk back home. and freezing but you know

[elegyofthemoon]

today was good!!!! but i am!!!! very tired!!!!!!! :D

[bluejay-creations]

The Girl In The Red Dress

short story written based on the following stimulus

She sat there, in the dark. The walls around her were battered and broke, the black and white paint chipping off to reveal the gloomy gray beneath. The ground was littered with chunks of wall and other debris. You could barely see what the floor really looked like, there was too much rubbish. It was dark in there, the only light seeping through a high window across the far wall. It was quiet, not silent but quiet. The only sounds that could be heard were the distant whirring of vehicles flying through the air and gliding across the ground. It was cold too, the concrete, the air, all of it, not quite the bone chilling cold of the snow but still cold. She wished she had a jacket and not just the loose red dress she was wearing. Where had it all gone wrong, she'd been told of the wondrous things that AI would bring, free time, better quality of life, and an all around better earth. How had it gone so very very wrong? She laid down on the small bench she found amongst the debris trying to keep warm, she began to drift off thinking of all the wondrous things that could have been, but weren't. Maybe, just maybe, if she wished hard enough, some of it might just come true.

She didn't know how long she was out for, could have been a few minutes, could have been a few days, all she knew was that she was being watched. There was someone there, waiting, watching. She tried to pretend she didn't feel it, the crawling sensation on her neck, maybe if she ignored it it would go away, it was probably just a small animal after all. She stood up and began to walk across the room, bare feet stinging against the cold concrete and metal strewn across the floor. She glanced up at the small window near the roof. The sun was out. That was good, she could go outside later and try to find something to eat. But for now she just needed to stretch her legs. She began to walk towards the boxes in the corner, her usual walk about the abandoned building. But something seemed unusual. As she walked over she saw a glint of something, what was usually a dark corner today was shining back at her. Fear began to build, but curiosity as well. After all she was still technically a kid, 15 wasnt that old was it? Whatever the case, the shine intrigued her, so she walked towards it. The debris in the corner piled high, higher than the rest of the room, hell it reached halfway up the wall. Carefully she began to climb the stack to investigate the shine, she was nearly there when she heard a noise behind her, a clatter, she turned around and saw a small animal climb out of the wall and look around skittishly. She sighed, that must have been what was looking at her before, though she still couldn't shake the feeling something was off. She turned back around to finally figure out what was glinting in the usually pitch black corner but as she turned and looked back and forth she found it was gone. 

‘Weird’

She climbed back down and winced as her feet once again met the cold harshness of bare concrete. She turned around and froze. Stood barely 2 meters from her was the very thing she dreaded coming across, a robot. It stood a good head and a half taller then her which in and of itself was scary. Sure it had a human shape but it was too smooth, Too perfect to ever be human. It was coated in a shiny, light gray finish, it looked too smooth to be metallic but it wasn't exactly a gloss either. Running all across its frame there were glowing pink and purple lines, they ran like veins and muscle lines on a human, they seemed to have a pattern but she couldn't place what it was. Its joints exposed the small wires running through it and would probably have been a weak point if it went for the fact those worse were covered in a near indestructible coating that protected them from all types of weather and even sharp objects like knives. It stood up straight, perfect posture. Its surface was clean, not a speck of dirt was to be seen. It was perfect in every way imaginable, and that was exactly its problem. It was too perfect, and tried to fix anything that wasn't. Which is how we got here, to a destroyed shell of a world.

[marvel-m-lee]

Fire, Note books and a- kid? •Part 1 of M-Verse•

Warning! This series will include gruesome descriptions of blood, bodies etc. These may be rare but they will be graphic. (This one doesn't have much tickling but it has a⁸ little haha)

This Series is also a tickls series, so if you dont like it, sorry oof.

Fandom: Marvel

-

"CRAP" Sam yelled as he flew right under a collapsing tie beam. "Language!" The cap yelled through the intercom, they were on a mission. There had been an explosion in an old warehouse building, no one knows how it happened but once they got there the place was covered with fire and dead bodies.

They were now in the building, fighting what they believed to be ex hydra workers that went into hiding for more experiments.

Cap fought from the ground whilst Sam was trying to get some shots from above while reading looked for any potential prisoners.

"Ain't seeing nothing from RedWibg Cap, the place is about to blow, we've gotta get out" Steve had just taken out about 17- now 18 Hydra agents, throwing them in the burning flames or beating them in combat.

"Alright, have one more look around the perimeter. Nat get the Jet prepared for exit incase the place actually does blow" He yelled, fighting off the last two Hydra agents in his area, throwing one onto another knocking them into a large fire screaming.

"K, sam make sure there arent any survivors" Nat ran back to the jet and started it up, the lights turning on as it slowly began to hover over the ground.

"Will do Widow" Sam flew up above the collapsing building to get another view of the area.

"Black Widow or Natasha" A sassy voice explained down the intercom.

"Okay Spider Lady" A grunt was heard that made both Cap and Sam laugh. Sam was looking through Redwing and his own eyes and couldn't seem to spot anything. "It all seems clear" Just as he were about to fly back down though he noticed something.

A young girl, her hair stuck together with some blood, mixed with dirt and wood. Her skin covered with brown mud and small cuts, she wore a white ripped hospital gown, too no longer white- or had seemed to be in years?...

"Holy shit-"

"Language!"

"There's a kid- west bound, see if you can get her. Covered in dirt and seemingly blood, right near where the fire seemed to have started from the burnt wood scraps and dying fires around her"

"A kid? West bound? Nat how long we got left?" Steve asked, running through the flames, dodging their burns and running as fast as he could.

"Before the place explodes? From my view about 150 seconds, just over two minutes. But you're gonna need to be fast so we can all get out." Nat watched over the intercoms and the computers showing where Steve was.

"Take a left"

"What?"

"Take a left! I'm giving you the fastest route to the west bound. Keep running until you find large doors, go through them and the last one at the end should lead to the girl"

Steve stopped asking the questions and complied. It wasnt his first time saving a kid, but the closer he got, the more he saw about the place. Cages, torture chambers, training halls.

This place wasnt a good one, especially for a kid... He thought.

He found the large doors, chained shut. Before he reached them he threw his shield, breaking the locks almost instantly. He ran through, but stopped in his tracks. The room was full of blood, the sticky walls glossed over, there were bones, some shattered, some scattered. Not hundreds, probably enough for the bodies of a good couple of people though... it was gruesome. Some of the worst things he had seen in a while, probably since... well. The blip?..

How was a kid kept here? How did we not know sooner?...

The thoughts span round the super solider head, taking up more time than he would have cared for.

"Steve? What's happened why'd you stop? We've got a minute!" Nat asked, she was getting impatient, the adrenaline was rising and so were the flames, everyone felt on edge here, as soon as they stepped down something felt very wrong.

"Shit, yeah. Alright, I'm going!" Steve ran and soon found the young girl, she didn't seem too strictly harmed for being so close to the flames. And for surviving in this, this prison.

"Got her, how long have I got left?"

"45 seconds"

Steve now had the young girl over his shoulder, he was trying to run even faster than he had before. This place. Something else had been happening here.

As the 100 year old ran though, he seemed to notice the fire die down wherever he ran to, creating a simple path for him to run in. He spotted the jet, Sam was standing in the open doorway, waiting to see if cap would make it. Silently cheering him on.

"10 seconds Cap"

"Start taking off now, we'll make it."

"FUCK NO! HURRY UP MAN" Sam yelled, this time to Captain America ratger rgan through the intercoms.

Time felt like it was going in slow motion, Steve got close enough just to jump and as soon as he did the whole place behind blew up. It all went so quickly after that, Sam grabbed his hand, holding on with all his might as Steve held the young girl. Nat, quicker than ever, sped off into the sky, miles from the ground to make sure the explosion wouldn't hit them as harshly as it should have.

Steve lay on the floor, with the young girl cradled in his arms behind the shield so she wouldn't get burnt. He was staring at her, even though she was covered in- well not so flattering things, she was beautiful. Something within began stirring. Something warm, familiar...

"Holy shit my dude. We almost died!" Sam droned, going to sit down on the chairs they had.

"We usually almost die, its part of our job" Nat explained, walking in and rolling her eyes. "Nahhh, Nat even you know that place was off" Sam looked over to the spy who sighed and walked over to Steve to help him up.

"How's the kid?"

Steve stood up and pulled away the shield to show off a little girl with y/c/h hair, covered in mud and pieces of blood, tucked up into his chest, breathing gently. "Wow" Sam sighed from the back.

"She's not in as much bad of a state as I would have imagined?" Nat said, watching over the little girl. "She wasnt too close to the big fire, must have been thrown into the mud and spotty snow from the explosion." Sam suggested.

Steve just held onto the small angel in his arms. He felt as though it were only he and she in the world, that time was no longer relevant. He memorized every piece of her face, even the pieces with dirt, cuts and bruises.

Suddenly Nat snapped him out of it, "Alright, I'm going to go get Bruce over. See if she's alright. For now just but her on a bed." Steve nodded as the Spider left to go call Dr. Banner.

"We haven't got beds though?- oh fuck you man" Steve laughed at Sam, he had just pulled out a bed from the sides of the ship. "You didnt know?" He teased. He and Nat had let sam sleep on the chairs or ground for the past few years. It seemed to be a secret agreement not to tell him amongst the avengers.

"Nah man, that's cold" Steve placed the little girl down and pulled up the walls of the bed to make sure she wouldn't fall out. Watching her little breaths as Sam's words started to fade away.

"Oi you even listening to me?" Sam asked unamused sitting up and looking at the fallen solider. "She's gonna be alright Steve" Steve sighed, deep down he knew she'd be fine. But he felt something strange. Fear. Like he had just found an old journal or someone he hadn't seen for a very long time.

He sighed and stood up, walking over to the bird man who was now sitting up watching the soldiers actions. They both heard Natasha in the background talking with Bruce.

"She's gonna be alright Steve"

"I hope so..."

It was a while till they had all landed at the compound. Rogers and Wilson played some card games- dont question it, Roger's made Tony buy him loads for each mission. He enjoyed the games. He also won most of them.

Steve picked the young girl up and brought her to Bruce as the doors opened up, they lauded her down on a hospital bed and hurried off. Bruce stayed back checking in on everyone. "The mission?"

"A success as always"

Steve seemed quiet, Sam answering fir him rather than fir himself. He watched the girl be scurried along into the building.

"Did you clean all her wounds?"

"Mhm"

Steve looked down and nodded before they all began walking. He didnt mean to seem any less- well captain america-y, but he definitely had something on his mind. Bruce began to follow quickly to ask what's up.

"Hmm? Oh.. nothing. Just worried for the child" Steve tried to brush the feeling off but couldn't his gut had other plans. They wanted to see the girl, see if she was okay.

"She's gonna be alright, she only needs a few tests done- safe ones of course, blood pressure, cut cleansing etc" Bruce smiled at the much taller man. Oh god he was short. Steve smiled back to the Dr with 7 PHD's.

"Thanks Banner, I'm gonna go see Stark"

"Okay, stay safe, I'll tell you when she's improved"

Steve nodded and walked into the building, turning an opposite way to Banner and going to go see Stark. Steve was secretly very grateful Bruce would tell him about the child once she was improving. He felt a connection.

"Stark?" The 100 year old asked, knocking on the doors to the Lab.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y, Open the Doors for Roger's Pleade and Thank you" The billionaire didnt move from his seat, he had been working on some new tech as usual.

"Thanks F.R.I.D.A.Y" Steve walked in, still in his spandex from the mission covered in blood and dirt with little scuff marks all over from the fire flames.

"Its an 8 Code Pin Rogers"

"I know I know, I just can't seem to remember it"

Tony rolled his eyes and looked up leaning on his chair with one arm resting over the top.

"What's up?"

Steve furrowed his brows. "Hmm?"

"You, you seem... less Super, more Man"

Steve rolled his eyes, "I'm not Super Man Tony!" Tony just shrugged and chewed the side of his cheek.

"Dunno there Cap" The genius stood up and walked over to him, the man was much seemingly smaller without his heals on, just bare foot walking around. He got extremely close to the Cap and got on his tip toes leaning in. If he wanted he could have kissed the man he were so close, though they both knew it wouldn't happen, Tony just liked getting close to annoy people.

That's when the billionaire squealed and almost fell to the ground with a jump back, a light blush on his face. "Dick" Steve smirked at the man, he sure was one ticklish man, billionaire, genius who cares. He was still ticklish. Tony went to go sit back down.

"So what's up?" This time, happily keeping his distance.

"I saved a kid today"

Tony furrowed his brows and chuckled, slowly clapping his hands. "Well done soldier, you saved a kid"

"Tony im serious"

"Well I didn't really think you were lying-"

Steve stepped forward making the Billionaire loose his confidence. He never minded being tickled, but then again it didnt help his reputation being melted into a giggly mess. He was still really nervous. Steve smirked at the man but then continued.

"She was covered in dirt and bits of blood. But before I found her, I ran through a hall. It was Dark, but the raging fires lit it up. There were bones, scattered. Probably enough for a good few people, some big some small. And blood, all over the walls..."

Steve tensed up, remembering the place. "It reminded me of the war with Thanos."

Tony stayed quiet, no longer fearful of childish tickles. It seemed horrifying. Even for them. "Okay, send me the Locations, I'll get F.R.I.D.A.Y up and working on it alright?" Tony wasn't the best when it came to comforting, but he knew he could do something.

Steve looked up at him and smiled thankfully, but Tony coukd tell there was something else bothering. Yet he didn't want Steve to be too focused on it all.

"Hey, here" Tony grabbed something from within a draw, it had a captain America's shield on the front, he handed it to steve. Just a normal sketch book. And some pencils. "You're welcome to use these and sit down at the window or something while I work. Keep your mind off things.

"Thanks Tony" Steve smiled at the billionaire, he wasnt great at comforting, but he knew what Steve wanted. It was a strange friendship that's for sure.

"Look at the first page too! I did a little something" The billionaire smirked as Steve turned the book open, on the front was an IronMan helmet with a little speech bubble saying "I Am IronMan" and a little stick figure with a shield in a cage in the bottom corner saying "I stink!"

Tony burst out laughing at Steve's expression. Let's just say his laughing continued for longer than expected...

[arthurflecksgirl]

Comforting Arthur on Christmas eve

Headcanons:

Its christmas eve and you are alone. You just moved to Gotham city weeks ago and decide to go for a walk in the park. A lonely man sitting on a bench caughts your attention. No one should be this sad an lonely tonight, so you invite him to spent the evening with him at your place.

* Its was that time of the year again and for personal reasons you had to spent it alone. You moved to Gotham city just weeks ago, feeling beyong lonely, especially now during the holidays. The christmas lights hanging above peoples heads, the colorful treees....nothing could cover the grey and harsh atmopsphere of this town. Ever since you moved here you wanted to turn your back on this city again and now that you walked through one of the few parks, the home sickness was growing inside of you.

*Strangers passed you by without even looking at you. You didnt asked for much. Maybe someone to look you in the eyes or wishing you happy holidays. But it seemed like this was too much too ask for in a city like this. Maybe it was a bad desicion to go for a walk this evening. But you couldnt stand being inside these four walls which didnt felt like home at all. Everything was far away, no emotions attached. You felt disconnected to everything surrownding you. So going for a walk in the snow was something that might help to clear your head a bit. You took a deep breath in. The air was icy cold and hurt your nose.

*The trees looked heavy,bending under the weight of the snow. As heavy as your heart felt, watching a lovely man sitting on a bench at the end of the park. He was wearing a hoodie, so you couldnt see all of his face. His clothes looked like he was wearing them every day, no matter how warm or cold the weather was. Clean but worn out like a second skin. You stopped to watch him for a while. He was smoking one cig after another, not looking up for once. Oh how much you wished to see his face. There was something about him that made you curious. The way his brown curls were sneaking underneath his hoodie, the way his hands were hokding the cigarette. He was different. And he seemed to be the loneliest man you`ve ever seen.

*After a while you decited to hide behind a tree. Watching him for more than ten minutes seemed too obvious and you didnt want him to feel your eyes on him, making him feel even more uncomfortable as he already was. And then after the 5th cigarette he was looking up at the sky. The snow flakes melted on the tip of his well shaped nose as he closed his eyes. he exhaled the smoke like it was the last cig he would ever smoke in his whole life, which clearly wasnt the case.

*It was obvious that he was freezing like hell and you wondered about if you should just walk up to him and talk to him. Keep him some company. Nobody should be this alone on christmas and the man looked like he didnt had anyone to spent his time with. After he dumped the rest of his cig on the ground you walked towards him. He didnt noticed you until you stood right in front of the bench. That was how lost in his thoughts he seemed to be. You could tell that he was homesick for something too. Disconnected. Abandoned even. From Gotham, people or the world in general.

*"Hey" you said "Would you mind me sitting here?" The lonely man shook his head "Nahh". And then he looked at you. he was beyong beautiful. Now that you saw his face right in front of you, it was obvious that he wasnt a drifter. Just a very sad individual with the most beautiful, sad eyes you have ever seen. Green with a sparkly iris. Like he was hiding galaxies inside his mind. No wonder he got lost in it. There seemed to be so much to him. How could someone like him be this lonely today?

*"I`m Y/N by the way" you offered him your hand. "I`m Arthur" his voice was as soft as the snowflake falling upon his dark eyebrows as he took off the hoodie to run his other hand through his hair. It was longer than you expected and looked soft to the touch. Soon it was wet from snow and you got worried he might catch a cold.

*"I`m sorry I just came up. If you dont want me to talk to you just tell me okay? I dont wanna bother you. I just....well i saw you sitting there and....no one should be this alone on christmas eve...." His face lighted up immediately. Arthur was thankful for what you had said.  "Oh...thats so....nice of you. I`m not used to people being that nice....to me" he replied. There was a hint of a smile on his face but it seemed hard for him to smile.

*You told him about how you just moved to Gotham and about your problems finding any new friends. How alone you felt since you came here and how much he reminded you of yourself when you saw him from a distance. Arthur was listening closely. His eyes never drifting away . He was looking right through you. Even thogh he seemed shy. The look in his eyes was so intense you didnt knew what to do but to blush.

*Arthur told you how moved he was by a stanger coming uo to him, and just talk. he admitted how much he longed for someone to simply talk to him and listen. So you did. You listened to his story and Arthur had a lot to tell.

*You found out about how he was living with his sick mother, taking care of her until he was committed to the hospital. And how lost he felt. Not just now that it was chistmas time. But in general. Arthur didnt had any friends or family beside his mum and was working as a party clown. He told you about his great dream of becoming a famous stand up comedian and you tried to imagin the man in front of you dancing around in a clown costume, giggleing and being happy. It was almost impossible to imagin it but it made you feel warm inside to know that there must be this other side of him. A side that wanted to make people happy, even if he wasnt feeling the happiness himself.

*The more you found out about him, the more you wanted to know. You wanted him to tell you everything but you didnt wanted to push him or to overwhelm him with questions. So you asked him very carefully but it was getting more and more obvious how much he loved the attention. being asked things about his life made him feel like someone finally cared. And you did. Arthur was a stanger by now but it felt like you just met an old soul that was connected to yours ages ago. Everything he told you about himself effected you on a personal level. And you wanted to do something about it. You felt the need to be the person who made him smile for real. Yo wanted to be the reason for him to feel save and warm and needed. And there was one way to give that to him tonight.

*You asking Arthur if he wanted to stay the night with him made his green eyes sparkle in a way you never thought was possible. The fine wrinkles beneath his eyes deepened in the most adorable way as a beautiful, shy smile was crossing his face. He was thankful but a little helpless. Arthur just couldnt belive that you offered him to go home with you to be save and warm. You told him that your home wasnt as beautifully decorated as you wished it would be, because you left most of your things in your hometown and didnt had the money to buy new christmas stuff but you had some candles and lights. enough to make him comfortable.

*Arthur told you about how he never experienced christmas in his whole life. Not even some candles burning. You both gut up from the bench, while you promised him that this christmas will at least be cosy and save.

*Arthur taking your hand while walking to the subway station came as a surprise. Maybe he wasnt as shy as it seemed after all. His hand in yours felt as naturally as breathing. Like you were holding hands for the past thousands of years. It wasnt the hand of a stranger. It was Arthur. The gentleness of his fingers enterwined with yours was so familiar . His cold skin on yours magical to the touch.

*You tried to feel the shape of his fingers with all your senses. The softness of the palm of his hand, his knuckles, his fingertips,...you never held the hand of a starnher before. And yet he wasn`t one. You recognized him as someone who should have been there all your life.

*Coming home you felt a bit bad about the fact that you couldnt offer him the biggest christmas tree he had ever seen. But Arthur didnt mind. He watched you lightening some candles with a tender smile on his face. You asked him to take off his snow drenched clothes and offered him a cosy, warm christmas sweater with some comfy pj pants. First you felt a little strange to ask him to put on your clothes but Arthur was flattered by it. He felt a bit embrarassed to take of his own worn out cardigan and expose his fragile body. He was way skinnier than it seemed under all the clothes he was wearing outside. His ribs popped out in a very fragile but beautiful way. His tummy looked like he was sucking it in but he wasnt.

*Arthur put on your sweater telling you that this is perfect because dark red is his favourite color. he slipped out of his light blue pants and into your Pjs, which made him seem even more innocent than before. His hair was messy from changing his clothes and he ran his fingers through it while he lit himself a cig, asking you if its okay to smoke in here. You nodded as you walked to the cassette player "Do you want to listen to some christmas music?" you asked. Arthur told you how much he loved Frank Sinatra and his christmas record. You couldnt help but laugh because it was one of your fave holiday records,too. He smiled as Franks voice started to fill the room.

*Asking him if he wanted to try some of your self baked cookies made him a little bit uncomfortable. he admitted that he was on some meds which made it almost impossible for him to eat something without getting sick. You felt bad for him but it made you happy that he wanted to try two or three cookies because he has not eaten one of them in years.

*When you walked out of the kitchen you placed a plate of sweets on the table. Arthur picked teh one with the smiley face and glaced at you with his intense eyes. He enjoyed the way you took care of him so much, he even ate another one. And another one. Very slow but happy about not getting sick. Some minutes later he was surprised how many cookies he ate. Arthur looked at you with love in his eyes, telling you how tahnkful he was that you brought him here with you, gave him some warm clothes and made him eat something.

*You watched his lips move as he was talking. The scar on his lip whispering to you how much it wanted to be kissed. Was it too soon yet? Arthur noticed and smiled.

*You put your face closer to his to let him know how much you wanted to feel his lips on yours. Arthur welcomed your half opened mouth with the tip of his tongue, whispering that he has never been kissed before. You couldnt belive that this beautiful man has never experienced a kiss, so you tried to give him the most wonderful memory of a first kiss possible.

*Arthur smirked as your lips parted again. An unkown happiness was spreading inside of him, making him feel light. He tasted like love and cigarettes. You wanted more but you wouldnt overwhelm him tonight.

* "You need some blankets, Arthur? We could...." you blushed.

"Cuddle?" he smirked.

"Yeah`?!"

"I would love that" he whispered back.

You reached for a huge, cosy blanket.

"Wanna watch some movies together?" you asked him. Your eyes focused on his hair reflecting the candle light.

"Sounds nice....I think Chaplin is on. Do you know his movies?"

You told him you havent seen Chaplin in ages and Arthur was very much excited about watching his fave movie with you.

*After the second movie Arthurs eyelids started to get heavy. He was getting sleepy in your arms, feeling save and sound. This was his first christmas someone allowed him to just relax and be himself. You softly kissed kiss forehead while he started to drift off into a peaceful sleep. You told him how much you wanted to give him a present but you didnt expected to not be alone tonight.

* Arthur put his lips close to your ears, mumbling: " You know what the best present  in the world is? Comfort. And with you I experienced comfort for the very first time in my entire life. Even if just for a day."

*And then you knew that this wasnt just a christmas present. Is was a gift that would last a lifetime.

[oikawasass]

Okay so this is based on the end of this story so I highly suggest you go read that if you haven’t.

do I really have to go?

‣ pairing : bakugo x fem reader.

‣ oneshot.

‣ synopsis : a trip down memory lane.

‣ wordcount : 1.9k+

‣ warnings : angst, character death, swearing.

“Y/n…” Katsuki’s strained voice choked out, waiting for a response. He didn’t receive one.

“Y/n. Answer me.” He spoke more stern this time with a shake to her body, hoping this was some sick joke and a serious tone of voice would force her into an answer.

It didn’t work.

Katsuki’s body fell on top of her, head resting atop her chest as he felt like he was about to be sick to his stomach. There was a sharp, yet empty feeling in his gut, it felt like someone had just stabbed him.

