#its still posted on ff.net sighs<3

[riversimmone]

Three's A Crowd - Chapter 3

RiverOfTheSand

Summary:

SasuSaku. He didn't mean to kill that man. He had simply reacted to being attacked. And now Konoha is forced to hunt down the rogue members of Team 7, or risk open war. Eventual NaruHina.

End chapter notes:

Not the most exciting chapter, but it's here for a reason, so please be patient. :)

XXX

Read from the beginning. This is a work in progress story you can find on tumblr and AO3 and completed on FF.NET.

[All tumblr posts will be tagged ‘Three’s A Crowd’ with their corresponding chapter for quick and easy access.]

Enjoy. :)

Chapter Three. The Bounty.

The Hokage had retired, again. He'd come out of retirement the night Minato Namikaze had sealed the Kyuubi into his only son to save Konoha, not wanting to return to the task. Hiruzen Sarutobi wished he could do that night over again; this time, he would do the Shiki Fuujin himself. He was an old man, and Minato was still young; he shouldn't have left his son behind.

Hiruzen sighed, packing up the last of his things. He'd left them here accidentally, and his successor had found them only recently. It had been a full two months since Lady Tsunade had taken office. How the hell had the Fuuin Jutsu scroll he'd made up for his grandson found its way into a locked, chakra sealed cabinet? It was supposed to be in a hidden compartment in his old desk. It was lucky he supposed, that Tsunade had found it, though he figured she'd actually been looking for something to drink.

"You found it I see," Tsunade said, striding into her office, with Kakashi Hatake not far behind her.

Hiruzen nodded his head. "Did you get the bottle of sake I left you?"

She smiled at him. "And just in time to avoid Shizune's suspicions."

Kakashi chuckled. Tsunade's assistant didn't approve of her shishou's habits, let alone that the third Hokage encouraged them. It was a well established fact that a drunken (or even just slightly tipsy) Tsunade was less coherent but more predictable than a sober one. Some people, Hiruzen included (and mostly), liked to test that boundary often. After all, Tsunade Senju had agreed to become the fifth Hokage while trying to drink the old man "under the table" as the expression went. It had taken Hiruzen almost nineteen years to accomplish…

Hiruzen lifted the box that contained the scroll he'd been looking for, along with a few other knick knacks Tsunade had neglected to inform him about and moved to leave the room. He stopped suddenly however, remembering something he'd wanted to tell Tsunade. He pointed to a scroll on her desk.

"That communiqué came in for you from Team Guy. I think they've found something interesting in the land of rice paddies."

Tsunade narrowed her eyes at him. As a Hokage, even a retired one, he didn't need her permission to read a priority dispatch, let alone a routine communication from squads deployed outside of Konoha. But she had discussed the implications of just helping himself to her mail before and clearly, he needed a reminder.

Kakashi glanced at the old man. "Did it say what it was?"

"Kakashi!" Tsunade roused. Both men chuckled at her this time.

"Yes," Hiruzen said, having recovered first. "Something about a rogue group of Shinobi."

The fifth Hokage frowned at him. Rogue Shinobi in the land of rice paddies? That wasn't a surprise, so why did Guy take the time to write that in a communiqué? She quickly opened the scroll and read it, Kakashi watching her with barely contained interest. Every hint of missing-nin interested him, and had done so for the last six years. It was to be expected of course, considering the departure of Team Seven from Konoha.

So, despite the fact that he wasn't supposed to look at the scroll (rules and all), Tsunade handed it to the silver haired ninja to read as well. His single eye narrowed and the familiar lettering written by Guy satisfied his curiosity. The infamous Kitsúne had been in the area; they were an unknown group that were not listed in the bingo book because no nation had proof of their existence. Sure, the distinct calling card had been carved into the skin of their latest victim, but according to the laws of the great nations, that was not enough to put them in the bingo book.

Nobody who encountered them ever survived, so there was no proof they were actually ninja… apparently.

Disappointed, Kakashi handed the scroll back to the fifth Hokage. But his reaction had not gone unnoticed, and the third Hokage queried him.

"Do you miss your team?"

Kakashi didn't respond, other than to sigh. The truth was, Sakura, Sasuke, and Naruto occasionally entered his mind, just like his Sensei and Obito and Rin, but he preferred not to be questioned about them. He felt like such a failure. Firstly, Sasuke had wanted to leave because he'd overheard the elders talk about using the fallout of the attack on Konoha during the Chunin exams as an excuse not to go after retribution. They had their hands full just trying to return their daily lives back to normal and didn't want to "waste our resources on a pointless pursuit".

Next, Sakura had refused to let the object of her desires leave without her. She had lost her parents and didn't seem to think there was any reason to stay in Konoha anymore. She wanted to go wherever Sasuke did, regardless of the consequences, which was hardly surprising. It was Naruto's decision to leave that actually surprised Kakashi. Didn't he want to become Hokage one day? He could never be trusted with that position now, having abandoned his village, along with his team mates. It made no sense and had only added fuel to the idea that Naruto had had some kind of hidden agenda: revenge had never been his thing after all.

"I'll take that as a yes," Hiruzen said, his gaze now drifting to the portraits of former Hokages, just as the copy ninja's had in his musing.

Tsunade watched them for a moment, and then sighed, letting her own eyes coast upward and at the wall. They were all thinking the same thing, but it was Kakashi who voiced it. He shook his head at the portrait of his former Sensei.

"I'm sorry Minato. I couldn't stop him from leaving."

X X X

It was called Hashirōn Town, this tiny speck of a waste of space in the land of hot water. Sakura Haruno was disgusted, looking around at the brothels, the gambling stalls, and the deplorable characters manning said booths. She just wanted to stock up on whatever necessities they needed this time and leave.

Naruto Uzumaki, the baka, had other ideas of course. His eyes roved over the brothels, but lingered on the gambling stalls; he loved money, and the prospect of entering a gambling house, knowing he was going to come out with more than he took in was very tempting to him. The childlike look on his face hinted to the first words out of his mouth.

"I wanna try the casinos first!"

"Hold on dobe," Sasuke said, his voice oddly calm for feeling so frustrated. "Remember why we're here."

Naruto nodded his head, but kept his eyes on the nearest entrance to one of the larger casinos.

"I know teme, but we need money and I'm feeling lucky today."

He had an uncanny knack for gambling. Even Sasuke couldn't voice a reason not to let him let loose every time they found a gambling house. But they never advertised themselves as ninja, and this town had a reputation for reacting strongly to the presence of Shinobi who were not from the nearby village hidden in hot water. The risk someone could out them was slim, but that was still too high for the Uchiha's taste. They needed to do their shopping then leave.

"Sasuke's right Naruto," Sakura said. "This place is too high risk to gamble here. Let's get going."

The blonde grumbled. "Fine, fine, but I want some ramen before we leave."

She grabbed him roughly, locking arms with him and pulling the blonde along with her; Sasuke followed silently.

"Of course you do," Sakura said happily.

She kept wondering what she could do, to keep her promise to herself last night. There was a high probability anything she did would draw the attention of ninja, so she kept her eyes peeled for an area away from the sort of tea and dango shops that Shinobi would normally frequent. Sakura loved dango, but wasn't so terribly in the mood right now. She wanted to play a prank, any prank on her boys.

Her eyes raked over the stalls as they exited the entertainment section of town and ambled toward the business end. Honestly, she'd expected more from a town so close to a hidden ninja village. The last time they'd been this close to Yugakure, Kitsúne had avoided being seen in public. It became prudent after some kids had seen them in the area of a recent kill they'd made. Visiting ninja from Shimogakure who had stolen a scroll from some high paid merchant for a mission had drawn Sasuke's attention.

The Uchiha knew what he was doing when looking for scrolls that would help them.

And unfortunately for the life expectancy of the previous owners of that particular scroll, they'd put up a fight and piercing through genjutsu turned out to be their specialty. So they had had to die.

But luckily for Sakura, Sasuke and Naruto, the kids hadn't been very successful in identifying them, so they were able to leave unnoticed.

As Sakura mulled over the childish pranks she could pull, Sasuke stopped them, his arm snaking around her waist and pulling her away from Naruto. She half expected (though doubted) him to pull her into a passionate, make out session. But Sasuke had other ideas. Wordlessly, he pointed to the window of a nearby shop and Naruto whined. There was a picture of some unruly looking rouge ninja and a monetary reward written next to the details of his persona.

He was a cold blooded assassin with ninja abilities who was going around and picking off teams that carried the insignia of either Konoha or Kumo. Naruto's eyes trailed finally, to the zeros on the offered reward, his eyes lighting up and his mouth agape.

"Forget gambling!" He half shouted. "Let's catch us a bounty!"

X X X

[floralcrematorium]

1, 3, 16 with Arthur

Thanks for the ask!!

1. Do you relate to your favorite character?

Mmm I've got three of those so I will apply it to each of them

France: I'm a bit picky with food, but definitely not for the same reasons as Francis. I do value flavor over everything else, but if the Texture Is Bad (I have texture sensory issues I think??), I cannot eat it. I'm an artist (regrettably) and tend to be a perfectionist in regards to my craft. I can be a little obsessive towards literally anything, but I think that's the uhhhhh hyperfocus (I once played Minecraft for 27 hours straight, do not ask How it happened, I don't know). That's where the similarities end, though. I am ✧*̥˚ Ace and While Not Aro, I Do Not Know What Flirting Looks Like *̥˚✧

China: I've never written for Yao the way I have for Francis or Lukas so I don't have the best pin on Who He Is, but I hold a lot of admiration for him and he's the only one who's maintained their status as Favorite Character for me pre and post fandom hiatus. I wouldn't say I handle change the best, but I find ways to adapt to situations I'm thrown into. Being able to adapt and be flexible is how this man's been alive for 4,000 years, so we share that. Similarly as with Francis, we share cooking and art in common.

Norway: I refer to him as Lukas because unfortunately that's just. What's etched into my brain and it's what I'm attached to. Nor can seem a bit spacey due to how quiet he can be, and I'm spacey, but definitely not for the same reasons. When I write for Lukas, he's dramatic but in very subtle ways (sighing, inner thoughts), and it's been brought to my attention on more than one circumstance how much I sigh or that I'm just a Little Freak™. I mean this in the most affectionate way I possibly can, I want to throw him down the stairs.

3. Who are your favorite Hetalia writers?

At the current moment, I do not know!!! I feel like I haven't read enough to really pick favorites (I am really bad at starting new things and I have a laundry list of fics I've been meaning to start but. Haven't. INCLUDING YOURS!!!! I am looking at your A03 voraciously and waiting for the stars to align enough for me to have some darn focus.) I will say that I am absolutely obsessed with Take a Chance on Me by Hetart on A03. I gotta catch up on that. My favorite fic from pre-hiatus was Log of the End of the World on ff.net, but I haven't gone back to it since 2015 so I remember literally nothing other than I liked it at age 14 enough to still remember its name.

16. Assign Arthur a chillin outfit.

I know I said I'd draw, but in the most respectful way I am NOT drawing him specifically right now. His hair... oh I so very don't want to figure out how his hair works. Take this as an IOU specifically for you for me to draw Arthur One Day and accept this screenshot of a pinterest board I made specifically for this ask

I cannot see this man wearing anything other than sweaters, sweater vests, brown trousers specifically, and the loafers. Are those loafers? Beats me. Anyway. Man is forever banished to be color coded with green and brown for me. Realizing now I could've just opened the Sims 4 and screenshot how he looks in my game but alas, I am eepy

I think this man is the kind of person to hate loungewear/pajamas. He prefers to always be dressed because it helps him feel productive and look presentable. He's just like Francis in that he can't be casual, but in a crunchy old man sorta way.

He's wearing green plaid flannel pants to bed with any clean t-shirt he can find.

I would throw something punk together, but that's not my area of expertise in regards to alt fashion

Hetalia Asks

[starspatter]

Heroes and Thieves, Ch. 21

Title: Heroes and Thieves Fandom/Universe: BTAS, pre/post-RotJ flashback

Summary: A story about second chances, healing, and having hope.

Rating: PG-13, for references to character death, child psychological torture and trauma.

Genre: Romance/Family/Friendship/Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 1,333 Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20

Also on ff.net and AO3.

But just go to bed now you crazy kid You'll be alright I know come morning time Just let the moon rise and the sun go down Don't let the hard times make you feel alone

-Family of the Year, "Find It"

————————–

Between.

Gotham cemetery.  A place of mourning and memory.  A young man exited out from a taxi cab after paying the driver’s fare, watching its tracks roll away through faintly falling snow before facing the metal gate.  Winter had set upon Gotham early this year, and he idly adjusted his scarlet scarf – a single splash of color amidst the gray.  …In his hands he held a similar sign of vibrance, in the form of a ruby bouquet of blossoms.

With a sigh, he steeled himself, and creaked open the steel spokes, trudging up the hill towards his destination.  On his way, he passed by a huge headstone that bore the unmistakable marker of a single surname carved in bold: Wayne. He paused, uncertain, as he silently bowed his head for a minute to pay polite respects, before moving on.

When he reached his real objective (coincidentally located not too far away), he lamented a little with gnawing guilt at the sight of brown and overgrown weeds shrouding the spot, enduring despite choking chill.  There was no marble slab, no erect monument of honor to stand proud the test of time – but a single plate embedded in the earth.  He bent down and parted the plants, brushing off a light layer of white dust to reveal its ephemeral epitaph, running his fingers solemnly over the minimal inscription:

Steven Drake

Husband and Father

19XX – 200X

There was another grave beside it with an analogous engraving.  He dutifully swept it clear as well, before gently laying the flowers down between the two.  Stepping back, he shoved his palms in his pockets, breathing out in belated greeting.

“Hi, Mom.  Hey, Dad.  It’s been a while.”

He rubbed the back of his hair awkwardly, overwhelmingly aware of just how long it had been since he’d given his own kin any kind thought, having made zero effort to dig up the dirt of an even more distant past.  Per his own personal request, Mr. Wayne had spared him any fancy funeral proceedings, employing but a simple ceremony and privately hired preacher.  Burying his father’s bloated, barely recognizable blue corpse in a closed casket after importing it back from Metropolis, in order to let his body’s spirit rest in Gotham hallowed ground at least – at “home”.  …Bruce had held his hand the entire time though, and the long overdue tears from that day threatened to descend now at the recollection.  He shook his head though and swallowed firmly, struggling to find a way to broach conversation, make up for lost time.

“I’m sorry I haven’t visited often.  I guess I’m still mad at you for a lot of things,” he grudgingly admitted, mostly addressing the male side of the equation.  “But… I know you did what you felt you had to in order to support Mom and me, all on your own.”

He focused on the paternal plaque by his feet – not quite in forgiveness just yet, but understanding sympathy at least.  Having seen and experienced how truly horrible a “parent” could be firsthand, he had a better appreciation now for some blessings, however small.

“I don’t know if you’ve been watching from… wherever you are.  So I guess I’ll just start at the beginning.  After you left, Bruce Wayne found me and took me in.  You know, the big-shot billionaire?  He… gave me a job.  The best job in the world, I thought.  I… was really good at it too.  Things were great, for a while.  I was honestly happy.  And…” He hesitated.  “You would’ve been proud of me, I think.  …If you’d only been there to see.”

Glassy eyes masked in mist, lifting a lugubrious look to the clouded, crying sky.  Dull and monochrome.  Monotone.

“But… I messed up.  Bad.  I mean: really, really screwed up.  I made the biggest mistake of my life, and it cost everything and everyone I love.  I… did something terrible.  Something you never even had the guts to do.”

His knuckles clenched tightly, reminiscing.

“Before you disappeared, you said something to me.  You probably thought I was asleep, but I heard you.  You… said that I’d be ‘okay’. That I had ‘something special’, something you ‘never had’.”

He lowered his gaze, returning resentfully to reality.

“You were wrong though. I’m not special,” he spat in hindsight, acknowledging the full irony of the forecasting statement.  “And I’m sure as hell not okay.”

Biting his lip, he exhaled, letting it go.

“But… I’m doing better now. Since then anyway.  Things have changed.  I’ve got a new job – a legit one, that’s not breaking any laws,” he almost laughed in mocking jest at the notion.  “-with decent salary and benefits, can afford a fairly nice place of my own; a ‘stable’ income life and all that normal shit.  In general, I suppose you could say things are… pretty ‘all right’ at the moment.  I’ve even made some really good friends, who helped me get back on my feet after that.  And I… met a girl: Her name’s Stephanie.  You’d like her, she’s got what you’d call ‘spunk’.”

He smiled softly.

“We’re getting married soon, in the spring.  I… wish you could be there.  Both of you.”

A beat, before quietly adding:

“All of you.”

…He whispered.

“I want you to know: No matter what, you’re still my Dad.  Bru- Mr. Wayne could never replace you.  …He tried though, he really did.  I… don’t blame him for that.  So, please – try not to hate him too.”

His fist tautened in determination.

“Even so, I won’t be like you.  And I won’t be like him either.  I’m… gonna find my own way from now on.  Stay straight, stay clean yada yada.  Stay ‘strong’ – gold and all that crap.”

Reflecting back, he mused.

“In the end, maybe that’s what you were trying to do too.  The right thing.  Show ol’ Pukeface who’s boss, protect me and this whole goddamn city.  And paid the price for it.  …Or maybe you were just trying to save your own skin.”  He shrugged.  “Guess I’ll never know at this point.”

Scratching his scruff again through the scarf, he found himself running out of things to say.  He thought there’d be a lot more mean and angry words to let out, finally get completely off his chest; cruel criticism for all the accumulated sins committed by every contributing party involved, more bitterness built up after all this time…  But somehow it didn’t seem worth it anymore.

“I suppose that’s all I wanted to come to talk about, for now.  I’ll stop by again.  And… I’ll bring her with me next time, so you can meet her.”

Bidding farewell for the time being, he turned and trekked back through the gathering slush towards the entrance.  Crunching through ice and frost as he walked purposefully past cracked, pious structures and beneath the barren branches of trees, limbs stripped of life and leaves but still surviving – clinging on desperately by the roots.  So too were the touchstone memorials, the ones still being devotedly cared for by loved ones left behind.  (Like hidden trophy cases submerged just as deep underground, concealed in cold storage – frozen stasis – within a closeted cave.  …Maybe, it might be more accurate to refer to it as a “mausoleum” than a “museum” at this stage, given the curator’s penchant for creeping about at night, as if a wandering ghost himself.  Maintaining appearance as a haunting host for no one, no reason other than to selfishly serve his own death-seeking crusade – grimly reaping what he’d sown.)  …So as not to forget where they’ve been and where they came from – a permanent, palimpsest reminder that someone was, in fact, ‘here’.

He didn’t get very far though before he came upon another fresh set of slightly larger prints beside his own, trailing to a stop before the towering tomb he bypassed earlier.

…

Blooming like budding drops of blood at its shadow’s base was something that wasn’t there before:

It was a pair of red roses.

————————–

I say goodbye as it fades away Out past those trees I'm gonna find my way Please don't be scared for me I'm big and I'm strong You had to know that I would leave all along

[novantinuum]

💫🦋🎀💝💥

@a03-anxiousandafraid also sent in two of these- thank you very much!

__

💫what is your favorite kind of comment/feedback?

The quickest way to my heart in the comment section is to start a conversation about meta, or ask a question about the broader lore, or notice the overarching themes of a chapter, or to make predictions about what one things may happen next. Just, in general, any comment that shows genuine engagement with the text makes my heart sour <3

I spend so long working on these chapters and pouring over every detail, so it's always wonderful when you get a few readers who are taking their time to read between the lines and notice all those details and happily exude about their reading experience.

🦋what are you most insecure about when you post a fic?

Stupid typos that I should've noticed in AO3 editing. AO3 has this annoying thing where it likes messing up italicized dialogue and adding extra spaces where they don't need to be, and it's really aggravating to fix. I inevitably miss a few of those typos when I post, and I just think they make my works look less polished.

🎀give yourself a compliment about your own writing

Uh... I generally think I have gotten better at writing action scenes lately? Those used to be a topic I dreaded, but after writing a few chunky ones this past year (most of which I've yet to post), I feel like I'm starting to get the hang of them. There's a sense of like... there's a tempo one has to find for their action scenes. And I've found it's also helpful to have some emotional struggle overlapping with the physical action, so you have something else to play off of and provide more urgency to the scene.

💝what is a fic that got a different response than you were expecting?

Lol definitely Hollowed Moon, that one SU fic where I had Stevonnie meet Spinel (who was still stuck in that garden.)

In hindsight I know that most of its popularity was just because Spinel was a brand new character and I was one of the first people to actually write an ongoing multichapter fic about her, but like... my god. That one really blew up in a wild way. (And also earned me some of the ickiest crit comments I've ever gotten, like... GOD- when you have a popular fic, people just really feel the need to nitpick at it for no reason, huh?) I also remember people getting into a drawn out argument about Spinel and whether or not her implied BPD was an excuse for her behavior in canon or not lmafo. Like... guys... please... can we take this outside and not hash this out in the comments of my fic???

That's all a big reason why I abandoned that work, sigh. I was sick of dealing with people's toxic comments on it. Believe me- if you've ever wished for popularity on a fic, don't. It's seriously not worth it, smh.

💥find your least kudos’d fic - say something wonderful about it.

So lol- I almost didn't want to count these, but my least kudos'd fic is a cross post of an old Doctor Who fic from ff.net that was originally written in 2013. So since it's some of my oldest writing, it genuinely... isn't that great. (I posted it on my AO3 to ensure it is safely archived somewhere beyond a site that has a questionable future.)

The fic is called Bedtime Stories, and it's a short scene with the Eleventh Doctor and a sleepy Amy, just kinda him waxing poetic about his past and his regrets or whatever. It's like- it's honestly not great, and definitely reeks of flawed 15 year old logic, but I do feel like I succeeded in pulling out a good Sad Eleven voice for this one.

[rivvyelf]

Reflection: One-Year Anniversary of Writing My First Fanfic

One year ago today, I was in a much worse mental state overall. I was still grieving for my dead mom. It was hard to wake up in the morning, go work out, and enjoy life. For every good thing that happened, I would be immediately reminded that one of my biggest cheerleaders, my Mom, isn't there to see it, or lecture me that it might not be a "good thing." You know, cause that's what loved ones do. They tell you when the road you think you're going on with good intentions is actually down a dark path.

Heck, I'm in tears writing the end of that first paragraph because I'm still grieving for my mom. Ugh, I miss her.

But anyways, one year ago today, I decided to plant my flag. It was time to begin a project... perhaps a lifelong project, that I had been formulating for years, and only was stopped because death got in the way. This project is my first fanfic: Outlaws of the Inland Sea. To put Water Margin in a Middle-Earth setting.

... 27 chapters and 170k words later, I'm not even remotely finished with it. And even when (or if) I do finish it, at least 3 prequel ideas have appeared in my head for me to write that.

Now, one of the things that I plan to do soon after I finish Chapter 28, is rewrite the Prelude, include a new chapter after the Prelude, and rewrite "The Fall of Gao." I have a much clearer idea of how to go from the ominous, dark tone of the Prelude to the tone of "The Fall of Gao."

But one year ago, I only had part of the vision of what I wanted to do. I had a ton of all these grand plans, themes, changes I wanted to make, and plot twists, but they were only seeds that kept on changing shape. Like those weird AI-generated commercials on food (gross).

So let's take a look back at this Prelude I made. The site I posted this wasn't originally in FF.net or AO3, but the LOTR Plaza (aka the Nuplaza). It was about a month after that when I was comfortable enough to share my work with FF.net and AO3. Here's the link to it: https://www.lotrfanaticsplaza.com/forum/viewtopic.php?p=55374#p55374

And here are the words I wrote. I posted it the next day. The last time I edited this on the plaza was in August of last year:

Chapter 1: Prelude Third Age Year 1944 A creaking sound disturbed the quiet peace, as a flamed torch revealed The Guardsman entering the dungeon cell. The occupant appeared asleep, his worn head bowed, resting on a long graying beard. His wrists were shackled, but the shackles were long, as it did not constrict movement to the cell's pit latrine, a new addition as a precaution to future plagues. The Guardsman did not hesitate, their feet quick with light echoes, placing brown bread on wooden plate alongside its counterpart water cup in front of the prisoner. Then they quickly walked back towards the entrance.

…No response. With a huff, The Guardsman pointedly turned their back on the prisoner. Quickly the flame departed, and the cell door slammed shut. Darkness once again became The Prisoner's guest. A few seconds passed, and The Prisoner's shoulders shook as he placed both palms on his face. But no wailing issued forth, instead soft chuckles ruminated throughout the room as he grinned. A slow sigh passed through his mouth after that, and he pierced his sight downwards where the bread was supposed to be. Brow furrowed in concentration, it was if he was closely inspecting the food. But was he really? What was The Prisoner thinking about? Who is this Prisoner anyways? What part did he play in the deaths of Gondorian royalty? The long answer to these questions begins not in Gondor, nor Eriador, nor on any common Middle-Earth map. For miles beyond the Inland Sea of Rhun, southeast of the Last Desert, there existed the Eastern Empire whose capital was Dongjing. Our tale begins there in the next chapter.

(Opening Theme: 2011 Water Margin Full First Opening Theme)

Yeah, back then I bolded characters since that was the thing I did in RP posting for the plaza. On the FF.net and AO3 version, I use the normal formatting one would see in a typical fanfic.

I still remember why exactly I wanted to begin the fic here. It was catered to a person who was familiar with Tolkien, then transitioning to the world of Water Margin. It worked for me. The issue, looking back, was that I hadn't written anything creative since my Mom passed away. The tone I set for the Prelude wasn't something that I could easily transition to the tone I set in the next chapter.

But at the time, I was satisfied with myself. I planted my flag, and to hell with it, I was going to write it out. That's the most important part. Stuff like this can be revised (most of the time), it's starting out the adventure that is arguably the hardest part, that first step into the unknown. Now the question is, can I maintain it?

Given that this fic has a relatively low amount of comments/favorites/followers/kudos (its higher than I expected to have. I had extremely low expectations for the fic's outreach), and I'm still writing every day, and it's now 170K words long and we haven't even reached Lu Da's introduction yet. Guess what? This locomotive's conductor ain't leaving anytime soon, and its fuel tank's arrow is still on F! Pedal to the medal, hop on if you wish, but it's still going even if there's no one on the train!

I always think about what Mom would say about my fanfiction... And I know that she'll roast me for getting details on Chinese culture wrong and having openly bisexual and homosexual characters in the fic (yeah... hard disagree with Ma on her anti-LGBTQIA+ stance).

But you know what? Knowing my Ma wouldn't approve of my fic and would probably ask me to remove it?

That comforts me. And now I'm a much happier person than I was last year. And I think she'd be fine with that.

[strawbnetwork]

rereading house of hades and percy seriously wouldve been so #girl if hed just learnt to utilise his newfound powers of controlling things like poison shit wouldve been over SO fast

[whatgaviiformes]

10. Music Makers - Part 1 / Scenes from Gordon’s Bedside

Chapter Summary:  Virgil and Gordon and music Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 You are Here

Chapter A/N: In honor of 10 chapters of this concept, the plan is to give you a hell of a chapter 10 with a few moments in time strung together. I decided to go ahead and share what I have with you instead of waiting. Once the chapter has been shared in full over tumblr, I will post the full piece at Ao3 and FF.net. It may or may not make sense to remain as chapter 10 or be it’s own thing. Do share if you have an opinion. :-) 

The title Music Makers comes from “Ode” by  Arthur O'Shaughnessy, and it is very lovely. Part 1 A/N:  Music Referenced: Einaudi’s “Primavera”  Spotify | Youtube

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Music Makers - Part 1/6

“You missed the cherry blossoms.”

San Francisco wasn’t too unlike Denver in Spring, but while Denver had some beautiful display of cherry blossom trees over in Cherry Creek, the Northern California Cherry Blossom Festival was an event, the second largest outside of Japan coming in right behind the one in the nation’s Capital. Virgil remembered the trip they’d taken to Washington DC as a family, the spring he caught flowers buds in his hair.  The festival had seemed bigger than the one that took place in San Francisco the past two weekends, but then again, he had been just a small child at the time.

This time, his heart hadn’t been in it with John leaving and Gordon still not awake.  The slow rain of pink through his fingertips made him think his brother. Drifting. And he would not have gone in the first place if John hadn’t dragged him out of the hospital for a bit of fresh air…for his last few days on terra firma - John’s words, not Virgil’s.

“I don’t really want to leave right now,” John had said, silhouetted against the line of pink trees, stormy emerald eyes blinking against the glare of the sun.

“John,” Virgil had whispered, “you have to.” It wasn’t because John had no choice. There was always a choice, but the ISS was John’s dream, a once in a lifetime opportunity that he could only take up while under NASA’s employment. Once their project got off the ground, John Tracy would no longer be an astronaut. His work would be anonymous; he’d be invisible. They all would be.

Gordon would hate if he took that opportunity away. John needed to go to space.

Virgil knew his brother belonged above the mesosphere, that John’s veins were made of a particular brand of stardust that was quite potent in its call towards home. But it was to be John’s first time beyond the skies, and Virgil would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little fearful for his little brother rocketing through the atmosphere into the vacuum of space.

“Are you frightened?”

“Of what’s out there? No,” John had explained, a crushed petal falling from his grasp. “Of what I’m leaving down here – I’m terrified.”

April had turned into May all too quickly, yet ever so slowly at the same time. Scott had been called back to duty, and Alan back to school. John had returned to Houston for his last trainings before take-off. Virgil had missed his graduation ceremony.

Gordon remained motionless, and the cherry blossom trees had lost their vibrant colors.  

“You would’ve liked them,” Virgil says, but there’s no response from the figure on the bed.  “John would’ve been able to give you the scientific name. Uhh… here, let me try to find…” He slips his hand out from under Gordon’s to type the search in his phone.

“Oh, gee, there’s a lot. Prune-us Sair-ah-sus,” he says finally, pocketing the device. “I probably butchered that. I was never good at Latin.”

He picks up the hand again.

“Do you remember when Mom dragged you along to my first piano recital? Probably not. You would’ve been just three or four at the time, and Alan wasn’t born yet. I had never played in front of an audience before and so I practiced for months beforehand. It was Einaudi’s Primavera.”

He hums a portion of the tune, sinking back into the memory of being eight.

“Mom probably hated hearing it after the first week.” For just a beat, he lets himself chuckle thinking of their mother dealing with his earnest younger self. “Dad had gotten me my first suit for the recital, and Mom helped me with my hair so I could look like a professional. I’m sure we have pictures somewhere.”

Virgil pauses a moment, smiling as he remembers the rest of the story.

“You always said you liked my playing, but you wouldn’t know it from that day! You screamed and screamed, and Dad had to take you out of the auditorium while you fussed. I remember trying to look out into the audience, but I couldn’t see through the lights. But it was just Scotty, John, and Mom who met me after my performance, and I just knew that you’d ruined my big day.”

Virgil notices that a small sliver of light shines through the windowpanes to dance along a strand of red in Gordon’s hair.

Gordon in his purest form was joy – a laugh to accompany a joke, a sparkle in the eye with a mischievous glint, an open ease in the way he walked and spoke, a smile when you need it most. Gordon’s soul was a reservoir of light that he could never quite fill to full. Because just as quickly as he soaked the rays of the sun into his being, he released them to share with the world around him.

When Gordon was born his hair had been an almost white blond– Alan’s had been the same way. But as Gordon grew, the blond darkened into gold the color of sunflowers in fall. In winter, when Gordon wasn’t spending 90% outside, hints of auburn would poke through.

He wonders if the auburn has the same sun soaking powers as the blond around it or if auburn is what happens when you make a ray of light sad.

“Apparently you told Dad that my song made you cry,” Virgil continues. “And that you needed to give me a hug so I would stop being sad.”

He sighs wistfully.

“It’s how I felt watching the cherry blossoms, Gordon. It was like seeing spring and knowing the beauty is still there, but not being able to reach it, like watching through frosted glass, and I understood why you cried.”

This time when he hums the melody his fingers flutter in movement and intermittently Virgil sings the melody, replacing notes with “da” before falling back into hums.

Virgil loses himself in the lonely music, in cherry blossoms through frosted glass, in green eyes looking longingly to the stars, in the flickering of a sun ray desperate to find a path to his brother’s light.

He knows how his piano reacts to his hands, the exact distance from the keys to his fingertips as they descend.

As the music ascends, his keys rise to meet him.

A twitch.

Tap.

Virgil’s music falters.

Tap… tap…

“Gordon?”   Like a dream, he watches fingers nudge his hand. His heart races as he meets his brother’s gaze. Honey eyes tell a story of confusion, blinking, searching. “Gordon!”

Tap.

“…ug.” The word is intelligible, but Virgil knows what it is by Gordon’s eyes.

Hug.

Virgil reacts.

[mulderist]

DEVIL AT MY DOORSTEP

Post-Orison Hurt/comfort || MSR, UST || Scully POV || Moderate violence || AO3 link

A/N: This fic was originally written way back in 2001 when I was in college. It was my first post-episode fic and I posted it to FF.net back in the day. I unearthed it 3 years ago and gave it some extremely heavy edits because it’s that ridiculous and dramatic (lol). I then nervously posted the revised version to AO3.

@today-in-fic

"If you want to pack some things we can get outta here," Mulder said as he walked into my bedroom. I pulled open a dresser drawer revealing my copy of the Holy Bible. I felt the strong weight of guilt in my hand as I lifted it out. Mulder noticed the book. "You can't judge yourself," he tried to reassure me. I walked over to my bed and carefully sat my beaten body down.

"Maybe I don't have to." I told him.

"The Bible allows for vengeance."

"But the law doesn't."

"The way I see it," Mulder began as he leaned toward me, "he didn't give you a choice. And my report will reflect that, in case you're worried. Donnie Pfaster would have surely killed again if given the chance."

"He was evil Mulder. I'm sure about that without a doubt. But there's one thing that I'm not sure of," I said softly.

"What's that?"

"Who was at work in me? Or what? What made me - what made me pull the trigger?"

"You mean if it was God?"

"I mean - what if it wasn't?" There was a beat of silence and I could sense that Mulder wanted to say something. Instead I felt his hand gently slide across my upper back. I looked up at him and could see the concern written on his face.

"I'll finish up out there," he said. Then he moved past me and back towards the bedroom door, pulling it behind him.

I slowly stood and went to my dresser to find some clothes. I tossed an outfit on the bed and stripped off my pajamas leaving them in a heap on the floor. As I absentmindedly packed an overnight bag I took a look around my bedroom. The bookcase I had pulled over on Pfaster to slow him down resulted in a disjointed cascade of books and broken trinkets. There were stains of crimson blood, more than likely my own, which dotted the once clean carpet. The thought that blood was shed in my bedroom made me swallow hard. I scanned over my bed to the wall where my mirror once hung. All that remained were jagged pieces of glass and the remnants of the frame. More pieces scattered the floor. I closed my eyes briefly attempting to block out the events that had occurred. Then a shudder shook me back into reality and I turned to leave my room.

The police had finally cleared out leaving an unsettling calm in the apartment. I was grateful Mulder took it upon himself to answer their questions. As I walked to the living room I could still smell a faint scent of lit matches combined with the dying fragrance of my candles, though they had been extinguished for some time now. I stopped after I crossed the thresh hold and looked down at the large burgundy stain on the rug. Very faint markings of a chalk outline could still be seen on the floor. I saw Mulder sitting on the end of my couch with his elbows on his knees, hands folded. He rose when he realized I was in the room. I said softly,

"Let's go."

Mulder nodded and followed me out the door, locking it behind us. Once we got outside he took my bag and popped the trunk to place it inside. I took my place in the passenger seat and winced slightly as I reached across to grab the seat belt. My eyelids felt like lead weights and I couldn't help but let them close as I leaned my head back against the headrest. I heard Mulder get in the car and start the engine. He tried to make conversation on the ride to his apartment but I think after a short while he realized I didn't want to talk just yet. He knew me well. The remainder of the drive was in silence. Even after Mulder parked the car we still said nothing. It wasn't until we had stepped inside his apartment that he uttered,

"I can put some coffee on." I glanced up at him and nodded with a heavy sigh.

"I think I want to take a shower."

"Sure," he replied, sounding slightly wounded, "It'll be ready once you're done."

Jesus, why are we doing this awkward small talk? He handed me my overnight bag and before I went down the hall I squeezed his hand. After I closed the bathroom door behind me I put my bag on the floor then turned on the water for the shower. As it warmed up I slowly shed my clothes and inspected myself to see if there were any injuries I might have missed. I turned slightly and saw the initial stages of bruising setting in on my upper back. My naked figure in the mirror was unsettling. I had never seen myself look so vulnerable. I turned away from the defeated reflection and pulled aside the shower curtain, stepping into the warm waterfall.

Steam began to swirl around in the tiny room, creating an eerie fog. The slight burn of the water began to relax me as it massaged my tired frame. I self-consciously crossed my arms over my breasts and placed my hands on my shoulders. I then ran a hand over my wet hair. "Ah, dammit," I hissed. My index finger found a remaining chip of glass hiding at the back of my head. A speck of blood oozed from where I was pricked. That's when I noticed my fingernails. There was a fine line of scarlet caked under them.

Blood.

Blood that was not mine. My hands showed traces of the struggle in my apartment. I flexed and tightened my right hand noticing how awkward and stiff the movement was. Sprain, edema, contusion, hematoma: bland clinical terms I knew all too well. I took the bar of soap off its dish and began working it into a lather. As the suds formed on my arms, I tried to wash away the gritty feeling, the sense of guilt, and the memory of Donnie Pfaster.

Pfaster. His cryptic face clawed its way to the surface though I tried desperately to suppress it. His was the face of pure evil, a vision of a demon that shook me to my core. When I took the case I tried to prove to myself that it didn't bother me. I had gone through the counseling sessions during and after Minneapolis. Bouts of anxiety would return every once and a while, flashes of terrible things usually triggered after a particularly difficult assignment. Subconsciously I knew I was kidding myself when I thought I had overcome what happened.

For a fleeting moment, time seemed to melt away as I stood there breathing in the heavy steam. Water pushed the soapy residue from my body and I saw a light red trail spiral down the drain. I closed my eyes for a moment but couldn't shake the chaos that happened in my apartment. Pfaster was in my home - the devil at my doorstep. I angrily grabbed a bottle of shampoo and squeezed some of it into my hand. As I massaged the gel into my hair the familiar scent wound around in the air and my mood softened. Then my thoughts turned to Mulder. He told me not to look any further and I followed his advice. I don't know how he ended up in my living room with his gun drawn, ready to do what I was shockingly more capable of doing. He always managed to find me – to save me. I was still in shock when he rushed over and held me close. I just stood there, motionless, letting my weapon slip from my fingers. Every time I ended up in his arms I had this overwhelming feeling that I'm safe and it's a sensation I never want to lose. As I rinsed my hair I did what I feared most.

I lost control.

The water felt tepid as it mixed with the scalding tears in my eyes. I brought my hands to my face as if to conceal the pain and anger from myself. Oh God I thought. Everything was rushing at me too fast; horrible sounds and smells returned shocking my senses. I lost the comforting warmth that had enveloped me. Stability failed and I placed my left hand against the cool tile wall. My knees softened and with a hand over my mouth, I tried to muffle my crying. My shoulders lurched as I sobbed and I moved my hip closer to the wall for support. Water raced down my bruised back. My arms slid across my stomach and I held on, trying to shield myself from the terrible thoughts flashing in my mind. I leaned a shoulder into the wall almost as if I expected it to open up and embrace me.