No more calls of her name left his lips, no more shaking her body while trying to wake her up, it all stopped. Now he was left alone, shattered into what he felt was a million pieces. She was gone. And here he was, laying on top of the near mangled body of his first love, still holding her cold and limp hand to his cheek while he felt something build up and sting deep in his throat.

As his hearing went fuzzy, and all he could hear was his own racing heartbeat in his ears, Katsuki screamed.

Katsuki screamed out of the sheer ache and torment his body felt as she lay lifeless in his arms.

Yet to Bakugo’s own knowledge, she was seated right beside him, head rested gently atop the back of his shoulder, as calm as she could be. Or should I say, her spirit was.

It was weird to her, seeing herself laying so pale and torn up on the ground in front of her. But what was really tugging at her heartstrings, was the way Katsuki was sobbing on top of her. The way he was struggling to breathe between the agonizing noises that left his chest while continuing to shake her and beg- no, plead for her to just wake up.

“He’s never cried like this before. . .” Y/n muttered quietly, turning her head to get a better look at her boyfriend. The blonde looked so. . .so broken. She’d never wanted to see him in such a state of vulnerability and pain, yet here she was, being the cause of it.

“He loved you.” The tall, dark figure behind her, who’d she’d been becoming rather acquainted with up until now, spoke up. Y/n slowly nodded her head in response. “You were the only one he’d ever loved like that.”

Y/n smiled softly at his words, yet shook her head slowly. “You don’t have to rub it in, y’know. This already sucks enough as it is.” A sad chuckle fell from her lips. “I don’t wanna leave like this either.”

She lifted her head up once the familiar ringing of sirens blasted from somewhere in the distance, signalling that help was finally near. If only they’d come a bit sooner, huh?

“L/n, we have to go. It’s been long enough.” The voice of the shadowed figure was surprisingly soft, almost comforting with how deep and smooth it was. It seems as if it was rather fitting for the job he had; welcoming, comforting and bringing newly released spirits to the other side.

“Just. . . just a little longer? Please?” Y/n gently rose her hand to cup the cheek of Bakugo, the one of which he wasnt holding her body’s hand against. “Will I still get to see him once we go?” She asked hopefully, turning to look up at the man beside her. “Like, to watch over him?”

“I'm afraid I can’t answer that, L/n.” He responded, walking towards her and slowly sitting cross-legged beside her. “However, there is one thing you get to observe before we go.”

Suddenly, everything around the two began to twist and contort, almost as if someone was spinning the scenery around them. Now, they were no longer in the snow-covered ground beside Katsuki and the body she once occupied.

They were in the room of class 2-A, her classroom.

Y/n blinked in confusion, looking around the classroom she very sadly wouldn’t find herself returning to.

No more of Kaminari and Jirou’s flirting bickering, no more of Kirishima yelling about how manly something he saw a fellow classmate do was, or Izuku and Uraraka turning beat red with every word they spoke to each other.

No more Aoyama pretending he was French and sophisticated when everyone knew otherwise, or Mina’s cute smile and bubbly attitude lighting up the room. She wouldn’t be able to watch Iida scold Tokoyami for sitting on the desks, or giggle in amusement when she noticed Tsuyu zone out in class as her tongue fell out of the side of her mouth.

There wouldn’t be another time where she watched Ojiro blush like a madman when Denki would start rubbing his tail, or when Hagakure’s uniform sleeves would flail around in the air as she told the boy ‘not to be weird’ while Sero was laughing like an idiot in the background.

Sato would no longer be able to offer her any of the delicious sweets he’d made that day, and she could say goodbye to Koda letting her pet some of the animals he’d been surrounded by on those sweet summer mornings.

She wouldn’t be able to smile at Todoroki happily slurping his soba noodles, while he and Yaomomo sat in the back of the class having a peaceful conversation amidst all the chaos during lunch. She was no longer there to notice the small smile under Shoji’s mask as he couldn’t deny the fondness that had grown within him for the people in his class, hell, even no more Mineta around to pester and bother her with his pervy comments and actions, only to have Bakugo threaten the little grape every time he tried something.

And finally, no more Y/n and Bakugo to make the rest of the class feel ‘hopelessly single’ as Kaminari used to say.

“I thought I told you not to rub it in.” Y/n said, smiling sadly when all the memories of her class were shown before her. God, she already missed them so much. She no longer had a heart, but she couldn’t deny the ache deep in her chest at the memories of her friends surfacing.

“Keep watching.”

“Oi, shitty girl.” Bakugo said, approaching her with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his baggy uniform pants. She turned her attention away from Denki, Jirou, Sero and Mina to look at the blonde who now stood before her.

“What’s u- woah okay!” Bakugo had grabbed her wrist, pulling her up from her seat and leading her out of the classroom before anyone else could make note of their exit together.

“Well you could’ve just asked me to follow y-” “Just shut the hell up and listen, will you?”

Y/n clamped her mouth shut, nodding and motioning for him to continue.

“I-” he sighed, rolling his eyes and scuffing one of his feet against the polished floor beneath him.

“I like you, okay?”

“....”

“Me?”

“Yes you, idiot! Who the hell else is around?!”

“Like, you like like me?”

“You’re such an idiot- yes!”

“Shut up I just wanna make sure!”

“Tch. Listen-!!”

Katsuki was cut off by the feeling of soft, plush lips against his own.

“Well, ill have you know that I like you too, blasty.”

“That's when he confessed back in our first year. . .”

The same spinning illusion they’d gone through before repeated, this time bringing them into the downtown area Y/n used to live by. A light sheet of snow covered the ground as more continued to fall from the sky, the orange and pink colours coming from the setting sun above them illuminating the city.

“Wait, is this the spot that he-”

“Katsu!” Y/n yelled, running to keep up with her boyfriend who’d now walked quite a few steps ahead of her.

“You couldn’t even wait for me to finish tying my boot- woah!” Y/n cut herself off as she slipped on a small spot of ice in her rush to catch up, expecting to be met with the wet and cold concrete street beneath her. Instead, she was engulfed by a large, warm pair of arms catching her before she got the chance.

“Careful, dumbass! You almost ate shit there!”

“Oh please, I would’ve been fine.”

“You’re so damn clumsy. You’re lucky I love you or I’d kick the hell out of you for not watching where you’re g. . the hell are you smiling like that for?”

“You said you love me.”

“Well-” Bakugo bit the inside of his cheek, looking down at his girlfriend who was still wrapped up in his arms.

“Well, it's not like I was lying, idiot.”

Y/n leaned up to kiss him softly, smiling against his lips.

“I love you too.”

“Man, you’re really giving me a hard time here, huh?”

The scenery around them faded to another time, Y/n instantly recognizing where she was and feeling herself reach for her left ring finger when she did.

It was summer, and it was dark. The stars were out, beautifully on bright display for everyone beneath them. She and Katsuki were sat on the U.A. rooftops, admiring the beautiful constellations above them. It was right after they had finished celebrating their one year

“Hey, I got you something.” Katsuki quietly broke the silence between them, reaching into the pocket of his hoodie, (one Y/n had surprisingly not stolen) and pulled out a small, rectangular box, handing it over to her.

“What's this?”

“Open it, dummy.”

Y/n chuckled softly, opening the box to reveal two silver rings, one slightly larger than the other. She felt her eyes go a little wide in surprise as she looked up to her boyfriend.

“Are these. . .” “Promise rings.” Bakugo confirmed, taking the smaller ring out of the box and holding his hand out for Y/n’s to which she gave to him. He slowly slid the ring onto her left ring finger, it was a perfect fit.

“Or just call them. . . place holders.”

“Place holders until what?”

“Until I can put a real ring on your finger, obviously.”

“He always used to swear he was gonna marry me.” Y/n chuckled sadly, placing a hand over her chest as the ache slowly began to fade away. Seeing all the most amazing memories and sweet moments they shared together, it made her feel as if she could leave on a good note. A small smile graced her face as she nodded, finally understanding the purpose of the small journey she was taken on.

Suddenly, she was back in the present, where Katsuki now sat pressed up against the ambulance doors alone, sitting with his knees pulled up to his chest and a shadowed cast over his eyes. A few bandages littered his cheeks, signalling he’d already been treated. Y/n paid no mind to the black body bag a few feet away from him.

Y/n went over and sat beside him, resting her head on his shoulder and hugging his waist, just like she always did when he was upset. Katsuki felt a small chill, rubbing gently at his arms to make the goosebumps he felt go away.

“Its time, L/n.”

“. . .Do I really have to go?”

“I'm afraid so.”

Y/n nodded slowly, placing a soft kiss to Bakugo’s cheek. Bakugo scratched the surface of his face at the sudden tickle against his skin.

“Okay, I think I'm ready.”

[giogio-gucci-gangstar]

JoJo’s Disney Adventure!

Thank you @lostinthe-jojos for this request for the raffle! It was SO fun to write, and I loved having Joseph go to Disney (I go all the time and think he would absolutely love it) 

Summary: You and Joseph go to The Magic Kingdom at Disney World! JoJo is basically an oversized toddler and gets distracted by absolutley everything, but you two finally make it on your favorite ride (Splash Mountain) and things take a wet turn.

You looked up and saw Joseph giggling madly as the Mickey shaped confetti rained down around you two. After waking up at an ungodly hour and taking the Monorail to the park, The Magic Kingdom was finally open! 

The way his smile spread from ear to ear, somehow bigger than the toddler’s next to him, warmed your heart. It was worth standing in line so early just to see him like this. You gently reached up to dust a few of the sparkles out of his hair. But the sweet moment ended all too quickly as Joseph grabbed your hand and hurtled through the crowd into the park.

 Holding your hand with an iron grip, he started pushing past people, small and medium sized children not excluded. You tried to spare a look back, to make sure he hadn't actually pushed children to the ground, but you were scared to face the reality of this particular situation. Thanks to his reckless disregard for everyone else around, you two were some of the first people in the park. 

Joseph stopped and spun around trying to take in all of Main Street at once. “OH MY GOD! Look there’s a horse drawn carriage! A trolly! THE CASTLE!!!” Joseph was tugging you around, pulling you in each direction to every little detail, each more exciting than the last. Suffice to say the man was thrilled and you couldn’t help but smile at how happy he was. He truly was like a child, actually that wasn't quite accurate, you were pretty sure he was more excited than any child around you. 

“Come on! Let’s get some ears first!” You called up to him, just to make sure you didn't squander your day away looking at the park rather than actually being in it. Before you actually got to the park for the opening, you had thought you were the most excited for this vacation. But you were proven wrong very quickly. No one’s excitement could compare to Joseh’s. 

“Great idea!” He nearly shouted and pulled you into the little hat shop. Apparently the man had been looking over maps of the park before you two got there. Honestly you were very impressed, he didn't usually have this sort of dedication or attention span. 

You didn’t think it was possible, but his eyes were blown even wider as he took in all the possible choices for his very first pair of Mickey ears. 

“OH! Look at this one!” He pulled a Snow White themed pair of the rack and tried them on in front of a mirror. He scowled a bit and went on to his next choice: a pair of Elsa themed ears. This time he stuck a pose in front of the mirror, earning some odd looks from the couple wearing newlywed pins behind him. You supposed it wasnt everyday that you came across a 195 cm man wearing a crop top. Aside from just his stature, he sure warranted a stare when he tried on a “Just Married” pair of bridal ears. 

“Look at how it swishes!” JoJo was frantically waving his head side to side, watching as the veil trailed past him. You could put up with a lot of his shenanigans but you were pretty sure he was just doing it to piss off the couple behind you… 

“Joseph!! Come on, put those back, why don't you try these?” You pulled out a classic pair of ears, “Look, you can even get these monogrammed!” You held out the pair to him but his eyes were glued to another pair. Oh no. 

He reached up and grabbed a pair of bedazzled rose gold ears. He was awestruck as he slowly placed them on top of his head. You were pretty sure he was imagining an elaborate coronation service for himself in his head. Or at least that was what his expression looked like. 

“Okay those are cute!” You were literally fine with any pair he got, you just wanted to go on some rides before the lines got terribly long. 

“Okay okay, we'll take two of these!” he walked up to the cashier and very happily made his purchase. “Why two?” You giggled. You wouldn't have put it past him to buy an extra pair for himself...

“Well one is for you silly, they match your eyes,” He leaned down and coed in your ear. You weren't sure if it was cute or cheesy so you gave him a light shove and put them on. Now you were one of those annoying matching couples, but you supposed you could make this fun. 

Okay, now that you were finally outside of literally the very first shop in the park, your next task today was to get a photo in front of Cinderella’s Castle. Joseph was not satisfied with a single picture, so he made sure to strike a pose in some of his favorite looks.  

“Okay,” the photographer pointed to you, “hold your hands out in a little cup…” you did as you were told though you were a bit confused. Luckily Joseph had no hesitation asking. 

 “What’s that for?” His face was scrunched with confusion. 

 “Well we’re going to digitally insert Tinkerbelle in her hands-“ 

Joseph swatted your hands down, “Put her in mine!” You elbowed him a little, but his little pout was so genuine and he was so excited you couldn’t really stay mad. So you settled for a small eye roll. 

Alright now that photos were done you could head to the first ride on your list, Splash Mountain. But that idea was quickly derailed when Joseph noticed a concession stand. And my god this boy could eat. You sighed a little, just wanting to go on some rides, but you couldn't deny that those mickey pretzels smelled divine...

“Okay so I want two Mickey pretzels, three churros, a souvenir bucket of popcorn, aaaand two American cokes!” He has spent nearly 40$ on these little treats but damn they were good. 

You munched on your own pretzel as you walked around the castle, hopefully to your ride. But just as you were ready for a taste of a churro you noticed they had somehow disappeared. And that JoJo’s face was covered in cinnamon sugar… 

“JoJo did you eat all of the churros?!” It had been probably four minutes since you two had gotten your snacks.

“Mmm no I think one of those ducks stole it!” He pointed into the moat around the castle to a suspiciously inauspicious duck. You glared at him but there was plenty of time for snacks later. And later happened to be right now. 

“Is that a FUNNEL CAKE STAND?!” Joseph tugged you so hard some popcorn flew out of his princess themed bucket. But that funnel cake smelled delightful, so it wasn't hard for him to convince you that this was a necessary part of your trip. So you waited in an outrageously long line, luckily it was very easy to pass the time with Joseph. 

“I spy with my little eye, something tan and caramelly.” His nose was pointed in the air, a look of ecstasy spread across his face.

“Is it the funnel cake that person just got?” You pointed to the woman a few people in front of you. Joseph was literally drooling at the site of it. 

“How did you know?!” Somehow he managed to look actually confused.

“JoJo YOU'VE been staring at them as they go by for the past ten minutes.” He pouted a bit and somehow his stomach grumbled. How could he possibly still be hungry?! 

 Finally you two made it to the ordering booth, and he asked for two funnel cakes. You figured they were probably mostly for him, but this time you would definitely snag a few bites for yourself. JoJo speedwalked to a table, balancing a funnel cake in each hand.

“JoJo you have to share this time!” And you attacked with your fork before he could do anything but gape at you with a look of utter betrayal. 

“That isn’t sharing, you’re STEALING!” His eyes were blown wide with betrayal.

“JoJo! You look just like that kid over there in the stroller!” You laughed as they both shared a scrunched up, red face. Though it looked like the boy was more upset about being buckled into a stroller rather than having to share a cake. 

Somehow you managed to negotiate about a quarter of one cake, and that had been enough to satisfy your sweet tooth. So Joseph ever so kindly offered to finish the rest of yours. 

At this point of your food coma, Splash Mountain was looking a little daunting... Maybe you should just do that Haunted Mansion next. It was basically around the corner from you two. You turned to Joseph but he was bent over a little listening to his stomach grumble… As Joseph stood up you heard his stomach gurgle again. And his face was looking slightly green. Oh no, his stomach hadn’t been growling, he was getting sick. 

 “Wait JoJo,” you quickly stood up and moved behind him. Obviously to comfort him, and not just to get out of projectile vomit range. If that was going to happen. 

“Are you feeling alright?” You were a little worried he seemed to be having some issues standing up. “Oh for sure. Perfectly fine. Now let’s go get wet!” You were pretty sure going on a ride where you plunged 60 feet down a waterfall was an awful idea with him in this state. 

“JoJo you look really pale…” you looked around frantically, “Why don’t we go to The Hall of Presidents? It’s cold and dark and a great place to sit down!” 

 “Sure that sounds great,” he sounded relieved but quickly covered his slip up, “because it’s really hot and I don’t want you to get burned.” You giggled. Sure it was definitely because it was hot, and not because he had eaten so much junk food his stomach was violently protesting. 

 As soon as his tight butt hit the seat he leaned back and kicked his legs up, noticeably sighing. As soon as the George Washington animatronic started speaking, Joseph was already snoring. You snickered to yourself, he was like an oversized toddler. Buuut a cuddly one, so you snuggled in close. 

 Apparently you had fallen asleep too, because you were jolted awake as Joseph screamed, “WHY IS ABRAHAM LINCOLN MELTING?!” You were pretty sure your heart was beating out of your chest, not because of the weird animatronic, but because your boyfriend has pretty much thrown you out of your chair in his moment of panic. 

 He looked at you in terror, but pulled you up and ran out of the theater before more judging soccer moms could glare at him for interrupting their educational show.

“Oh my god! What was that?!” He was bent over gasping from shock. Still. 

You were laughing so hard at him you could barely speak, “that- was the Hall of Presidents!” You bent over to his level laughing still. 

“Why would they do something like that? It was TERRIFYING!” 

“JoJo this is America. They like presidents even if they're old and wrinkly.” He was certain that the show was a plot to scare children into submission, and despite your best efforts you could not convince him otherwise.

“Okay let’s go on Splash Mountain now!” Joseph was quickly trying to change the subject. Apparently all his stomach needed to feel better was a little 16 president nap. 

“It does look like you’re a bit hot anyway.” You threw him a little wink and your hint was not lost on him. He held your waist and pulled you against him on the walk there. It actually was very hot and standing so close against him was getting a little sweaty, but you wouldn’t ever want to let go. 

Oddly enough this time he was busy pointing out all of the odd wildlife that seemed to infiltrate the park. Everything from ducks to egrets, turtles to lizards. Joseph was excited about them all. You had to repeatedly pull him back on track to get to the ride. But once you finally saw the waterfall leading down into a pit of pretend thorns, you felt your gut drop with excitement. And JoJo’s expression wasn't that different, a glint of excitement and danger danced in his eye. 

Despite your many detours, the line was still pretty short because most people don't want to go on thrill rides at 9:30 in the morning. So you two got on pretty fast. 

“Please keep all hands, arms, feet, and legs inside the vehicle at all times. Please stow away any sunglasses, hats, and ears in the netting below.” The recorded voice played and you promptly tucked your ears away under the seat. 

“JoJo you have to take those off.” You gently nudged him but he pretended not to hear you. “JoJo…” you asked exasperatedly. 

“Oh come on they're not gonna fall off! Plus I want to look cute in the picture!!” You laughed at him, of course that was his reasoning. You were about to tell him he looked cute in every picture, but the ride started before you could.

It was a little long, and every small hill made you nearly jump and hold onto Joseph. You were just a little scared, just like a smidge, of the big hill. And then it came. You were paused at the precipice of the mountain, looking down at the monumental drop and you clung to Joseph’s arm so tightly he gave you a teasing look and let out a loud howl as you started to fall. 

You had your eyes scrunched closed but you felt Joseph lurch back but not even that could get you to open them. Only when you were slammed with a wave of freezing water could you open them. 

You gasped as the water seeped through all of your clothes. Not leaving a centimeter of clothing dry. You sat there like a wet fish, and turned to Joseph to see he was perfectly dry. How the hell did it just get you? 

Joseph finally heard your teeth chattering and wrapped an arm around you as you two walked to go see the photo taken on the ride. You were ducking into Joseph’s lap, and he was aggressively leaning backwards reaching for his ears that had flown off. 

“I TOLD you they would fly off!” You scolded him a bit, but from the frown on his face you knew he was already pretty upset. 

“And I told you you should wear a white shirt today.” He countered and that cheeky grin on him was absurd. 

“Oh shut up you pervert!” you shoved him a little, though you immediately missed his body heat. 

“It was a joke, I swear!,” He pulled you closer to him, “But I wouldn’t have minded getting a little peek…” 

“Just stop talking and hug me, I'm freezing.” You rolled your eyes but snuggled in close to your cheeky bastard of a boyfriend. 

[imma-new-soul]

Southbound Strangers

Summary: Bucky x Reader. You meet a handsome stranger on your way home to Brooklyn

Warning: none

Sorry if this sucks, I tried to post this 3 times and it never saved or posted so i had to rewrite it so many times

Winter was cold in New York City but it was the most beautiful season of them all. The snowfall seem to quiet the bustling Restless City. It was as if it slowed time down, the cars in the crowds on the street seemed stand at a still and everything became more peaceful.

You step out into the brisk cold the chilly air already seeping through your clothing and into your body as if it ran through your veins. You race towards the train station, swipe your Metrocard, and wait on the platform. Above you read a sign with red flashing letter

3:02am. 12/24/2019

Essex st

J-Train arriving in 6mins

You watched the snow twist and turn falling aimlessly to the ground in front of you. Soon enough the train came rushing towards. You felt it coming before you even heard or saw it. You felt the ground shake beneath the soles of your shoes, You felt it tremble in your bones.

 The first few carts flew by furiously sweeping your hair off of your shoulders. The train finally stops, the doors spring open, and you walk inside. The crate you were in was empty except for you and a old tired lady that sat at the far left. She wore a thick brown coat and small winter boots that were still wet from the snow, her eyes were closed and her head rested on the wall of the train.

After two stops it was now riding on the Williamsburg bridge, it was your favorite thing to see after a long shift at work because it was so breathtaking. Though tonight it was especially beautiful from the light dusting that cover the rails of the bridge to the water rocking slowly beneath you. 

You passed a few more stops and the tired old lady was then replaced with a tall handsome stranger that sat directly across from you. On a regular night you wouldn't pay the other passengers any mind and kept your eyes stuck in your phone, but the man that sat across seemed so intriguing to you.

 His coat was black and seemed like a soft material that kept the wind from coming through and beneath a thick white sweater, he wore dark jeans and black shiny boots that weren't wet nor white from the snow and the salt outside. His hands stuffed in his pocket and he nodded his head to the music playing in through his headphones.

You couldn't keep your eyes off of him, wondering why such a handsome man would be alone on Christmas eve and what was he listening to. There was something about him that made you want to know more about him your curiosity building high like a statue. You peeled your eyes from him trying not to be creepy but just as you looked down you could see the handsome stranger turn his head to look towards you.

 Hesitant you look back up at him and he smiles at you, pulling out his earbud he points to the empty space to the left of you. He doesn't say anything but you shake your head letting him know that you were okay if he sat beside you. Without another second passing he stood up only to plop down again next to you.

"Hi I'm James but my friends call me Bucky" he says extending his hand out to you and you shyly extend your shaking it

"Hello I'm y/n" you say quietly.

"So do you have any plans for Christmas?" he asks

and all though he is a stranger who you had only just learned his name seconds ago you senced a general kindness his voice and replied

"No, I'm probably just gonna sit on my couch and eat junk and watch Christmas movies, you have any plans?"

He chuckled lightly and said

"I'd probably be doing the same actually, so are you from Brooklyn I am, don't you just love Brooklyn in the winter?"

"I am , Born and raised. And actually I do love it it's so beautiful its my favorite time of the year. I love everything about winter, the holidays, the decorations, and I love the snow most of all" you passionately.

Bucky doesn't say anything except he stares at you a few teeth showing from his sideways grin. You looks back at him apologizing

"I'm sorry, I talk to much when it comes to things that I like or when I'm nervous, I just blurt out thing and I don't know when to stop, I just keep going and going and then the other person gets uninterested in what I have to sa... "

"NO.NO.NO That's not it you don't need to apologize it's fine. Why are you nervous?" Bucky asked you

" well because I don't know you and your so handsome I just got nervous" your voice starting to trail off to a whisper.

Bucky smiled at the complaint you really didn't mean to give thanking you he answered back

"Well I think that you are very beautiful and interesting and the way you speak is adorable theres nothing wrong with it".

You start to blush the winter air that gushed into the train from every stop didn't even make you shiver this time. Your cheeks turned dark pink and burned your flesh.

"So why are you alone on Christmas eve?" you ask

"Because I don't have any family here, my parents and sister use to live her but now thier gone." Bucky says.

"My family aren't here either and I don't keep much friends so couch n snacks it is" you joke flashing a small smile at Bucky.

An announcement rang through the train, your stop was next and your heart felt low in your chest.