"Mulder…"

I didn't realize I had said it aloud. It's not the first time I've called out to him but it felt different as I stood in his shower. I needed to say his name. I needed to know he was on the other side of that door. I needed to allow myself this one fleeting moment of vulnerability and begin to accept the unacceptable. As my sobs slowed one was caught in my throat. I hated how I sounded when I was upset and more often than not tried desperately to express sorrow in silence. Over the roar of the water I exhaled deeply and wiped my eyes. My hands found their way to my shoulders once again and I breathed in the last few clouds of steam. Then I turned off the faucet, pushed aside the shower curtain and stepped out onto the waiting bathmat. I pulled a towel off the hook and gently dried off, finding comfort in that familiar scent once again.

I got dressed and combed my hair then walked out to Mulder's living room. There was a lone mug on the coffee table. I happened upon him lying down on the couch, eyes closed. I moved closer and noticed that his brow was furrowed. I touched his shoulder causing him to stir.

"Mmm, sorry I must have dozed off. Did the shower help? " he said while he sat upright and ran a hand through his hair.

"Yeah, I think so. I feel a little more human." I joined him in the space he had cleared. He stretched then reached for the mug and took a long swallow. I leaned back against the couch.

"I can pour you a cup if you'd like," I heard him say. My fingers began to fiddle with a tender spot on my left hand.

"No thanks." I know Mulder could tell I had been crying, puffiness under the eyes was not easy to conceal. I could feel my cheeks flush and I licked my lips as I searched for something to say.

"I'm sorry, Mulder. I'm still having difficulty finding the words right now and I can't stand this awkward small talk."

He shook his head after swallowing a sip of coffee. "You know I can see it on your face. And this awkward small talk wouldn't be so awkward if you would just let me in. It's like I told you earlier, I've never seen something give you this much of a head trip before."

"I have to be able to accept this on my own terms, Mulder." That tasted bitter. "I've been trying to forget for five years. I just can't do this right now." I got off the couch and started to head for his bedroom. After pushing the door slightly behind me, I turned down the sheets and slowly crawled into the large bed. I gingerly placed my head upon Mulder's pillow and felt the smoothness against my skin. Every muscle in my body struggled to unwind. Before I closed my eyes I noticed a shadow move in front of the door.

"I'll be fine." I muttered under my breath.

The last thing I heard was the click from the door being closed.

I awoke in the dark to a stinging sensation in the side of my head. My mouth was sore and I could taste blood. There was a taunt strip of cloth tied tightly around my head causing my cheeks to hurt. My hands were bound behind my back and my bare feet were tied together. I weakly struggled to shift positions, fighting the pain in my temple. Once my eyes focused I slowly maneuvered myself near the light source coming from the crack underneath the door. Where the hell am I? I couldn't see anything in the room aside from the hardwood floor. I attempted to sit back up and tried to figure out how I got here. Adrenaline had kicked in now and I started thinking of a way to escape. Then I saw a shadow sweep across the floor. Suddenly the door pulled open. I shot back against a nearby wall in a lame attempt to protect myself. I looked at the figure in the doorway and it didn't look human. The figure bent down, grabbed my ankles, and dragged me on the floor out of the closet into the empty room. I writhed and twisted in its grip. A dim light from somewhere else in the dilapidated house illuminated the figure just enough so I could distinguish human hands as they removed the tie from my ankles. The man reached over and forcefully pulled me up by my shoulders to my feet. Our eyes met for a split second as I stood and in that moment I felt malevolence swarm over my body. His pushed me in front of him and a smile snaked across his lips.

His hand roughly clung to my bare shoulder as he shoved me down a hallway. Everything in the sparsely lit house looked the same, bare and unremarkable. There was a warm glow coming from one of the rooms on the left and he led me in that direction. It was a master bedroom. Once inside I was shoved towards the bathroom. I saw an oversized bathtub nestled in the back under a window. There was a double sink to the right and the white porcelain toilet resided next to it with a towel bar hanging low over the tank. Candles covered just about every surface to provide mood lighting for whatever diabolical plans he had in mind. He moved me over to the sink and untied my hands for a moment, only to tie them to the towel bar. I saw the horrible smirk form on his face as he stepped back to look at his work.

"It'll all be over soon." And with that he left the bathroom. My mind yelled at me to escape. I pulled violently at the bar, foolishly hoping that I could pull it off the wall and run. Then I leaned my head down to meet my hands and try to loosen the gag. As I feverishly worked I heard a thud from the other room. I stopped for just a second and listened and to my horror I saw the man pull Mulder's body into the doorway and toss him on the floor.

No!

"Mulder! What have you done to him?!" I yelled against the gag. The man lunged at me and struck me across the face. Then he snatched my jaw and pressed the flat side of a knife against my cheek.

"Don't worry Girly-Girl. I have plans for him too." I fought the tears welling in my eyes. He moved away from me and went toward the bathtub, reaching for the faucet to turn on the water. I tried to free my hands from the towel bar while he was distracted. My fingers squeezed together and with a tug I was loose then I quickly removed the cloth from around my mouth. I looked out into the other room and saw Mulder stir but just as I did Pfaster noticed I had gotten one step closer to escape and took measures to slow me down. With a flash of metal his knife came quickly across my right hand. I tried to grab it; tried to disarm him for even a moment. He caught my arm and plunged the blade in-between my ribs. I screamed. He attacked me again, this time hitting my upper arm. I took all the strength I could muster and kicked Pfaster in the gut sending him back towards the bathtub. I cried out over the roar of the water and fell to the floor just missing the edge of the sink. I started to crawl in a prone position to the door and out into the bedroom, blood soaking rapidly through my tank top. I had to get to Mulder. He was lying face down on the floor and I could tell he was injured or God knows what else.

"S-Scully.." he muttered as he lifted his head revealing a gash on his cheek. My injured hand reached out for his, finding his fingertips and holding as tight as I could.

"Mulder, please…" I pleaded. "I need you to get up. I can't –" Pfaster was on his feet now. He turned around sharply and quickly ran out to seize my leg. I kicked him in the shin but he still managed to pull me in his direction. I cried out for Mulder as I was dragged back into the bathroom. Pfaster brought my arms above my head and held them together while straddling me. My right arm went numb from the stab wounds and blood started to seep into the bathmat as my body was pressed onto the tile. I winced as he tightened his hold on me, pulling my injured arm more than needed.

"You know," he began once he caught his breath, "I didn't think I'd finally catch the one that got away. That red hair never left my mind. I wasn't going to stop until I found you." My lips moved as I tried to form words, but no sound escaped. He stood and yanked me up off the floor. I could barely fight against him and that's what frightened me the most. I was running out of time. Still with a grip on my shoulders he turned off the water to the bathtub.

"Let her go, Pfaster," said Mulder from the doorway, his voice sounded dark. Pfaster pressed a hand over my mouth before I could put a voice to my suffering. The taste on my lips was nauseating.

"You're not going to take her from me. Not again," said Pfaster. Then he brought his face close to me and smelt my hair making my skin crawl. Then he dropped me in the tub, holding me under. I kicked and thrashed as hard as I could but I was growing weaker. I heard Mulder yell.

Two shots rang out.

The frigid cold water sent a shockwave through my body and stung my wounds. It hurt to move. It hurt to think. I could feel my body shutting down. All of my energy started to fade and I physically couldn't struggle anymore. I couldn't move. My breath slowed as I stared at the ceiling. The lights from the remaining candles flickered back and forth across the walls.

My life started to slip away.

Then I saw Mulder's face above me as he climbed into the tub. He reached in and quickly picked me up from under my arms then shifted my weight so he could slide his right arm under my knees. As he lifted my limp wounded body out of the bathtub I closed my eyes and heard him say "I'm sorry, Scully. God I'm so sorry." He carried me out of the bathroom, leaving the body of Donnie Pfaster behind.

Mulder knelt down with me on the floor of the barren bedroom, holding me tight in his arms. I coughed and sputtered, expelling the bathwater. He pulled out his cell phone and I knew he was calling for an ambulance. "Yes this Agent Mulder with the FBI, I have an agent down!" He gave some more information then tossed the phone aside. One hand pressed firmly on my side, adding compression to the oozing stab wound. "Help is on the way. Just hang on." My eyelids fluttered and I said his name.

"Scully, talk to me. Come on."

"What happened to you?" I asked weakly.

"That bastard cold-cocked me once I made it upstairs. He must have already had you tied-up in the bathroom. God, I should have shot him as soon as I saw him."

"I can't Mulder…" I said with a shiver.

"No. No. You have to stay with me, Scully" he said with a wavering voice.

"I can't feel …I don't…I'm sorry," My words were nonsensical as I tried to focus on him. My fingers grazed his shirt before I lost consciousness.

Mulder began CPR.

His lips felt so warm against mine as he forced air into my mouth. I felt the wetness of his cheek as he leaned in to deliver each breath. I was so numb I barely felt the chest compressions. His hands were soaked in my blood. Desperation crossed Mulder's face after he gave two more sets of compressions and saw no change.

"Dammit Scully, come on! You can't leave me!" I heard him say as he pressed on my chest. His composure was gone as he tried frantically to revive me. Mulder choked out a sob as he clutched me to his chest. He rocked back and forth then let out a primal, gut-wrenching scream.

A siren was heard howling down the street. Red lights flashed in through the window and danced along the ceiling as the ambulance pulled up. The paramedics flung open the door to the house and called in inside. It didn't take them long to find us. They rushed in and took me from Mulder so they could begin their work. He slid back a little and sat with his head in his hands. The EMTs readied the defibrillator to restart my heart. One of the medics cut open my shirt and stuck pads on my bare chest to prepare me before using the paddles. Then a paramedic called,

"Clear!"

I cried out and woke with a start; my hands pushed me into an awkward upright position on the bed. Disoriented at first and head spinning, I started to piece together where I was. The layout of the room became more familiar as my senses came into focus with the morning light. My weight shifted to my left elbow and as I rubbed my eyes I heard the bedroom door open, Mulder said my name as he entered. I sat up and he joined me on the bed. The wave of tension broke and quickly I leaned forward to wrap my arms tightly around his neck.

"I had a bad dream," I said softly, feeling my lip start to tremble as I pulled him closer. I felt like a child that needed to be consoled.

"Tell me," he whispered.

"I was in a house, like when I was taken before." My throat felt dry causing my voice to falter. "Pfaster dragged me into a room lined with candles and was intent on finishing what he started. You were there too but you couldn't - There was so much blood, Mulder," I pulled away from him and drew in a breath to try and regain some sense of composure. "It all just felt so real. " I shook my head and ran a hand over my hair leaving it to rest behind my neck. We sat there for a moment, no words between us. At one point he tenderly kissed the top of my head. Finally he said,

"I was hesitant to tell you, but I heard that song as I was getting ready for bed last night."

"Really?" I asked.

"Yeah," he looked down and motioned to take my hand, "I tried to call you but you didn't pick up. I guess you could call it divine intervention."

"That was playing in my apartment. He was playing that damn song…" Mulder leaned in and embraced me.

This time I buried my head in his chest and unwillingly started to hear the opening notes of the song fade in once again. My eyes closed and my hands pressed harder against Mulder's back, pulling him closer.

With those phantom tones I was replaying what had happened mere hours ago. The panic of knowing Pfaster was in my home, the anger that drove each blow I threw at him, the fear when he had me pinned down and screaming out for help.

Don't let go.

The tempo sent me reeling back to Minneapolis. That house. That closet. The feel of the rope around my wrists. Falling down those stairs and feeling paralyzed by fear. What was going to happen to me? Would I ever see Mulder again?

Hold on to me.

The rhythm began to fade and I felt the mist in my eyes. I pushed back for a brief moment and looked at Mulder as he brushed away tear that found its way to my cheek.

"Stay with me," I whispered. He nodded and I moved over, allowing him to slip into bed alongside me.

"It's alright. I'm here." He kissed the nape of my neck knowing there wasn't much else he could do but hold me. And that's all I really wanted him to do. At that point I didn't care that I had broken down. I had never wanted him closer to me than in that moment.

I was so tired. My body ached and eventually my sobs began to subside. The air was no longer caught in my throat. I began to listen to the cadence of Mulder's breath and I wasn't sure if he was still awake. My inhale met with his. Once he noticed my breathing began to slow he slid his hand from under mine. Fingertips found a strand of hair and placed it behind my ear. I could feel the sunlight coming through the bedroom window.

"Thank you," I uttered, my voice raspy and heavy with exhaustion.

"Rest. I'm not going anywhere." I struggled to shift positions and turned over to face him. My hand found his cheek and I moved closer, sharing his breath. The hint of smile tugged at his mouth. Ever so slightly my lips parted and I felt warmth as his lips met mine. Soft and tender.

At last I was able to begin to forget.

[wolfcha1k]

Decided I wanted a cover for my Guy x Eep one shot collection "A Tomorrow of Our Own", as of now its part 4 of "The Sun Was A Wayfarer" series. I'll post the first chapter of "A Tomorrow of Our Own" down below ~ Used refs from the movie itself for this picture ~

- <3 -

Summary - "I was thinking about Tomorrow… OUR Tomorrow."

"I think I love you So what am I so afraid of? I'm afraid that I'm not sure of A love there is no cure for I think I love you Isn't that what life is made of? Though it worries me to say I've never felt this way"

What is life like after Tomorrow? Guy and Eep are settling down into their new married life together at the Betterman Farm. There's been some obstacles along the way but its nothing they can't handle.

[Read the next two chapters of this story here on Ao3 OR FF.net, note, its a one shot collection: A Tomorrow of Our Own  /// A Tomorrow of Our Own ]

The Sun Was a Wayfarer - Series

Previous All I Can Think About next n/a

He wasn't wrong about the flowers, butterflies and babbling brook that would be in their very own home. This privacy thing wasn't so bad either once she got over the initial newness of it too. There was also the benefit of being able to shamelessly share a space with him that wasn't occupied by seven other large masses getting in the way. Okay, so maybe the sleep pile did have its drawbacks now that she thought about it. It reeked of love though, despite what Guy might have said against it.

Guy's arm was slung loosely over her waist as she curled up into his side. He was warm, combating the morning chill that turned her skin to goose flesh. Eep burrowed her nose into his neck, breathing deeply. She could feel his pulse under her lips. The strange scent of vanilla was finally fading away to something that was just Guy again. She had woken up with the sunrise and was unable to fall back to sleep. So she watched the early light of dawn warm his features, turning his caramel skin a rich bronze color.

She admired him with a soft smile, reaching out fondly to brush her fingers against his cheek. To think she'd nearly lost him, the thought still made her stomach clench. Ee[ ran her hand over his chest to lay her palm flat against his heart. Guy stirred with a soft groan, eyelids quivering though he didn't open them. Instead, a lazy smile crossed his face.

"Mhm… isn't it a little early for that?" He murmured though he hardly sounded like he was complaining over the attention.

She fought a grin off, instead brushing her fingers against his skin. "Hey," she greeted.

His voice was still thick with sleep, giving it a raspy timbre sound. "Hey what?"

"Hey you, good morning," Eep merrily said, reaching up to fondly poke his nose.

He huffed, at last looking at her bleary eyed. Guy lifted his free hand to touch her nose, watching her go cross eyed as she tried following it. "Morning boop."

"Is that what we're calling it?" She let out a giggle.

"I'm not awake enough to think of something better," he said, beginning to stretch. "Have you been up long?" He reclined his head to try getting a proper look out the window, everything was covered in pre dawn light.

"A bit," she hummed, leaning towards him to press a featherlight kiss to his lips. He chased after her when she pulled back, cupping her cheek. She felt his sleepy smile. "I thought it was too early," Eep teased, practically purring.

"I can make exceptions," he protested, wrapping his arms around her to pull her flush against him.

She snorted more so than laughed, trying to muffle it against his neck. Eep took the opportunity to playfully nip at his pulse point, feeling his hands clutch her waist. She grinned, dragging her teeth along the spot a moment before she sighed. Nestling closer, there were no complaints on Guy's part as she practically draped herself over his chest.

"Still doesn't feel real," she couldn't help but muse.

"Hmm?" He encouraged her with a hum, stroking her back with his calloused palms. He traced a large scar that dipped down the lower part of her spine.

"You know… this, us, here together," Eep said in a wistful sort of way. She lifted her head up to look at him, finding his dark eyes were glinting with emotion.

"Well, I'm glad it's real." He pressed a chaste kiss to her nose before pulling her back close. He rolled onto his side with her in his arms. "I was stupid."

"And I was unfair," she added, knowing the blame wasn't solely his. Eep could have handled that argument better, communicated what she was feeling so she hadn't blown up at him like a fire spewing volcano. The ash that had rained down was worse than the lava, really. "I didn't think about how you were feeling."

He gave her a smile, tender as he looked at her. "I'm just as guilty of that, Eep."

"Yeah but you weren't the one storming up a tree throwing a fit," she huffed, her thoughts drifting back to her mother Ugga. She'd practically flattened that small clearing into nothing with how many trees she destroyed in her anger. The heartbreak lingered at its strings when she let her mind dwell on the moment.

"I can't believe he would choose... a tree over me."

"I don't think it's that simple. Guy knew the Bettermans when he was little, they're the closest thing he has to a family."

"We could keep this blame game up for forever," he said with a sigh, instead tangling his long fingers into her hair. "Words are weapons we really need to remember to be more careful with."

"I'm sorry I called you stupid," she said, feeling him huff into her neck.

"When did you call me stupid?"

"After our break up… I was venting to Dawn and I told her boys are stupid." Eep felt him laugh more so than heard it, Guy muffling his face into her collarbone. "What?"

"I called you complicated, we're even now." He drew away to poke her nose, earning himself a pout as Eep returned the gesture. It was their little game, one Eep was glad to finally get back to. "I don't think the punch monkeys agreed with me though."

"Complicated?" She arched a brow, amusement in her voice. If she knew where this was going, it would be a pretty easy guess. Eep leaned away to sit up a little, making space between them. "What girls besides Dawn do you know?"

"You," he teased.

"I don't count," she quipped, poking him on the chest.

"Well… what boys do you know then?" His tone was mirthful, leaning up on his elbow as he looked at her.

She opened her mouth to retort.

"Your dad, Thunk and Mr. Betterman don't count."

She hinged her jaw back closed with a pout. "Fineee," Eep said, dragging out the word before flopping back down against him. Her weight sent him down on his back again before she rolled off him. They were still pressed close together.

"Okay so we might not be the best frames of reference." Guy leaned his head against hers as they laid side by side.

"Oh definitely," Eep agreed, grinning.

"Also… I'm sorry I told you to take a shower." Eep turned to brush her nose against his cheek, making Guy turn to grin sheepishly at her.

"When was the last time you took a shower?" She couldn't really pick up the scent of soft rain and cool mountain streams on his skin anymore, it was faint even with her very sensitive nose.

Guy looked confused by the question before reclining back to get more comfortable. "A few days?" Eep gazed at him with confused eyes, Guy picked up the social cue. "I thought I kinda deserved it, like penance?"

"Guy, you can shower, for The End's sake." She shook her head.

He gave a helpless sort of shrug, making Eep nudge him with her shoulder. "Maybe tomorrow."

"It's always Tomorrow with you, isn't it, babe?" Eep sighed fondly.

He seemed to realize what he'd said and grinned, toothy and wide as he laced their fingers together. They were pressed palm to palm, it brought a wave of nostalgia over Eep when she remembered back to the first time in that maze of a gully filled with crystals. Come with me, the memory echoed before his voice broke through with a tender reverence. "I have my Tomorrow figured out now. Don't you worry, Eep."

"Like I ever was worried," she said, feeling uncharacteristically flustered. She knew it was silly to be, considering that now they were more than just boyfriend and girlfriend.

He was her husband and she was his wife, yet the butterflies still flocked a storm in her belly. They shared more than just body together but heart and mind too. They were life mates and yet things didn't really feel any different, she'd lived with him long enough. The change in their routine in the few short moons since the situation with the spineback gorilla was hardly a shift that needed adapting to.

His face looked sad for a moment, brows furrowed as he nuzzled his nose into her chin. He peppered her jaw with kisses, trying to reassure her without words. She lifted her neck with a shiver, giving him better access. Nothing was said for a long moment as they traded lazy kiss after lazy kiss, the morning was still young and they had all the time in the world to enjoy each other. After pressing his lips to her jaw a few more times he drew back with a loving grin, one she returned before nuzzling her nose against his.

His breath tickled her lips, their foreheads pressed against one another. This was what she always wanted, just him right here, together forever in their Tomorrow. There was no Tomorrow without him.

"Hey," she said in a low voice.

"Hey what?"

"I love you." Eep beamed at him.

"You're pretty awesome too, I hope you know that," he told her as they leaned against each other.

She practically purred with delight, Eep brushing his cheek with her own. "You could stand to tell me that every so often, actually."

Something about the words seemed to make his eyes flash and he perked up considerably.

"Oh yeah," he exclaimed, nudging her to sit up on the bed. Eep leaned back on her heels and watched Guy get up. He went to dig through their things, they still needed to finish unpacking but the excitement of new marital bliss was distracting. It was a wonder they got anything done when they were so wrapped up in eachother every day. "There's something I wanted to do if you were okay with it."

She scooted off the pallet, alit with curiosity as she coyly arched a brow. "Oh? Like what?"

He seemed to catch her hint and huffed, amused. "You wish, I mean something else."

She pretended to be disappointed, resting her chin on her fist as she sat back down. "You're no fun."

"You didn't say that last night," he teased before continuing his rummaging. Hesitation flashed across Guy's face, soon replaced with a resolve strong as steel. He turned to face her with a jar in his hand. "I made extra Henna," Guy explained, gesturing to himself. The newly painted stripes had long since dried, Eep had missed them.

"For?"

"Well… you," he replied, shuffling his weight before approaching her again. "Since we're married and all now, I thought… maybe you'd…?"

"Are you sure this isn't an excuse to get handsy, Guy?" She nudged his knee with her foot, rousing a laugh out of him.

"And your dad said I was the bad influence," he said. Guy's smile turned wistful suddenly, dark eyes gazing at the jar. "I remember my mom and dad having matching paint."

Eep smiled at him, sympathy on her face. She hopped onto her feet, reaching out to trace her hand down a stripe on his slender shoulder. "Was it all your family?"

"Yeah, our tribe used them to make sure people knew we were all together, that we were one people." He rested his large palm over hers, stopping her. Guy slowly led her hand down his arm, Eep touching the two stripes around his bicep before finally he tangled their fingers together. "You're my family now," he said fondly, soft. "So, that makes you my tribe too."

"You think I've earned my stripes?"

"There was never anything to test you for," Guy replied with a shake of his head, lifting their joint hands so he could kiss her knuckles. "Nothing at all to prove." Eep reached out to trace his cheek with her fingers before laying her palm flat against it. He leaned into her touch, arching his brows with a small grin. "So… is it a yes?"

Eep nodded her head. "I always look pretty good in stripes anyways."

"You always look good."

"Flattering me will get you nowhere," she said in jest, though she glowed with how pleased she was by the compliment.

"It's gotten me this far," Guy replied, leaning forward to kiss her.

Eep met him half way, pulling his palm closer to hers as she wrapped her free arm around his waist. Guy cursed the jar of paint in his other hand, groaning against her mouth. Eep was flush against his torso and chest, always the daring one and already she took control of the kiss. He was always happy to follow her lead though.

She gave his lip a feisty nip, Guy juggled for his paint when he mentally stumbled and slackened his grip. It cooled some of the heat in his belly, simmering into embers. Finally, he mustered enough willpower to pull away from her when he felt the soft flicker of her tongue. He'd never get the tattoos on her before the first chickenseal crow at this rate.

Eep let go of his hand and pulled away from him, seeing he needed the breathing room. She just grinned broadly at his flushed cheeks and flustered expression. He cleared his throat, adjusting his cargo. "Um… anyway, guess just sit on the stool there."

She took a seat with surprising daintiness as she did so. Guy crouched in front of her, gesturing with his head for her to give him her arm. Eep extended her forearm, watching Guy dip his hand into the red paste. He began to trace a stripe along her bicep gently, feeling the firm muscle under his palm and fingers.

"It might itch for a few hours at first," he told her, trying to distract himself from the nervous pounding in between his ears.

Eep noticed the first stripe he painted wasn't rounded like his, but kind of lopsided in places and jagged in shape. She looked from her stripe to Guy's, curious if he'd slipped up. He only grinned. "Let's just say Gran inspired me, Fire Heart."

It suddenly made sense, her eyes quickly glancing back at the lightning bolt shaped stripe curved around her bicep. "But its not -"

"New tribe names, remember?" Guy leaned back on his heels a moment to give her a proper look. "We can change things, make new traditions. It still means the same thing, Eep. It just has a personal touch now."

"We never got to give you a name, you know."

"Well… you could now I guess."

"I'm not as good as Gran is at the Thunder Sister naming thing," Eep mused, watching Guy dunk his fingers in more of the Henna to paint another stripe.

Guy chuckled, "Can't be any worse than Bog Water."

"Hey you, Mrs. Betterman is proud to be Bog Water." She reached her free hand to reach into the Henna, dipping her fingers in it before playfully tracing a shape against his eyebrow. Guy started, nearly messing up his own paint job as he looked at Eep. "Hold still, I'm christening you."

Guy tried looking at what she was doing but it was pretty much impossible so he just waited patiently for Eep to finish. It was two tusk-like shapes she'd painted under both eyes, starting at his eyebrows and stopping at the slope of his nose. Eep cleared her throat dramatically. "From now on," Eep began with as noble a voice she could muster. "You will be Bright Smile."

When he grinned at her, Eep knew it was the perfect name, even if it didn't sound the most intimidating. It certainly was no Blood Horn or Fire Heart. "Bright Smile?"

She thought back to the night she'd met him, drawn out of her cave by the light of his fire. When she thought he was a warthog beast ready to kill her, Eep hadn't hesitated to grab for a rock to dash his brains in. However, there were hands that reached out to placate her and ever so slowly the boar head had come off. In its place was one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen and he was smiling at her.

At least, until she was startled so badly she dropped said rock upon his foot but that was a different story entirely and one she still thought back on with embarrassment. "If the shoe fits, you make extra pairs," Eep chirped proudly, feeling giddy with a secretive smile.

"I like it," he told her, idly touching the edge of the paint with his finger. "Wish I could see what you painted though."

"It's nothing phallic if that's what you're thinking, Guy."

"I wasn't going to say that," he replied.

"You were thinking it," Eep tsked with a pout.

Guy chuckled, shaking his head before going back to his work. He painted another stripe, the placement similar to his own. He went into the farthest depth of his memory to try recalling just how the stripes looked between married pairs. Eep rolled up her night shirt up to her chest, letting Guy draw stripes similar to the ones he had. Hers were on her belly though, and when he circled her ribs, Eep fought off a giggle at just how tickling she was.

He couldn't resist digging his fingers into her side, rousing a shriek of laughter. "Stop! You'll ruin your paint job!" Eep exclaimed.

"I can just redo it," he quipped, grinning though he lightened his touch to avoid another giggle fit when he began the next stripe that went closer to her hip bone.

She reached over his head, ignoring his gentle scolding that she was fidgeting too much to grab the mirror on the nightstand. "What happened to just redoing it, Guy?" Eep teased.

Gripping it in her hands, Eep pushed her finger against his forehead to make him lean back. She presented him with his reflection in the glass, grinning as she peeked over for his reaction.

He paused with a contemplated expression on his face and tipped his head to the side, causing some of his hair to fall away like a curtain. Guy seemed to connect the dots in what his face paint meant, recognition alit in those dark eyes of his. After several heartbeats, Guy glanced up at her. "You still think about it?"

Eep knew what he meant and nodded. "Of course, it was only one of the most important nights of my life." He smiled at her and Eep fought off a blissful sigh. "Now you're just being deliberate."

"How so?" Eep traced his lips with her index finger, outlining his smile and she bopped him one right on the nose right after. He looked like a confused puppy for a moment before he chuckled. "Hey, it worked. You didn't break my head with a rock. My foot though…"

She huffed, pressing her full palm into his face in embarrassment. "Ssshh, you snuck up on me. You deserved that." The words were muffled against her hand but she got the gist of it. "No, you could have just said something."

Guy reached over to grab her wrist, pulling her hand away. "Air," he gasped out first before speaking more. "I'm glad you broke into my camp and tried stealing my fire anyway. It worked out."

"That sounds even worse out loud," Eep bemoaned, pulling a clump of her wild red mane of hair over her face.

"And then there was the log ride…"

"Guy!"

"I say this with love, Eep."

She only huffed at him and put the mirror back where it came from. "Don't you have some stripes to finish painting?"

"I will if a certain someone, who will remain nameless, would let me," he said with mirth, pointing from the bowl of Henna to her.

"You're starting to sound a lot like my dad, Mr. Crood." Eep held still at last, letting Guy finally finish the stripe on her hip.

"Mr. Crood? Mr. Crood is my father-in-law, Eep." The comment earned him a gentle tap on the head, gentle for Eep at least. He blinked as his vision blurred for a second. He reached over and hoisted her leg up onto his shoulder. Her weight was heavy and solid but he'd grown used to it in the recent moons.

"Guy!" She nearly sounded scandalized, much to his amusement.

"I have to paint your thigh!"

She sheepishly looked away from him and Guy began painting the final stripes. He was quick about it, since she seemed to fidget awkwardly at their position. It was silly to be embarrassed when all things were considered, Eep took a moment to glance at the rock Guy had given her that rested next to the bed. Finally, he drew back and lowered her leg back onto the ground, relinquishing it.

"That should do it," he said, sounding proud. Guy stood up, grunting as he popped his back at the stiff muscles that had coiled during his seated position. "You're right, you do look good in stripes."

Eep got up from the stool with an eager little hop, extending her arm out to give it a good once over. She reached out to touch the edge of one stripe, careful to not mess up the paint. It would take a few hours to properly dry. It was a deep red but she knew with time they would soon be the same shade of brown as her husband's. She looked at Guy who was waiting for her opinion, he tried hard to not look as excited as he felt but like always he was an open book.

"I love them, Guy." She reached out to hug him, weary of pressing her torso too close to his. Guy patted her back gently. He wanted to tug her close but he'd spent too much effort on the Henna to mess it up. "Thank you."

"I'm glad you like them," he said, beaming. "Thank you, love."

She flushed at the term of endearment even though she heard it plenty of times prior. Eep looked back down at her stripes, admiring wondered what Guy's family would have thought of her. Would they approve of her being part of them, even if it was only in spirit now?

"Something on your mind?" His voice coaxed her from her thoughts, drawing her back to the present.

"Nothing," she began before furrowed her brows. "Well… maybe not nothing. I was thinking what your parents might have thought of me." Eep knew the Bettermans hadn't approved of her at first but that was different now, they were quickly becoming like family.

The Bettermans had been part of Guy's old tribe, though they no longer wore their stripes. Guy looked thoughtful but he didn't hesitate. "Mom and dad would have adored you. I know it."

"Why is that?"

"They told me to find Tomorrow and I found you. It was always you, that's why." He squeezed her hand reassuringly.

Eep smiled back at him, she couldn't help but feel relieved. There was the familiar sound of a chickenseal cawing that roused them, breaking the moment. Guy looked at the window, surprised that so much time had passed. The sky was now a light blue color.

"And there's our cue to get ready for the day," he sighed, turning away to put the paint away and wash his hands in a nearby basin.

"Yeah, we gotta go meet up with Dawn for the morning chores." Eep removed her night shirt to go grab her fur pelt dress that was draped over a nearby pole. She grabbed Guy's pants and boots along the way, tossing both in his direction.

He was quick to get dressed, tugging the garments on. "Careful with the paint," he cautioned once Eep pulled her dress over her head.

"This one hangs looser than my other one," Eep reassured him.

He nodded his head and gave the room a look. "We really need to think about organizing this place," he said, eying their unpacked bags and disarray belongings.

Eep began making her way for the door after pecking his cheek. "There's always Tomorrow," she chirped and she heard him laugh.

"Yeah, I guess you're right."

[chocolatequeennk]

The Full Christmas Experience, 1/3

The Doctor and Rose are on their way back to London to celebrate Christmas with Jackie. But they make a few stops along the way...

Ten x Rose, post Doomsday fixit, telepathic bond

This is part of True Things, and comes after Lesson Learned

This is for @doctorroseprompts​ 31 Days of Ficmas. This is for Day 3: Shopping.

AO3 | FF.NET

The Doctor moved slowly around the console, shifting each dial deliberately. Rose rolled her eyes; he was purposely stalling, and they both knew it.

Still… She stuck her tongue out slightly while she thought.

“You know what?” she asked, after making up her mind.

The Doctor looked at her hopefully, his hand stopped in midair halfway to the dematerialisation lever.

“There’s one thing we’ve forgotten—presents!”

He blinked owlishly at her. “Presents?”

Rose bit her cheek to hold back her laughter. “Yeah. I mean, if we’re gonna go to Mum’s for Christmas, we should bring presents, shouldn’t we?”

The Doctor stared at her for a few more seconds, then his face brightened and he spun away from the lever, moving back to the navigation controls.

“Right you are, Rose Tyler! And if we need Christmas presents, there’s really only one place to go: the holiday market on Noel.”

“Noel.”

“Yep!”

“There’s a planet named Christmas?”

“Well yes, but we’re going to Noel. We can visit Christmas next year.”

Rose rolled her eyes. “All right, fine. Tell me more about Noel,” she said.

The Doctor finished setting their new coordinates and then shoved the lever into place. Holiday music started playing as the TARDIS shifted into the Vortex.

“Noel was settled in the 34th century.” He hopped up on the jump seat with Rose and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “A group of human explorers landed on Christmas Day, and for some reason beknownst only to them, they decided to name it after the date.”

“Like Easter Island,” Rose interjected.

“Exactly,” he agreed. “Anyway, they didn’t really intend to become a holiday destination, but with a name like that, it’s hard to avoid. Eventually, after two centuries, they quit fighting the inevitable. Now, the entire planet becomes a massive Christmas market during the winter.”

Rose raised an eyebrow. “Unless their star system is different than ours, the entire planet doesn’t experience winter at the same time,” she pointed out.”

He rolled his eyes. “All right, fine. The main city on the main continent becomes a massive Christmas market during the winter months.” He huffed. “That just doesn’t sound nearly as dramatic.”

Rose laughed, just as the TARDIS wheezed and dropped them onto Noel with a gentle thud. “Come on, I think this is going to plenty impressive, even if it isn’t a planet-wide market.”

She hopped off the seat and wrapped her scarf around her neck. The Doctor darted past her and opened the door for her.

Rose started smiling when she heard the merry strains of Christmas music floating into the console room. She jogged up the ramp and stopped stock still at the door.

The entire city looked like something out of a fairy tale. There were hints of a modern society if you knew where to look—hover carts, etc—but the buildings and the streets looked incredible.

Garland was strung between the buildings on the narrow street. A light dusting of snow covered the cobblestones, and the sun shone down on it, making everything glisten.

A familiar scent teased her nose, and she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Smells like cinnamon and clove,” she said, without opening her eyes.

“And apple and roasted chestnuts and mulled wine.”

Rose opened her eyes and looked at the Doctor, taking in the broad grin on his face and the way he bounced on his toes. “You think you’re so impressive,” she teased.

The Doctor had to swallow a giggle, he was feeling so giddy. He rocked back on his heels, his hands in his coat pockets. “I mean… I did bring you to the perfect Christmas market,” he said nonchalantly. “I think that’s a little impressive.”

Rose closed the door and walked towards him, her tongue teasing him from behind her teeth. He watched her, holding still as she placed her hands on the lapels of his coat.

“Maybe a little,” she allowed. “So… what’s next, Doctor?”

He placed his hands on her waist and pulled her close. A Christmas kiss, to start the day? he suggested as he bumped his nose against hers. She giggled, and he quickly shifted and pressed his lips to hers.

Rose leaned into him for a moment, but too soon for his taste, she pulled back, ending the kiss. “Come on,” she said. “We can find mistletoe later and continue. Right now I want to find out what smells so good.”

The Doctor took her hand, lacing their fingers together. “Excellent idea,” he agreed.

He watched Rose as they walked down the narrow street. She’d been impressed by her first sight of Noel, but she had yet to see the true beauty of the market.

Rose’s eyes widened as they stepped out into the open town plaza. The space was as large as Trafalgar Square, and it was absolutely packed with holiday booths and people doing their holiday shopping.

An enormous tree stood in the centre of the market, its boughs decorated with red garland and gold bows. High on top sat a star that lit up the square every night.

On the town hall stairs, a small group of carollers were singing. Shoppers rushed by, but no matter how hurried they were, every one of them stopped to drop a few coins in the bucket placed on the street in front of them.

“Doctor, this is…” Rose turned in a slow circle, trying to take it all in.

The Doctor let her soak it in, then tugged on her hand. “Come on, food is this way.”

They followed their noses and were very soon standing in line at a concessions booth selling pastries.

Soon they were walking away from the stand, pastries in hand. “This is amazing,” Rose said around a mouthful of food. “Is it apple, or something like apple?”

The Doctor took a bite of his own pumpkin scone and hummed before answering. “Close enough to not make a difference,” he answered once he’d swallowed.

While they ate their pastries, they did a full circuit of the market. The Doctor was surprised when Rose grabbed his hand and pulled him in a very determined direction as soon as their pastries were done.

“Come on,” she told him, sensing his confusion. “I saw some places I wanna check out.”

He understood then; Rose had paid attention to the shops and booths as they’d walked and made a mental map of the path she wanted to take.

The market was busy, but Rose wove her way in and out of the crowd, intent on returning to the clothing booth she’d spotted. Several sellers tried to catch her attention, but she didn’t stop.

“I thought we might find something for Mum here,” she told the Doctor when they reached the booth.

The Doctor reached out and touched one of the tops, and nodded approvingly. “Excellent idea.”

“May I ask who you’re buying for?” the vendor asked.

Rose smiled at her. “I need a Christmas present for my mum. Do you have anything that might be especially appropriate for someone living in a city where it rains all the time?”

The seller brightened. “Of course!” She walked straight to a rack of jackets and coats. “These are all 100% waterproof,” she told them.

“Oh!” Rose walked over and looked at the jackets. “They’re pretty, too.”

“Thank you. My family makes them.”

Rose felt the Doctor come up behind her. He reached around her and touched one of the jackets. “Is it rezista?” he asked.

“Yes, it is.” The woman raised an eyebrow. “You’re more familiar with our native fibres than most visitors.”

The Doctor flashed her a winning smile. “Well, when a world has a truly waterproof fabric, that’s pretty appealing to travellers,” he pointed out.

Rose tuned them out for the most part, browsing through the rack of jackets looking for one she thought Jackie would like. There were some that appealed to her, with sleek, slim lines etc etc. But she knew her mum—if she offered anything with a style too different from her own, Jackie would get upset and think she was trying to change her.

When she got to the last item on the rack and still hadn’t found anything she thought Jackie would like, she sighed. The shopkeeper, attuned to the sound of a disappointed customer, turned immediately.

“I have a few other items that I haven’t put out, plus some of last year’s items that didn’t sell,” she said. “Would you like to see those?”