"That's my stop" you say standing to your feet

"Well it was nice meeting you y/n" he says also standing. You didn't want to say goodbye or end your conversation, you felt a connection with Bucky even though you've known him for only about 30mins.

Soon the train came to a stop and the doors opened letting in another breeze that shot straight through you. You stood frozen at the doorway looking back at Bucky. You didn't move a inch and before you knew it the doors slammed close and the train began to move forward.

"Wasnt that your stop?" Bucky ask confused

"Yeah but I thought riding the train talking to a hot stranger I just meet was more exciting then staying at home". You say laughing a bit at the bit of confidence you gained. Bucky laughed along with you and you two sat back down beside each other. You spent the whole night riding the train, laughing and telling old childhood stories to Bucky. It was the best Christmas eve you've ever had

[serpentupemotions-blog]

Better Than Any Movie Could Ever Be - Reader x Reggie Mantle 

Day two of my week till Christmas uploads! If anyone has any specific Christmas-y requests feel free to send them, I still have a few days where I don’t have a specific story line decided. 

Summary: You and Reggie take a break from your Christmas movie marathon to enjoy the first snowfall of the winter, during which some of the Christmas movie magic spills over into reality. 

Warnings: none

Word count: 1,179

You fight against the heaviness of your eyelids. You were a sucker for Hallmark Christmas movies, and you had even managed to convince Reggie to partake in a Hallmark movie marathon with you. Unfortunately by the fourth movie no matter how much romantic Christmas magic they managed to pack in you were really fighting to stay awake for it.

Your head was resting on Reggie’s shoulder, his arm wrapped securely over your body and your legs curled up underneath you. The two of you had been in some variety of this position all afternoon, in between moving around for snack, drink, and bathroom breaks. Suddenly Reggie jostles you around and just a moment before you start to complain about it he pulls a blanket around you and you realize he had only been reaching for the blanket tossed over the back of the couch.

“No,” you groan playfully, tilting your head to look at him, “now I’m definitely going to fall asleep”

Reggie chuckles and leans down, kissing your forehead gently. “Then sleep if you’re tired,” he whispers.

“And leave you to watch this cinematic masterpiece alone?” you ask playfully, gesturing at the TV as the ever-familiar twinkling sound effects play in the background of a dramatic speech about being a princess plays on the television.

Reggie chuckles and holds you a little tighter, shrugging at the suggestion.

“Oh my god, is tough, manly, football captain Reggie Mantle actually enjoying this movie?” you question teasingly, adjusting your position so you can look at him.

“No,” Reggie says quickly, hesitating a moment before continuing, “maybe a bit, it’s kind of cute.”

You smile and lean up, kissing him gently, “four,” you whisper and he looks at you quizzically.

“Four what?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed.

“It took four movies to get you to admit you like them,” you tell him with a giggle, resting your head against his shoulder.

“The first three were bad,” he tells you, defending the dislike he was pretending to have for all the romantic movies you were always trying to get him to watch.

“Yeah, yeah,” you mutter, rolling your eyes, your fingers fiddling with the string of his hoodie.

You turn your attention back to the movie, watching a scene with an old man trying to set a younger man up on a date. You had seen enough of these movies that you had already figured out the plot of the rest of the movie within the first fifteen minutes. But that didn’t mean you wouldn’t spend the rest of your holiday season watching at least one of these movies a night.

“Y/N,” Reggie says suddenly and you sit up a little, looking down at him with concern at his sudden exclamation of your name.

“What?” you ask, expecting something terrible to come from his mouth.

“Look out the window,” he instructs and you turn your head to the large window, eyes narrowed in confusion until they focus through the glass into the night sky. Under the yellow glow of the street light you can see the falling of snow. The first snowfall of the year.

“It’s snowing,” you whisper, pushing the blanket off your body and crawling out of Reggie’s lap, walking slowly to the window. You press your fingers against the cold glass, eyes focused on the delicate falling of snow, it had already started sticking to the ground. “It’s beautiful,” you add. Reggie’s reflection appears in the glass, standing behind you, arms sliding around your waist, resting his chin on the top of your head.

“It is,” he agrees, “just like you,” Reggie adds.

A smile spreads on your face but you roll your eyes at the cheesiness of it. “That’s very cheesy, Reg.”

“Maybe,” he comments, “but it’s true.”

A couple minutes go by in silence and you soak in the comfort of the moment, Reggie’s warm body wrapped around yours.

“Want to go outside?” you ask.

“Sure,” Reggie chuckles and pulls away from you so the two of you can head for the front door. You didn’t care that it was almost midnight. You both put on your shoes and jackets before heading into the cold night. The air was bitter against your exposed skin, but that doesn’t stop you from skipping out onto the front lawn, throwing your head back and your arms spread wide, spinning around in circles.

You hear Reggie chuckle and you stop, looking over at him. He stays a few feet away from you, out of the way of your whirling arms, his hands jammed into his pocket, shoulders tensed up in cold.

“Reggie,” you whine, stepping over and grabbing his arms, pulling him closer to you, “loosen up, enjoy the first snowfall of the year,” you giggle.

“It’s cold,” he jokingly groans, smiling down at you.

“It wouldn’t be snowing if it wasn’t,” you retort with a playful smirk, stepping closer to him and leaning up on your tip-toes to kiss him. Reggie kisses you back eagerly, taking his hands out of his pockets and sliding them under your jacket, resting on your waist. You pull away from Reggie a couple minutes later, looking into his eyes.

“Y/N,” Reggie says seriously and you swallow heavily. Reggie wasn’t usually a very serious guy, when the two of you had serious conversations it was almost always you who initiated those conversations.

“Yes?” you whisper, your hands resting on his jacket covered arms, his hands still on your waist.

“I love you,” Reggie tells you. The two of you hadn’t said that yet. Love. It was such a small word, truly inconsequential. Yet you two had been together for almost a year and neither of you had gotten the courage to say it, to be the first one. Maybe it was the fear that it wouldn’t be reciprocated. Maybe it was the fear that it would change things. Maybe it was a vulnerability thing, that once you said it out loud, once you admitted it was genuine love then it would hurt more if you had your heart broken.

But none of that mattered, because you were in love with Reggie Mantle. You had been in love with Reggie for a considerable amount of time. Now you were ready to say it out loud.

“I love you too, Reggie,” you say quietly, looking into his eyes, neither of you breaking away from the gaze.

Reggie suddenly lifts you up off the ground, spinning in a circle with you held flush against his body. “That’s the spirit,” you giggle in reference to him needing to have loosened up to enjoy the snowfall.

“I’m sorry if this didn’t live up to all the movies you love so much,” Reggie chuckles, setting you down gently. The snow was beginning to build up and your feet were already feeling like blocks of ice on the snow-covered ground.

“Are you kidding, Reggie?” you ask in disbelief, laughing softly, “confessing our love for each other under the first snowfall of the winter, it’s perfect, it’s better than any movie could ever be.”

Thank-you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! 

Tags: @gruffle1 @sweetpeasbabydoll

[hiraeth-doux]

i am still running

summary: When Barry Allen runs a hundred years into the past to save Diana’s long-lost pilot, he doesn’t know that he is giving her the greatest gift of all.

author’s note: This is a @wondertrevnet Secret Santa gift for @blueincandescence :) I hope I did it justice! Happy holidays!

AO3

1918

“Steve.”

Diana’s voice breaks through the deafening bellow of massive propellers and the roar of blood in his ears, muffled by the wind and the distance between them.

He wavers, for just a moment. Wants to look at her one last time. His throat closes up, his heart so heavy in his chest he doesn’t know how it doesn’t weigh him down to the cold concrete of the airfield that vibrates slightly beneath his feet.

Steve clenches his teeth and surges forward. To look back is to change his mind – he knows it, like he knows that it is not a luxury they can afford. There is no time. If she is who she has been claiming to be all along, if she really can stop this terror then he knows she will, but she can’t be everywhere at once. One of them needs to take care of the deadly gas.

It has to be me.

He has come to this war to make a difference, and he hates that having to choose between Diana and millions of people is the price he must pay for it.

He knows she will understand, though. Knows that she would have done the same thing.

It is the path they have both chosen.

One last burst of effort, and he is climbing into the airplane, fighting his way toward the cockpit. It is easy to move when he has a goal, a clear plan. He tries not to think of Diana, of her disoriented confusion. Tries not to think of the way she looked at him last night, of what her lips tasted like—

Steve sinks into the pilot’s seat, his hands moving on the will of their own as they steer the plane forward, his muscle memory, strong and steady, no match for his scattered mind. For a moment, he can swear he hears her calling his name again, but he brushes the thought off - she is too far away. Must be the wind.

The altitude is making him dizzy, blurring his vision.

The inside of the plane smells of gasoline and metal.

Steve leans back in his seat. He closes his eyes and takes a breath.

He doesn’t think of breaking more promises or wish that things were different for them, but his finger trembles on the trigger nonetheless.

When the fire starts licking at his skin, he thinks of dancing in the snow.

—

2018

The air is fresh.

It is the first thing that Steve notices when his mind swims back to consciousness. It has been so long since he breathed anything but death and blood and gunpowder smoke that despite the fog in his head and dull throbbing in his skull, it is the smell of cold soil and old autumnal grass near his face that snaps him into wakefulness. Even more so than a rock jutting into his shoulder blade.

The other thing is the voice.

“—come on, man. Wake up.” It fades in and out a little, muffled, “God, she’s gonna kill me,” followed by an urgent whisper: “Hey, come on. Steve? Are you Steve?”

There is a tapping on his cheek. And then the other one.

Steve’s chest constricts when he inhales sharply, his lungs expanding as if he’d come up from underwater. He blinks his eyes open, squinting against the brightness of the day even though the sky above him is low and grey.

He is on his back, lying on the cold ground. There is a line of trees to the right from him, blurred in the periphery of his vision; the chilly breeze smells intoxicatingly of snow.

“There you are!” The chipper voice makes him wince a little. “I was starting to get worried–”

He blinks once more, and a face hovering above him shifts into focus. Half a face. Steve’s brows pull together in confusion. There is a man sitting beside him and trying to rouse him - and quite unceremoniously, too. The upper half of his face is hidden under a red mask with some yellow insignia on either side of his head. When Steve looks at him, he breaks into a smile so bright that it is tempting to smile back.

If only he knew what the actual hell was happening to him.

“Look,” he man tones down his enthusiasm. His eyes dart around for a moment or two before he leans closer to Steve, his voice dropping again. “I kinda miscalculated the return point a little bit, but don’t tell Clark. I’ll never live it down.” He makes a face. “Hang in for a little while longer, okay?”

None of this makes any sense. Steve’s eyes drop from the man’s fast-moving lips to his shoulders and then down to his torso, all wrapped in a red suit, tight as a second skin. He tries to think but his brain feels like it is made of jelly, his stomach tied into a queasy knot.

The black sky above Belgium… the plane… Diana.

Headache explodes behind his eyes.

This must be a dream.

“What–” he starts, his mouth dry and his voice croaky. He swallows and wants to try again, but when darkness closes over him once more, he is grateful.

—

There are ten feet and a hundred years between them.

Diana stares at him from across the room in the glass house where the smiley guy who introduced himself as Barry has brought Steve a little while ago. Her face is ashen like she is seeing a ghost, and when she looks at him like that he is not sure he is not one. Even from his spot fifteen feet away from her, he hears her shuddered inhale. His heart drops into his stomach.

The year is 2018, according to Barry and an older man with thin-rimmed glasses sitting on the tip of his nose who opened the door for them when they arrived. A hundred years from the day when he climbed into a German airplane to help Diana stop the God of War from plunging the world into endless chaos. A hundred years that were crumpled and compressed into the few minutes that it took Barry to drag him all the way into the future – Steve chooses not to think of this just yet.

He doesn’t believe that what Barry has told him is true, and Diana doesn’t either, if the look of shock on her face is any indication.

Her eyes roam over his features for several long moments. Someone is talking. There are other people in the room – Barry, the butler whose name Steve missed the first time around, and two other men. If he wasn’t so busy trying to stop his heart from breaking through his ribcage and leaping out of his chest, Steve would probably find it fascinating that the face of one of them if half-covered with a metal plate.

She doesn’t believe that he is real, and he can’t fault her for it. He wants to move toward her, but he is not sure how. Not sure if he can because it has been so long and you can’t walk across time. Yet, he remembers the way she felt in his arms only last night, when the fire went out in the grate without either of them noticing for they didn’t need it. Not when they had one another to keep warm.

The memory is so bright it all but makes him keel over, blood roaring in his ears.

A hundred years…

He stares back.

Diana looks the same but also so strikingly different that Steve is not sure whether to be excited or perplexed, and it is not her hair, slicked back, or her black pants and a fitted long-sleeved shirt – she is dressed like a man but he decides not to dwell on that, or how curious Etta would have been. It is in her eyes, guarded and full of doubt. The Diana he had met on the Paradise Island was starry-eyed and hopeful beyond anything he had ever seen. The woman standing before him now is anything but.

He doesn’t want to know what she has gone through to have the spark that shone brighter than the sun itself grow dim. Not yet.

“Steve,” Diana breathes, and even though her voice is so soft that it barely carries across the space between them, it still feels like a sucker punch that nearly sends him down to his knees.

Steve swallows, hard, and tries to smile. “Hey.”

Someone is speaking. Barry, Steve thinks, but he is not sure. Someone is trying to explain all of this to her. He doesn’t think she is listening; knows he certainly is not. Doesn’t care much for what is being said, either.

All he wants is to look at her, take her in the way he never had a chance to. Before, they were always running out of time.

“Can’t be…” she whispers, shaking her head.

He finds his voice and says, “It’s me.”

A strangled sob rises in her throat. Her hand flies up to her mouth and he watches her face crumple.

“Diana…”

When she slams into him with the full force of an Amazon warrior, he staggers backwards, nearly taking them both down to the floor. Doesn’t care that she has knocked all wind out of him, too relieved, too… everything. He catches her in his arms and gathers her to him, only now realizing that he is shaking all over.

The past hour of his life might have felt like a dream, but this is real. Diana is real. She is warm and solid and so very here. Steve buries his face in the curve of her neck and breathes her in, and god help him, she smells wonderful. Like sunshine and home, and it makes something snap loose inside of him. All the time he has spent holding back – he can’t take it anymore.

“Steve,” she breathes. He feels her lips brush along his jaw ever so briefly. She is saying something, asking something but her voice drowns in a thunderous sound of his heartbeat.

For him, it has only been a few hours, and he still can’t imagine missing her more.

Her hands move over his face, lean fingers skittering over his cheeks, pushing his hair back from his forehead. He can see tears in her eyes, her smile is weak and watery, and the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.

“You’re back,” Diana murmurs, cupping his face in her hands, dark eyes flicking between the blue ones as though she is still waiting for him to disappear like a dream. “I don’t—I don’t understand. I watched you–”

She cuts off, a shadow of anguish crossing her face.

When Steve leans in and kisses her, desperate to wipe the last memory she has of him from her mind, he can feel salt on her mouth – hers or his, he has no idea. She kisses him back, deeply and hungrily, a century of longing poured into one touch, enough to leave him dazed and disoriented and breathless. And so alive he can feel it thrumming in his blood. Diana’s hands push through his hair, her arms wind around his neck and he holds her closer, scared beyond words to lose her again.

She feels the same, tastes the same, and after everything it is almost too much to bear.

Steve makes a mental note to thank the cheerful Barry later, but the thought is fleeting. The room falls away. He doesn’t care for anyone standing there. He is lost in her and he doesn’t want to be found.

—

Everything around them is a blur.

Steve doesn’t remember when everyone leaves, or how, but one moment he and Diana are standing in the centre of what appears to be a living room, the weak autumnal sun inching its way towards the horizon outside, and then it is dark and they are sitting on the floor with their backs against the glass wall overlooking the deck and a lake beyond it. The reading lamp on the side table by the couch is switched on, filling the room with warm light, and while Steve knows that they are not alone in the house, he can’t hear anyone else.

His arm is around Diana and her hand idly traces the collar of his shirt. She can’t seem to stop touching him and Steve doesn’t mind. He hasn’t looked away from her once.

His thick coat and the jacket of his stolen German uniform are draped over the back of one of the chairs, a silent reminder of the collision of time. He is yet to understand how they are going to go about all of this because her brows furrow whenever her gaze drifts to his clothes and it is clear that she is no more fond of those memories than he is. He doesn’t want her to remember.

Steve slides a knuckle under her chin, lifting her face to his, and kisses her again, softly.

“I can’t believe this,” Diana murmurs against his lips.

“Yeah, well….” He lets out a short laugh and shakes his head. “Is it really 2018? I can’t exactly… it’s a hard one to process.”

She smiles, her eyes crinkling at the corners, and his heart slams hard against his ribs. God, he loves her smile. She raises her hand to stroke her thumb along his jaw and nods. “It is.”

He nods, too. “I–” he clears his throat. “I—I’m sorry,” he mutters.

She frowns. “Steve…”

“That night,” he continues quickly, his eyes moving over her face. The same face. It’s been so long… how is it possible? He swallows. “I wasn’t planning to—I didn’t want to—it happened so fast.” He is stuttering and babbling but he doesn’t know how to stop. She is watching him quietly, and he tries to remember what it was that he wanted to tell her but never had a chance to. “I’m sorry for leaving you, Diana. I’m sorry that you had to do this on your own for long. I’m so sorry for—for everything.”

She touches his cheek. “Steve.”

When he looks up, her eyes are kind. He leans closer to her and rests their heads together.

“You’re here now,” she tells him, and he feels the weight of guilt lift off his chest. Just barely, but it’s a start. “There is nothing to forgive.” If it wasn’t for his arm wrapped around her, he is certain he would have flown away.

“I still don’t understand,” he admits, glancing around the room before he turns to her again.

“I will explain, I promise.” Diana runs her fingertips down his cheek and Steve covers her hand with his, turning into her touch to kiss her palm. “I will tell you everything you want to know.”

He nods once more.

He has questions, so many of them, but they all fade in comparison to the enormity to what has happened to him, to them. A chance he has never dared to hope for. Everything he has ever wanted right there, his for the taking. They have known each for one week - and a hundred years - and his heart feels so full that he can hardly breathe.

“Diana,” he starts, unsure where he was going with it. His thoughts are a jumbled mess, and she is watching him, her gaze full of wonder, making him forget how to think.

She is so beautiful, and because he doesn’t know what else to say, he says just that.

She smiles. Her hand curls over his jaw. “I missed you,” she says softly.

Steve feels the corners of his mouth tug upwards. “I missed you, too,” he confesses, which sounds odd and silly – he is not the one who has spent a century without her – and it makes her laugh a little.

He reaches behind her to pull the elastic band off of her hair and it cascades down her shoulders. She doesn’t stop him as he threads his fingers through the heavy mass, soft and smooth against his skin.

She presses a kiss to the side of his chin and rests her forehead against his again. “You look good for a 136-year old,” she tells him.

Steve laughs. “And how old are you, again?” He teases. They are quiet for a few moments, content in the comfort of each other’s presence.

After a while, he takes a breath, bracing himself for whatever comes next. “So, where do we go from here?” He asks, yearning for her answer and scared of it all at once. He would have done anything for her, anything to be with her, but a hundred years is a long time, and he doesn’t want to presume, not even after—

A void opens up between them. A hundred years feel like forever.

“What do you want to do, Steve?” Diana asks.  

He watches her watch him as he searches for words.

He is a man who infiltrated Ludendorff’s circle, a man who walked – well, rode – into the German High Command like it was nothing, a man who climbed into a plane packed to the brim with poisonous gas and flew toward his death. He has done all that, and yet he has never been more terrified than he is right now. No one has ever told him that baring his heart and soul before someone he loves could feel so paralyzing.

Diana is still waiting, the pause stretching between them.

Steve twists a strand of her hair around his finger. He swallows. “I want—I want to do everything we didn’t get to do… the first time around,” he says, hoping against all hope that those are the right words. “To pick up where we’ve left off.”

“I would like that,” she whispers. “I would like that very much.”

She stands up and offers him her hand, “Come with me.”

Steve grabs onto it like it’s a lifeline and he is a drowning man and she is his salvation. Always has been.

He follows her through the quiet house and down the hallway to the last door on the left. She pushes it open and steps into the dark room, pulling him inside after her. She closes the door and turns around. Her hands reach for him, smoothing over the planes of his chest like she still can’t quite accept that he is standing right there, made of flesh and blood.

Steve lets her, watching her brows furrow ever so slightly, barely resisting the urge to smooth that frown out with his thumb.

“Diana…”

She takes a shaky breath and looks up to meet his eyes.

“You must be tired,” she whispers as she lifts her hand to touch his hair near his temple.

“Not that tired,” he says, his mouth suddenly dry because he doesn’t quite believe that he is real either, or that she is, or anyone else in the house, in this time. It felt so much more different with the smiling Barry and the rest of them around. Here, alone with her, the air feels charged and thick, filled with unsaid words and promises he never got to keep.

Her fingers curl over fistfuls of his shirt and she pulls him to her. When she kisses him, there is a different kind of hunger, different kind of longing to her touch than before. The one that coils his belly into a tight knot and sets his blood on fire. It demands and claims and consumes, and Steve is happy to oblige and surrender. He is breathing her like she is the air, the light, the everything.

“Are you sure?” He rasps when he comes up for air, his head swimming and her eyes the one thing he can see.

Diana doesn’t hesitate. “I am.”

Later, he sleeps at last, his arms wrapped tightly around her body, their legs tangled together, his mind at peace. And for once, for the first time since the war consumed them, he doesn’t dream.

—

The world is a mess.

So much more of a mess than Steve could ever have imagined. It leaves his mind reeling.

He has always prided himself on being adaptable, on coping well with changes, but that was before the reality of the future slammed into him like a freight train. There is no keeping up with it now, no taking his new life in stride. There is only holding on with all his might and praying that he is not thrown off at the next curve.

And boy, oh boy, are there many of those.

Diana tells him the truth. About herself and Ares and the secrets that her mother kept close to her heart for longer than mankind remembered itself. There is an edge to her voice when she speaks Hippolyta’s name and it catches in her throat, and Steve knows that the wound is still open and bleeding. That it might take another century for it to heal.

She tells him about the Justice League, too, and while he is fascinated, by the time she is done talking he has realized that he is not surprised it’s where he path took her. It’s in her blood. He can’t imagine her standing aside and watching the world burn. It’s a bittersweet feeling, too – pride mixed with understanding that she has had a whole life that he wasn’t and never will be a part of.

Steve thinks of her first day in his world, on the streets of London, curious and determined and taken aback by just about everything around her. Now she belongs here more than he does, and he has yet to wrap his mind around that.

The regret quells when he sees the fond look on her face, hears affection in her voice when she speaks of the other members of her team. In the few days that he has known them, he has grown to understand the sentiment, and if nothing else, he is happy that she has found her place.

“So, you guys are saving the world, huh?” He muses with a smile when she falls silent.

Diana shakes her head. “We are doing our best to keep peace,” she corrects, suddenly wistful. “The world can’t be saved, Steve. Not when it is set on the path of destruction, not from itself. But we can protect it—try to protect it when nobody else will.”

He doesn’t know how to respond to that. His instinct is to reassure her but even in his mind, the words sound empty. He knows better than to feed them to her.  

One day, Steve thinks, he will ask her to tell him about the darkness she has seen and walked through, but the scars are too raw yet. He can see it in her eyes, hear it in her voice; she carries it inside of her like he does his own. Too raw and too tender to the touch, and it is not the pain that he wants to bring back.

They have time, he reminds himself, and lets the subject rest for now.

—

The world is a mess, and Steve has never felt more like a fish out of water before.

He is a little amused and a little insulted when Barry asks him if he knows what a refrigerator is. After all, 1918 wasn’t that long ago. But then Diana has to go back to Paris and he follows – there is no question about whether or not he would. He would have followed her to the edge of the world if she so wished, eagerly and gladly.

The feeling is thrilling and exhilarating and terrifying all at once.

In Steve’s memories, Paris is the city filled with pain and people trying to escape the horrors of the war. The city of hospitals for the injured and a refuge for people running away from the terrors of the front. He remembers grey streets and grey faces, the whole place a smudge in his mind like someone ran an eraser over a pencil drawing. It used to smell of dust and smoke and desperation, bleak image with bleak future.

Diana’s Paris is nothing like that. It is bright and colourful and loud. God, so loud. It sets off his inner alarms and makes him look over his shoulder more often than not. It is packed with locals and tourists, cars honking and cameras flashing. Even in the late November, with its endless rains and cutting winds, it is bursting with life.

Steve tries to match those two Parises together in his head and fails, relieved that hers is nothing like what he feared it might be and scared that it is yet another piece of puzzle that doesn’t quite fit, and might never do. Once again, he thinks of Diana stepping into his world for the first time, his life alien and wild to her. And he wonders if she felt just as lost then as he does now, or if it is different for him because he is looking instinctively for something familiar but comes up empty each time?

Her home is an obstacle course that he needs to navigate with the care and precision of a trained soldier. His boot camp has nothing on Diana’s kitchen with its shiny appliances that confuse and terrify him more than an army of angry Germans. He doesn’t understand why a stovetop needs so many settings, and apparently there is absolutely nothing like a ‘smart’ phone to make a person feel irrevocably dumb.

Steve is not used to feeling so helpless, so hopeless. So out of control.

“You know that I don’t care about whether or not you can use the toaster, right?” Diana asks him one night.

“A waffle-maker,” Steve corrects, frustrated. He has figured out the toaster, thank you very much.

She presses her lips together and tries not to laugh, earning a glare from him in response.

“I almost set your kitchen on fire,” Steve grumbles under his breath.

“That’s what we have a fire extinguisher for,” she points out, amused.

He hums noncommittally and shakes his head, looking away.

A moment later, her arms slide around his waist and she presses close to him. She rests her chin on his shoulder and a shuddered breath stutters unevenly from his chest. He curls his hands around her forearms, thumbs brushing over her wrists.

“And it is our kitchen,” Diana adds – something the she has said before but the sense of belonging hasn’t quite settled yet. Being adrift for so long, he wonders if it ever will. She presses a kiss to his shoulder, warm even through the fabric of his shirt. “Steve?”

“Hm?”

“What if it was me?”

He half-turns to her. “What?”

“After the war, if you—” she falters for a moment.

They never talk of the before, dancing artfully around the subject of his demise that didn’t quite happen, but also did. Sure, they have spoken about Charlie and Etta and Sameer and Chief, trading the stories from his time with them and hers, but there is a wall around that night, an unspoken agreement to never take it down. She is treading carefully along it now, balancing on the edge of it, and there is a tug in his stomach when she comes close to falling over.

“If it worked out differently and you lived, would it have mattered to you that I didn’t know a thing about your life?” She asks quietly.

He thinks of her on the boat, telling him that London looked hideous, in Selfridge’s under Etta’s watchful eye, in the council – equally fascinated and shocked, and his lips twitch a little, the irony in the reversal of their roles not lost on him. He remembers his own amusement and exasperation, their race against time and his desire to slow it down.

“No, of course not,” Steve says decisively. He turns around in the circle of her arms, feeling his shoulders relax, tension draining out of tight knots of his muscles. Diana nuzzles into him, tucking her face into the curve of his neck, her breath warm on his skin, and he wraps his arms around her. “Never.”

“Then why should it matter to me?”

He huffs, unable to argue with his own reasoning.

Some spy, he muses. If he allowed himself to be cornered like that on a mission, he’d be dead within a day. But, as it turns out, that’s the effect Diana has on him. Instant and absolute surrender.

It’s not about that, though. It’s not the coffee machine or her laptop that make him pause in his tracks and do a double-take at his new life. Not the new clothes that fit right but still occasionally make him feel like he is wearing someone else’s persona. He can’t say it, won’t say it, but there are still moments when he is acutely aware of the abyss between them. The one that’s always been there and might always remain.

He has yet to understand by grace of what gods did he get someone like her to love someone like him.

She is a princess and a goddess with a heart of gold. She could have had anything, anyone, and this is not something Steve takes lightly; she could have this whole world at her feet. There is never a moment when he feels like he needs to prove something to her, that he needs to earn her love and affection, but part of him still wants to know that he is worthy, and there are times when it’s not that simple.

But she is right, too. If their situation was reversed, he wouldn’t have cared for a moment. He would have wanted to be with her and he would give himself to her without hesitation. His heart – a little worse for wear but still beating, his soul – a little tired and frail around the edges, his mind and body, and everything in between.

“I love you,” he whispers into her ear.

Never tires of saying it.

—

Steve stops looking for reasoning.

Somebody told him once, a long time ago, that you don’t love someone because of their good qualities but despite their bad ones. Steve knows now that it is bullshit. He doesn’t love Diana because she is generous and kind and full of light, or because she makes his heart beat at a different pace. And he doesn’t love her in spite of her uncompromising stubbornness and impulsiveness.

He just does – because he can. Because he is lucky to have her.

He stops trying to justify it in his mind because it is not a rabbit’s hole he wants to jump into. And more importantly, he no longer feels like he needs to.

He is still learning and it’s infuriating at times. It is not just the technology and the settings on the washing machine that won’t ruin his new clothes. It is everything. The world is made of new rules – how to speak, how to act, how to be. It is a process of trial and error, and there are moments when he needs to remind himself to take a breath. The future is not going anywhere.

He likes Netflix and hates crossword puzzles because everything has changed and he doesn’t know any answers anymore. They invented a new world and gave birth to new people while he didn’t exist. How the hell is he supposed to know who the 39th President of the United States was? When did they get so many of them? Before he died, they were only on the 28th. He likes the cars and doesn’t quite appreciate Indian food that is too spicy for his palate. He does understand the concept of inflation but every trip to the supermarket feels like being robbed in broad daylight.

“We can afford some strawberries, Steve.” Diana picks the crate that he tries to shove back into the fridge and puts it into their cart.

She bites her lip around a smile, and he feels his face grow hot.  

Just looking at the price tags is making him mildly sick.

“You could eat for a week on that,” Steve mutters under his breath but doesn’t try to remove anything else from the cart. She will probably send him to wait for her in the car if he does, he suspects, and chooses not to mention that strawberries are not even in season.

Diana shakes her head, her expression sympathetic. “Not anymore, I’m afraid. Not for a while.”

He huffs through his nose.

She loops her arm through his while he ignores an older lady with a young girl giving them curious looks.

Half the time, he can’t help but feel like he is drowning in information that seem to come easily to everyone but him.

He learns not to ask questions when he is not ready for answers.

—

The snow falls two weeks later, thick flakes that come late at night and turn the world outside the bedroom window into something enthralling and surreal.

Steve is sprawled half over her, his head on Diana’s chest and her arms wrapped around him, his breathing yet to be found. He can feel her fingers thread through his hair, damp with sweat, her heart hammering away in earnest into his ear.

He tries to shift his weight off of her. “I’m heavy,” he slurs, utterly spent, but Diana tightens her hold on him.

“I like it,” she whispers into his hairline and he doesn’t have it in him to protest. Not when there is a smile in her voice and he is too boneless to move.

He likes feeling every inch of her body with every inch of his. Can’t get enough of her.

There is still an edge of desperation to her touch sometimes – like she can’t hold him close enough, like she is scared that he might slip right through her fingers. Steve is not afraid of losing her, not really. Not the same way she had lost him for a hundred years. But he is, too, because she is the best thing that has ever happened to him and he doesn’t trust it to last. Doesn’t trust whatever powers-that-be that spin the wheel of fortune high above them and dictate their fates not to screw him over. It has happened before, after all, and he wouldn’t be surprised.

However, that is not to say that he doesn’t trust Diana. He trusts her more than anyone in all of creation and part of him knows that he should be wary of it, but he is not. She sees right through him when even he wants to look away. She takes him apart and puts him back together without losing even the small parts in the process, and somehow in the end he is a better version of himself than he was before. She calls him out on his bullshit but so does he, without hesitation, and sometimes it feels like a balance.

Other times, it makes him want to laugh.

They will both have to figure this out one way or another eventually, but he is not in a hurry. Truth is, he wouldn’t have minded spending forever doing just that.  

“Like Veld,” Diana says quietly when he starts to doze off, snapping him back into wakefulness.

Steve focuses on the snow storm. He feels her sigh against him and holds her closer still.

“Do you remember Veld?” He asks. Can’t help but ask. Can’t help but ask so many things.

The memory is strikingly bright in his mind, every word, every touch seared into his brain for the rest of eternity. But, technically, it has only been three weeks for him. It has been a century for Diana. He wouldn’t have faulted her memory for getting blurry.

He feels her hand move through his hair once more. “I do.”

“What do you remember?” Steve traces a pattern over her shoulder with his fingers as the whiteness outside grows nearly absolute.

“Charlie singing,” Diana whispers, smiling.

“Somewhat off-key,” Steve adds with a chuckle, a low sound rumbling in his chest.

She laughs a little and he feels the curve of her lips when she brushes a kiss to his forehead. “Us dancing,” she continues.

“Swaying,” he corrects her like she did back then.

“Swaying,” she echoes, amused. “The room above the inn…”

This time, when Steve pulls back and props himself up on his elbow, Diana doesn’t stop him. His gaze trail over her face. He brushes her hair from her cheek, so drunk on her he can’t think straight.

“Yeah?” He smiles.

She grins back at him, and then laughs, her eyes crinkling, and the sound of it makes his heartbeat stutter and trip in his chest.

Talking about the past makes him realize how fleeting the present could be, and how uncertain the future is, no matter how carefully they plan it. There are reasons why this can’t work out, and reasons why it will. He decides that Diana’s smile belongs with the latter category.

Steve wants to live forever because he wants to never forget. Not anything, not a single thing. For other reasons, too, but mostly this, he thinks. Until she kisses him, and he forgets how to think for a long while.

—

Diana doesn’t have a Christmas tree. Doesn’t have a box of mismatched ornaments, either. Never has. All those years in his world, and parts of it are still as alien to her as they were when she first arrived there.  

It comes up during dinner one night and is said in passing, without a hint of wistfulness – it never felt like her place, like her tradition to adhere to or her celebration to enjoy – before she moves on to telling him about her day.

Steve stares at her for a long moment, not quite sure how to feel about it, or what to say. It’s not a big deal, he knows that. In the grand scheme of things, it’s nothing at all. But maybe he could—

Maybe he could–

And just like that, Steve Trevor is a man on a mission again.

The last Christmas he can remember is the one from when he was 9, and his chest constricts with a rueful twitch even though the memory is blurred and frayed and out of focus. He hasn’t thought of that winter in so long that he can barely pull the images from the back of his mind – the candle-lit table and modest but delicious meal, the smell of food rich in his mind, and them sitting together at the table by the fireplace as the storm raged behind snow-frosted windows.

On impulse, he tries to conjure the sound of his mother’s voice but it fades off into nothing. Not even a hint of it left behind.

He wonders where those memories went and what took their place, and what happened before or after that made the magic fade. The war, he thinks. So much of it that for the longest time he didn’t know how anything else would ever fit. Good things, too. Friends and shared moments of connection; belly laughs when good spirit was all they had.

Disappointment cuts through him and he shakes his head, forcing himself to stay focused.

Steve hasn’t thought of Christmas in forever and a half. The war never took a break for celebrations, and besides, when each day they woke up and got to see the sun felt like a miracle, if seemed foolish to consider a holiday something special. Sometimes, he feels like the war has lasted for decades. Like it has never ended.

It is not about Christmas though, he decides in the end. Not really. Not in the general sense of things.

He knows he doesn’t need to earn Diana’s love any more than she needs to earn his – and god help him, she never did. He has loved her since the moment he met her. Maybe since before then even – he can no longer remember not feeling the burning tightness of it in his chest, the force of it thrumming in his veins. But it doesn’t mean that he doesn’t want to give her everything, and while laying the world at her feet and fetching each star from the sky might not necessarily be a practical plan, maybe he can start somewhere else.

Somewhere smaller, for now.

Steve has Diana’s credit card. He has only used it on groceries before, and – once – to buy her flowers. And even though she has told him many times that he can, he should, do whatever he wants with it, he has never taken her up on her offer before.

It is burning a hole in his pocket when he steps into the department store and reminds himself to breathe. The place is loud. It’s packed and full of colour and it sets him on edge (because apparently you can take a man out of the war but you can’t take the war out of a man). It makes him want to turn around and retreat to safety, wherever that might be.

Yet, there is no gunfire outside and no planes in the sky dropping bombs on the city. When hi heartbeat settles, he realizes that it is excitement that surrounds him, and so he squares his shoulders and marches on, wishing he’d made a list and worried that he will forget something.

“Is there something in particular you’re looking for?” A sales assistant whose name tag reads Jen asks Steve when she finds him gaping at the shelves and trying to wrap his mind around the choices that he doesn’t know how to make.

He blinks at her. “Huh?”

Is there?

The list would have been handy right now.

He thinks of Diana and the things that she likes – books with deep meaning but also comic strips in the morning paper and strong tea on cold nights, she likes breakfast food and wearing his shirts and having her hair down, and she really likes that thing that he does with his tongue—

Not helping.

Not helping at all.

Steve clears his throat, feeling the back of his neck grow hot.

Maybe he does need some help, just this once, because he has never felt this out of time in his life, and there is a very good chance that it will take him another hundred years to get used to the world that is no longer his, but he doesn’t have a hundred years. He only has two days.

—

He would have been surprised if everything went as smoothly as he planned so of course it doesn’t.

Steve is a decent enough cook as long as basic survival is concerned – he can assemble a mean sandwich, pour milk into cereal without spilling it, and no one makes those instant noodles like he does, hands down. However, cooking a meal is not the same thing, and even though he is fairly certain that is it not a complete disaster – hey, at least the kitchen is not on fire! – he is sceptical about the overall result.

He is debating the dilemma of lumps in mashed potatoes and whether or not it’s worth giving that mixer thing another try when Diana comes home earlier than he expected, pink-cheeked and with the snow melting on her wool coat.

He hasn’t noticed that it started again.

She is early and he hasn’t cleaned the cooking counter yet and the roast is going to need another half hour in the oven, provided he figured out how to use the damn thing correctly, and even though he knows that none of this has to be perfect – because nothing and no one is, except maybe for Diana herself but she would never agree with him if Steve told her that – he still wishes that he had more time.

For a long moment, Diana stands frozen in the doorway, her hand on the knob, her eyes moving over the Christmas tree that takes up the whole corner, adorned with bright ornaments that don’t look quite like those that Steve’s mother kept in the box that always made him think of pirates and hidden treasures, but they are shiny and pretty and, dammit, he tried his best. She takes in fairy lights strung around the room and two rather tacky-looking socks hanging over the fireplace and more ornaments that he attempted to be creative with.

(There is a present for her in one of the stockings, too. The best idea he could come up with on such a short notice that he didn’t have to pay for with her own money. It’s a braided leather bracelet that Chief made for him a while ago. He called it a good luck charm, and while Steve didn’t believe in luck, never had, he carried it with him. Perhaps because he has always believed in friendship and gratitude above all else.  

He found it in the pocket of his pants the morning after Barry brought him back, the only thing he still had from his own time, aside from his father’s watch.

There is not much else he can give her, except for his heart maybe, but she already has it so a bracelet will have to do.)

“Steve,” Diana breathes, turning to him, and he is suddenly very aware of her apron that he is wearing and the flour on his hands and how half the kitchen is a mess while the other half is only a step above it.

“I thought you had a meeting,” he blurts out the first thing that comes to his mind, and grimaces when it comes out like he doesn’t want her there. Because he does. He always does.  

She smiles. “I cancelled it. It’s the last day before the holidays, I sent everyone home early.”

He nods and glances around in panic, his mind racing. He turns back to her and clears his throat.

“It was meant to be a surprise,” he confesses.

Diana presses her lips around a smile. “So I see.”

“You weren’t supposed to be here yet,” he adds.

“I figured.”

She steps into the apartment and closes the door, pausing for a second to notice a wreath framing the peephole. (Steve still can remember how they used to make those themselves but now one could buy a hundred wreaths of any shape and colour like it’s nothing, and for some reason, it is mildly disorienting.)

He fumbles with the apron belt until he can yank it off and tries to smooth down his hair—and great, now there is flour in his hair, too. Smooth, Trevor. Very smooth. This is not how it was supposed to happen, he thinks. He had it planned out, and…

And he doesn’t care about any of that, not one bit, because Diana crosses the hallway and walks over to him. She shrugs off her coat and drapes it over the back of the chair – and he catches the fresh scent of winter clinging to her clothes - before dipping her finger into a bowl of sauce he has been working on when she walked in.

“This is good,” she tells him after licking it clean.

Steve gapes at her, his jaw slack. She bites her lip, trying not to laugh, and it is suddenly more than he can handle. He reaches for her, his fingers curling around her hips to pull her closer until there is no space and no air left between them, and then he kisses her like it’s been months and not mere hours since the last time he did just that.

Diana kisses him back, her hands winding into his hair.

“You didn’t have to do so this, Steve,” she murmurs against his lips when he pulls back.

He rests his forehead against hers and traces his thumb along her cheekbone. “I wanted to.”

She smiles at him. “It smells wonderful.”

Steve makes a face. “Don’t say that until you’ve actually tried it,” he warns, his voice self-deprecating. “That… um, Google thing wasn’t very helpful, if I’m being honest.”

He feels her nails scratch through his hair at the nape of his neck. “You’re a marvel,” Diana whispers, shaking her head a little, and kisses him again.

—

They eat, and even though there could be fewer lumps in mashed potatoes and the roast could have used some more seasoning, it is not half as bad. So much so that Steve can’t help but feel all puffed-chest proud because everyone starts somewhere, and having a room to grow is not something to be ashamed of.

He can take a rifle apart and put it back together in his sleep, he survived the war – or almost did, at least; he is yet to figure out how to factor Barry’s assistance into the narrative – but up until a few hours ago he was someone who Charlie once labelled as “a man who can’t fry an egg to save his life”. The roast feels like an accomplishment. (So what if the apple pie is store-bought?)

Intrigued, Diana offers to help, but he waves her off, determined to finish what he has started. It’s the least he can do.

They eat with the music playing in the background, and Steve watches her in the candlelight with fairy lights twinkling above them, a small smile on her face. And he thinks that he would travel across a thousand years to fall in love with her all over again if he had to. If he could.

When he pulls out the bracelet, recognition sparks in Diana’s eyes. Recognition and understanding when she touches soft, worn leather, old memories flaring up in her mind. He watches them chase across her expression, her features softening.

“Steve.” She looks up at him, her thumb tracing the curves of the delicate braid.

She hasn’t known his friends like Steve knew them, but so can be said about him, too. All those years that she spent with them after the war…

He is suddenly very aware of the thread connecting them – with each other and with the past. Something that runs deeper than anything he has ever felt. Something that, he suspects, will still be there long after they are both gone.

“I know it’s not much…” Steve starts and trails off.

Truth be told, he knows nothing about current trends and fashions, or what one could give to a woman who seems to already have everything, and that’s the problem – there is so much that he wants to give her, but he is only a man. The only who loves her desperately and unapologetically, hoping and praying that it’s enough.

Diana is shaking her head. “It’s beautiful,” she assured him earnestly. “It’s–”

“From Chief, yeah,” he nods.

“I don’t have anything for you,” she says as he affixes it around her wrist.

She touches his cheek with her other hand, and when he raises his eyes, he finds her watching him, her expression odd in the way he can’t read. There are still moments like this sometimes, when she looks at him like she can see into his soul, and he wonders if she can find there something that she might not like.

He has never wanted to share more of himself with anyone than he does with her. He has never been more scared to do so, too.

“I have you,” he says simply, moving closer and reaching up to tuck a piece of her hair behind her ear as he tries to bottle up the contentment that he feels around her so he can remember it for as long as he breathes. Knowing what Diana is and what she is capable of doesn’t make it easy for him to believe in magic, not entirely, but this moment - with the fire crackling in the grate and the smell of pine and cinnamon heavy in the air and the snow falling outside - is as magical as it can be. “What else can I ask for?”

“Flatterer,” she says, breaking into a smile so bright that it unravels the tight knot in his chest and he laughs before dipping his head to press his mouth to hers. She tastes of sugar and wine as she kisses him back, her hands on either side of his face.

He could do this forever, Steve thinks. Every day for a thousand lifetimes.

—

“Why would you do it?” Diana asked Barry the morning she and Steve left Gotham, their bags piled in the corner and Bruce yelling from the Batcave that the weather was about to turn for the worse and they should get going.

Barry stuffed his hands deep into the pockets of his pants and looked down at his socked toes. Mismatched, Diana noted as she watched the tips of his ears turn red.

“I saw the photo,” he told her, grimacing a little, and her heartbeat stuttered in her chest.

She never knew he could do that, run faster than time itself, and even if she did, she would never have asked him to do this. Not for her, not for anyone else, not any more than she would have used her own powers for personal gain. And here he was, standing before her and looking like he was about to get chastised for giving her the greatest gift Diana could ever imagine.

Affection pooled in her chest, her throat tight with emotion.

“Barry…”

“And the watch,” he added quickly, looking up to meet her eyes. “That time, in the Batcave, you had that watch… which I assumed was his because it was all old and ugly—sorry,” he catches himself, “and I just–” he ran his hand over his hair, shrugging a little.

As if it explained everything.

As if it explained anything at all.

She smiled and moved toward him, wrapping her arms tightly around him, his body stiff for a moment because apparently the gesture came as a surprise. “Thank you,” she whispered into Barry’s ear as a bout of Steve’s laughter carried from the lounge. “Thank you for bringing him back to me.”

The memory feels weirdly old now.

It is impossible to believe that it has only been several weeks since he ran all the way back to 1918 to pull Steve out of the plane seconds before it went up in flames. Since Steve smiled at her from across Bruce’s living room and made a hundred years that had passed since that fateful night a century ago fall away, her time without him feeling like nothing but a faint dream.

There are still moments when she can feel his absence like a gnawing tug in the pit of her stomach, a chill running through her system when she least expects it. There are times when she wakes up in the dead of the night certain that it has all been an illusion. But the pain is not as sharp. It no longer takes Diana’s breath away or leaves her gasping for air, and all she has to do is roll over and reach for him to get all the reassurance that she needs that he is really and truly back.  

The process is slow, but she is healing.

On Christmas morning, the world outside is quiet and white. Steve is in the kitchen, making hot cocoa for them – like they used to do in his family. With marshmallows – because he knows that she likes it that way. He is humming under his breath, and Diana smiles despite herself watching him from the doorway, her hands itching to smooth down his rather epic bedhead, his hair sticking out in every which way.

Last night, they did a puzzle, a thousand pieces strewn over the coffee table, and talked late into the night. They drank wine and danced to the melodic ballads about finding love and the miracles that happen on snowy nights. And then he took her to bed and made her forget what it felt like to be without him. Until her world was nothing but him.

Diana runs her index finger absently over the bracelet still wrapped around her wrist. She feels magic thrumming through it, ancient magic that has existed since before her time and will still do when there is no trace of her left in this world. And she wonders if Chief knew. If he knew to keep Steve safe until his time came to return to her. And she says a silent thank you to whatever gods that made it happen, to the stars that needed to align just the right way.

Steve turns around, two mugs filled to the brim in his hands with marshmallows bobbing on the surface. When he spots her, he smiles, and her very soul unfurls in her chest, taking up the space carved out by loneliness and heartache.

He puts the mugs down and walks over to her, his arms sliding around her waist. His grin is cheeky when he glances up, and Diana has a split second to follow his gaze and notice a sprig of mistletoe above their heads before his mouth captures hers.

When he kisses her, she feels safe. Like being lost and finding her way back to where she belongs.

“Merry Christmas,” Steve whispers when he leans back, and she can’t help but smile, her heart so full it might burst.

“How many of those did you put around the house, Steve?” She asks because it’s not the first mistletoe she’s come upon and she doubts that it’s the last one, either.

Not that she minds it, all things considered.

“Hey, it’s a tradition,” he protests without answering her question. “It’s what people do…” when they have no wars to fight. He trails off, and she feels like she is drowning and soaring all at once.

Man’s world finally feels like home.  

[chogiwakeupsheeple]

EXO’s Chen; Fool’s Holiday

Genre: Fluff      Pairing: Chen x Reader      Words: 857

Wrap me up like a present and throw me away and when it gets cold I'll be yours. Do not open til you've got forever to spend with me on a fool's holiday

Dear Y/N,

I would have written you an actual letter as that would have been more romantic, however you probably wouldn’t receive it before spring so I’ll settle for a (very long) text message instead. Just keep in mind that the thought was there. I know I haven’t been the best boyfriend, I’ll be the first to admit that, especially in these stressful times. I know how much you want to love Christmas but can’t allow yourself to do so because of how far away your family is. Each year when I see you walk off to the post office to send the gifts you’ve bought them, I notice how heavy your steps are and how sad your gaze is. I, however, never confronted you about it as I should have. I let you put up this facade of being happy and in the Christmas spirit instead of asking you to show me the truth - I’m sorry for that. I know what it feels like not to be able to celebrate this special time with your family but as years moved on, I learned something valuable that I want to share with you. By spending Christmas with the idiots I call my colleagues I realised that even if my family wasn’t there, I could still celebrate it with those I love. And Y/N, I love you - I know you love me too (hopefully). So look outside the window (as soon as you see this message please, it’s very cold outside) and hopefully you will be joyous instead of ho ho horribly sad this Christmas.