Rose bit her lip. There was nothing on this rack to indicate that the shop had anything that would appeal to Jackie, but she really didn’t want to walk away empty handed.

“Yeah, all right.”

The woman nodded and hurried to the back of the booth. Meanwhile, the Doctor moved closer and wrapped an arm loosely around her waist.

Nothing that you think Jackie would like? He asked.

Nah, everything so far would make her rant about airs and graces again, and how living on the Estate was always good enough before and why did we need to change?

The Doctor grimaced; he’d overheard that argument more than once since meeting Rose. It never made any sense to him that a parent wouldn’t want their child to have a better life than they’d had. But, he supposed it was the implication that the old life hadn’t been good enough that grated.

He felt Rose tense slightly when the saleslady came back with an armful of coats. “Here we are,” she said, draping them over her table.

The Doctor and Rose both spotted the right one immediately.

“That one,” he said, pointing to the puffy jacket.

“Yeah, definitely,” Rose agreed.

The woman smiled. “I can give you a discount on this coat,” she said. “This is the one I spoke of, the style we tried last year that no one seemed to be interested in.” She set the coat aside. “Is there anything else you would like?”

Despite knowing it was a sales tactic, the Doctor still felt interested in looking around the shop some more. The benevolent gesture of the discount had done its work once again.

“What about you, love?” He gestured at the coat and warm tops. “You don’t really have a good coat to wear in the rain.”

Rose rolled her eyes. A raincoat would be more helpful if we knew it was going to be raining when we left the TARDIS, she pointed out.

The Doctor tugged on his ear. It was true that most times when they got caught in bad weather, it was because their landing had gone a bit south. Or north, or early, or late… Anyway. If they landed when he expected, they rarely ran into foul weather.

Still…

I can keep it in my coat pocket, he reminded her. Stashed away for a rainy day.

Rose rolled her eyes again at his ridiculous pun, but she did move back to the first rack of jackets. The Doctor wasn’t surprised when she pulled one out without needing to browse the rack again. The deep blue, knee length coat had caught her eyes when she’d looked the first time.

“We’ll take these,” he told the shopkeeper, handing over their credit stick.

Two minutes later, they were leaving the shop with a bulky package in hand. Without needing to consult each other, they wordlessly went back to the TARDIS to drop them off.

“All right, what’s next?” Rose asked the Doctor.

“Don’t you have other shops you want to check out?” he asked.

“Well yeah, but why don’t we just roam for a bit? See if something catches our eye.” She winked at him. “See if maybe there’s some kind of dangerous alien activity that needs our intervention.”

The Doctor pouted. “This trip has been perfectly—”

Rose slapped her hand over his mouth, muffling the rest of his words. “Don’t you dare,” she said, laughter in her words. “Don’t you dare jinx us like that.”

She felt his lips move, but the sound was still muffled. With one more warning glare, she pulled her hand back.

“Fiiiiiine,” he said, with an exaggerated pout. “Let’s go walk through the market and see if we can find any nefarious aliens looking to overturn the holiday fun.”

Rose nodded once, sharply. “Better.”

She slid her hand through the Doctor’s arm as they walked back to the main part of the market. There were a few other booths she wanted to explore, but honestly it was enough to just be here, on this magical planet, exploring it with her Doctor.

The Doctor hummed when he picked up on that thought, and a moment later, he let go of her hand and wrapped his arm around her waist instead, pulling in close.

I love you, he told her as he brushed his lips over her temple.

Love you too.

They stopped in front of the city hall again and watched the new group of musicians. This time, it was a brass ensemble. Thankfully, they weren’t dressed as Santas. Rose didn’t think she could have stood there watching a group of trombone playing Santas.

The Doctor laughed. “Quite right,” he agreed.

She pressed her tongue to the back of her teeth. The Santas had brought back another memory from the previous year.

“Could we take Mum a new tree?” she asked. “I mean, she thought we sent her a new tree last year—that’s why she accepted it.”

“And you’re thinking that maybe she’d actually appreciate a new tree?” the Doctor said.

Rose nodded. “She’s had hers since I was… God, I don’t even know. Since I was a kid,” she said. “Maybe she’d like something new.”

The Doctor looked down at her, and Rose bit her lip to hide her excitement. He had a plan.

“Is she set on having an artificial tree, or would she maybe be interested in a real tree?” he asked.

Rose put her hands over her mouth. “We never had a real tree,” she said. “I always wanted one, but we never could.”

He nodded. “There’s a Christmas tree farm outside of town. We can go later this afternoon, or maybe tomorrow if we end up spending the whole day shopping.”

Rose clapped her hands. “That would be amazing. Thank you, Doctor.”

Shouts of laughter drew their attention to the large park that ran along one side of the market square. “Come on,” Rose said, pulling the Doctor in that direction. “That sounds like something I want to be involved in.”

As they wound their way through the park, Rose noticed the wide swaths of pristine snow covering the ground. Tall evergreen trees towered over the park, their branches weighed down with snow.

“It’s like something off one of those old Christmas cards,” she said.

The Doctor nodded. “It’ll nearly be like a picture print by Currier and Ives,” he sang.

“These wonderful things are the things we’ll remember all through our lives,” Rose replied.

The Doctor grinned at her. Despite the cold, his hearts were warm as he walked through the park with his wife. As far as ideas went, this was one of… He paused. One of Rose’s better ones.

They drew to a halt suddenly when a snowball whizzed by them. The Doctor looked around and realised they’d walked right into the middle of a snowball fight.

“Mind if we join in?” he called out.

A second later, a snowball hit him on the shoulder. The buzz of giddy amusement and exhilaration he felt over the bond told him exactly who had thrown it.

“Oh, you will regret that Rose Tyler,” he growled as he spun around.

But Rose wasn’t standing next to him anymore. He spotted her red coat disappearing into the trees and took chase. Snowballs flew through the air all around him, but he ignored the rest of the party.

Another snowball flew out of nowhere, and the Doctor only missed it by ducking and rolling. Rose laughed, and he leapt to his feet and chased after her as she ran from one cover to another.

Rose darted from one tree to another, trying to hold back her breathless laughter. She could feel the constant tug on the bond as the Doctor used it to keep track of where she was. However, that advantage worked both ways, and she was easily able to stay one step ahead of him.

But skulking in the bushes wasn’t really her style. A large snow fort stood on the opposite side of the clearing, and Rose was itching to reach it.

She peered around her tree, looking in both directions. At the same time, she tried to pull back from the bond as much as possible, hoping it would temporarily make it harder for him to find her.

And then she ran. Halfway across the clearing, she heard a familiar shout and footsteps crunching through the snow. She stretched her legs, trying to run just a little bit faster, but about ten feet from the fort, the Doctor slammed into her from the side, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her to the ground.

Rose rolled, trying to get out of his hold, but the Doctor rolled with her, pinning her to the ground every time. “Gotcha,” he growled.

The rough voice sent a shiver down her spine that had nothing to do with the snow going down her back. “Yeah, you do,” she said breathlessly. “What are you going to do about it?”

The Doctor didn’t need any other invitation. He swooped down and pressed his lips to hers.

Rose sighed and tilted her head, letting him deepen the kiss. It might be cold and wet, but there was still no place she would rather be at that moment than on her back in the snow with the Doctor kissing her.

Finally, though, the jeers of the kids around them penetrated their private world. The Doctor pulled back and smirked down at Rose. “I suppose we’ve given them enough of a show.” He rocked back on his knees, then jumped to his feet.

Rose accepted the hand he offered and let him pull her up. She shivered when the air hit her wet back.

“I wish I was wearing that waterproof coat right now,” she said, rubbing her hands briskly over her arms. “I hate to take time to go change, but I think we need to.”

The Doctor shook his head and twirled his sonic screwdriver around his fingers. “Nah, I can dry us off in a jiffy,” he said.

Rose sighed in relief. “Come on, let’s get out of the way first.”

The Doctor nodded, and they walked away from the main snowball fight back to the path that led around the park. Once they were no longer in danger of being smacked in the face with an errant snowball, he stopped walking and started waving the sonic round her in circles.

“The sonic is creating molecule excitation,” he explained. “The water molecules in your coat are vibrating in tune to the frequency of sonic waves, and that’s causing them to evaporate.”

Rose sighed when he was done. Before he could start waving the sonic over himself, Rose took the device from him. “Like this, yeah?” she said, waving it over him in slow passes.

She was fascinated by the steam rising out of the brown wool coat. “That is amazing,” she murmured.

“Faster than a laundrette,” the Doctor said as he turned around to face her.

Rose laughed and finished drying him off. “Much,” she agreed. The Doctor took the sonic back and offered his hand, and they strolled through the park the way they’d come.

They were almost to the entrance of the park when Rose started shivering. Even though the Doctor had dried them off with the sonic, now that she wasn’t running across the park trying to avoid being hit by a snowball, she could feel how cold it was.

The Doctor pulled her close. “Come on,” he said. “It’s time for some Christmas cheer.”

Rose hummed her agreement. Some kind of hot beverage was exactly what the Doctor ordered at this point.

Thankfully, the beverage stand was one of the few that was completely enclosed. Rose sighed in delight when they stepped out of the cold wind. They still had to wait in line, but even that just gave them a chance to warm up.

“What do you want?” The Doctor pointed at the menu on the wall behind the person selling drinks.

Mulled wine was the first item on the list, and Rose almost selected it without looking further. She kept going though, reading past the various hot chocolates, coffees, and hot toddies.

The last item on the list caught her fancy. “Hot buttered rum,” she told him.

“Ooh, I like that. I haven’t had that in… er, ages,” he said.

Rose giggled. Well done, she told him. Not spouting out that you’re well over a thousand years old.

The Doctor tugged on his ear. “Welllll…” he said.

They finally reached the front of the line, and the Doctor placed their order. A few minutes later, they were walking out of the shop holding steaming mugs of hot buttered rum.

“I like that it comes in a mug,” Rose commented. “It’s like a little souvenir of this trip.”

She brought the mug up to her nose and sniffed. “Smells all warm and rich and spicy,” she said.

The Doctor took a big swallow of his drink and somehow managed to swallow it even though it was still steaming. “It’s delicious,” he said.

Rose grabbed his tie and tugged him down for a kiss. The Doctor flailed slightly, but managed to keep his mug upright while she snogged him thoroughly.

When she stepped back and straightened his tie, he gaped down at her. “Not that I’m complaining, but what was that for?”

Rose looked up at him through her eyelashes. “You had a moustache,” she explained. “I was just helping.” It sounded very innocent, but the way the tip of her tongue showed through her smile suggested otherwise.

The Doctor chuckled. “Well, feel free to kiss anything else off of me.”

It was a sentence that only six months ago would have made them both blush and start stammering explanations. Today, he leaned into the innuendo, using their bond to offer a whole host of suggestions.

Rose sucked in a breath, but somehow managed to speak. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, her voice almost even.

Then she immediately took a sip of her own drink. “Oh, this is divine,” she moaned, licking the foam off her upper lip.

“The perfect thing to warm you up from the inside out,” the Doctor agreed.

The sun was low in the sky as they circled the market another time, drinking their hot buttered rum. There was one kind of shop Rose hadn’t found yet, much to her surprise. Finally, just as the sun was setting, she found it—a large shop specialising in Christmas decorations.

“I wanna get Mum an ornament or something,” she told the Doctor when she slowed to a stop. “Maybe something with the planet name on it? It’d be fun for her to have something that represents our travels, and no one else would bat an eyelash.”

The Doctor agreed, and they ducked into the packed store.

Unlike the first booth, here the salesperson left them alone to browse. Rose felt herself relax. It was a cultural thing, but even after years travelling with the Doctor, she wasn’t used to the overly helpful salesperson.

Left alone to browse, she slowly wandered the store, handing things to the Doctor as she found them.

“This is beautiful,” she said, carefully taking the delicate ornament off the tree. She held it for a moment before she noticed something different. “Doctor?”

He smiled. “Yep! Futuristic snow globes don’t need to be shaken for the snow to… snow. That ornament will constantly show snow falling, whether someone touches it or not.”

“I love it.”

oOoOo

It was dark when they left the shop. The market hadn’t slowed down; if anything the crowds had gotten thicker. “What are they all here for?” she said.

The Doctor took her hand and led her to the edge of the square. “Just watch,” he said.

Rose stared out at the plaza, trying to understand what she was watching for. Then she saw a light. First one, then a second. Then after that, dozens of lights floated up from the square.

“What are they?” Rose whispered.

“Remembrance lanterns,” he said, just as softly. “Every year, the city gathers on the third day of the festival to celebrate those who have been lost in the last year. The families make their own lanterns and bring them to the square on this day. The holiday lights are dimmed, and the lanterns are lit and released to the sky.”

Rose’s breath caught as she watched the spectacle. It was beautiful before; knowing what it symbolised made it absolutely stunning.

“I’m glad I don’t need to let one go,” she said, the words escaping her before she really thought them through. “I could set one off for Mickey, I suppose. It hurt to lose him. But it doesn’t hurt nearly as much as losing Mum would. And…” She bit her lip. “And sometimes I can’t help but remember that we almost lost each other.”

The Doctor shivered and pulled Rose close. The way the timelines had been pulling, trying to get Rose to leave him, he suspected that had been the primary timeline. But they had changed things. Jackie had changed things. And that’s why they could all be together.

“Happy Christmas, Doctor.”

“Happy Christmas, Rose.”

[just-another-wasteland-merc]

Writing Tag

I was tagged by @adventuresofmeghatron and @suppuration , thank you guys!

I tag @thenightmotherwrites , @trashkingnyx, @thewastelandwriter, and whoever wants to do this, and there’s absolutely no pressure if you don’t want to. I would love to see!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

2. Honest.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

27,292 words, but that’s going to go up into the 30 thousands pretty quickly here once I finish editing the new chapter for Stimpacks!

3. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Well, I only have two works so far (that will also be expanding soon)

Stimpacks and Sniper Rounds- F!SoSu/MacCready- Em and Mac’s first longfic.

December, 2288- F!SoSu/MacCready- a quick songfic that might already get a re-write.

4. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I always try to. I like having the author interact with the community and talking about the fic. To me, it’s a way to speak to my readers directly too. I like that sense of community.

5. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Honestly, the only completed fic is December, 2288, and it has no angst at all. But that doesn’t mean that Stimpacks won’t have it. I have angst planned, but I have no idea if that will change in the future. 

The rest is under Keep Reading!

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

December, 2288. It’s just them dancing in celebration, and it’s fluffy with Feelings. Stimpacks will have happy in it, I just need to get there, haha.

7. Do you write crossovers? If so, what’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I don’t think the Mass Effect AU is a crossover, cause I’m only taking three people from the fallout universe and plunking them into Mass Effect, and their character changes due to the equipment and state of the galaxy instead of the state of the Wasteland. Honestly, I’m surprised how well they’re fitting into the universe! I’m excited to unveil it to everyone.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

When I was still on ff.net, yes. But after the long hiatus and coming to a new fandom, I have not. Everyone really seems to like Em, and the pair of Em and Mac, so I’m very grateful to have a lovely community welcome me back to writing.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Alright, listen. I’m improving my smut game here. My improvement is through role-play. But! I also have a steamy shower scene that I need to really finish, and I have one still in my head that’s pretty smutty.

Em and Mac are horndogs, okay? Let them just have at it. Even if I can’t articulate what’s happening without blushing or giggling, just know they’re banging a lot. They’re in their twenties! And they’re in love. 

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nope!

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope. 

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I have not. I don’t really count roleplay either yet until it’s posted (and it might, I’m not sure). So, as soon as you see a link, I have not co-written anything yet.

13. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

It’s Em and Mac. I have a couple of other ships sailing around somewhere, but this one has been carefully constructed, and they have the most depth out of all my ships. I think maybe because it’s a part of myself in Em? Or a good portion? Unsure.

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

I had a Star Wars fic in the brainstorming stage with a few scenes written down, but I honestly doubt I’ll get to it anymore. It’s been so long. I also wrote for Pirates of the Caribbean, but due to some personal things, I don’t think I’ll ever finish that one either. 

15. What are your writing strengths?

I received some feedback on some decent descriptions, and how I’m spinning a few familiar scenes in a new way that is fresh, or capturing the tension of some quests. Personally, I think I’m okay with dialogue. Keep it realistic, using words I know characters will use too keep them in character. It’s nice. 

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

I am HORRIBLE at slow-burn. Even reading it. I’m constantly yelling “JUST KISS ALREADY” at my own characters even. So I’m hoping that Stimpacks will be better paced. Plus I have a couple of friends to help keep me in check if I don’t realize I’m moving too fast. 

Btw, Em and Mac, you gonna kiss yet? No? Sigh, fine.

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I think it’s really cool, like having characters orignally from another country, or if they spoke it at home. Muttering things in their language under their breath is so great. Call me a dickhead again, it sounds great. Hahah.

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Actually, I wrote fic for Red vs. Blue first. Then PoTC before the Big Hiatus.

19. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

So far its Stimpacks. The story sort of told itself to me while I played the game, refined it on a second playthrough, finished Em’s face on the third, and now I just fall in love over and over again with every new playthrough. Sure, there are a few departures from canon, but I hope everyone who reads it is having as much fun as I am as I write it. 

[hdlynn]

30 questions

tagged by @mandoinevarro and @vercopaanir thank you both lovelies!

answers under the cut

1. Name/Nickname: Heather and I didnt really have any nicknames until this year because of tumblr and discord vode? So those are: Heater/Angle/HD/ad’ika

2. Gender: female, she/her

3. Star sign: taurus

4. Height: 5′6.5′‘ (yes the half is important)

5. Time: 5:55pm

6. Birthday: May <3

7. Favorite bands: The Crane Wives, Birdtalker, Lucius

8. Favorite solo artists: Shawn James, Ella Fitzgerald

9. Song stuck in your head: Dusty Trails by Lucius

10. Last movie: Emma (2020)

11. Last show: The Mandalorian

12. When I did create this blog: Uhhh like Sept? 2011?

13. What I post: This blog? pretty much what is on the tin, anything I like but I did make some side blogs for more specific content cause being on here since 2011... there is a lot XD

14. Last thing I googled: “dimitri from anastasia”

15. Other blogs: The ones I actually update? @hdlynnslibrary @hdlynnsartblog and a [redacted smut vibes blog]. There are... uh 5 others I have but I dont really do much with anymore but I dont want to deactivate them XD

16. Do i get asks: Not so much on this blog, those usually come into the writing one lol

17. Why i chose my url: Its my handle from og sites I was on like ff.net XD

18. Following: 354 iweuhfiuewhfui

19. Followers: this blog 325, my writing blog? [redacted]

20. Average hours of sleep: 8-10 or so

21. Lucky number: Ive always liked the number 11

22. Instruments: used to do piano for like a year in middle school?

23. What I’m wearing: sock, cotton sleep pants (which Im prob going to change to fleece lined leggings shortly cause the sun is down and im getting chilly), a tank-top, and a blue and white sort of sweatshirt thing?

24. Dream job: Still trying to figure that out... but a writer? that would be nice but just? Something creative please

25. Dream trip: I’d love to visit Italy again and hop over to some other nearby countries while im at it

26. Favorite food: Uhhhhh Cheeeese (yes this is also a reference wuhefiuwfh)

27. Nationality: American *heavy sigh*

28. Favorite song: Heavy by Birdtalker

29. Last book: Bounty Hunter: Dig Two Graves by Rachel Aukes

30. Top 3 fictional universes I wanna live in: LOTR, Star Wars, and... the One Hell of an Ask blog by @max--phillips XD

No pressure tags: @princessbatears @aerynwrites @moriamithril @cinewhore @agentpike @max--phillips @mangobilorian @justanotherblonde23 @anxiety-riddled-mando @keeper0fthestars @aesnawan and anyone else who wants to <3

[minijenn]

Sigh...

Alright, enough is enough. 