Yours forever,

Jongdae

Lucky for your ridiculously cute boyfriend, you read the message almost as soon as it had been sent. You couldn’t help a large smile growing on your face as you read his words before moving to the window as instructed. Snow was gently falling down the sky before covering the streets in a soft, white blanket and right there on said street stood your boyfriend. Or, not just your boyfriend - your boyfriend wearing a large, red bow around his abdomen while standing next to a lit up Christmas tree. As soon as he spotted your wide-eyed figure standing in the window, he started waving enthusiastically with a bright smile. A few people walked past him while laughing and whispering to each other, but he didn’t seem to care at all; his eyes were glued to you. You tried mouthing ‘‘what are you doing?’‘ to him, but his response was simply putting a hand to his ear, signalling he didn’t understand. You grabbed your phone yet again and texted the question instead. You could practically hear his exclamatory ‘‘oh!’‘ when he read the message but he didn’t text back. Instead, he redirected his gaze to you and waved for you to come down. You wasted no time grabbing your coat and practically tumbled down the stairs in excitement like a child rushing to open presents; perhaps the only difference was that Santa didn’t deliver this one.

Once you reached the street you were met with a pair of arms dragging you into a warming hug. You barely felt the snow landing on your skin over your heart melting from his gesture. ‘‘What’s all this?’‘ you asked with a laugh as you pulled away from the hug. ‘‘Well,’‘ he began as he took a look at the tree, ‘‘it’s a pine I think.’‘ You playfully slapped his shoulder in response but then you noticed something strange - he was nervous. You had been together with Jongdae long enough to notice all of his little, nervous habits and he was exhibiting all of them at that moment. He seemed to notice that you noticed and tried to hide it with another smile; you saw right through it though. ‘‘Actually Y/N, I had a reason for doing all this’‘ he explained.

‘‘Jongdae... Why are you so nervous?’‘ you asked as you placed a hand on his arm for comfort. He muttered a silent ‘heregoesnothing’ before taking a deep breath and locking his loving eyes with yours.

‘‘Y/N,’‘ he began while grabbing both your hands, ‘‘I love you and while I know I’m not always the best boyfriend and I annoy you at times I hope you won’t put me on your naughty list. If I could, I would give you a present for every mistake I’ve ever made and I’d decorate the city with cheesy song lyrics I’ve written just for you. I guess what I’m trying to say with all this and what I intended with the text message is that... This Christmas I want to celebrate it with someone I deeply love, and that person isn’t my girlfriend-’‘

Jongdae let go of your hands in favour of pulling something small out of his pocket. He looked down at the ground and it became evident that he had forgotten all about the snow when coming up with this plan. He, however, still got down on one knee and opened the small box he had retrieved, revealing a beautiful ring. 

‘‘-That person is my wife, so Y/N, will you marry me?’‘

[firelxdykatara]

Day 2: Hidden Identities

So this is a day late, but hopefully not a dollar short! (lol kill me my jokes suck) ANYWAY, this is for Day 2 of @thirtydaysofzutara and was heavily inspired by @artcraawl‘s amazing Zutara Mulan AU pictures. Some of it is directly from the movie, some is embellished, anyway I hope it’s a fun read, as I certainly had fun writing it!

---

“I don’t know if I can do this, Tui.”

Katara gave one more half-hearted tug, but her father’s sword remained stubbornly embedded in the tree’s trunk. With a sigh, she flopped to the ground, thumping her fists against the hard-packed soil in frustration. Her companion, a silver dragon-lizard with impossibly black eyes, scurried up the tree and perched on the flat of the blade, tugging gently, but to no avail. “It’ll come out! You just have- to be- persistent!”

With a final tug, the lizard slipped from the blade and fell to the ground. Katara pushed herself up on her elbows with a groan. “I’ve been persistent! It’s not working! I haven’t even been able to get that stupid arrow out of the pole.”

“No one else has, either,” Tui pointed out, curling her tail over her shoulder and rubbing a spot of dirt from her scales.

“That’s not the point.” Katara sat up and pushed herself to her feet.  “They belong here. They don’t have to prove anything.”

“Neither do you, as far as they know.”

“Sure, and what happens when they find-”

“Who are you talking to, Tak?”

Katara froze. Tui scampered into the bushes with an alarmed squeak, and the moment stretched uncomfortably, as the woman tried desperately to convince herself that voice belonged to someone—anyone­—else. It didn’t work; she was pretty sure she could feel his amber gaze burning holes into her back.

He had the disconcerting ability to make her feel like he could see right through her façade—through the warrior she was trying to be, to the scared, homesick girl beneath.

Time sped up again, and Katara turned to look at Zuko, who was standing behind her with his arms crossed and one eyebrow raised.

“Uh…” she began, before realizing her voice was pitched too high, coughing to cover it up. “No one! I’m just, talking to… myself…” She trailed off, rubbing the back of her neck with one hand (mostly to hide the fact that she kept reaching for a lock of hair that just wasn’t there anymore). Her eyes slid to her sword, still sunk into the tree trunk, about the same time Zuko’s did. Disapproval radiated from his lithe form in waves, and Katara had to fight back the nervous laughter that kept threatening to bubble up.

“Oh, this is… I was just training…” she said, grabbing the hilt tightly in both hands. It still refused to move, and she braced herself with one foot on the trunk. Finally, with an almighty yank, the sword came free, and the momentum sent her careening off-balance.

Zuko ducked just in time—the blade passed a hair’s breadth over his head.

“Oops,” Katara muttered, giving a weak chuckle as she clumsily shoved her sword back into its sheath. “Cut it a little close there-” Spirits, Katara, stop talking.

The captain looked less than impressed as he straightened back up, looking at her with some emotion in his eyes that she couldn’t quite describe. Then he sighed, shaking his head. “Pack up.”

Something churned unpleasantly in the pit of her stomach. “What?”

“Go home. You’re through here, Tak. I’ve tried my best, but you just aren’t suited for war—not in my company. And if you’re the best that Chief Hakoda could send in his own stead-” He broke off, squaring his shoulders. “You’d be more of a danger to your own comrades than the Fire Nation soldiers. And I won’t have good men, even you, needlessly killed because they weren’t ready.”

Katara watched as he walked away, trying very hard to keep from noticing the way his muscles had tensed (probably from anger) beneath the thin padding of his training vest. “He’s right. I know he is. But…”

Tui poked her head out of the bushes. “But you want to prove him wrong.”

A wry grimace twisted at her mouth. “I was too willful and stubborn to make a good wife, remember? It must be good for something.”

“So what are you going to do?”

The sun had set, the last of its amber glow receding from the skyline just as the full moon began to peek through the clouds. “I don’t know…” Katara murmured, gazing up at the sky—she traced the moonbeams with her eyes, until she caught one that illuminated the arrow still stuck at the top of that tall, wooden beam.

She could have had it down weeks ago, if she’d wanted to risk waterbending—but it was supposed to be a physical exercise. For all that she was at a disadvantage compared to the rest of the company (not that anyone but Sokka realized it), the last thing she wanted to do was prove herself by cheating. But there had to be some way to get to that arrow. And maybe, if she got it down herself…

 Hours later, the only thing preventing her from screaming in frustration was the fact that Zuko’s tent was only ten feet away. “Come on,” she grunted, taking another running jump at the pole—and, as before, she made it a few feet before falling to the ground in an ungainly heap.

She might have had a better chance at getting higher, if not to the top, if it weren’t for the weights at her wrists. Katara picked herself up for the thousandth time, dropping the weights and dusting herself off. (It was a good thing her family didn’t seem to have the ‘quitter’ gene, or she might have contemplated just leaving, like she’d been told.) She couldn’t help the nagging feeling that there was something about this exercise that was missing, that she just didn’t understand. She picked up the weights again, holding them in front of her, inspecting the etchings in the gold. It was an ancient form of Earth Kingdom script, and she could only make out a few letters.

Somehow, she doubted anyone had carved a cheat sheet onto these things a thousand years ago, anyway.

But as the weights swayed gently on their leather ties, something occurred to her—it was so simple she could almost kick herself for not thinking of it sooner. It was so obvious. It wasn’t just about having to struggle against the weight. It was about discipline and strength—using them to her advantage.

Squaring her shoulders, Katara faced the pole again—this time, when she jumped, she swung the weights, tangling the leather ties together, and she began to climb.

Halfway up, she almost wanted to let go, forget the whole thing. Her arms were screaming in protest, and she kept slipping even as she gained inches in height—sweat was streaming down her face in small rivers, and she could feel her tunic sticking to her back. The cotton binding around her breasts was beginning to itch something fierce. But she had already gotten too far to quit, and so she kept going—gaining inches and losing centimeters, until she could see the top of the pole. She could almost reach out and grab that arrow.

The sun began to peek over the horizon once more, and Katara gasped for breath, her muscles screaming in agony as she grabbed the top of the pole and finally pulled herself up. It was a deceptively wide beam of wood, in fact, and easy enough to perch on was she grabbed the arrow in one tender hand and pulled it free.

It was only when the cheering began that she realized she’d drawn a crowd.

A tired grin crossed her face, and she subtley bent some of her sweat, coating the arrow-head with a thin layer of ice. Just as Zuko’s tent flap opened, she threw the arrow down—it landed with impressive accuracy, thudding into the ground at his feet as he stepped out. He looked up at her, and while it was difficult to tell from how far away she was, Katara almost thought he looked proud.

 ---

 “I’m sorry. About your uncle.” Katara winced inwardly—she kept forgetting to pitch her voice low enough, but Zuko didn’t seem to notice. He was staring at the fire; if he’d heard a word she said, he didn’t indicate it. Which was almost a relief—she wasn’t sure she’d be able to get into a conversation about lost loved ones and not accidentally blow her own cover.

Sokka had been helping as much as he dared, once he’d realized her plan, but there was only so much he could do to keep her from ruining everything with her ‘stupid girly habits’.

Apparently, talking about feelings qualified.

Either way, Zuko clearly wasn’t in the mood for company. Katara turned to go—if she hadn’t already become so tuned to the tenor of his voice, for reasons she couldn’t even begin to explain, she might have missed it entirely when he said, “Thank you, Tak.”

She stopped, glancing back at him—he was giving her at least an attempt at a smile, and it suddenly struck her how very young he looked. Especially for a captain.

He really couldn’t have been more than a couple years older than she was, and it was hard enough for her to manage to keep her own life straight—she couldn’t imagine what it was like trying to lead an entire company.

She opened her mouth to say something else—she wasn’t quite sure what, but since when had thinking ever stopped her from blurting out what was on her mind?—when she heard the screech of a bird of prey high in the sky above them. It sounded familiar, almost… almost like…

She was six years old, and the snow had turned grey from falling ash. Buildings burned, people were screaming and running away, bursts of fire from soldiers in the streets kept illuminating the overcast sky, and Katara couldn’t find her parents.

“Mama!” she shouted, tears streaking through the soot stains on her face, running towards her house. Everything was chaos, but she still knew home. Somewhere, high in the sky, a fire hawk screamed—the little girl could see it circling over her family’s hut, an omen she couldn’t quite comprehend.

When she opened the door, the smell of charred flesh nearly knocked her off her feet. It was-

“The Fire Nation!” Katara heard herself shouting, those last images from her memory still superimposed over her vision, the smell sticking to her all these years later. She wanted to gag, but there was no time. “They’re here! They-“

An arrow whistled through the air and into Zuko’s shoulder as he stood, knocking him flat.

“Zuko!” Katara rushed to his side as more arrows floated into view just over the snowy hilltop—he waved her off, pulling the arrow free with a grunt and clambering to his feet.

“Everyone, get out of their range! Grab the cannons!”

It was pure chaos, after that. Zuko’s company scattered—they grabbed armloads of cannons and their weapons and ran, forcing the Fire Nation soldiers to abandon their high ground advantage if they wanted to do any real damage. Out of range of the arrows was also out of range of their firebenders, and it took everything Katara had not to panic and freeze.

“Sokka!” The relief nearly knocked her over, but she held her ground, grabbing for her brother’s hand and yanking him out of the way of another arrow barrage. “Where’s Zuko? Is he-”

“He’s fine! We need to set up these canons, Tak. Now!”

Their answering barrage sent shockwaves rippling through the ground—when they were down to the last cannon, Zuko appeared behind them. “Hold- we don’t know who’s left. If…”

He trailed off. The smoke cleared, and revealed the bulk of the Fire Nation army still intact on the hillside.

Ozai was at the army’s head. Katara could feel his smug smirk from here.

“Sokka, take that last canon. Hit Ozai, if it’s the last thing you do!” Zuko commanded. “Men- prepare for a fight!”

Katara’s hand went to her sword hilt, but something was still bothering her. Taking out Ozai wouldn’t decimate the Fire Nations forces—they’d keep coming, they’d kill everyone. How many more villages would suffer the way Omashu had? The way her tribe had? The way-

She caught sight of the snow-covered mountain just behind them. They weren’t going to have time to retreat back through the mountain passes to safety, but maybe, if she could only just… She reached, but nothing. Practicing her bending in secret had only gotten her so far, and that snow was too far off. But…

“Give me that!” She pushed Sokka aside and grabbed the cannon. It would work. It had to.

 ---

 Katara was beginning to lose feeling in her arms. She hadn’t realized Ozai’s blade had cut that deep, but now Koda’s saddle was soaked in her blood, and she had barely been able to muster the strength to grab Zuko and pull him to safety.

The avalanche had stilled, snow wiping the last traces of the Fire Nation army away, and Katara finally slid from her horse’s back, stumbling to her knees. Zuko had regained consciousness, and he rushed to her side. “Tak! Are you alright?”

She gripped his arm and pulled herself upright, nodding weakly. “I’m fine, is everyone else-”

“We made it, Tak,” Toph said, affectionately thumping her shoulder. “Thanks to you. That was brilliant.”

The others chimed in, and Katara smiled, for just a moment. And then she collapsed.

When she opened her eyes, she recognized the colors of the medical tent above her cot. For a moment, Katara was dazed, confused—how had she gotten here? Where were Zuko, Sokka and the others? How-

Her clothing had been removed. The breast binding wraps were visible, overlapping the bandages around her abdomen. The doctor was looking at her, perhaps to be sure she was truly awake, but when she opened her mouth to speak, he turned away and left the tent.

Katara sat up quickly, wincing at the tight feeling of the wound in her stomach, wanting to protest—but then Zuko stepped inside, and the words died in her throat.

It was then that she realized her hair was loose—the thick, dark brown waves that just brushed against her shoulders were much more visibly feminine now that she no longer wore them in her father’s hairstyle, and the breast wraps had only been effective at hiding her figure when covered by padding and armour. Now, she felt her cheeks burn as Zuko’s eyes followed her figure, and realized the truth of what the doctor had obviously told him.

“So it’s true,” came Long Feng’s voice as he entered the tent behind Zuko. Where the latter’s gaze was completely unreadable, Long Feng didn’t bother to disguise his disgust. He surged forward, grabbing Katara by the arm and dragging her out of the tent, throwing her into the snow with just her blanket for cover. She fell to her knees before the rest of the company, tears of humiliation freezing to her lashes before they even had a chance to fall.

“A woman,” Long Feng hissed. “A despicable traitor to our great kingdom!”

Toph and Aang stared in shock. Sokka started forward, but Katara shook her head. It was too late for her, but she would not let her brother take the fall, too. “My name is Katara. I only came here to save my father-”

“More lies!” Long Feng insisted, turning to glare at her as Zuko approached. “Devious snake!”

“I never meant for it to go this far!” Her eyes met Zuko’s, and she pleaded with him silently. Please understand. “You have to believe me! I only wanted-”

“Silence!” Long Feng shouted.

Sokka ran forward. “Wait! You can’t do this—she’s my sister!”

“Sokka, no!”

But the damage was done. “You knew about her deception?” Long Feng was practically quivering with rage. “Stand aside, boy, or you will share in this traitor’s fate!”

“Sokka, please-”

He refused to budge. Katara could still see Zuko, staring at the both of them now, sword in hand. He took a step forward, and several gasps ran through the company—Toph and Aang looked ready to rush to their defense, but Long Feng threw his arm out and stopped them. “You know the law!”

For just a moment, Katara met Zuko’s eyes, and thought she saw something flickering in their depths. Something other than anger or disgust. Something warm.

Then it was gone, and Zuko threw his sword to the ground. “A life for a life,” he said, staring down at her. “My debt to you is ended.” Finally, as if only now realizing he was there, Zuko looked at Sokka. “Take her home. Don’t bother coming back.”

He turned on his heel—Long Feng made a noise, as if he were about to protest, but Zuko turned on him with a glower that could’ve melted steel. The advisor finally cowed into silence, he turned to the rest of his men and motioned for them to move out.

 ---

 “You trusted Tak. Why is Katara any different?”

“You stole my victory.” “No! I did!” “… The soldier from the mountain!”

“She’s a woman, and from the water tribes! She’s not worth protecting!”

“I have heard all about you, Katara of the Water Tribes. You followed your brother off to war—stole your father’s armour and ran away from home. You impersonated a soldier, deceived your commanding officer, dishonored the Earth Kingdom, and… you have saved us all.”

 It was… surreal. That was the only way Katara could describe the feeling that overtook her, when she realized that not only was the Earth King bowing, but so was the entirety of Ba Sing Se. As far as the eye could see, citizens were stooping low, and it was all but impossible to believe they were honoring her.

Even Zuko was bowing—even her brother. She wanted to tell them all to stand up, that she really hadn’t done anything that extraordinary, but she didn’t want to risk losing the King’s good faith. The moment eventually passed, anyway, and Katara turned to find the Earth King smiling warmly at her.

“I would be honored if you would accept a seat on my council, Katara,” he said—Long Feng looked like he was about to faint.

“B- but sir, you can’t just- there are no positions open!”

“Alright. You can have his job.”

This time, he did faint. Katara had to smother a chuckle before taking a deep breath and shaking her head. “You honor me, your majesty, but… I think it’s time for me to go home.”

He nodded, as if he’d expected nothing less of her.

The Earth King gave her his medallion and Ozai’s sword, and when Katara finally turned to go, she very nearly ran right into Zuko. “Oh! Zuko, I-”

“Katara-” he began, at the same time. They both broke off; Katara bit her lip, waiting for him to continue. He cleared his throat. “I, uh- you fight good. Well! Proficiently, you- you’re an excellent soldier.”

Their eyes met, but Katara was the first to look away, this time. “Oh. Thank you, Zuko. For everything.” And then she left, finding Koda and pulling herself into his saddle to begin the long journey home.

“You don’t meet a girl like that every dynasty,” the Earth King declared—sounding very much like he was calling Zuko an idiot.

 “Would you like to stay for dinner?” From a distance, Katara could hear Grandma Kanna’s voice, “Would you like to stay forever?!” Zuko laughed. “Dinner would be great.”

[antihero-writings]

The Things We Say Aloud—Pandora Hearts Fic for Phmonth18 Rainsworth Trio Week—Prompt 2: Family (Full Fic)

Fic Title: The Things We Say Aloud

Fic Synopsis: The Rainsworth Trio has a tradition of midnight snowball fights. But what if this is Break’s last?

Notes: This is another fic I wrote last Christmas (for the prompt “Rain”), but I think will work well for Phmonth18. I think it works best for the Rainsworth Trio Prompt 2: Family. You don’t have to have read the previous Christmas fic to understand it, but they are supposed to take place in the same year, and there are a few connections/references between them. (The other one is called “In Plain Sight” and you can read it on this blog, and/or at I_prefer_the_term_antihero ‘s Ao3!)

Out of all the PH fics I’ve written so far, this is honestly probably my favorite. I would deeply appreciate it if you commented to let me know you enjoyed it!

I feel like the Rainsworth Trio–especially Sharon and Break–don’t really talk about Break’s death, even though they know it’s coming. I thought it would be interesting to explore how such a conversation would go, and almost made myself cry writing it!

Also, point of interest, a song that I think works really well for the section of this fic where Break is pondering if it will be his last Christmas is “Into the Open Air” from the Brave soundtrack.

P.S. This is a repost of an old fic!

Fic:

Rain pounded its tune on the roof. It was the kind of rain that swarms the air, making it misty, grey, and cold with the buzzing of a thousand tiny drops.

It wasn’t that he disliked the rain. There will always be something about the rain that’s soothing to people dealing with sorrow. But rain like this; that pounds, and pounds, and doesn’t dissipate, sometimes serves to extend the mistiness inside too. Though it could be a rest, a relief, people like him always pray for the sun to come back. For sunny days and summer light were something people like him, with red eyes, and a past full of sin, knew they didn’t deserve, but couldn’t help seeking all the same.

Xerxes Break walked through the hallway of the Rainsworth manor. He wore his turquoise and gold outfit, half of his white hair falling across his shoulder, the other, shorter side, messily added to the covering the bandages provided—bandages over the place where his left eye should have been, though it rarely bled anymore.

As he passed by one of the rooms, he saw Sharon. She looked so small, but so regal, sitting on the windowsill, with her back to the glass, now frosted with condensation. Her chestnut hair was pulled back with a ribbon, and she was wearing her little pink dress. The little girl was pouting, staring at the ground, her arms folded over her chest in the characteristic expression children wear when they don’t get their way.

He paused, resting his hand on the doorframe.

She lifted her head.

When she met his eyes, he remembered very quickly that was not in his skill set to comfort little girls.

When he glanced back, she was giving him a look that said Well? Aren’t you going to come comfort me?

He knew better than to disobey such a look. He took a deep breath and walked in, hopping up on the windowsill next to her.

Like the rain, it wasn’t that he disliked kids, he just didn’t know how to deal with them. When they cried and threw tantrums…in short, he didn’t know how to deal with emotion (well, strong ones anyways). He couldn’t help hoping that kids like her could stay happy, and innocent forever. Like he had hoped for his young mistress from another time, and seen it go so very wrong, then later heard, through his own interference, that he had made it go far worse. But children would have to get hurt, they would have to grow up, some day. And in turn, they would become the kinds of creatures who hurt, and caused pain, who even killed, and made excuses for it…creatures like himself.

Luckily, he found that Sharon was a much happier, much kinder, much stronger child than most.

When she didn’t speak—(he didn’t dare ask, for fear of making it worse)—he turned to look outside the window.

“Xerx-niisan,” she began at last, “Why is the sky crying?”

He turned back to her, raising an eyebrow. “Huh?”

They weren’t siblings; they weren’t even remotely related. But for some reason, the name fixed itself in her mouth, and nothing he did or said could change that.

She could be a little tyrant sometimes.

At his misunderstanding, she continued to pout, averting her eyes. Then she jerked back to look at him, (he flinched a little), and said in a high pitched voice, “It’s almost Christmas! Why is it raining? It should be snowing!”

“Oh,” he relaxed a little, contemplating his response, “Well…it’s not going to stop raining just because you want it to. Sometimes,” he gave a sardonic smile that was more painful than the frown that seemed fixed on his face, looking away into the rain, as if he would find answers reading the drops, “things…people…that should be happy, just can’t be. And no matter how much you want something…”

He trailed off, and when he turned back, he saw tears welling in her eyes.

Nice going, Xerxes, you barely have to open your mouth to make a little girl cry.

There they were, brimming to the surface: all those emotions he didn’t know what to do with. He could only sit there, waiting for her own brand of rain to start, wanting more than anything to escape, to not have to figure out the right words to fix her.

It was the crying he hated the most. Maybe it was because it reminded him too much of a certain day, long ago, of a certain girl…but the snow did fall that day…

Still, he wasn’t going to tell her that if she just wished hard enough, if she believed in hope, the-general-goodness-of-the-world-and-its-inhabitants, and maybe a little bit of magic, that the snow would fall, that she could change things. Wishes were dangerous things, and he didn’t suggest anyone make them. You never know who, or what, might be listening.

Fortunately, before the tears reached her cheeks, Sharon’s mother, Shelly Rainsworth, appeared at the doorway. She looked almost exactly like an older version of her daughter, the same chestnut hair, the same smile that shined with a light of its own.

Upon seeing the tearful look on her daughter’s face, she marched into the room, put her hands on her hips, and turned to Break.

“Xerxes,” she said his name like he really was Sharon’s brother, “what did you say to her?”

“Why do you assume it was my fault, Shelly-sama?” he muttered, sounding like the child she was calling out.

“Let’s just say you have a habit of stepping on people’s feelings.”

He sighed. “I was only telling her that it won’t start snowing simply because she wants it to.”

“It’s almost Christmas, mother!” Sharon said like she was pleading her case, the tears reappearing in her eyes.