Time to give a certain someone exactly what they want. 

(long, drama-related post under the cut imo)

So since I would say around May or April, just about every single day, several times a day, I’ve been receiving a handful of negative guest/anon reviews on both UF and Keys on Ao3 and FF.Net alike. The crux of every single one of these reviews basically boils down to hatred for the Stonemason idea being used in UF2, specifically the idea that Yellow Diamond will be redeemed after it. To be even more specific, here are some things this individual (and despite using several different “names” to post these reviews under, I am well aware that they’re all coming from the same person) has accused me of: 

1. Singling Dipper out for “baseless angst” (when that’s not even true, that entire arc will stir up angst for just about everyone). Also says I’m wrong just for enjoying writing angst when its a genre that a lot of people like writing/reading, I’m not the only one smh it’s popular for a reason. 

2. Being willing to let YD get off scott-free for what she does to Dipper in that arc (something that I never said and even if I did say it in the past that’s not necessarily my current plan now) just because her and the other Diamonds were redeemed in SU canon (which again, I have confirmed that I’m not necessarily following to the letter and I’m still currently very much in the process of trying to figure out what I want to do in that regard)

3. The Stonemason arc being an example of “bad writing” and being full of “holes” despite the fact that its NOT written yet and WON’T be written for another few years or so at this rate

4. Claiming that the only reason why I’m willing to let YD off the hook for her actions is because I see her as “attractive” and a “wiafu”, despite the fact that anytime I say that I’m clearly joking, that’s what I do around here smh 

5. Making several blatant attacks on my person, including calling me a fascist, an incel, a pedophile, homophobic (despite the fact that I, myself, am bisexual), claiming that I’m “creepy” for writing fanfiction, claiming that I am a “middle age man” (I’m a 24 year old woman), claiming that I have no sense of morality, get off on torturing children/child abuse, and a number of other horrible, baseless claims 

6. Claims that Dipper needs to get revenge on YD by shattering her when that would stir up an entire whole other mess of problems, by 1. starting an entirely new Gem war no doubt since Blue and White would be livid 2. completely against Dipper’s character entirely and against the spirit of GF, SU, and UF 3. not at all “cathartic” and is really just simple, sociopath thinking expected from a small, immature child obsessed with the idea of “getting even” without growing from an experience and moving on to become the better person instead. Which of course, is probably what this individual is. 

7. Has said insane, immature, stupid shit like this. There really is no making this up: 

Mind you that this person has left these reviews not just on UF, but on Keys to the Kingdom, a KH fanfic that has nothing to do with UF, but these reviews are still very specific to UF all the same, which yes, does basically make this spam. And indeed it is spam because today alone so far, I have already gotten 6+ reviews from this single person alone:

This person also loves taking things I’ve said here on the blog in answers to asks from years ago out of context, never mind the fact that they might not be in line with ideas I currently have and/or again, are completely without context to what the original conversation was so they can twist whatever I said to fit their bizarre, hateful agenda. Here’s a taste of some of today’s fare, for reference: 

At first, I thought this whole thing was just a troll, but really at this point it’s become legitimate harassment. I’m not, nor have I ever asked, everyone and anyone to accept and enjoy everything in UF. I know some people don’t like the Stonemason arc, that’s fine. But I also want people to understand that I haven’t even written the damn thing yet. My entire plotting process for both UF and UF2 alike are always in flux, even from chapter to chapter, in both large ways and small. Minor details and big ones are going to change with time. Not that this person cares about that since they’ve already decided a long time ago that they hate both me and my work for whatever reason (seriously I have no idea what i did to them to provoke any of this). 

(also before any of you say “oh well Jen, just turn off guest reviews and this will end!” Ao3 and FF.Net don’t give authors the option to do that, so I’m pretty much stuck where I currently am with this whole terrible situation unfortunately)

Now mind you I do have a theory about who this individual actually is but I’m no going to address that here because stirring others to action against them isn’t my intention with this post. My intention is something I’m sure they’re not even going to listen to but I’d like to make an earnest appeal all the same, so now, my dude, let’s speak to you individually. Since you clearly want attention so badly in all this, looks like you’re finally about to get exactly that. 

Look. I get that you don’t like this whole Stonemason arc. Again that’s fine, you don’t have to like it. But you sending me these reviews every single day, day in and day out is not going to change my mind, especially given your downright malicious tone in every single one of these. Consider, just for a moment, that I’m an actual person behind this screen, a person with feelings and thoughts of my own just like you are. A person who is out here writing fanfictions because it is something that gives me a personal sense of enjoyment to see a story I’ve crafted play out, and enjoyment in how others interact with my work. Your reviews haven’t changed any of that, I’m going to keep on writing despite them and I’m going to keep on taking pride in my work regardless of anything you have to say. That’’s what being the bigger person is all about. 

 But before sending any more of your petty little reviews, just... all I’m asking is that you think about what you’re saying and why. Does sending these reviews make you feel like you’re superior to me? Is that really what you need to feel some sense of fulfillment? Because really, friend, you could find that sort of fulfillment in something much more genuine and wholesome. Read a book, watch a movie or TV show you really love, go outside and take a walk, hell even write your own fic if you despise mine so much. But just... maybe try to find something else to do with your time instead of attempting to tear other people down for no reason. 

I highly doubt this is going to change anything, hell you may not even read this to begin with, because again, you’ve already decided you hate me for some reason and that’s fine. Go ahead and hate me. I just want you to maybe do a little self reflection and consider that what you’re doing only makes you look bad in the end. 

And with that, MiniJen’s out. Peace. ❤

[calenheniel]

Helsa Week 2020, Day 7: Free

Seeing

Frozen | Oneshot | Hans, Elsa | Drama | K+

She often found herself drawn to her father’s coronation portrait in the library, waiting for the day he might look back at her, and see her, for the woman she had become. 

FF.Net | AO3 | Wattpad | deviantArt

Author’s Note: Based on a prompt from long ago: “Why did you do it?” Takes place shortly after the end of Frozen, but hints at some of Elsa’s internal conflict leading up to Frozen 2 (though I will never consider that film to be canon, and you can’t make me!). I can never get enough of their (imagined) conversations. It ended up being happier (?) than I expected.

@helsa-week​

»»————-　❈　————-««

“Your Majesty.”

She didn’t look up from her mountain of papers, scanning the page in her hand with intense concentration.

A cough echoed in the room. “Your Majesty.”

She glanced up for a moment, her pen never ceasing in its scrawl along the signature line. “Yes, Kai? I heard you the first time.”

The older man frowned, pulling back his shoulders. “I was asked to inform you that Prince Hans of the Southern Isles will be sent back home today.”

She paused. “Hans.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Kai confirmed. “If you may recall, the trip was delayed a week due to—”

“Repairs on the ship that needed to be done after I…” she finished, and then trailed off. She grimaced. “Yes, I remember.”

She greeted his gaze, and noticed behind him the ever-present coronation portrait of her father.

“Remind me, Kai: when was that portrait painted?” she asked suddenly.

The older man blinked, then turned around to face the object in question. “Ah, well, let’s see… it was probably about a week after he was crowned.”

She tapped her pen against the paper below. “He must have been nervous, becoming king at such a young age.”

“Younger even than you are now,” Kai noted, looking back at her with a small smile. “He would’ve been proud, seeing how far you’ve come.”

She returned a half-hearted smile, and touched the crown atop her head with some self-consciousness. “Sometimes, I forget what he looked like,” she admitted, looking sheepish at Kai’s confusion. “I mean, I know his portrait is right there, but…”

“It’s not him,” Kai finished for her. “I know, Your Majesty. But I believe he is still here, in spirit, watching over you as always.”

Her teeth grit at the words of reassurance. “I want to believe that, but…” she managed, unable to stifle a frown. She stared at the painting again – at the hands grasping the orb and scepter with such seeming steadiness, at the posture upright and proper, at the eyes frozen in place for eternity, looking past her into an unknowable void – and suppressed a shudder, dropping the pen to the page. “I don’t think he can do that anymore.”

The silence that followed her remark lay like a heavy snowfall in the room until she cleared her throat.

“When is Hans’s ship due to sail?” she asked.

“In a few hours, around 3 o’clock,” Kai answered after a moment, taken off-guard by the question. “Is something the matter, Your Majesty?”

She took a deep breath, tracing the outline of her pen. “I’d like to see him before he leaves. Can you bring him here?”

Kai’s brow lifted. “Your Majesty, that’s—I really don’t think that’s advisable, given how dangerous he is—”

“I’m well aware of that, but you know I’m more than capable of defending myself.” she cut him off, conjuring a snowflake for effect. Seeing his concern, however, she sighed, evaporating the magic. “Obviously, he should still be restrained in some way when he is brought here. And the guards should be posted just outside the room.”

Kai frowned. “It’s not his physical strength that worries me, Queen Elsa. It’s… his way with words,” he explained. “He fooled us all, not just the Princess.”

Her eyes tightened. “I know, Kai. But it won’t be like that this time. I promise.”

His lips pursed. “I hope so, Your Majesty. But what about the Princess? If she finds out he’s here—”

“She won’t,” she said, “because no one is going to tell her.”

They stared at one another, and at length, Kai swallowed. “As you wish, Your Majesty. I will bring him here within the next hour.” He bowed and left the room, his hands clenched behind his back.

She watched those hands until they were out of sight, and then looked down at her own.

They were shaking.

»» —— ««

She paced the floor of her father’s library – her library, now – and tried to steady her breathing.

Ice tendrils had been creeping from her fingers every so often in the last hour as she waited for him, snowfalls starting and stopping around her, her breath coming out in cold puffs. Kai’s words of warning hung in the air like a storm cloud, obscuring her vision, and her crown felt heavier than before.

She clasped her hands behind her in the same way that he had done, hoping that it would calm her. Instead, feeling her skin bare, without gloves – a sensation that was still so new and foreign – unnerved her further, and eventually her hands found their way back to her sides.

A heavy knock on the door jolted her to attention, and she finally stopped, though her heart continued to race. She licked her lips on instinct before speaking, finding her mouth suddenly dry.

“Come in.”

As the thick oak doors opened, she felt and heard every thump in her chest with alarming clarity, though she took care to look unaffected as she caught sight of the prince.

She allowed herself one last, deeper exhale. “Close the doors, please,” she instructed the guards. All four of them – the two who had brought in the prince, and the two stationed outside her door – blinked at her in surprise.

“But, Your Majesty—”

“I’ll be fine, Leif,” she interrupted the oldest guard. “Now please, if you will—return to your posts, and close the doors.”

Leif frowned in disapproval, shooting the prince a threatening look, but did as was commanded of him, maintaining eye contact with his queen until the doors were finally shut.

Her attention turned back to her guest, and the thump returned louder than ever.

“Your Majesty.”

Her stomach turned.

“Hans.”

»» —— ««

“I hope you’ll excuse my poor appearance,” he said, his bare and shackled hands gesturing at his dirtied uniform. “I didn’t have the chance to clean up before this, so I look more or less like I did the last time we met.”

She ignored the jab. “I was told you’re leaving today, on the French ambassador’s ship.”

He rolled his shoulders back, standing upright. “So I was told as well. Though I wasn’t expecting to see you again before I left.” He eyed her hands with wary interest, and then met her hard stare. “May I ask why I have the pleasure of being called upon by Her Majesty for a… private audience?”

She frowned and crossed her arms, and then looked away, gazing out the window at the mountains in the distance. She listened carefully to the jangling of his cuffs, assuring herself that he had not stepped any closer, and breathed.

“Why did you save me?”

She heard the surprise in his voice. “Why did I—I’m not sure what you mean, Your Majesty.”

She glanced at him, and then towards the window, directing his gaze there. “Up on the North Mountain. You brought me back here, alive,” she repeated, “and I want to know why.”

“I told you in that cell that I needed you to stop the winter,” he replied, his brow furrowing. “You were the only one who could.”

She frowned. “Don’t lie, Hans. There’s no need for it anymore.”

He matched her expression. “I don’t know what it is that you want, or expect, me to say.”

Ice crept up her crossed arms from her fingertips until she noticed him staring at it—at which she reddened, disappearing it again. “You could’ve let me kill Weselton’s men, and then killed me, married Anna, ruled Arendelle like you planned to,” she explained. “Or you could’ve just killed all of us, and blamed it on me. Everyone would’ve believed you either way, after seeing what I did at the coronation ball.”

She looked up at her father’s portrait briefly, behind and a ways away from Hans, and felt filled with dread. She pushed past it, asking again: “But you didn’t. You brought me back here, to that cell. Why?”

His gaze narrowed at her. “Because I’m not an idiot like Weselton,” he retorted. “And I’ve spent enough time in libraries reading up on old folklore to know that killing you wouldn’t necessarily have done anything about the eternal winter.” He eyed her meaningfully. “And, as it turns out, I was right. Magic could only be undone with magic,” he said, adding with distaste: “That is, if you consider love to be magic.”

She glowered at him, and then took a few steps closer, stopping just within two feet of him. He regarded the move with suspicion, but did not budge. “Something tells me you’re not satisfied with my answer,” he remarked.

“Because there’s still something missing from it. Because…” Her face flushed suddenly, and she placed a hand over it to calm herself. “You saw what a danger I was to myself, to others. But you still thought you could… what, control it? Convince me to ‘come back to the light’?” She shook her head. “It doesn’t make sense. Someone like you should’ve known better, should’ve—”

“Killed you?” he interrupted, earning a dark look from her. “Is that what you wanted?” At her silence, he sighed. “No. I didn’t think so.” His brow rose. “I didn’t see someone who wanted to die, on that mountain. You were fighting for your survival—desperately so.” He added: “I respected that.”

Her cheeks pinked, and she looked away from him. “You don’t respect anything,” she muttered, “especially not me.”

A strange light came into his eyes.

“Is that what this is about, Elsa?”

The informal address, coupled with his predatory look, made her skin crawl and the air grew colder. “What are you talking about?”

He suppressed a half-smile. “I understand, it’s a… difficult question to ask,” he replied, “especially to someone like me.”

She frowned. “Stop being cryptic. It’s not in the least bit interesting.”

He continued to eye her with discomfiting attention. “Then be honest. Ask me what’s really been on your mind, all this time.”

Ice traced the outlines of his cuffs and stung at his already raw and red wrists, making him wince. She scowled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Hans,” she repeated through gritted teeth, “so if you’d like to keep your hands, you’d better come right out and say what you mean.”

She watched as he struggled to answer, frostbite creeping into his skin, his breath coming out in shorter bursts.

Don’t be the monster they fear you are.

Her eyes widened as she stepped back, and she clutched her hands to her chest, the ice retreating from his binds with them. He gasped and shuddered as it did, rubbing his hands together for warmth, glancing at her all the while.

She turned away, unable to face him. “I—I didn’t mean to do that,” she stuttered. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“I do.”

»» —— ««

The room came back into focus.

“You do,” she repeated in disbelief.

“Yes,” he replied, “because I understand the instinct to lash out when you’re feeling trapped. I’m the same way.”

“Don’t compare yourself to me,” she snapped, her temper alighting anew. “Don’t pretend you understand, or know, anything about me. You’re just trying to get a rise out of me, to catch me off-guard so that you can harm me in some way, like you did to Anna.” She took two steps closer to him, her hands clenching into fists. “But I’m not her.”

“No, you’re not,” he agreed, staring down at her with unabashed fascination. “In many ways, you’re hardly alike at all. And isn’t that why you brought me in today?” There was an unsettling sort of understanding in his look. “To prove that you’re different; to prove that I chose wrong.”

Her skin boiled under his gaze. “That isn’t true,” she seethed, feeling an odd heat spread throughout her body until she was nearly shaking from it. “I don’t have anything to prove to you.”

“Of course not,” he nodded, “but…” He paused to raise an eyebrow. “It seems to me there’s still a part of you that wants to know.”

Her lips were dry again.

“Know what?”

He took one step forward, leaving only a foot of space between them.

“Why I chose the Princess, and not the Queen.”

»» —— ««

She couldn’t hide the color of her face from him—not when he was that close.

“Anna already told me why,” she said, frowning. “I was ‘preferable,’ but ‘nobody was getting anywhere’ with me—those were your exact words, I believe.”

“She – and you – have a good memory,” he returned, making her frown deepen. “Yes, I did say that. But that explanation wasn’t good enough for you, was it, Elsa?” He craned his head forward a little, his expression dark and knowing. “You thought – no, you knew – that there must be another reason. A better reason.”

Her skin was crawling again, but in a way that felt unfamiliar.

She almost choked on her words. “And what, exactly, would that be?”

He smiled. “Do you want the real answer, or the answer that you want to hear?”

“There’s no difference,” she rejoined, her voice cracking. “I only ever want the truth.”

“Oh, Elsa,” he countered with a sigh, his head falling back, “I really must beg to differ.” When he peered down at her again, there was something akin to pity in his eyes. “What you want, I think, is for me to admit that I was wrong: that I should’ve gone after you, tried to woo you and become King of Arendelle through you, and not Anna.” He paused to take in her enraged, fearsome blue irises. “You want me to tell you that I was a fool.”

Her teeth ground so hard together that her jaw hurt, and she found her mouth too dry to form a response. He studied her appearance closely, and continued: “Well, Elsa, if that’s what you want, then yes: I admit that I was impatient, and was looking for the easiest way in—which, unfortunately for your sister, happened to be her.” At her warning look, he added: “Which was, of course, terrible of me to do. Especially when her older sister happened to be a much better match.”

The crawling sensation reached her stomach, and she nearly gasped at the sensation.

“You disgust me,” she spat.

“I know,” he said. “And that’s perfectly reasonable, given what I’ve done to you and yours. In fact, I’m being shipped back to certain punishment at home for it.” His eyes tightened. “But that doesn’t mean you haven’t thought about it. That you’re not thinking about it, still.”

He smiled at the appalled shock that spread across her features at the comment. “And that’s the real answer, Elsa: that I’ve thought about it, too. More than you can imagine.”

The heat in her stomach was unbearable, but she couldn’t break eye contact with him. “I’m sure you have,” she said, though with less repulsed conviction than she’d wanted to convey. “You’ve had an extra week to think things over, after all.”

“I’ve thought about it for longer than that,” he replied, causing her cheeks to flush anew. “I was just distracted, before, by my poorly-plotted ambitions.” At her eye-roll, he continued: “On that mountain, when I saw what your powers could do… it moved me, Elsa. Like nothing else had in a long, long time. And if I’d been smarter then, if I’d been thinking properly, I—”

He paused for effect, and she couldn’t help but take the bait.

“You’d have done what, Hans? Tried to ‘get somewhere’ with me, while I was weak and vulnerable and out of my right mind? Use my powers to your own ends?” She scoffed. “Yes, I suppose that would’ve been like you to do. But you didn’t. And even if you had,” she went on, “do you really think that I would have fallen at your feet, just like that? Especially after that… inane display you put on with Anna at the ball.” She glared at him. “I knew you were just a stupid pretty boy chasing the crown, and I wasn’t proven wrong.”

A grin tugged at the corner of his lips. “So that did bother you,” he remarked. “I thought you might’ve been a little jealous at the time, but I wasn’t sure ‘til now.” He chuckled a little. “I can’t say anything for certain about what might’ve happened, had I acted differently,” he admitted, “but… neither can you.”

She wanted to deny the claim outright, but her mouth was drier than ever.

»» —— «« 

The silence in the room was suffocating.

“That’s not true,” she said finally, her lip trembling as she met his stare again. “I know I wouldn’t have. I know it.”

“You don’t sound too convinced, Elsa.”

Her eyes crackled. “What does it matter? You made your choices already, what’s done is done—and now we’re here.”

“Indeed we are,” he concurred, peering at her. “But is this where you want to be?”

“I am where I belong,” she snapped, “and soon you will be, too.”