Shelly smiled, shaking her head.

“What am I going to do with you two?” she crouched down in front of Sharon, and paused, contemplating her own question for a moment. “Tell you what, sweetie; I can’t promise it’ll start snowing because you want it to, but I can promise this:” she pushed her daughter’s tears away, “The moment it starts snowing—or, I suppose,” she interrupted herself, “the moment there’s enough snow on the ground, but no later!—we’ll go outside, and have a snowball fight. How does that sound?”

“Really?” Sharon raised her head, the sadness lifting a little.

“Even if I’m busy, or it starts snowing in the middle of the night,” Shelly elaborated, grinning, “No, especially, if it’s in the middle of the night,” she placed a finger on Sharon’s nose, at which the little girl giggled, “I’ll wake you up—or you me—then, while everyone else is asleep, we’ll run around the house in just our pajamas and coats, we’ll wake Xerxes—”

“What?!” Break blurted out.

“Yes, we’ll wake Xerxes,” she repeated smirking, “drag him outside—”

“Do I get a say in this?!”

“Nope,” she grinned mischievously, “Don’t think I’m letting you get out of this one.”

“Tch.” He looked away.

She walked calmly to the couch, picked up one of the pillows, as if she was going to fluff it, brought it over to them, and smacked him with it.

He growled, his red eye starting to blaze, like some caged beast.

She threw the pillow back onto the couch, sighing, saying seriously, “I don’t want you sitting here on this windowsill forever…I know, somewhere inside you, there’s someone…” she pondered it, then smiled, saying simply, “Someone who’s not afraid. You’re stronger than you think. Deep down, I think, these sorts of things that seem childish, like snowball fights, and tea-parties,” she smirked, “fun things, you actually enjoy.”

He looked away, as if knowing he could only disappoint her.

She added softly, placing a finger on his chin, making him look at her,

“We’ll see that smile someday, Xerxes Break.”

He stared at her as she took her fingers away, then he blinked, averting his eyes again. murmuring something about, “Really, Shelly-sama…I’d just ruin—”

“Sharon,” Shelly interrupted his mutterings, turning to her daughter, “Do you think Xerxes should sit here sulking, day in and day out, or do you think he should join our snowball fight?”

“Xerx-niisan should come with us!” she didn’t even take a breath before she answered.

He stared into the little girl’s eyes, so full of hope, no question, no hesitation, just…kindness, endless kindness.

Shelly smiled at her daughter, which turned into devious smirk when she looked at him.

“Checkmate.”

He bit his lip before jumping back down to the ground, muttering incoherently his displeasure, knowing once they were set, he couldn’t change their minds.

They could be tyrants sometimes.

Most people wouldn’t have gone near him, much less want him to be a part of something…well, fun. He knew what people said about him. It didn’t matter, it had been a long time since he had cared what other people thought, plus, he more than welcomed the lack of company. But, the thing is, he knew they were right; he was creepy, and dark, and very, very dangerous. So, he too, often wondered why they had taken him in, why they treated him like something worth saving, worth dragging out of bed for snowball fights, and tea-parties, rather than being sure, like rest of the world was—like he was—that he would just darken everything with any amount of light in it.

That’s what Children of Misfortune were for, right?

A little girl, who should have been more scared of him than anyone, who should’ve wanted him as far away from her and her snowball fights than anyone, could not only go near him, but fail to hesitate as she bounded up to this dark-and-dangerous man, looked into that blood-red eye, and asked him why the sky was crying, gave him flowers, and called him “brother.”

And that was worth more to him than he would ever dare admit aloud.

*****

It was from nightmares about knights, and blood, little girls, dolls, and names that he never mentioned, that Xerxes Break awoke from.

Breath and heartbeat weighed heavily on his chest. Once the memories faded enough for him to remember that, though it may have been real, it was not now, he gritted his teeth together, slamming his fist into the wall behind him. He didn’t care how much pain was pulsating through his hand.

If only it would take his mind off the throbbing in his empty eye socket.

If he had been a weaker man, perhaps he would have screamed, even cried, perhaps he would have whispered something pitifully to the sheets about not wanting to remember again, not wanting nightmares like this one to show their faces in his head. But he had already made a wish, and these nightmares were its descendants. He didn’t have the authority to dream anymore.

All he had was the anger and regret surging through his body, and nowhere for it to go, except make his past a weapon that shattered him just as much as it did his enemies, into glass shards, and cold bones, and bloodstained roles.

Still, there was some part of him that hoped after so many years they would have stopped haunting him. And sure, maybe it wasn’t every night, but they did come. Perhaps that’s why they call them ghosts; There were too many horrors to be reminded of, too many sins to feel guilty for, too little he could do to fix it, and the nightmares were all too eager for the task. One lifetime was not enough for them to let him forget.

They say ‘there’s no rest for the wicked’, and his mind was often cruel enough to remind him.

When he raised his gaze, he saw that the curtain was open just slightly, and something in the sliver of window flickered.

The Mad Hatter sighed, throwing his legs over the side of the bed.

It was awfully cold.

He stepped up to the window, gently pulling back the curtain, just enough so he could see.

He drew in a breath softly, his eye widening at the view:

It was snowing.

There was enough moonlight to see flakes falling upon the grounds—which were cloaked in white by now.

Like that time years ago, for the whole month, the only thing that fell from the clouds was rain, and finally, the sky decided that Christmas Eve was no time to be laying in bed, sleeping, or else dreaming about past follies.

“Well, Shelly-sama, what do you think?” he spoke softly to the merciful sky, “One last snowball fight?” he paused a moment, turning, leaning against the window, as if waiting for an answer to be whispered in his ear.

He stepped over to his wardrobe, throwing a coat over his pajamas, taking up some winter gloves, putting on socks and boots, and, as always, placing Emily on his shoulder (she wouldn’t want to miss this).

Lighting the candelabra on his nightstand, he ventured into the hallway, making his way toward Sharon’s bedroom.

Opening the door as quietly as he could, he walked in, setting the light on her nightstand.

Sharon was sleeping soundly on her curtained bed, her hair splayed all over the sheets, wrinkled in the night’s sleep, and she hugged her pillow.

He resisted the urge to laugh at her un-proper appearance.

Break sat on the side of her bed, by her head, saying quietly,

“Ojousama.”

She stirred in her sleep, muttering something indecipherable.

He gently ran his hand through her hair, saying louder, “Sharon.”

She blinked open fuchsia eyes to see her servant.

“Break,” she muttered his name softly.

Slowly, she sat up, yawning, looking around.

“Break, what’re you…?” she began, fatigue weighing down her words, then shook it away by shaking her head, “What are you doing in my room?! In the middle of the night! How dare you wake me up!”

He knew what was coming next: she grabbed one of the pillows, and he dodged it before she hit him with it. “Do you think you can just come in here as you please?!”

“Really, Ojousama,” he laughed, standing back up, “You think I’d risk injury without good reason?”

She folded her arms over her chest, pouting. He walked over to the window, throwing open the curtain, standing beside it.

“This better not be one of your pranks, Break,” she muttered, walking over to the window.

“Relax. When have I ever been that cruel?”

She glared at him, as if to say I-could-name-a-few-times, then turned to the window, surveying the landscape outside.

Her aggravated expression broke for widened eyes and a smile.

“Break!” she exclaimed, all grievance forgotten, grabbing his hands and spinning him around, “It’s snowing!!” she let go of him, and jumped up on the bed, repeating, “It’s snowing!! It’s snowing!!”

He smirked, folding his arms over his chest; No matter how old she really was, she still looked like that little kid to him.

“What do you say?” he helped her down from the bed, “One last snowball fight?”

“What are you talking about ‘one last’?” she grabbed the pillow and managed to catch him off guard this time. “You better not be talking about that again!”

She didn’t wait for him to respond as she dropped the pillow and ran over to her wardrobe, found a little coat to throw over her nightshirt, boots, and gloves, then handed him a ribbon to tie her hair back.

“Ready?” he tapped her on the shoulder when he had finished tying her hair.

She nodded, beaming.

They weren’t too far from Reim’s room when Break asked her to hold the candelabra, and stepped down the stairs to the front door.

“Where are you going?” she asked, “Reim’s room is this way.”

“This will only take a moment,” he grinned.

She put her hand on her hip, scowling at him as he ran out the front door. Quickly he returned, with the first snowball in his gloved hand.

“Break! Just what are you intending to do with that?!”

“You’ll see!” said Emily.

Sharon sighed, placing her head in her hand.

Reim stayed at the Rainsworth’s often enough that he had his own room (albeit, not a very fancy one). They quietly entered it to see the servant laying on a bed, much neater than either of theirs, facing away from them. His glasses, and some extra paperwork he just couldn’t leave at work, lay dormant on his nightstand.

Break tiptoed up to his friend, gently pulled back the collar of his shirt, and stuffed a snowball down the back of his shirt.

It was a moment before it took effect, but when it did, Reim skyrocketed out of bed, dancing around, until the snow fell onto the floor.

Break could barely contain his laughter.

He rested his hands on his knees panting. When he regained his bearings enough to figure out what had just happened, and saw Break laughing, he shouted,

“XERXES, YOU BASTARD!!”

Reim lunged at Break, at which the older man only needed to step out of the way, to make Reim trip onto the floor.

“Yes, a tired Reim-san, without his glasses, is definitely a match for me,” he remarked, leaning over him,

“A normal Reim-san isn’t exactly a match either!” Emily squeaked.

“Now, now Emily,” Break chided his doll playfully, “we mustn’t rub this sort of thing in people’s faces.”

“I’m gonna kill you,” Reim’s voice was muffled by the floor

Break laughed, “Is that so?”

“All in good fun!” Emily chirped.

“It’s not fun for me!” he retorted, sitting up, “How can your idea of fun be tormenting your best friend!” Reim got up off the floor and sat on his bed.

“Come now, Reim-san, ‘torment’ is a little harsh, don’t you think?”

“I meant what I said! I mean, who in their right mind thinks a good way to wake their friend up is to stuff freezing-cold snow—”

He interrupted himself, looking at each of them with question in his eyes. He repeated the word, “Snow…?”

Sharon and Break grinned at each other.

Break helped his friend up, saying, “And whoever said I was in my right mind? Didn’t you know? All the best people are mad.”

Reim rolled his eyes.

Sharon and Break stepped up to the window to unveil the answer to his question. Reim followed to inspect the view outside.

Then he looked at each of them, shaking his head and smiling. “Really, you two, after all these years…”

He trailed off, going over to his wardrobe to put on the winter clothes he kept there.

They barely had time to blow out the candles before Sharon grabbed both their hands and dragged them out into the moonlit hall.

They were like little kids trying to get a peek at Santa; bumbling down the hall, almost falling over each other, shushing each other, as they made their way through the manor, down the stairs, out the front door, into the cold grounds.

Even with their winter clothing, the cold still crept in. The snow muffled ordinary sounds, falling seamlessly, sparks of scattered moonlight gleaming off the flakes.

“So, we’ll—” Reim was interrupted by Break throwing a snowball at the back of his head.

“Oy! I was talking!” he whirled around.

“What’s there to talk about, Reim-san?” Break tossed another snowball up and down in his hand.

“I was simply—”

This time it was Sharon who threw the snowball at his face.

“Nice shot, Ojousama,” Break mentioned.

“Thank you,” she grinned, “You’re next, Xerx-niisan.”

“Alright, you two are going down,” Reim challenged.

“That’s more like,” Break smirked.

It didn’t make sense that three adults could have so much fun doing something so childish as playing in the snow. But between exploding snow and shouting, their laughter was what radiated like light from the scene. Maybe they forgot they weren’t children, they forgot that they had grown up things to do, responsibilities to attend to, and that the world was really comprised of blood and pain, and worthless names, not innocence and friendship.

The mad tea party, forever trapped in a moment, forgotten by time.

It was a while later when another voice broke through:

“Hey, what are you guys doing?”

They paused, turning to see Oz at one of the balconies.

“Our humblest apologies, Oz-sama!” Reim shouted back, bowing low, “We didn’t intend to be so loud!”

“No worries!” he yawned, “Are you…having a snowball fight?”

“That’s right, Oz-kun,” Break answered, “Would you like to join us?”

“Really?! You’ll let me?!”

“Sure,” he tossed a snowball up and down in his hand again, “but we certainly won’t be going easy on you!”

Oz beamed. “Hang on a sec! Lemme grab Gil and Alice!”

Not long afterwards, they heard the all-too-familiar sounds of Gilbert and Alice shouting, and they their annoyed faces appeared on the balcony.

“Why are you three having a snowball fight at 6:00 in the morning!” Gilbert yelled down to them.

“Oh? You scared you didn’t make the cut?” Break taunted . “Clown! Is this your doing?!” Alice demanded, “I’ll come down there and make you pay for waking me up!”

As Break spoke to them, Reim saw it as an opportunity to get his own revenge, and snuck up behind him. Break, of course, still heard him coming and, once again, tripped him, as he got close.

Break walked around him in a circle, grinning shaking his head, “You’re going to have to try harder than that to beat me.”

Reim gave an expression akin to Gilbert’s evil eye.

Break kicked some snow onto his head as he walked by, just to rub it his face (quite literally).

Oz, Gilbert, and Alice tumbled down the front steps, already laughing and yelling at each other before they even joined the fight.

“Well look who it is,” Break taunted, leaning over them, then Emily continued,

“The dumb bunny, the spoiled brat, and—” he didn’t get to finish, because the two lunged at him.

There weren’t really any teams, or way of keeping score—it was everyone against everyone else, though each of them had their own approach: Gilbert had a more meticulous method; creating a stash of snowballs, and walls to hide behind, (often getting hit in the building process). Oz was would sneak up on people, and took particular pleasure in knocking down, or stealing, Gil’s hard work, while Alice ran around pelting everyone in sight, holding a particular grudge against anyone who landed a hit on her (who were mostly Break and Oz).

Near the end of their fight, as Break snuck up on Sharon, just about to land a hit on her, he found himself falling, and was then somehow on the other side of the yard,

He paused to regain his bearings, and stood back up to his full height, quickly discerning what had happened.

“Is that really fair, Ojousama?” he called across the yard, knowing she had used her Chain.

She chuckled like it was a trivial offense, “Since when have you cared what’s fair Xerx-niisan?”

Well, she got me there.

It was at this moment he felt a rush of cold! against his neck, and tensed, resisting the urge to spill some choice words. He spun around to see that Reim had been waiting behind a nearby tree and, as he addressed his mistress, Reim had managed to get the perfect revenge.

Break pulled back his shirt to make sure the snow fell, scowling at his friend.

“Say it,” Reim folded his arms over his chest.

“What? That you got me?”

Reim’s expression was unmoving.

“I’ll say nothing of the sort, Reim-san,” he flicked his glasses, “After all, you merely copied me. You should be more creative next time.”

Reim’s fingers curled into fists, practically growling at him.

“I didn’t know we could use Chains!” Oz called, running up to them, having noticed Sharon’s expert use of Eques, (but not the following exchange between Break and Reim.)

“Seaweed-head! Release my limiter!” Alice shouted when she heard, “I want to smash the clowny bastard to smithereens!”

“Is that so?” Break called, “You really want to go down that path, Alice-kun?” Break smirked evilly, “My Mad Hatter would destroy you before Gilbert-kun even had the chance.”

“You wanna go, clown!” Alice hollered, and Gilbert had to hold her back to keep her from rushing at him with teeth and claws.

Reim looked worried, and Oz—wearing a similar expression—spoke in hushed tones, “No, Alice! You don’t want to go up against his Mad Hatter!”

“Try me, Manservant!”

“Break! No one wants to see you killing yourself over some stupid fight with some little girl!” Gilbert scolded.

“Oy! Who you callin’ ‘some little girl’?!” Alice snapped at Gilbert.

That seemed to return Reim to his senses,

“That’s right!” Reim scolded, “What did I tell you about being reckless with your powers?!”

“Always so tense, you two,” he walked up to Alice and ruffled her hair, “I’m only teasing.”

Alice broke free, and the fight resumed, though the others were glad to see neither managed to draw blood, and that it quickly returned to the antics of the snowy game.

And for one brief moment, Break forgot about everything else. About the nightmares, the regrets, and the answers he clung to so desperately as a reason to keep himself from falling further. And for one moment, he could see those flickering lights behind dark eyes, and he was happy he could feel the cold biting his skin, he was happy he could see their faces—rosy-cheeked, all smiles and laughs, even if they were yelling at him—for one precious flicker of a moment, he was happy to be alive.

That moment would end. The shadows would crawl back from the corners of his mind, the smiles would become fake again, the world would become a wax museum of happiness. Reasons that were just that, empty reasons; desire had left them behind in an alleyway long ago, for better, darker wishes. The pain would come back, and once again he’d convince himself, I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care about them. About what happens to me. The snow white chaos would return to tears too fast. But in this moment, it was okay. He was okay.

Sharon and Reim ran at him, but instead of getting out of the way, this time he let them bowl him over, the three of them collapsing in the snow.

Shock flitted across their faces, which broke for smiles.

He wanted to say he was sorry. He wanted to tell them over and over I love you both so very much. But he wasn’t the only one who knew that those words falling from Xerxes Break’s lips was all too close to admitting defeat. Because if he admitted he cared, then he wouldn’t be able to let them go when the end came. And he knew it would come all too soon. His lips wouldn’t dare betray him with such miserable words.

So they settled for a smile.

His real smile. Not the smirks and grins he gave away at a moment’s notice. The smile that was barely perceptible, but which, for them, captured within its folds more sunlight than anything else in their world.

Sharon and Reim glanced at each other, then smiled back at him, deciding not to sully the moment with words.

And, as soon as it came, the true smile was replaced with a smirk.

“You two really are gullible,” he put snow in their hair.

They jumped up, shouting his name, trying to rub it out, then quickly ran after him.

He couldn’t tell them the truth. He couldn’t tell them that he was thinking how this might be his last Christmas. He couldn’t tell them how he was wondering if they would still put his stocking on the mantelpiece when he was gone.

He didn’t get a chance to anyways, because it wasn’t long afterwards when beads of citrus and crimson light began tracing the navy sky.

They paused, panting, raising their eyes to look into the sunrise.

For a moment they stared silently at the art the morning made of daybreak, gentle smiles tracing their lips at the beauty.

Then Oz broke in, exclaiming,

“Merry Christmas, everyone!”

“Merry Christmas!” they answered, a little tiredly.

“What do you guys think?” Reim asked, “Ready to go inside?”

“Aww, but we were having so much fun!” Oz protested, trying to mask the fatigue in his voice.

“Easy for you to say, we’re exhausted!”

“To be fair, we were out here much longer than them,” Break panted, realizing just how tired he was. “Perhaps I have gotten old after all. If you youngin’s want to go on—” he flapped a shirt sleeve their direction.

“There he goes again calling himself old!”

Sharon broke in, “Don’t you want to open presents?”

“Presents?!” Oz repeated, like a dog who had seen a squirrel, glancing at Gilbert and Alice, his grin widening.

They began to make their way inside, still laughing and talking about the plays they each had made, and how they would eventually get each other back. As they walked back, instead of joining the conversation, Sharon gently tugged on the corner of Break’s coat, holding him back.

He turned to see that instead of the tired, but joy-full smile that had traced her face moments earlier, she was hanging her head low.

“Ojousama?” he asked worriedly, crouching down beside her, seeing tears begin to grace her cheeks.

The others noticed, and stopped too.

“Xerxes! What did you do?!” Reim demanded.

“Yeah, Break! How dare you make a girl cry on Christmas?!” Oz questioned, running up to her.

He rolled his eyes at them.

“I’m fine, everyone,” Sharon reassured them, giving a somewhat plastered smile, “I’ll just be a moment.”

They all glanced at each other, knowing something was clearly wrong.

“Are you sure?” Gilbert asked.

“Yeah, Sharon-chan, if you need something—”

“Yes. Please, go inside. Break and I will catch up with you.”

They glanced at each other.

“Alright, Sharon-chan. Just let us know if you need anything, okay?” Oz put a hand on her shoulder.

“Thank you, Oz-sama,” she smiled.

The others gave similar smiles back to her, then they gave Break a collective you-better-not-make-this-worse look before walking up the stairs into the manor.

“Sharon?” he asked softly.

No matter how many years went by, he still couldn’t handle the sight of a child in tears.

“Xerx-niisan,” he could tell she was fighting back against the tears, “What if… What if this is your last Christmas?”

He gasped; he didn’t expect her to be thinking about the same thing.

“What if…” she continued, breath taut, “What if we never get to have another snowball fight? What if…?”

“Well,” he rubbed his neck, looking away, “you and Reim can still—”

“Don’t act like everything will be the same when you’re gone!” she threw snow into his face.

He fell back onto his elbows, gently brushing it out of his hair. After a moment a laugh bubbled in his throat, and he put his hand on his face.

“What’s so funny?!” she demanded, scowling.

Obviously that was the wrong thing to do.

If only she had chosen someone else to comfort her; someone like Oz, who could read the situation, and chose his words carefully. Or Gilbert, who was sensitive enough to understand. Even Reim would be better, despite his rather unemotional, straightforward nature. But she had chosen him.

“It’s funny…to tell you the truth,” his voice became more serious, “It’s just…I was thinking about the same thing.”

Shock added to the concoction of hurt and yearning in her eyes.

“Y-You were?”

He looked at the ground and nodded ever so slightly.

“How dare you laugh at that?” she balled a fist in the snow, but the strength seemed to leave her.

She shook her head, tears fluttering back to her eyes, “You can’t…Xerx-niisan, you can’t! I…I don’t want to be alone!” she put her arms around him and fell onto him.

His eye was wide, his breath harsh and cold as he looked at the girl in his arms, forgetting for a less than a moment that she was not that little girl in a darkened room, surrounded by coffins.

He shook his head of the memory.

“You won’t be alone, you’ll have Reim, and Sheryl-sama, and—”

She lifted her head to scowl at him, as if to say must-I-repeat-what-I-said and he cleared his throat, changing his method of attack.

“Well, I won’t go down easy, that’s for sure. But, despite how it might seem,” he gently ran his finger along her cheek, giving that sad but true smile, and whispered, “I am not that strong.”

“You think you can talking about you dying all the time and I’ll just—?!” she tried to fight back, to be angry, but her words fell like the snow, and she murmured again, she let her head fall back onto his shoulder, and whispered back, “Xerx-niisan…”

He gently wrapped his own arms around her.

“I want to be there for you…” she murmured, “I don’t want you to do something stupid…You’re always running into fights without a second thought…” she sobbed for a moment before saying, “Maybe we could…maybe we could stop it? I-I could go into the fights with Eques…Oz-sama and Gilbert-sama—”

He pressed a kiss into her hair, and as she lifted her head off his shoulder to look at him with the wide and teary eyes of her younger self. The look in his eyes was enough to say I’m sorry, Sharon.

“It’s just like I told you, Ojousama,” he ran his fingers through her hair, and murmured into her ear, “No matter how much I may want it to, I can’t stop it from raining.”

She lifted her head off his shoulder to look at him.

“No matter how much we might want it to, we can make the snow fall. Our wishes can’t change things. Even if…” his words were blown by the wind into the stars.

She shook her head gently, murmuring that name.

“Just promise me you won’t make any illegal contracts to bring me back,” he laughed a little, which turned into a grimace, and she knew just how serious he was being.

She smiled for the first time since the conversation started. “I promise.”

For a moment they sat there, together, in a sort of limbo, watching as the sunrise turned into a light blue sky—a present sorrow caught between the earlier joy, wondering which emotion of the two would soon come. Moments were so finicky.

“I can’t promise I’ll have another Christmas, but we still have today. Let’s not waste it with talking about depressing things.”

She nodded, smiling.

He gently reached down and picked her up.

“Xerx-niisan!” she protested at first.

He touched her nose with his finger.

After a moment, as he took her inside, she rested her head against him sleepily, murmuring, “Xerx-niisan, I don’t want…I don’t want you to pretend you’re okay for my sake.”

His eye widened and he jerked his head to look at her.

“Don’t give me that look,” she responded, “I know you do it. You think I can’t handle it.”

He took a deep breath, “I’m fine, Ojousama,” he murmured, and smiled, “It’s Christmas, after all.”

She shook her head, “No you’re not!”

Once again he kissed her head gave her his real smile, “No, really, Sharon. I am. At least for today.”

The smile she returned was real too.

And that was worth far more to them than either of them needed to say aloud.

[zaren-alcarius]

Coauthored with @thefreelanceangel

As Roy entered the warmth of the cave, the snow melted quickly from his hair. His clothes were wet now, but if they bothered him, he didn't show it. Silently, he made his way back towards the fire and attempted to run a hand through his hair. Length, wind, and snow make for a bad mix, and his fingers instantly got snagged on a knot.

As he worked to extract his hand, Roy debated what to do, especially when he didn't know how much Slate already knew. It would be a gamble to mention it if he'd only come out after the conversation had ended, but he couldn't let it be if anything had been overheard. He would just have to wait it out.

Roy glanced over at Slate, trying to read the other man and figure out exactly what he knew. 

The tin cups were refilled with the last of the coffee, now slightly bitter, and Slate gathered a waterskin and a small rawhide packet out of his haversack. He was oddly calm. There wasn't any visible strain on his face nor did he eye Roy oddly as he sat down near the man and motioned for the injured hand.

"Here, lemme see," he said, opening the packet to show the small jars of salves, the neatly rolled bandages. "Not much of a healer beyond small stuff, but doesn't look too bad on ya."

Roy eyed the salves hesitantly and shook his head. "It's alright." 

Slate's eyes were amber in the firelight as he looked up, looked from Roy to the cave mouth and then back at the other man. "So... Anybody else gonna be comin' after ya? I got some snares in my pack. Probably best to set 'em while the snow's still fallin' so they'll get covered up pretty good." 

"It ain't like that," Roy muttered. It was complicated and the less others knew, the better. A Blade would kill without hesitation to keep the order's secret. Roy kept his gaze on Slate, "How much did you hear?" 

Without arguing it, Slate simply dragged the man's hand over to rest on the rock and examined the rising bruises. He wet a cloth and cleaned the blood from his abrased knuckles, keeping his eyes on his work rather than looking up at Roy. "Everythin'," he said calmly. "So ya can explain or not. It's up to ya." Examining the damage, Slate picked a small jar out of the packet and opened it with his teeth, shaking his glove off. The leather was already stained, but it wouldn't do an open wound any good to have the salve applied with something questionable. Better to do it bare-handed. He glanced up once as he shook out a bandage. "Met one of them Larkspurs once." The disdain was fairly clear in his voice, but Slate's expression was wholly non-judgemental. "My ex-wife was one of them Roses. Went by their desert place a couple of times, but not really my kinda folk, ya know."

Roy snorted and muttered, "Makes two of us." Roy picked through his hair with his free hand, attempting to get through the knots. There was no reaction to the salve, regardless of whether it stung or not. "Ain't ever fit in. Was foolish to think it'd work." Shaking his head, Roy went silent. He'd given enough information. But was there any point to hide anything anymore? He already knew more than most. And even then, what should be done?

With a wry smile that made the careworn lines in his face deeper and threw the facial scars into prominence, Slate nodded. "Know the feelin'." He tied off the bandage neatly and closed up the rawhide packet. "Th' whole reason I didn't contest it when Gwena walked out on me." Slate got to his feet, returning the packet and waterskin to his haversack. Shrugging out of his coat, he glanced at the cave mouth and stirred the fire up before easing himself down to the ground. A hand-carved wooden comb was tossed to Roy, but Slate was looking at the fire as he reclaimed his tin cup.

Roy accepted the comb and started picking through his hair, which was longer than his shoulders. There was no sense in keeping up on it. He didn’t care much about his appearance anymore -there was no need. With a few sips of the bitter liquid, Slate ran a hand over his own fairly short black hair and sighed, nearly laughed. "Figured it'd be easier to just get th' papers done and let her go. She sure didn't hesitate to sign 'em herself."

"No papers involved in this one," Roy muttered. "Just... woke up and she was gone." Roy ran a hand through his hair, now untangled. "It's complicated," he added as he handed the comb back.

Taking the comb, Slate tossed it back into his haversack and put the other tin cup near Roy so he didn't have to reach. "Yeah, I figured." Slate settled back, another slice of bread spread with preserves in hand, and looked at the fire. "Usually is. Sounds like yours is more complicated than mine was. Guess that makes it a lit'l harder to figure out what ya wanna do." Finishing off the 'dessert' in a few bites, Slate licked his fingers and looked at the mouth of the cave once again. "Ain't th' kind of thing where ya can just head on over and see yer daughter again, I'm guessin'."

Roy grunted in response and gave a nod. "They... had time t'move on without me. Wouldn't be right for me to just show up. Don't reckon she'd remember me anyway." Slate wasn't going to disabuse the man of the idea. Sometimes it was just better to think that everyone had moved on and there was nothing left.

Made moving on yourself a bit easier.

Slate drank again himself, resting the tin cup on his knee. "My boys wouldn't recognize me iffen I showed up, but they were only about ten months when their mom took 'em." His mouth shifted a bit, briefly showing bitter lines. "Or sent 'em off with one of her servants rather."

Roy cleared his throat and took a sip of the coffee. It was bitter by now, but he didn't complain. After a moment, Roy sniffed and shrugged. "I'll be honest. Ain't sure quite what to do right now. With... this," he gestured towards the cave with the tin. "Wager you heard more than you should have." 

With a short shake of his head, Slate leaned back against another rock and nodded to Roy. "Probably. But it ain't my business so I'm not gonna be runnin' my mouth. Iffen ya need a hand, ya got one here. Don't see much else needs to be said."

"There's nothing you can do to help," Roy said pointedly. "And even then, why would you want to? Don't know me."

Roy scooted back over to the rock he was previously leaning back against before taking a moment outside. His single eyed gaze shifted back towards the fire. With his left leg, he partially bent the knee, then straightened it, then half bent it. He struggled to find a comfortable position before just giving up and resting his leg on its side.

"And I don't know you. How do I know you won't tell folks about me? Reckon they all think I'm dead." Roy shook his head, "They can't know about me."

"Fair enough."

There were no splutters, no protests, no vehement insistence on his trustworthiness. Slate wasn't going to argue with a fact. They didn't know each other, and his instinctive impulse to offer help to people who looked like they needed it had been considered suspect before.

He took another sip of his coffee, absently rubbing his jaw. "Figure some folks think I'm dead, too. Means I'm not headin' back to Claypool for a long time. Lin'll screech th' ears off my head." Slate paused, chuckled briefly. "Ain't got nobody else that'd care. All my folks died few years back." He glanced at Roy and shrugged one shoulder. "Guessin' that's why I lend a hand where I can. Know what it's like when ya ain't got nobody ya can count on." 

Roy looked between Slate as he spoke and the fire. Roy sipped at the coffee and rested his head back against the rock. So the man knew his secrets and there was no one that would miss him. His gut sank as the lessons that had been beaten into him rang in his head. Keep the secret at any cost.

Shit. 

Roy closed his eyes and exhaled in a soft sigh. He would have to get used to doing things he didn't like. He already had. The fact that the sonofabitch made him kneel... him, the Reaper sitting at the head of the Order... He'd already lost his family, home, and life. He'd already learned this lesson the hardest way possible. Was he really considering making a similar mistake?

Considering how often Slate had been cheek-to-cheek with death, he didn't seem particularly worried about his precarious position.

There was a thing about trust that he knew very few people understood--you had to give it in order to get it. Granted, not everyone was deserving of it. There was always a chance that someone would take advantage of it.

...but you couldn't assume that every time.

Or at least Slate didn't.

Which was why he simply took another sip of his coffee and set another slice of bread--now nicely warmed by the fire--with preserves out for Roy to take if he chose.

Roy spared a glance at the bread and preserves, but made no move towards them. Food was the last thing on his mind. His mouth felt numb, anyway.

It was possible the apprentice didnt take notice that he wasnt alone... his rationality swung the other way. And even if he did tell someone, who would believe him?

Roy cleared his throat in an attemp to get feeling back in his mouth and licked his lips. “What are you doin’ in these parts, anyway?”

He didn't comment on it, but Slate wasn't unaware of some mental turmoil going on across the fire from him. It wasn't something he could assist with, so why mention it? People had a right to their private freak-outs in their heads.

Gods knew he'd done enough of his own in the past.

"Been wanderin' ever since my homestead got burnt down." Slate looked into his tin cup; the loss was still a sore spot, even a year later. "Kids are with my ex-wife. Family's all dead otherwise. Didn't seem much point to try rebuildin' th' place."

He shrugged one shoulder, smiling with wry weariness. "Like it up in th' mountains. Quiet. Not many folks around. Gives ya time to think."

Roy gave a grunt of agreement. “People complicate things.” Lifting the tin to his lips, Roy took another drink of the coffee to finish it off. As he set the tin down with his scarred left hand, he wiped his beard with the back of his right.

“What happened with that?” Roy pried. It wasn’t something he’d typically do, but he was uncomfortable with the prospect of possibly letting the man walk out of here with his secrets without knowing something in return.

A moment of silence passed as Slate gazed at the fire. He reached forward, used a charred stick to stir the coals and tossed another chunk of wood into the flames before sitting back with a low sigh.

"Met Gwena oh... must be 'bout three years ago now." The expression on his face was deeply sorrowful but not despairing. "Never seen nobody with such sad eyes before, poor lit'l gal." Slate cleared his throat, rubbed his hands over his knees. "Ended up fallin' for her pretty quick. Too quick, really. Didn't figure we'd have no trouble even iffen her dad wasn't fond of me. Thought..." His smile was wry without being bitter. "Thought she'd be happy with a simple kinda life. 'specially when she caught pregnant. She seemed real happy with th' homestead and havin' babies. Worried a lot that somebody'd think th' boys weren't mine or she was some kinda witch just wantin' to use me. Things like that."

One hand ran over his hair before it dropped to his lap. "But even with my family havin' a title of some sorts, we weren't rich. Had money put aside, but that's for lean years or when th' crops don't do so well. Gwena was always wearin' some fancy bauble her dad or her brother got her. Didn't even really wanna take my name. She's... proud of bein' a Leours."

He leaned his head back, focused his gaze on the rock overhead. "We both knew it weren't workin'. She didn't wanna be a farmer's wife and I ain't th' sort to play noble. When those Mantle hit Lake Doric, I figured I'd make her happy, send her to her folks in Ebonhawke. It'd keep her safe at th' same time."

With a slow shake of his head, Slate chuckled hoarsely. "She sent th' boys along and went out to th' field with her brother. They're close. Real close. Lotta folk thought there was somethin' between 'em that shouldn't be, but it weren't that. They're just twins. Depend on each other. Her dad was out there too, with his wife." For a moment, Slate looked utterly astonished and laughed. "Fine mess, that. His wife used to be married to his son. They split up, Noel found himself a right sweet lit'l gal--Brooke's darlin', poor thing--and then Lucian comes back up outta nowhere and married Capricia."

The smile faded as Slate looked back at the fire and his expression was set in stone. "Ran into a fella out in Doric. There'd been some trouble, somebody cuttin' up women. Not just th' Mantle, but attackin' medics and th' like." He reached up, absently rubbing his jaw, and his fingertips brushed the scars.

"Caught him in th' act. Fuckin' mesmer. Damn well near killed me, but I got him just 'bout as good. Only thing is he did this," and Slate tapped the scars before dropping his hand. "Knew 'bout the time this pretty lit'l medic stitched me up that th' marriage was over. Gwena wasn't never gonna be happy out on th' farm. 'specially not with a husband carved up like a Wintersday goose."

He let out a slow breath. It was a confidence he was giving, and Slate didn't hold back while he did it. The pain on his face was clear. "Took a day outta th' field and had somebody draw up th' papers. Made sure she got th' boys, set up my will so they'd be as taken care of as I could manage."

Slate's eyes, dark with memory, shifted to Roy. "She signed 'em so fast th' messenger that brought 'em to me was th' same I'd used to send 'em."

Another shake of his head and Slate huffed out a breath. "Once th' lake was pretty well secured, I figured somebody oughta go find this monster that was cuttin' up women. Took me a couple of months to even get a bead on him and that's when a fella I... knew found me up in Timberline. Lucky thing though. Found some poor lit'l thing wanderin' around with her hands all broken up. He took her to get seen to, told me 'bout my homestead burnin' down."

Reaching over, Slate picked up the tin cup and looked into the bit of coffee still there. He swigged it, grimaced once at the taste, and rested the cup on his knee. "Went to go see it. Everythin' was gone. Even th' rosebushes I put in for Gwena. So I made sure Torn got his lit'l cottage out back, had th' land sold off and the money sent to her for th' boys. Then I went back lookin' for that fucker."

Now there was rage on his face. There was no masking it. The fury of a righteous man faced with some offense against the gods and his code of honor was stamped clearly on every feature. "Found some sweet lit'l gal that fucker had knocked up and pretty much locked away. She was so damn scared he'd find her that she nigh well fainted every time she saw some blonde fella. Got her away from th' house he'd stuck her in and her boys too." A flicker of pain showed through the anger. "Twin boys. Cute lit'l fellas they were, not their fault who their father was."

Slate let out a slow breath and then shrugged once, letting the anger ease off of his face. "Got her to her brother 'n her cousin. Just my luck, she's a Leours cousin or somethin' like that. So I saw to it she was safe and all, then lit out. Ain't been back to Ebonhawke since and ain't got plans to go back."

Roy listened with interest to the tale. The more he learned about the man, the more he found they had in common... the less he wanted to follow through on what he knew he should do. His single eyed gaze fell to the fire thoughtfully, his own wear and exhaustion clear on his face.

"Nobles," he finally said with a snort and shook his head. "So the bastard's still out there somewhere?"

"...maybe." Slate sighed, running a hand over his hair once more. "I ain't sure iffen he did survive th' tangle we got into, but some slimy bastards are pretty hard to kill."

Leaning over, he shook the coffee pot and poured a bit more of the grounds-clogged liquid into his cup. "Tracked him to Garrenhoff and that's where I found Brielle. Couldn't just leave th' lit'l bit there, so I had to get her safe first."

He settled against the rock and stared at the fire, the cup almost forgotten on his knee. "...think you're fightin' just one monster then ya run into another one. Down in Timberline while I was headin' to the coast, I ran into one fucker that damn well near ripped my arm off." He rolled his left shoulder and chuckled dryly.

"That lit'l 'vari fella was quick thinkin'. Helped me out a bit with that. Both of us weren't in no shape to go huntin' for nobody else, so we went on to that desert spot. Elona."

"Elona...?" Roy tilted his head slightly. "They've opened passage?"

It was, perhaps, an odd question; hinting that he may be a bit out of sync with the times. He didn't look all that old, nor did he look to be the sort that liked to be ill informed. There was a spark of interest in his eye that faded quickly enough and was replaced by something else.

"Wager my ma's found her way out there," Roy said quietly as he looked to the fire. Another person he couldn't ever see again... More and more ties to sever. She blamed herself the first time. There wasn't a doubt she wouldn't this time. He regretted never saying goodbye before his final deployment.

"Well, it was sorta a panic reaction kinda thing, with Balthazar losin' his damn mind and chargin' out there to raise hell," Slate said, picking coffee grounds out of his teeth with the tip of his knife.

He sighed, shaking his head as he lowered the knife. "Then that damn Brandstorm hit. Where I spent most of my time was helpin' folks pick back up after that. Needed a lotta rebuildin'. Pretty sure it ain't done so I'll likely wander back down thataways after a bit." "Balthazar is back?" Roy asked, sitting up a little straighter. He really was out of touch. There was a sudden sense of urgency, as though he'd momentarily forgotten his woes.

"Yeah. And it's just 'bout blown people outta their minds 'cause looks like the gods ain't exactly givin' much of a damn 'bout him killin' everythin' he can get his hands on."

Running a hand over his hair, Slate sheathed the knife and settled with his feet stretched out. There was a single glance at Roy, a measured silence. "Guessin' yer ma ain't somebody yer keen on seein' 'cause of..." He gestured at the mouth of the cave. 

"It ain't that," Roy said with a sigh. He eyed Slate before asking, "What all did you happen to hear ... specifically?"

Slate reached out and emptied his tin cup, picked up the coffee pot. Pointedly, he got to his feet, lumbered to the mouth of the cave and methodically washed the cup out with snow. With unhurried movements, he returned to the fire and set the pot in to start boiling.

He neither looked at Roy nor attempted covering his back as he set about making another pot of coffee, and this time he put out a paper packet with sugar.

"Enough to guess yer an assassin of some sort," Slate finally said, meeting his gaze evenly. "And they're threatenin' yer kids to make sure ya do what they want. Makin' sure ya don't get any ideas 'bout takin' yer lit'l gal away from that lot of crazy-ass nobles 'cause that'd divert ya from yer purpose, wouldn't it?"

“That’s one interpretation,” Roy muttered. Despite the up front assessment, Roy appeared calm. There was no indication that he would suddenly leap to attack. Roy did note that nothing had been said regarding his identity. “Anything else?”

Slate added a spoonful of sugar to his freshly poured cup of coffee and stirred. He laid the spoon down, filled Roy's cup and set the sugar within reach before he settled back against his rock.

"Anythin' else ain't my business. Just like whatever ya got goin' on ya don't want to talk about ain't my business."

He sipped his coffee, blowing across the black liquid to cool it first. "Ya ain't th' first person I've met who had a whole bunch of stuff they didn't wanna talk 'bout or couldn't talk 'bout. So ya ain't got to."

Roy’s single eyed gaze rested on Slate as he tried to gauge if there was anything he’d been holding back. After a moment, his gaze fell to the coffee on the ground. He wasn’t sure quite how to feel about that piece missing. It made things far less complicated, which he should feel relief for.

Yet ... even still, Larkspur children were Larkspur. He knew she moved on. He figured she did early on. But the fact that his children continued to be associated with only her and not him wasn’t a great feeling.

The thought that he never mattered crept back into his mind, tightening his chest. Stop it. Be grateful he doesn’t know you you are. You can let him walk out of here. 

Finally, Roy gave a slight nod and accepted the coffee. He didn’t bother with any sugar.

He'd outstared Lucian Leours without losing ground. Had held back vital information from a snarling, raging, threatening brother-in-law and not batted an eyelash. Having even confounded a mesmer prowling at him for specific tidbits and memories, Slate didn't show a flicker of concern.

Nor did he make it at all evident that yes, he'd heard the name Araxus.

Did it matter to him? Not a whit. The man before him was Roy and so Roy he was. If there was a point where he felt comfortable in speaking of whatever name he'd held before, then Slate would be amicable to listening.

But it was a hard thing to press a man so clearly used to distrusting everyone around him. And Slate had no intention of doing that.

"Pretty out there in Elona. Least th' place I was seemed real nice. I would've brought Ellie up here but I don't figure those raptors do too well in th' cold. Might see 'bout makin' friends with one of them griffons I've seen a time or two."

Roy only grunted in response as he rested his head back against the rock behind him. There was nothing confrontational in his countenance despite the exchange that had occurred just beyond the cave entrance. Even if the man overheard the name, Roy reckoned it didn’t make a difference. No one knew Araxus on his own merits. Never mind the arms company he owned or his contributions to the war. He was always simply noted as “Luxelen’s Husband” and nothing more .

Roy stopped paying attention to the discussion of Elona, his focus shifting inward as he tried to fight off residual bitterness. Again, he shifted to adjust his left leg. The scars, he could deal with. It was the physical limitation that caused him concern.

It was nigh-well tangible, that abrupt withdrawl of attention from the present. And Slate didn't push. After all, there was only so much that someone could be expected to talk. Especially when they didn't look like much of the social sort. Slate himself had gone weeks without saying a word while he'd been tramping around Tyria.

Silence was easy to slip into and comfortable when it fell.

Without another word, Slate banked the fire to ensure it wouldn't die down entirely through the night, shrugged into his coat against any wayward drafts and settled against his rock, sipping the sweetened coffee and watching the flames die down into shimmering coals.

The other man wasn't sleeping either.

Slate had stood watch many times in the past, and the telling of a portion of his story had stirred up memories usually left dormant. His brow furrowed slightly, but he said nothing, turning over what he recalled of his twin sons, his ex-wife, the monster that he had tried to kill in the belief that it would be dangerous to leave him alive.

Wherever that bastard was, Slate would find him one day. He could only hope that other women wouldn't suffer the same fate while he found the motivation to try again.

If the trail didn't seem to circle back to Divinity's Reach, to Ebonhawke... It would've been easier to stay on the hunt. But despite a year or more passing, the memories were still too raw to risk running into his ex-wife or any member of her extended family.

For now, he would stay gone and trust that sneaky Elonian would pop up if he was needed. Cain had appeared at the oddest times, in the strangest places, and Slate had told him about the blonde mesmer. He'd given off a vague sense of being outrageously competent; Slate trusted his instincts.

If worse came to worse, he'd find a way to send word to the man. There'd been some talk of a house in Ebonhawke that he owned, occupied by a woman of his acquaintance. He'd try for Cain via letter there if he became too troubled.

Sip by slow sip, he finished the coffee and poured himself another cup. Settled against the rock once more and watched the snow gust past the cave mouth, catching the firelight in a thousand faint sparkles before vanishing.

As much turmoil and trouble as the world held, it still possessed beautiful scenery that could be appreciated, and that was something Slate took heart from.

[vexkader]

Solis Part 10

  I stared down at my paws, sitting up as one them started to twitch. A nagging feeling coming up at the very back of my head. I swallowed hard, trying to ignore it. 

  "Tiny-Half, you do not look well. Are you sure you-" Jóhan expresses, but I immediately blow him off with a scoff. "We're going. I'm fine." 

  He raises a brow, looking down at me. "You shake as if you are cold." 

  "Not cold." I state, looking up to him. "Do you have any water?" He nods and turns around, my voice sounding a bit dry. He came back with a small little cup, which I gratefully took. He expected me to down it right away, instead I reached a paw into my pocket. Pulling out two tiny white pills, which I took then followed by the water. 

  "Is that why you shake?" He asks curiously. 

  "It's for a condition." 

  He looked puzzled at me for a moment, tail twitching as he didn't understand. "What is this.. condition?" He asks me, throwing together a pack of food and supplies for a like hike. Hearing everything rustle around as he talked. "Shaking does not seem right."

  "Its none of your business." I tell him bluntly, finishing off everything including the water. With a scoff he heads to the mantle. Pushing down the fire to keep it low and slow burning, smoke billowing from the coals. Above he takes a dark orange-colored fish, looking to me with a newfound smile. "Smoked trout, it is good! We will have it for our walk."

  I nod, getting off the bed and recounting my items. My rifle, smooth and sleek as always. Check. Energy bars, dull and tasteless as ever? Also check. Jóhan finished up his preparations and we headed out into the cold morning. 

  A cold glacier breeze swept through my fur, Jóhan put his paws on his hips and breathed in deeply. Puffing out his bare chest. "Ah! beautiful morning, no?" 

  I looked around, the sun has barely even risen, just a slight glow on the horizon to signal its return. "I guess so, now show me the way to this ruin. I'm eager to finish this."

  Jóhan laughs as we start our trek, motioning a paw to follow him. "Patience Tiny-Half! Patience, enjoy this beautiful land and its offers!"

  I didn't know what he meant by this, and I wasnt interested in spending too much time here. "Jóhan, I do have to be paid for this you know. And get to other things." I protest, waving my tail behind me in irritation. 

  He blows me off as our paws carried us over dirt and grass. We must've been quiet for at least half an hour, enough time for the sun to start poking through. Up and over a grassy hill,  to a wonderful view of a blissfully dark grey beach. A small lake reflecting the scenery around it, as the sun bounced off its ripples. 

  "Here we are, it is time for morning eats!" The leopard gracefully bounced down the hill to the beach, heading toward what was a shovel left there. I had to admit, I was curious about this. So I bite his bait and followed him down. 

  "You come from a place of volcanos, yes?" He asks me, grabbing the wooden shaft of the shovel, sticking it into a mound of sand. This sand felt odd beneath my paws. Warm and almost bubbling, in definitive contrast to the cold and hard dirt on the way here. 

  "Yes, Venus is covered in them. Why do you ask?" 

  "Because my home, Iceland, as you see is also volcano. Our land is warm and beautiful!" 

  I had a hard time believing the 'warm' part of that. It was summer and I was reconsidering bringing a jacket. 

  "Some of these sands you see carry that warmth. Warmth of an oven!" He tells me, digging away at the sand. I watched carefully, a rifle still in my paws. He lifted sand upon sand, water filling the holes he created. To my amazement this water was bubbling and steaming! I could feel that very heat from here! 

  "Earth is a giant oven here, ripe for cooking!" His shovel thunks against what sounds like metal. Carefully he goes a bit lower, upon popping the shovel out. A whole metal pot came out with it, the warm smell of bread with it? No that can't be right, as delicious as it smelt. 

  "It is time to eat, come sit, sit with me!" He grabs the metal handle with his bare paws walking back to the grassy hill. Intrigued by this, I followed. Sitting down, he opened the pot. The smell of bread was even stronger now, and sure enough there was bread! Cooked from the heat of the sand!