“Yes, I suppose that’s so,” he said, his lip curling at the reminder. “But that won’t stop me from thinking about it. And I don’t think it’ll stop you, either.”

Her head tilted up until she was sure that he could see her contempt. “I told you, Hans: don’t pretend like you know me, or my thoughts. You don’t know a damn thing.”

He didn’t miss a beat. “You’re right: I don’t know you,” he echoed her, “and I can’t know what’s in your mind.” His olive eyes gleamed under the afternoon sun that streamed in through the windows. “But I see you, Elsa.”

Her blood pulsed under her skin, and tears pricked at her eyes. “I don’t believe that,” she murmured, shaking her head. Her gaze traveled up, and stopped.

He glanced at the crown atop her head. “Is it so hard to believe that someone could see you as you really are?” He followed her eyes to where they rested on the portrait of the old king, and sighed. “Oh, Elsa. You know he probably never did.”

Her jaw was tight as she blinked back her tears. “I know,” she replied, turning to him. “I can’t rely on his pity anymore, and I certainly don’t want yours.” 

He looked surprised by her hardened expression, and she continued: “I know the stories you told Anna about your brothers, and of how cruel they were to you. If they’re true, I can only imagine how lonely you must have been growing up.” Her stare was probing. “And that’s why you think you understand me: because you think we’re not so different.”

He frowned at the remark. “Elsa, I…”

She drew closer to him again, and glared at his downturned lips. “Perhaps we aren’t, Hans. And that’s the real reason, isn’t it? Why you could never really want me.” The sun retreated behind the clouds, casting her in shadow. “Not if you pity me, as you must pity yourself.”

He flinched under her interrogation, opening his mouth to speak—and then closed it again, chuckling dryly. “I guess you’ve got me all figured out, Elsa,” he muttered. “So there’s nothing left to say.”

She paused to study his face, noticing every bit of dirt caked into his skin and hair, and stepped back. “No,” she agreed, “I suppose not.”

She held his gaze for a few moments longer, and then walked to the window, observing him in the reflection behind her.

“You should go,” she said, her head turning halfway over her shoulder. “The ship will be leaving soon.”

She heard his cuffs clink as he stepped back. “Then I’ll be going. Goodbye, Queen Elsa.”

Her breath caught in her throat, and by the time she was ready to speak – to say anything at all – he had already left the room, the doors closed after him.

Alone, she found her gaze drawn to her father’s portrait once more. He continued to stare into the distance, never looking back at her—never seeing her, just as Hans had said.

She turned away from the painting at the thought, looking back towards the window, and regarded her reflection. It seemed different from before – as if her features had been imbued with a new and strange light – and she wondered if it was real, or just a trick of the sun as it escaped the clouds, illuminating the earth in a warm glow.

Is it so hard to believe that someone could see you as you really are?

Her heart thudded dully at the recollection as she stared, watching as her eyes sparkled like sapphires, a rare smile forming on her reflection’s lips.

“I see you,” she whispered to it, tracing those lips on the glass with her fingers.

Her tears fell even as her smile grew.

“Maybe for the first time.”

[aliceslantern]

Give/Take, a Kingdom Hearts fanfic, chapter 3

Ienzo has been too busy since the war to be overwhelmed by the past. But with little progress to be made in his work with Kairi, old nightmares start to invade.

Riku is a glorified housesitter. Lonely and faced with no choice but to wait for a way to find his friends, he eagerly accepts when Ienzo asks him to help do repairs around the castle. Before long, the two strike up an unlikely friendship, united by their dark pasts and their attempts to be better people.

But just as they begin to consider something more... Kairi wakes up.

Ienzoku (Ienzo/Riku), post-Melody of Memory, slow burn. Updates Thursdays until it's done.

Chapter summary:  Riku gets sick, which ends up having worse consequences than it should.

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

---

Ienzo tucked another blanket around Kairi. The air in here was quite cold--despite the oncoming winter, the AC was running to keep their equipment happy. He knew she couldn’t feel anything, but he hoped the position she was in wasn’t uncomfortable. They’d done the best with what they had.

It was getting dark, but there wasn’t anything for dinner in the castle; as in, they’d even eaten all of the auxiliary cans of soup. It might be nice to stretch his legs. He put on his raincoat, picked up an umbrella, and set off.

He thought that shopping would irritate him, being another one of those necessary human activities. But he actually found it quite soothing. The food here seemed fresher, richer than what he was used to. He picked up what they needed for a few days and started to head back. It really was raining rather heavily, making him a bit jumpy in the early evening, despite the bright flashlight of his gummiphone. He still had magic, but that didn’t mean he wanted to use it.

In the darkness of the construction site, he thought he saw a figure. He tensed, trying to find that magic, only to see that it was “Riku?” Still in the rain, without a proper coat. “I suppose you found something to fight, then?”

“...You could say that.” His voice was unsteady, and Ienzo thought he saw him shaking.

“Have you been out here in the cold this entire time?”

“I’m alright,” he stuttered.

“I can both see and hear you shivering.”

“I’m really fine.”

Ienzo frowned. He knew that line through and through. The last thing he needed was for Riku to collapse on them. “Why don’t you come inside and get dry and warm?”

“No, it’s alright. I’ll go--back to the castle.”

“You shouldn’t leave while it’s dark.”

He squinted at Ienzo. There was a flush in his face. “I’ll really be okay.”

“...And it’s not pouring buckets,” Ienzo said dryly. “We have the room and frankly, you look like you feel ill.”

Riku trembled, clearly trying to come up with an excuse.

Ienzo sighed. “You want to run yourself into the ground, fine. But neither Kairi nor I appreciate it. It won’t help make you feel better, that’s for sure.”

“W-why? You b-been there?”

Ienzo chuckled. “Between my reformation and Demyx’s delivery of the replica for Roxas, I don’t think I slept more than an hour a night. And then I crashed in front of Aeleus and it was very humiliating.” He twirled his umbrella. “So really, I’m trying to help you save face, here.”

Riku considered. “W-well if you put it like that.”

He bobbed his head towards the door. “Come on, then.”

Unfortunately the only extra bedroom that was in any livable shape was the one that had belonged to Xehanort. Ienzo gathered some clean sheets and extra blankets for Riku, who was still shivering rather insistently.

“I’ll bring you something dry to wear,” he said.

“You don’t h-have to, I’m sure once I get dry I--”

“Riku, if I let you stay in those wet clothes then I may end up getting the rest of us sick. I’m making soup for dinner. I do hope you’ll come eat it.” He told him briefly where the kitchen and bathroom were.

“I’d hate to intrude--”

“The only thing I particularly hate right now is that you’re refusing help when you clearly need it. It’s fine. We want you to be comfortable.” Insofar as he could be here, anyway.

He dropped his eyes. “...Thanks.”

“It is the least I can do.” He nodded once, curtly. “Dilan gets upset if dinner is not served precisely at seven-thirty. You better be there.”

“Or w-what?”

Ienzo cocked his head. He didn’t know what that tone meant, other than the fact it made his heart skip a little. Nerves? Discomfort? Indigestion? “Then I’m afraid you’ll miss my gourmet cooking, which is a shame for you,” he replied, equally. “Get changed. Quit procrastinating.” He shut the door on Riku before he could protest further, and tried not to ponder the nervous little seed that was now growing in his chest.

It had been a while since he’d had banter with-- anyone , and fighting with Even didn’t count . They were all too busy walking on eggshells around each other. That was why, right? A friendly moment with someone who was nigh-identical to his murderer?

Ienzo shook his head and went to start the soup. He enjoyed the neat order of cooking, its innate harmlessness. They’d been taking turns cooking for everyone; Dilan was a good cook, Aeleus passable. Even couldn’t do much more than boil pasta, nor did he care to do more. Ansem preferred to “support local business” and get takeout. He kept chopping vegetables, making his broth, readying bits of beef. It’d take some time to simmer, so he tried to catch up on his coding on a tablet.

Ienzo was starting to get sick of numbers.

---

Riku was starting to get sick. He felt it. That was dumb, he thought, wincingly. While a warm shower and the blankets on the bed helped with the worst of the shivering, it was only just beginning, an ache in his bones. A potion might at least help him be functional, but one was all the way across the room in the pocket of his pants, which were drying on the radiator.

This room reminded him too much of the one Maleficent had given him the last time he’d stayed here. The furniture was the same style, the walls the same green. He wondered dizzily if this was that room, but this one had a window and the other had not.

Ienzo had left him a set of linen pajamas, but knowing who they belonged to nearly kept him from putting them on--at least until the bone-deep cold reinvaded. He huddled under the three or four blankets he’d been given.

Nice one, idiot, he thought. He’d known that fighting in the rain was a bad idea, but he’d done it anyway , and now he was out of commission for at least a few hours, until the dizziness faded enough for him to travel-- not home , but to the place he’d been living.

It seemed to take a long time, but finally, finally the shivering stopped. The bed wasn’t nearly as uncomfortable as he’d thought, and he found himself drifting, trying desperately to stay awake. The soup. He’ll be mad if I don’t eat the soup. The notion of trying to stomach something just made him feel nauseous. Riku tried to sit up, but the wave of vertigo that overcame him was so intense he had to lay right back down.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so terrible to fall asleep…

Riku dreamt.

The buildings and alleys of a city in the rain, full of bright pulsing neon and he was searching, so desperately, so desperately, for Sora, and time was running out--

The dream warped and changed.

The castle had seemed darker then, its smell muskier, Heartless wandering the place in droves. He’d hear them fighting each other as he tried to sleep; he remembered that being surprising. At first the pulse and pull of darkness inside of him had felt exhilarating, like he could do anything, like he was unstoppable.

Then he started blacking out.

The loss of time had been a few seconds, minutes at most, like he’d simply zoned out or lost his train of thought. But slowly, over the course of those days, Ansem’s grip on him tightened, and the minutes became hours, and he’d be left in the darkness of his own heart, a sensation that threatened to drown him if he didn’t consciously fight it moment for moment. It had burned, felt hot, and now and again he could twitch his own fingers, take a few hesitant steps in his own body. Even once Ansem had theoretically been purged from him, he still felt that pull, itching, aching, not helped at all when it was quite literally awoken.

Castle Oblivion wasn’t dark. It was bright, white, piercing, despite the fact that it was underground and had no windows. The only darkness came from the Heartless, from the shadowy figures that lurked within--

“Riku?”

I know who I am.

When did that happen? You were always terrified of the dark before--

“...Right. I see. I’ll leave it here for you.”

A clink of metal and glass, a cool hand touching his forehead--

Then I shall make you see that your hopes are nothing but a mere illusion!

Riku grasped Zexion’s wrist hard, and heard a startled cry. A lamp light clicked on.

Not Zexion.

In his hazy state, it took him a long, long moment to realize what had happened. The walls of the room were wobbly. Ienzo was clutching his wrist, gasping and breathing hard. “I-I’m sorry,” Riku stammered. “I didn’t mean--are you hurt?”

But Ienzo didn’t respond. His head was bowed low, and his grip had shot up to his throat. Riku tried to reach towards him--

“Do not .” The words were harsh, almost animal-- with panic , Riku realized dizzily. “Don’t touch me, don’t--” He choked for breath for a moment longer before he darted from the room.

Perhaps it was the fever, but Riku reeled with confusion. Their battle, to his knowledge, had been tough but ultimately mutual. Why was Ienzo reacting this way?

Either way, he’d messed up again , and he felt too awful to try and make more sense of it. He saw that Ienzo had brought him some of the soup, and some tea and medicine, and the guilt only tightened.

His exhausted mind swept him back under.

---

Riku woke with a jolt. He wasn’t sure if the fever had broken or not; he was uncomfortably sweaty in all these layers. He could tell he’d been having dreams, intense, difficult ones, but they all dissolved in the morning light.

Lying on his side, he saw the abandoned soup bowl, the now-cold tea and medicine. A stab of remorse made his stomach clench. In that moment the fever really had made him think Zexion was attacking him, but that didn’t make hurting him any more right.

And--squinting hard--had that grip made Ienzo panic ? Why?

Either way, Riku had a lot of apologizing to do. He warmed what he’d been left with a spell and ate, the prickles of guilt getting worse.

His clothing was dry by now, so he got dressed and folded up everything he’d used. He was still a bit shaky, but he’d be fine enough to get back to the Land of Departure. He hardly ever got sick like that. But he hadn’t been able to sleep well lately, and there was the cold and the rain, and he probably wasn’t eating well either. He’d run himself into the ground. Riku had to get better control of this, if so just to prevent all this from happening again.

He set off to find Ienzo, his heart beating hard with anxiety. Just say sorry. Just say sorry. There had to be something he could do. He hoped he hadn’t hurt him; he knew too well the ache of broken bones.

He headed back to the lab, trying not to talk himself out of it. He mentally rehearsed what he had to say-- you were so kind, I acted completely out of turn-- but when he got there, Ienzo wasn’t even in the room.

“Good morning, Riku,” Even said, and Riku wondered if he was imagining the coolness in his voice. “I see you’re up and about.”

“I’m so sorry about yesterday. Thank you for letting me stay.” He cleared his throat.

“I don’t think any of us are strangers to overwork,” Ansem said. “You’re welcome here any time.”

He dropped his eyes. “...Thanks. Um. Where’s Ienzo? I wanted to thank him for the dinner.”

Again, that stab of paranoia--was the pause too long? “He had a few things to tend to in town, I believe,” Even said. “But I will pass on the message.”

“...Oh. Thanks.” He looked back at Kairi, still deeply asleep. Would she be ashamed of him? “I guess I should… head out, if there’s nothing I can help with here.”

“I don’t believe so,” Even said, without looking up.

“Take care,” Ansem said, with that same old man smile.

Riku returned to the Land of Departure, to the silence.

[wolfcha1k]

Flood and Flame /// Guy x Eep Fanfic

"You're the fire and the flood

And I'll always feel you in my blood

Everything is fine

When your hand is resting next to mine

Next to mine

You're the fire and the flood"

"Something wrong?" Guy inquired.

She shook her head before resting it on his shoulder, getting comfortable. "No, not really," Eep told him, seeing he didn't look convinced despite all she could really see was the curve of his jawline. "What about you? I have a feeling that it's not just itchy feet bothering you tonight." 

Guy and Eep take some time to sort out their feelings, surviving The End of the World itself can take its toll. There's also matters of the heart... /// Guy x Eep /// Post!Croods but before A New Age ///

You can also read it on Ao3 or FF.net here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29494047

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13821005/1/Flood-and-Flame

- <3 -

Author's Note: I'm always fascinated by the development of Guy and Eep's relationship that we don't see leading into "A New Age", since they start off rather new to each other. I also like to explore just how the family processed surviving The End since I'd imagine that was a very traumatizing experience. Especially for Eep who had nearly lost both her father and Guy during all that, two people she cares deeply for. So this is a little "what if" into that scenario.

This is also just a little distraction from "A Tomorrow of Our Own" as I sort through my writer's block. I had wanted to post this before Valentine's Day hit but what can you do, can't rush quality. The picture here was drawn by me and I hope you like the story and artwork. Some warning, kinda steamyish near the end, skip right to it or over it, your choice. If it makes anyone feel anything, then I did my job despite my virgin awkward boyfriendless ass feeling differently, haha. Ngl, took me several days just to write the kiss because I got so much second hand embarrassment yall gotta read that.

Eep couldn't sleep but then again, how could you catch a wink after surviving The End of the World itself? Her blood was still pounding in between her ears and it thrummed through her veins. The energy hummed under her skin, desperate to burst alongside the burning that sent her nerves ablaze. It was barely a few short hours ago they'd outlasted certain death. For those short moments, all had seemed lost.

In-between the restless twisting and turning amongst the sleep pile, Eep gave up trying to sleep. The dark around her didn't help matters much, even if Eep prided herself in her courage. She hunted for light all her life, eyes drifting towards the remains of the embers that still glowed upon the ground. It gave little comfort.

Her father's words echoed in her memory, the whole ordeal still fresh as a wound. Never be afraid.

Perhaps it was easier said than done, green gaze finding the hulking mass of fur and muscle that was Grug. She almost lost her father without never telling him she loved him. It haunted her when she waited on the other side of that chasm, bordering The End and waiting for a response she knew was never coming. The anxiety came like an unwelcome stranger, knocking persistently at her skull. Giving a soft frustrated groan, she sat up and crossed her arms.

She looked up at the moon and the night sky that held all the Tomorrows, the sleeping suns shining like beacons of hope. Eep tried laying down again, cuddling close to a nearby snoring mass she assumed was her little brother Thunk. There was Chunky's loud rumbling purr, Gran's thunderous snoring and Ugga's gentle murmuring to seek comfort from. She counted each breath, in and out and shut her eyes… How did the tiger fly? Her voice echoed, reminding her of caves and the canyon that once defined her existence.

And then he stumbled into her life, well, more like she pushed her way into his with persistence rivaling the most stubborn of beasts. He held the sun in his hands and showed her there was more than darkness. She jumped on the sun and rode it to Tomorrow.

Her nerves, taut as a bowstring, nagged for release. Like the tiger in Guy's tale, she was ready to fly.

I gotta move around, she thought. Eep gave one last look at her slumbering family silhouetted in the darkness. Instinct was something she knew innately, it kept her alive.

She wiggled free of the tangled bodies around her, rolling onto her hands and knees. Eep quickly felt the crisp night time chill turn her skin to goose flesh. She shivered, partially regretting the choice to leave the warm safety of the family sleep pile. Her body was too tense for sleep though, reminding Eep of the static feeling the air got before lightning struck.

She shrugged the feeling off and like a cat on the prowl began to creep away from the slumbering clan. Eep made distance and in-between trotting along her knuckles, she sprang up onto the balls of her feet gracefully. Muscles rippling under her tanned skin, she just let loose. The lush green jungle and its many colorful flowers rushed past her in a blur of color. Breaking into a run once Eep knew she was far enough away not to make noise, she relished in the freedom the night brought her. Eep breathed in the air deeply, feeling it expand her lungs and suddenly the cold of it felt good in comparison.

Her feet carried her towards the edge of the jungle, white sand expanding far as the eye could see. The ocean was shining bright, so blue she wondered if it was even real. The moonlight reflecting on the ocean called to her in a whisper yet was loud enough to deafen her ears. Eep wondered perhaps if she dipped her hands into the water she would scoop up a shard of the moon. Eep paused at the edge of the treeline. A familiar scent blew in on the breeze upwind, Eep flaring her nostrils.

Guy, she would recognize his scent anywhere. He smelled of wind and freedom, like innovation and firewood. He was also tinged in ash from The End and the burning scent of the tar he'd been stuck in with her father. It was thick and pungent, making her tense. Again it reminded her how close she had nearly lost everything. Eep without another thought was quick to seek him out, a part of her worried about him being alone out here.

It was silly to worry, there was no danger here now. Besides, Guy had survived alone long before he ever met her and her family. However she couldn't shake it, especially when today she saw him lose hope in that moment. Guy was a dreamer and always knew how to escape the worst of dire situations. Full of ideas that seemed endless, he'd had no solution to when the earth broke into pieces around them. It had broken her heart seeing him like that, all her faith was on him and she'd never thought he could lose that spark.

It didn't make her regret the journey though, she would have always followed him to The Ends of the earth. Despite how short she'd known him, it felt like forever somehow. Were soulmates real? She hoped so.

Come with me.

She found him quickly thanks to her keen sense of smell. Seated on a tall rock on the shore, his back was to her. His knees were curled up to his chest, long arms wrapped around him. Eep crept towards him and he perked at the sound. He turned his head, squinting to see passed the dark. He relaxed when he realized it was not danger, a sigh rattling his thin, lanky frame. His smile could radiate light as he gave her one. It made her insides melt.

"Hey," he greeted, already scooting over to give her a spot on his lonely little ledge.