  "Amazing." I remark, eying it closely. 

  "Ah but wait till you see how it tastes friend, come sit. Eat with me!" 

  Still amazed by this, I did just that. I sat down with him and enjoyed a breakfast of bread with the trout on top. Cut thinly to not over power each other. I had to admit it was a nice diversion from the usual instant noodles I would usually eat. Doing all this as the sun rose above this island. 

  "So Tiny-Half, we will continue to the glacier but I must warn you. We will pass through a old town. It has been untouched for hundreds of years." He turns to me, a seriousness on his face I had never seen from him. "Do not enter those buildings, they are cursed from the útrýmingu."

  My face twisted, "The what now?" I ask him. 

  "I do not know the english word, but long time ago the world shook. Creating monsters and us alike. Do you not know this?" 

  I huffed, I did know this. Everyone was taught this from elementary school. The apocalypse that destroyed civilization as we knew it over six hundred years ago. 

  "I do, I'll be careful in it. I expect you to lead the way." He nods understanding his part. 

  "Good, you may have gun but these things do not bend to your weapon." I wasnt going to argue, I've heard terrible things about the past. I suppose some areas like here in Iceland are still affected by these... anomalies. 

  We continued onward after breakfast. Passing over hills, marshlands, using old forgotten roads to travel. All the while Jóhan enjoyed the cool weather. 

  Though come mid afternoon, after I was told we were getting close. His demeanor changed, the once strong and head held high snow leopard now looked anxious. Checking around, nervously looking to the top of the hills. 

  His uneasiness felt contagious, knowing something was around that could scare this cat was unsettling. I had my rifle though, let something test us. Soon enough however, I knew what was making him this way. At the bottom of a small hill stood a dilapidated town. 

  Buildings that hardly stood made up a small maze of old roads. Crumbling from the harsh weather, bits of asphalt sticking between my toes. Windows almost nonexistent here as the glass been broken and smoothed out by the years of neglect. 

  "BB?" I asked silently so Jóhan couldn't hear me. 

  "Vex, you havent talked all day. Do tell me you're not being eaten."

  "I'm not, I'm in a small destroyed town. It looks like a war was fought here." I whispered anxiously, feeling a growing unease. "Are you seeing this?"

  "Off your feed yes." He says confirming my question. 

  "Tell me, how old are these."

  A brief silence was heard before he told me. "These buildings predate the apocalypse, being built either late nineteen nineties, or early two thousands. Making them a touch over seven hundred years old."

  This blew my mind, how could such buildings stay standing for being so old? Almost none had a roof, but still for even the foundations to still be there. 

  "Seven hundred." I whispered to myself in awe, walking through ancient history practically. My thoughts were quickly off by a sound of what was like steel collapsing on itself. Mine and Jóhan's fur sticking up from the sudden shock. 

  "BB I have to go!" I say in a rush, cutting him off and readying my rifle before the AI could talk back. 

  Stepping up to Jóhan, he walked slowly eyeing every building we passed. "I do not like it here Tiny-Half."

  I agreed staying close to him. "Neither do I." 

  As we edged near the town, a thick fog rolled in. Covering and hiding these buildings, as they started to say their whispers to us. Dead languages I couldn't understand, things moving in the distance I could not see! A dread feeling struck my heart, I could not stay here. 

  "Tiny-Half we must go, please no more here!" Jóhan says in a panic, his pace turning from slow to a jog. I picked it up as well, my paws pounding the ground below, kicking up debris. 

  Human figured danced in the fog, trying to coax us in, into the basements of the building. Whispering a doom I did not wish. I started to run, wanting out of this personal Hell. The dead will not call me, as Jóhan shared similar thoughts. The two of us running, panting and feeling this feeling of encroaching death! 

  The whispers were louder, almost yelling for us! Fog creeping in, trying to choke our lungs out! What has Earth done for this to happen! 

  I coughed while running, no more of this please! My legs carried my up as fast as they could, up and up with the leopard beside me. 

  The further up I went, the cleaner things became! The fog was lifting! Freedom from a dead town! I started to smile, feeling a heavy feeling off my shoulders as the day was now clear. No more was the fog there to snare us. 

  Looking back from my position, I could see no fog. Only the town, left as we entered. A shiver ran down my spine, wanting nothing to do with that place anymore.  Jóhan's face said it all, fear of that place. 

  Neither one of use said a word, the further we moved away the better. I wanted nothing else with it. We had to have been miles away at this point, as the air felt clear once more. And colder. 

  "We are close Tiny-Half, the glacier will show soon." I nod, eager to get off this island. I wished to find these ruins, and leave nothing else. 

[wrenjekyll]

Snowdown | Darcy & Wren

Wren was actually early to this snowball fight, really excited about it. Wren wasn't very competitive, honestly. Although she would have liked to come out a winner! As long as she had fun though--which she was sure she would. It was getting a little bit too cold just standing around so she walked around a bit, boots kicking up snow as her arms waved about. She wondered if it was weird to challenge a complete stranger to a snowball fight but if someone thought this was weird, then it was only the tip of the iceberg on weird things about Wren. It was fun though, Wren enjoyed making new friends and maybe she'd have one by the end of the fight. Or an enemy. Not as pleasant as a friend but it happened when she beat them. Her eyes caught someone coming and since most people didn't seem interested in the snow she decided to take her chance in assuming that would be her “opponent”. Once close enough, she gave a small wave, feeling just the slightest nervous. “Hello, I'm Wren.”

If there was one benefit to winter in Maine, it was snowball fights. ​Darcy​ hadn't had once since she was a kid, and this Wren character might just have been one of the only cute girls in the small town. Not that she was going to tell her that. There was no room in her life for dating, especially with such a big secret to keep, but a little snowball fight, making some new friends? Yeah, she could do that, and now, with the werewolf threat cleared, she could even take Daisy with her. "Hi," she greeted. Daisy, just like her mom, seemed pretty psyched to make a new friend, and was already yapping and wagging her tail around Wren's ankles. "Now what did we say? That isn't a polite way to say hi." She laughed, looking up at Wren. "Sorry, she's still new. And she hasn't been out for a real walk in a few days."

“Oh!” ​Wren​ hadn’t even noticed the dog, the snow covered a lot of the ground and Darcy was well… distracting but Wren was glad her cheeks were already red from the cold. She patted her leg to see if the dog stood up. She didn’t come across pets that often. Wren felt it would be weird to have one of her own with the whole bear thing, but she liked them. The closest she had to one when she was growing up was a friend’s cat. “She’s fine. She’s just excited I bet.” She gave her a quick pet, realizing it was probably better to focus on the dog’s owner rather than the dog. “It’s nice to meet you,” she said with a nod. “I hope you’re ready to get your butt kicked today.” Although now that they were face to face Wren had to admit that she was a little nervous, she wasn’t one to hold back when having a snowball fight and maybe Darcy wasn’t either, but there was a pressure to take it easy and not make Darcy hate her in case Wren won or acted too rough.

"Oh, she's totally excited," ​Darcy​ answered with a giggle. "I don't think she's ever seen snow before. And I... I haven't seen snow like this since... golly, it must have been one winter when we were visiting my aunt out in the country. We're usually a big old city bunch." She was comforted by Wren's accent. London, if she could have guessed. Or at least Southern England. It was a relief not to be entirely surrounded by Americans. "I think my butt is gonna be totally fine, okay? I'm... misleadingly agile." That seemed a pretty non-nonchalant way of admitting you had super powers.

“Really?” ​Wren​ was used to the snow, didn’t like it that much, but there it was and she had to deal with it. “I’ve been here for a couple of years now so I’m kind of used to it. Just another thing to expect in the winter.” She shrugged, giving a small chuckle. Wren was so used to meeting natives or at least people around the general east coast but she wasn't surprised that there was someone who wasnt, Ashkent attracted all kinds of people. “What?” Wren was curious, wondering what she could have meant by maybe she was just trying to throw her off. “Okay just ‘cause you work out a lot and are super in shape doesn't mean anything, alright? I've been doing this a while.” Wren was teasing, mocking Darcy for being “agile”.

Darcy had to wonder how much a person could subtly show off about their super powers before it either became arrogant or someone figured it out. But a playful snowball fight wasn't really the time for that kind of thinking. It was way too cynical, and Darcy was here to have fun. She let Daisy off the leash so she could play in the snow. The tiny white thing almost disappeared beneath the flakes, but she was having the time of her life. "So you're like a snowballing expert, huh?" Darcy teased right back, bending down to start to roll one, tossing it from hand to hand. "Because I don't recall that much snow in London, missy."

Wren took a step back as Darcy bent down. “Yeah… yeah I am!” She raised her head up proudly but still had her hands extended forward and continued to back up slowly. She wasn’t sure what Darcy was going to do with that snowball. Wren had an idea, but things hadn’t even started yet! She wouldn’t…. “I’ve been in Ashkent for years now. I’m like snowball ​master​.” She was lying, totally completely lying. Pretty good was different from master and maybe Darcy knew this and based on the grin on Wren’s face, she knew she wasn’t selling it very well. Yet that wasn’t what was important right now. “So, you be very careful what you do with that---”

Darcy laughed. You had to love confidence. She hadn't had the chance to test her powers in any kind of goofy situation yet. It had all been so regulated; training, patrols, studies. Her Aunt had always been over her shoulder, encouraging her and taking and giving notes in equal measure. It was nice to just relax. To just ​be​. "Alright, then enough talk. Let's go!" And barely finishing her sentence, she let the snowball fly loose.

Wren gasped, ducking but the snowball managed to clip her shoulder. She still laughed however as she scrambled, getting enough distance from Darcy but also needing to hurry and scoop up enough snow to make a ball out of it. She wanted to look up and see Darcy but thought it was better to focus on her own snowballs. She got one finished, then two and as she finished her third she glanced up, each hand having one. She threw with her right first, knowing the aim could be improved but hoped it was close enough to distract as she focused a bit longer to better aim with her left, before she knelt down to pick up the third.

Darcy was already laughing, and Daisy was running around in the snow as if she'd never experienced anything so joyful in her whole life. "Ooooh, close." But she could do better. She rolled behind a snowbank, starting to roll another snowball. She readied herself, then rose, letting it fly. It flew past Wren's ear, splattering into the snowman in the distance. "Ooooh," she flinched. "At least I got him?" She grinned, but it was short-lived, because was she going crazy, or was that snowman freaking ​moving​? "Um... Wren...?" She pointed.

Wren was sure that snowball was going to get her but then it made a splat behind her and she was going to disregard it until Darcy seemed to want her to turn around. Immediately Wren thought it hit a bystander and she felt terrible and turned around with a grimace. Only there wasn't anyone there. Only a snowman. A creepy looking snowman. "What the---" Wren straightened out, her height coming just a bit past the snowman. It wasn't there before was it? Either way, it was a gnarly looking snowman. She knew people in Ashkent had twisted humor but this was pretty sick. She wondered how it got some red on its mouth. "Hey Darcy come check this snowman out." She called for her. She turned around and gave a time out signal so she didn't think she was just baiting her to come over so she could hit her with a snowball. As she turned around Wren noticed it was a closer than it was before. She took a step back.

Darcy gawped at Wren, her eyes widening. Was she stepping closer? "No!" She hopped over the snowbank, rushing to pick up the puppy on the way to Wren. "This is so not cool," she mumbled to whatever higher power had decided to ruin her snow-date. "Can I not just have one day?" Apparently not, because the Snowman moved ever closer. Wren, at least, had noticed and taken a step back to. Darcy stopped at Wren's side, a mixture of freaked out and morbidly curious. "It's weird, huh? I wonder what kind of spell..." She stopped mid-sentence as it moved again. Daisy shivered against her coat and Darcy hugged her closer. "Okay, that's creepy."

“You think it’s a spell?” ​Wren​ hadn’t heard of snowpeople coming alive. At least not ones that were already alive because that’d just be too weird. Wren looked over at Darcy as she pulled her dog closer. She was scared. “It’s probably some joke.” Not an illusion, Wren was sure she would be able to see right through one if it was. “You know like someone in a costume?” She snorted. “Alright, man, that’s enough. It’s not funny, you just look like an idiot.” She returned her step, not scared (maybe only a little apprehensive) but she didn’t want Darcy to be. It shifted closer making Wren retreat and she was embarrassed by her reaction and that she did it in front of Darcy. She was a bugbear! She couldn’t let these things scare her. “Okay, that’s it!” Wren reached out to push the snowman (thinking it’d topple over) only for her hand to go straight through. She immediately pulled her hand back, setting it between Darcy and the snowman, lightly pushing against Darcy. “Um… maybe we should go…” Wren then looked around, there were more and those were getting closer.

Darcy shrugged, trying to maintain some kind of composure. She was a scholar. Obviously. It was perfectly natural to be curious. At least those were the lies that she told herself to try and keep from being terrified, to quiet the heart beating in her chest and the shiver on the base of her neck that wasn't from the cold. "It... it doesn't look like a costume." But she wasn't about to reach out and touch it to try and see. Those teeth looked sharp. Her eyes widened at Wren's boldness. Oh, this girl was both cute and confident, and she was going to get herself killed. "Wre--" She started, but then she saw them, the others, stepping out of the woods and coming closer and closer, icicle teeth bared. "I think leaving is a good idea." She started to back up, slowly but surely, step by step, but she didn't get far before the army of evil Snowmen started to advance. "RUN!" Without even thinking, she grabbed Wren's hand with her free one, practically dragging her to make sure she kept up.

Wren didn’t get much time to think before she needed to run. The snow was falling heavier now making running through the snow that much harder. It was like running through sand. Wren was pretty fit but she had her limits and was starting to pant, not knowing what to do and letting Darcy make the decisions for a while but she was really starting to feel the fear and it was ​right​ there so she started to eat it. Which made things better. For Wren at least. It was always a risk feeding on someone, she never knew what would happen. She felt like she was back in the Ring, the pressure, the panic, the fear. “They’re just snowmen, Darcy. It’ll be fine.” She felt the familiar tingle, the start of the shift. She willed it down, not wanting to turn. Afraid it might not just stop at attacking the snowmen. Her eyes squinted as she tried to see ahead of them but she only saw whiteness.

Darcy should have stayed in Dublin, where there was too much pollution in the air for snow, when snow that fell turned into a black mushy mess within the first hour, where they didn't have demon snowmen and she didn't have to almost trip over her feet running from them. "It won't be fine! I'm like Han Solo, okay? I've got a bad feeling about this." She didn't know why, but the fear in the pit of her gut grew worse with each step. "When things come to life that aren't supposed to, it's rarely good news!"

Wren looked around, still moving in the snow alongside Darcy, not sure what to do but knowing they had to do something with the snowmen closing in on them. They easily slid through the snow while Darcy and her were trudging through it with half the speed. It was now or never and maybe Darcy would think being a bear was ​really​ cool. Wren could dream right? “Well, to quote the great Leia Organa,” Wren let go of Darcy’s hand, stumbling in the snow as she managed to finally get out of it, because Darcy had quite a grip. “Somebody has to save our skins.” She charged toward a group of snowmen, feeling the bear rip through her and pretty soon she dropped on all fours and burst past the snowmen, starting to clear the way for Darcy (and her) to make their exit from this nightmare.

Darcy might just have fallen in love in that moment. Anyone who quoted Leia Organa at her was alright in her book. "Be care--" She started, but her eyes widened as Wren transformed before her eyes - "ful." But her words were pointless. The demon snowmen might have been able to rip them apart with their claw-like branches, but the bear was making short work of them, its own jaws ripping them apart. Darcy gave a sigh of relief. "A bugbear. Of course. That's why I was so scared." It all made sense now. Not that demon snowmen weren't scary on their own, but still, Darcy couldn't help but let out a relieved chuckle. She stood in awe, watching the bear tear through their attackers. And just as she thought it was over, they started to piece themselves back together, the one behind Wren re-forming with a demonic expression. "CRAP! WREN!"

The snowmen didn’t stand a chance against bear ​Wren​. She easily broke them apart with a swipe of her paw. This was actually kind of fun. She could do this all day, honestly. Some of them managed to get a swipe but Wren’s fur managed to prevent any serious injury so it was really nothing. Once she was sure she got enough of them she stopped, catching her breath, but it also coincided with her hearing Darcy call her name. She turned, smiling (at least on the inside, it was a bit harder to convey that as a bear) but it didn’t look like she was cheering her on. The sharp pain on her leg caught her attention and she looked down to see a half formed snowman trying to grab onto her. She swiped at it again, backing it away once she was let go, but she saw that more were starting to reform. Maybe this wasn’t going to be as easy as she thought it would be. She headed back to Darcy, knowing they had to keep moving. They didn’t have much time. Wren didn’t know when the bracelets would start working again and force her to shift back. She didn’t want to be caught in this weather without any clothes.

Darcy shivered, partly due to the cold and partly due to the fear that was still raging inside her. She clung to Daisy, holding her under one arm and turning to run. "This way!" She called, heading through the woods, hoping Wren could both hear and understand her. "My house is this way!" Right now they had to be behind closed doors, preferably fortified ones. She barely stopped to make sure Wren was keeping up with her. She just needed to keep the snowmen off her back. She ran until her muscles felt like lead, through the front gate, then the front door, making sure Wren got inside too before slamming it shut and sliding each and every lock into place. Only then did she allow herself to breathe. Oh god. It was a good thing Katherine wasn't home. There was a bear in the hallway. Darcy put the dog down, and she scrambled over to her basket and curled up as if she'd seen a ghost. "I... I think we lost them," Darcy said, panting. "I... I'll get you some clothes, and then maybe... I think we should talk."

​Well that was a fail​. ​Wren​ was disappointed in herself for not being able to save them, but still followed after Darcy, thinking she probably had the clearer head of the two. It was easier to keep up as a bear. She glanced back every now and then making sure the snowmen weren’t getting too close. Wren couldn’t make them go away but she could buy them some time as they reformed. She didn’t think she would fit inside any kind of open door, but Wren managed to squeeze herself in---literally. It was a bit tight in the hips. Once inside though she willed herself to unshift. It wasn’t painful but her bear was proving a bit disobedient. She knew if she didn’t shift now, it’d only want to continue to attack and maybe it’d try its hand at Darcy. Eventually the bear recedes and Wren returned, trying very hard to cover herself, shivering both from nervousness and cold. “Yeah, thanks. Sorry about that, I thought I could help…” She worried about what they would talk about. Was Darcy some sort of hunter?

Darcy came downstairs with some clothes. She was taller than Wren by a few inches, but other than that, they'd probably be a good enough fit. She lay the hoodie and sweatpants out on the chair and gave another long look at the bear before clearing her throat and turning around, covering her eyes. "So you're a bugbear?" She said, filling the silence. "Must be awkward, when you turn back and... you know. Without any clothes." She exhaled. "I-I know it must be scary, showing what you are..." She really couldn't help herself. Maybe it was the Scribe in her. "But you tried to save my life! And even if you hadn't... you're safe with me, Wren. I promise." She heard the wind and snow buffeting against the window, shivering again. "That out there... Maybe not so much. We'd better stay inside 'til we're sure they're gone. Then I can drive you home?"

Wren quickly put on the clothes, they were a bit too small for Wren’s liking, not a bad fit, Wren just generally chose a size or two bigger for clothes. She nodded at first, but realized Darcy wasn’t looking at her. ​Thank god​. “Yeah, usually I’m a bit more careful but I… haven’t really been in a position where I need to worry about my clothes when I turn.” Ring matches usually gave her scraps to put on before her shift. And for a long time she only shifted in the Ring… guess she sort of forgot that she needed to be more careful. “I didn’t really even think about it until just now, really.” Her first thought was getting each other to safety than keeping her bear a secret. “But yeah, that’s probably the smartest thing to do.” She chuckled. “We’ll toughen this thing out.” She looked out the window, wondering just what was going on. She supposed they had time to figure it out.

[nikkiexploreseu]

January 18th; Reykjavik, Iceland

Another amazing city, and another amazing country. Iceland is unlike anywhere I've ever been and unlike anywhere else in the world that you could go. Unfortunately when I arrived / for the entire time I was there, it was ridiculously unpredictable weather so I didn't get the opportunity to see the Northern Lights :( but I did go on the tour anyway which was an experience in itself. I landed through a snow storm although it was a barmy 5 degrees outside; didn't even need a jacket! I learnt very quickly that there's no way whatsoever to get anywhere other than hiring a car, or taking buses everywhere like not public transport buses like grayline buses that you had to pre-book. Which was fine, I'm just glad I'd pre-organised a transfer because the airport, as is everything else in Iceland, was miles and miles away from the hostel. It was easily the nicest hostel I've stayed in, and I had a nice bay window in the room with a view of the 'beach' that was right across the road. I went on the northern lights tour that night and happened to sit next to a psychologist from Virginia, and as I'm studying that this year I picked his brains for the whole tour.....which was 6 hours long....and we didn't see the lights. So basically this is how northern lights tours go. Iceland weather is insanely predictable, one minute it'll be crystal clear and the next you'll be in the middle of a blizzard. So we drove around in our coach, along with 17 other coaches full of Northern Lights tours, and we all go to the same places and chase the spots that don't have cloud cover, and even then it wasnt guaranteed that we would see them. So you get to a spot, get out and stand in the cold for an hour waiting to hopefully maybe see them appear, and when I say cold I mean negatives it's snowing the ground is covered in snow; we did that three times. Supposedly we found them at one point, but it turns out that you can't see the spectacular colours in real life the way you can in photos because our eyes don't receive that level of light or something, so in order to 'see' them you have to take a photo where you're standing so that you can actually see the colour, otherwise it looks like a milky sort of movement in the sky that doesn't have a lot of colour. That's what the tour guide said anyway, so that was an unfortunate realisation. Iceland also has some really really weird general beliefs. They genuinely believe in elves; they have elf whisperers that actually have a career in elf whispering, still like in modern day that's a thing. They also believe in fixing a sore back by catching and killing a raven, burning it and using the ashes from its head specifically on your back. They ALSO used to believe that the lights would eat their children, so they reacted to that by throwing dog poo at the sky to try and get rid of it. Weird people Icelanders. The second day I had a golden Circle tour which was absolutely spectacular. We visited a national park and walked down to see some amazing views of the mountains, although whilst driving through Iceland in general the view anywhere you are is particularly outstanding. There are mountains and plains covering the whole country as far as I can gather, it's a beautiful drive, but we could hike up to a lookout and look over the plains which was amazing. We went to the Geysir, which for those that don't know is a hot spring that explodes into the air every 6-8 minutes due to something geological...it wasn't important at the time and I think I was asleep when they told us why it happens, but the point is it happens. It is situated in what they call a high temperature area, which as I quickly learnt is a really quite incredible concept. We walked through the snow, ice and freezing cold through a field of hot springs that were all at boiling point. Literally as you can see in the pictures, it's just I don't even know how to accurately explain THEY WERE HOT SPRINGS AND IT WAS SNOWING. Weirdest but also the most beautiful natural thing I've ever seen. We also visited Gullfoss, a famous waterfall which definitely lived up to its name. It's not as large as I expected but it was a beautiful view, again I've posted a picture. Geographical features in Iceland are the highlight and I thought it would be mostly sightseeing, and it is I guess but it's a different level of sightseeing and I would highly, highly recommend it. I also kept thinking about the fact that I was at the absolute opposite end of the planet, which is a damn long way away to say the least. I was supposed to go on another northern lights tour that night but they got cancelled due to the weather. The third and final day was blue lagoon day; the reason that I even visited Iceland in the first place and it didn't disappoint. It was very very nice to be submerged in hot water like that, again surrounded by snow and ice just as the other hot springs were, and the water really is a brig blue colour. It turned my hair into a birds' nest because it's so mineral rich, but I've never seen my skin so clean before, it actually cleaned me and I was just so smooth afterwards it was amazing. The water wasn't like normal water, it was Milkier than usual and almost thicker, you could feel that there was more in it than water. Included in the entrance price we got a silica face mask, which was AAAAAAMAAZZZIINNGGGGG. My skin has never felt so fresh, you apply it and leave it on for 10 minutes and bam it was like I had a new face. It was amazing. It also meant that everyone was floating around with bright white masks on which was a bit amusing. They had a steam bath and a sauna as well, but it was hot enough in the water I didn't brace going into a sauna; I heard someone saying it was horrible. They had a little cafe and a relaxation area inside where there were heaps of lazy boys as well, that was a good relief because as soon as you got out of the water it was -2 outside. From there I went back to the airport; I'm getting really good at airporting now, I've learnt that it's exactly the same absolutely everywhere you go. My bag is considered oversized luggage on these European airlines so I have to keep checking it in and then carrying it to the oversized baggage area, which is not necessarily always easy to find. Back to London!