She didn't hesitate to plop herself next to him, quickly cozying herself into his side. "Hey you," she chirped back.

Guy didn't seem to mind the affection, if anything he was just as eager to meet her half way. He leaned his head comfortably against her temple, breathing in her scent.

"What are you doing up?" Eep asked him after several moments, needing the time to enjoy having him to herself for once. It was one of the first real time being alone together since getting stuck in the canyon.

"Just wanted to explore a bit, I couldn't sleep," he told her, turning his face to nuzzle her cheek. If Eep were a cat, she would have purred at the affection. "What about you?"

"I'm too wound up I think," she said. "I can't sit still for long anyway."

He chuckled fondly, pulling away to look at her. Eep practically whined at the loss of contact, looking into his eyes. "You do have a severe case of wanderlust, I must be contagious."

"Hey, so long as it's not the common cold I'm good."

"I'd never want to make you sick," Guy promised her. "I'm healthy as a horse fly, I swear."

Lovesick seemed to be a fitting description though, Eep batting her eyelashes as she swooned at his affection. He grinned at her.

"How did you find me?" He asked her suddenly, returning to nuzzle the soft skin of her cheek and jaw.

"I sniffed you out," she exclaimed, sounding proud of herself.

"Do I really smell that weird to you?" Guy teased her, gently lifting a finger to boop her on the nose. She went cross eyed, amused.

"A bit, I've gotten used to it though," she teased right back.

He gave her a lopsided boyish smile at that, chuckling low in his throat. Guy made himself more comfortable on his perch on the ledging. Eep watched Guy turn away from her to look towards the sky, his brows furrowed. Something seemed to be on his mind, Eep's curiosity pricked under her skin and she shuffled her weight. Feeling her shift, Guy turned back to her, questioning.

"Something wrong?" Guy inquired.

She shook her head before resting it on his shoulder, getting comfortable. "No, not really," Eep told him, seeing he didn't look convinced despite all she could really see was the curve of his jawline. "What about you? I have a feeling that it's not just itchy feet bothering you tonight."

He sighed, merely cuddling her warm body as he put an arm behind her back. "Bad dream," he confessed at last, looking up at the slumbering suns above them again. Guy's face was solemnly drawn, forlorn as seemed to search the heavens for answers. "Today was a lot."

"Yeah," she agreed quietly, mind blanking as she thought back to what had happened just barely a day ago now.

Eep looked at her arm where a fresh wound was, the blood long since dried. She'd gotten it after Grug threw her across the chasm, her bicep had grazed a sharp rock when she landed. Eep had a feeling it would scar, it wasn't like she was scared or ashamed of those though.

This one though felt different, sure, she had survived but it'd been a horrifying day. It was something that would take time to forget and feel pride in.

Guy followed her eyes and gently nudged her, drawing her from her thoughts. "What about you?" He echoed the question. "I know it's not only me who's reflecting."

"What is there really to say?" She shut her eyes, returning to the darkness that had suffocated them in dirt and ash. "I nearly lost my dad." We all almost died.

They fell into a tense silence as both Eep and Guy continued to digest all that they'd experienced today. Guy idly peeled at a piece of dried tar he couldn't wash off successfully with his finger nail. She lifted her head a little and Eep watched him, green eyes flickering between his face and the splotch of black tar.

"I know the feeling," he murmured at last and he hesitated a long moment, steeling himself as he lowered his head. "I… um… I lost my parents when I was a little boy."

Eep drew away to properly look at his face, seeing the old hurt there. He wouldn't look at her, trapped somewhere in his mind she was unable to follow. She reached out to cup his cheek to turn his head towards her, rubbing her thumb tenderly against his face.

He leaned into her touch, lifting his hand to cover hers. He pulled it away slightly in order to press his nose into her calloused palm, a gesture of deep fondness amongst cave people. Did he know that? Eep wondered. It made her ears burn despite the weight of what they were talking about.

"Guy… I'm sorry," she said finally, it was the only thing she could really say. It had been an obvious conclusion for why he was alone, so young yet wise beyond his years. His experience spoke volumes of the world he had to face.

She once couldn't imagine living without her father, no matter how much Grug frustrated and smothered her. After today she knew though at last and it was the worst feeling in the entire universe, no kind of wound she'd ever gotten could come close to comparing to it.

"The tar pit with your dad really picked at an old wound for me," he went on, voice beginning to warble a little. "They had drowned in that stuff. I guess… I guess I wasn't as over it as I thought I was. I can't forget that awful smell, it suffocates you."

Eep didn't think it was a thing you could get over, part of her didn't want to meet the person who had forgotten it that easily. She wasn't sure what to say so instead she wrapped an arm around his waist, hoping her presence would be enough comfort.

"I'm not alone anymore though," Guy continued despite how sad his voice sounded. "I got you and your family now."

"And Belt," she added helpfully and it made him smile a little bit as waned as it was.

"And Belt," he agreed. "I think my family would have wanted me to go on this crazy road trip with you."

"Log ride and all?"

"Maybe sans the log ride," Guy admitted, twisting his face up in a pout. Eep pulled him closer so she could hug him better.

They fell into a companionable silence for a time, listening to the wind as it blew over the beach. Her thoughts wandered again to places she didn't want it to go, that buzzing unused energy beneath her skin returning with a vengeance.

Eep knew thinking about things wasn't going to be helpful for either of them, her gaze jumping between Guy and the ocean. The tide rumbled softly as it eased in and out along the coastline. She tugged on his elbow, gesturing with her head in the direction of the ocean.

"Wanna go for a swim?" Eep asked, knowing the shift in topic would be welcome. They would drown their fears in the water. She idly flexed her muscles in preparation of the activity to come.

His expression lightened despite his eyes still looking sad. It was progress at least. "Yeah, sure," he relented with a small smile.

Eep beamed at him in girlish glee, separating herself from his side to spring to her feet. "Last one in is a rotten egg!" She shot off, leaping off the ledge onto the sand gracefully.

Guy scrambled to rush after her and nearly fell face first off the rock, calling out accusingly, "Hey! That's cheating, Eep!"

"No, you're just a sore loser!" She called back, turning around as she ran backwards a moment. She saw him running as fast as he could, long legs extending forward and back. Eep made it to the shore line and leaped into it in a cannonball, climbing a nearby series of rocks as a kind of diving board.

There was a dark shape distorted on the surface of the water before suddenly it crashed down after her. Eep moved to avoid being crushed and saw it was Guy. He grinned at her, paddling about skillfully. Eep was still learning this whole swimming thing, he was like a swan to water compared to her. They were deep enough that they could see the bottom yet not far enough for it to be a problem returning back above the sea. She swam after him when he went further down, showing her some coral and undersea plants that were eye candy. Some fish swam passed them, their scales rainbowy and glistening in the lowlight.

Her lungs began to burn for air and she could see Guy was beginning to feel the effects too, for he started upwards with a strike of his feet to the sea floor. Eep could see the mottled light shining above her on the water, casting the belly of the sea in an ethereal sort of glow. She kicked her feet down, paddling her way up to the surface with a gasp. She moved a clump of wet hair out of her eyes, grinning when she saw Guy resurfacing next.

She splashed him merrily, Guy lifting his arms in a feeble attempt to protect himself. He swatted water back at her afterwards childishly, Eep giggling as she began to crocopup paddle away from him. Guy followed her, easily cutting her off to dunk her when he grabbed her around the shoulders. Eep sputtered as she resurfaced, seeing the wide mischievous grin on his face.

"Two can play at that game!" Eep declared, sucking in a breath dramatically before diving back down.

She could see Guy's body twist and turn as he attempted to peer down to see what she was doing. Eep swam under him and hefted him onto her shoulders, she heard his surprised gasp as he clutched around her neck for support. She promptly tossed him head over feet before scrambling to the nearby rocks again before he could get her back.

His head popped up above the sealine, Guy wiping his face away the water and spitting salt from his mouth. He looked around for her before his dark eyes found her standing proudly on the rocks.

"What are you doing now?" Guy asked her, swimming near her suspiciously.

"I'm the queen of the rocks!" Eep called out, puffing her chest out. "And you're the dirty dung beetle," she added, her teeth shining from her wide playful smile.

"I'll show you who's the dirty dung beetle," he said, beginning to climb the rocks after her.

Eep pounced to a higher one as he got closer, her balance better than his as she lowered onto all fours. "You gotta try harder than that to dethrone me, Guy."

Guy scrambled on the wet slippery stones but found his balance before he could plummet back into the ocean. He got to her perch and the two of them began to wrestle for the spot, Eep getting him into a headlock as his arms went around her torso.

He attempted to shove her with all his might, looking rather pathetic as he went red in the face from exertion. "You're like a rock!"

"Complimenting me won't get you anywhere!" She shifted her weight, ready to throw him.

He saw an opening and Guy swept his leg against hers, forcing her to stumble as her foot slid from underneath her. Suddenly, Eep lost her footing and yelping out loud began to fall. She didn't release him, if she was going down he was going down with her. Guy gave a similar shout and the two crashed in a heap into the water.

He let go of her and Eep loosened her grip from around his neck as the two swam back to the surface, gasping for air. Eep pulled him up with her, arms loosely draped on his shoulders and back. Guy had a sopping mop of hair drooping over his forehead and eyes, his smile wide. "I win."

"That was hardly a fair victory," Eep accused him without any real bite, lightly kicking his leg. "You fought dirty!"

"You're just a sore loser," he teased her, echoing what she'd called him earlier.

She just huffed, floating there with him. She looked at his face, amused. He looked so funny with his hair covering most of his face, it reminded her of the shaggy mop sabrebunnies had. She was suddenly hyper aware of how close together they were, his face nearly touching hers as his breath came out huffing. She could feel it fan her lips and a chill that wasn't just the cold this time made her shiver. His torso pressed against hers, their knees touching and chests close together.

It reminded her of when they'd set the trap together back in the tundra with the weird rocks. They had gotten tangled together like this before, faces touching and limbs ensnared tightly. This time there was no turkeyfish or Grug to break the tension.

She swallowed, her throat felt tight. Guy brushed aside the hair from his eyes, his laughter stilled and the smile on his face fell away slowly. His eyes fell to her lips for a moment. He suddenly realized their position but he made no move to pull away.

"Eep?"

She felt like she had butterflies inside her stomach yet somehow it didn't seem to matter at all right now. Eep only wanted to hear him say her name again like that, softly and wrapped with warmth. Only he could make her name sound like one of the most beautiful things in the world.

"Yeah, Guy?" It took her a moment for her brain to catch up to reply, she wondered if she sounded as breathless as she felt.

He was quiet, a seriousness she wasn't quite used to seeing when she thought of Guy. He was usually so goofy and strange, in a good way, of course. It was easier on her nerves though when he was stammering and a little nervous of her. Now she was the one feeling a little frightened but she also couldn't care less about that right now. It was a fear that reminded her of when she tried something new, nervous energy that fell away into satisfaction when it proved her fears wrong.

"I think I love you," he confessed after hesitating, needing to collect his thoughts. His words were soft and gentle, the fondness there even without him directly telling her. They came out of nowhere practically, yet it just felt right. Guy gauged her expression which must have been surprised because he reached for her hand as it trembled. "Are you okay?"

"It's just the cold," she mumbled with a sheepish look, attempting to ignore the gooseflesh erupting across her skin. Eep smiled.

He seemed as nervous as she was, resting her palm on his chest and covering her hand entirely. His heart was thundering under her fingers and he shivered. She felt it through her hand and arm, Eep blinked at him with concern. "Just the cold," Guy murmured back with a small grin.

"My heart feels like that too," she chuckled, shutting her eyes tight as she sucked in a deep breath. "Is that normal?"

"Yeah, it is," Guy assured her, squeezing her hand with a gentleness she wasn't accustomed to. Used to rough handling, it was something she was still adjusting to. "Least I think so. I've never… felt like this before."

"Okay," Eep murmured. "Hey, um, can I…?"

"Can you…?" He encouraged her softly.

She decided it was easier to just do it than elaborate what she wanted because something about it felt too intense to put into her voice. She forgot what words were but that was okay, they seemed unneeded. Not thinking was becoming easier, Eep closed the distance between them, not that there was much left to begin with anyway. She pressed her forehead against his, holding her breath as she waited for his reaction. He was so warm, his breath stuttering against her lips at the contact.

He was tense under her touch for a moment before relaxing, brushing his nose against hers as he tilted his head at a more comfortable angle. His touch thrilled her, a feeling she'd never experienced before until meeting him. Nobody had ever touched her like this, vulnerable and intimate. It was a long drawn out moment, Eep hearing the soft exhale of his breath.

"You need to breathe, Eep," Guy reminded her in a low voice.

"Oh," she managed to say, sounding rather pathetic as she let it out.

Guy nuzzled his nose against hers, brow against brow. "I like this."

Eep found what she wanted to say again, pressing her palm against his heart. His fingers tightened around hers. His pulse raced under her, pounding like thunder in a storm. It fueled her resolve and gave her relief that her feelings weren't something fleeting. It wasn't just because Guy was new that he fascinated her endlessly, her feelings ran deeper than that. "I... I think I love you too, Guy."

There was a hitch in his voice. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

They breathed together for what felt like forever, his breath fanning her face. Guy moved, she felt it in the water around them. Eyes still closed, they widened when she felt the gentle press of something against her lips. His fingers brushed along her jawline tenderly, tilting her head further. A rush of heat made her skin feel more alive than it ever had before, touched by sunlight and fire all at once. It burned her blood and pounded in between her ears. His mouth moved against hers, each movement making her heart skip a beat. He pulled the slightest bit away, lips hovering above hers. His chest heaved a bit as he caught his second wind, Eep realized she was just as bad. It felt like the rush she got from hunting or when he taught her something new, invigorating and alive. Guy seemed to be waiting for something, what that something was, Eep wasn't sure.

A shiver ran down her spine despite how warm her entire body felt, Eep gathered her resolve. She leaned back towards him, hesitating for a heartbeat before tentatively closing the distance between them. He pulled her closer, which was somewhat difficult due to being in the water. He let go of her hand to tangle his fingers in her hair, Eep stroking the indentation between his pectorals. He trembled like a leaf under her touch as it roved over his skin, her hands moving from his chest to his shoulders, kneading the sinewy muscle there. His hand gently stroked the slope of her neck and down her muscular back, tracing scars in a awed sort of way, like she was precious.

She felt the soft flicker of his tongue against her lower lip and she couldn't help but startle, pulling back the slightest breath away. He didn't chase after her lips, just shut his eyes and breathed out a long, drown out exhale like he was pained. Her face leaned closer to his again and shyly she copied him, gliding her tongue along his lip to show her what he wanted.

And show her he did, tentative and gentle as always when he sensed her hesitation. He would never push her, though once Eep found her courage, she turned the tides on him with her typical ferocity. Guy gave a sound that was nearly a growl, thrilling her. She'd never been wanted before, her palm cradling his cheek. Her other arm went to wrap around his neck as his hand fell to squeeze her waist. He gripped the furs at her hips, pulling her closer yet still feeling too far away. She wanted him closer, like prey being hunted she felt cornered but it was exciting. Emotions she never knew before raged within her, Eep couldn't help but whimper against his lips as they spiraled down.

He paused, pulling away at the sound to take in her flushed face. His chest heaved, Eep feeling it more so than hearing it now. "Are you okay? I'm um… sorry." Guy was suddenly sheepish.

"I think I forgot how to breathe," she said between breaths, exhilarated.

He swallowed thickly, gathering his wits as he gently pushed her away. "Me too." The words seemed to remind him what was at stake here, that there was more than the burning in their blood.

The distance helped her heart time to finally stop its frantic beating. It found itself a much more manageable rhythm, one that thankfully didn't make her feel like she was dying. She caught her breath, lifting her hand out of the water to see it was pruned. "Wow," she mumbled, surprised.

"We've been in the water too long," he said, looking at his own fingers. "I think I'm actually cold now." Guy shivered, teeth chattering for a second.

Eep giggled with a sheepish grin. "Me too."

Guy began making his way towards the shoreline, padding through the water. Eep followed him as she crocopup paddled. Once they reached the soft white sand, the couple flopped together on their backs. Eep wiggled into his side, curling up into a ball. With the warmth of the sun gone, there wasn't much of a way to chase off the chill.

He wrapped an arm around her, rolling onto his side to get closer. "We can't stay here, you know," he mumbled into her hairline.

"Too cold, don't care," she rebutted. "Make me warm."

Guy chuckled, pulling his hands away despite her whining protest. He blew hot air into his palms and rubbed her chilled skin vigorously. They stayed like that for a moment, trading body heat until the cool night air on their skin felt tolerable. Eep pushed herself to her elbows after pulling away, gazing at the sky. Guy followed her eyes towards the sleeping suns.

"I'll never get tired of seeing this," Eep said aloud, turning to face Guy. He finally sat up, draping his arms over his knees as he crossed his legs.

"Me either," he said, relishing the beautiful sight. "I've followed each sun for so long," Guy continued, closing his eyes with a peaceful look on his face. He turned to face her, a smile quirking the corner of his mouth. The fondness in his dark eyes made her feel shy, something she hadn't known she could be. "They lead me to you."

"I should thank them," Eep decided, getting to her feet. She stretched her arms above her head, hands attempting to reach for the moonlight. "Thank you, Tomorrow!" She called out, smirking at Guy who laughed.

He found his legs, standing up next to her. "Yeah!" He shouted, cupping his hands to his mouth so the sound carried. "Thank you!"

She giggled, giddy as she pressed into his side. He rested his head against hers, grabbing her hand to affectionately smooth his thumb over her knuckles. Guy raised her hand to his lips after, placing a featherlight kiss on each finger. "Your dad would so kill me right now," he mumbled against her skin.

"I won't let him," she quipped, practically glowing in her warmth. "Though, he might hunt you down if we don't go back to bed."

"Yeah," he sighed, sounding reluctant as he let her hand go. Eep instantly missed the warm of his calloused palm and fingers around it. "We probably should."

"We can still take advantage of the sleep pile though," she said with a slow grin, hands behind her back coyly.

He copied her expression, keen on the sneaky plan. "Not like Grug can really lecture us, everyone moves like an earthquake in there."

She toed the ground, shaking her head with a snort. "Yeah." Eep nudged his shoulder and looped her arm through his. "C'mon, it's late and I think I'm worn out enough to sleep now."

Guy nodded his agreement, seeming to suppress a yawn suddenly as he muffled his mouth. "Yeah, I'm all adventured out." He gave her a sly little look, Eep innocently blinking up at him as if not knowing what he was insinuating. "Thanks for that, by the way."

"Anytime," she quipped.

They began to make their way away from the beach and into the jungle, hearing the snores of the slumbering family through the thick foliage. Eep tugged Guy down besides her to practically curl around him. Guy wrapped an arm around her waist, shimmying into a more comfortable position before sighing. Eep closed her eyes with a low hum, listening to the soft beating of Guy's heart.

She felt something soft press against her forehead, a kiss, she realized. She idly kissed the spot where his heart was in response, lovingly without a word but he knew its meaning. His breath hitched a little and he tugged her closer.

She was asleep faster than she thought possible, content and cozy…

Of course the awakening was less so when morning came, a disgruntled and shrill sound reached her ears. Yup, everything seemed back to normal, its natural balance. Guy could do nothing more besides retreat away as the familiar broad form of Grug seemed ready to skewer him with a nearby branch he grabbed. Of course he had assumed the worst, having awoken to see Guy's body draped over Eep's, pinning her beneath his weight

"Belt!" Guy shouted as he pelted off into the forest, ducking and weaving.

But the sloth only raised his long arms in a sweeping dramatic gesture. "Dun, dun, dun!"

"Ah, young love," Gran crooned, resting her fist on her chin as Eep got up to go save her boyhog. "I doubt he will kill him, we still need his fire."

Fire indeed, Eep thought with a burning blush.