#refractions took a month break in the middle.

[sollucets]

wheres that post thats like. [emerges from google docs covered in blood] anyway oowu4. done. i think. just editposting now

[justfangirlstuffs]

A Tear is Only Water

A drabble based off of @scarredlove 's Sea Slug AU boys. This mostly ended up as more of a starter piece, but I hope you enjoy it all the same. ^^ Word count: 2020

“It's here! I can't believe it's actually here!”

It took all your self control not to shred through the cardboard and tape in your excitement to open the package that had arrived on your doorstep early that morning. You were absolutely over the moon. Months ago you had entered in a limited sweepstakes hosted by Fazbear corporations, and you won. You'd spent weeks waiting for your prize to arrive, and it was finally here!

Digging through the foam peanuts you pulled out a box with a card that read: CONGRATULATIONS! YOU ARE THE THE PROUD OWNER OF VERY LIMITED EDITION SUN AND MOON SEA SLUGS. SPECIAL BONUS CONTENT ECLIPSE SEA SLUG ALSO INCLUDED. JUST SET UP YOUR AQUARIUM HABITAT, ADD DEHYDRATED EGGS, AND WATCH YOUR NEW FRIENDS HATCH AND GROW.

Following all of that hype were a bunch of instructions as well as warnings, but you skimmed over those latter bits. You already had your tank set up and ready in your bedroom in preparation of their arrival. After reading over the instructions to make sure you didn't mess up, you pulled out the little baggies holding small eggs. One was bright glittering yellow, one was a soft, shimmering blue, and the other was a deep glistening black. They were so tiny you were scared to accidentally break them. With the utmost care, you shook them one by one out of their bags. They fell into the water with a soft 'plip' noise before sinking to the bottom of the aquarium tank.

You sat there for hours, waiting for those eggs to hatch. Well... the instructions did say it might take a while. But you didn't want to miss it. So, you sat and waited... and waited... and...

It was dark when you next opened your eyes. You'd fallen asleep at your desk and now it was the middle of the night. You shot up in a panic fumbling in the dark for the aquarium light. You flicked it on, lightning up the water inside as shimmers of refracted and reflected light danced overhead. A gasp left your throat. One of the eggs, the yellow one, was partially split open. You watched in awe as, slowly, like a flower in bloom, folds of shimmering yellow and red emerged, fluttering open like petals.

The most shocking part, however, was the sea slug had a face. Wide round opalescence pale eyes on a round face surrounded by frills reminiscent of a sun. “Hey there, little guy,” you murmured in greeting. “I'm you're new friend.”

The little baby slug Sun swam about, exploring its surroundings. Was it male or female? Or neither? Well, for simplicity's sake, you would think of it as 'he'. You lightly touched your finger to the glass, waiting to see if Sun responded. He seemed to consider you for a while before he fluttered up and brushed against the transparent barrier.

“Nice to meet you, Sun,” you spoke softly. “Oh!”

The blue egg began to twitch and move. This seemed to catch Sun's attentions as well as he swam around the blue egg curiously. The hatching process was much faster as folds of blue and gold almost seemed to tumble over one another in their bid for escape. Like Sun, Moon also had a face, glowing red eyes, and a pair of antennae that seemed to wriggle two and fro as he took in his surroundings. You watched with a wide smile and Sun and Moon became acquainted with one another, circling each other and sizing one another up. At least they didn't seem to be fighting.

“Hello, Moon, this is your brother Sun,” you said. “And I'm you're friend.” Moon looked to you, and immediately fluttered towards you, pressing against the glass as though trying to reach you. How sweet. You softly touched the glass. “Sorry, little buddy, this'll have to do.” You couldn't help but laugh as Moon almost seemed to petulantly flatten himself against the glass like he was trying to meld through it. It was endearing. Sun, meanwhile, was distracted by something else.

“Right...” Your eyes drifted to the last egg which still hadn't budge. “We're still waiting on one more.”

It was wild how they almost seemed to understand you. Moon joined Sun in circling the last egg, occasionally nudging it, as though coaxing the inhabitant inside to wake up. They curled up around the egg, Moon gently caressing it with his antennae. When he tried touching Sun, Sun immediately flitted off in an almost affronted manner. Okay.... so one of your sea slugs functioned on cat rules.

A yawn rose up and you rubbed your eyes. It was late. You should be getting to bed. But, you should at least feed them first. You took out the packet of food provided by Fazcorp and sprinkled a little inside. The flakes drifted down and Sun and Moon were suddenly darting about excitedly, snapping them up with their little mouths. What was even more fascinating, however, was when they took a few flakes and spit them out next the the third egg, like they were trying to encourage the other out with food.

“Come on, Eclipse,” you spoke, pressing both hands against the glass now. “You can do it... come join the family.”

You waited...and waited... then it moved. And it moved again! Your heart pounded in excited and you watched, enraptured, as you witnessed the third birthing of one of your sea slugs. This one was by far the most rapid and spectacular. The shell almost burst apart as there was an explosion of black and gold and red. A third sea slug, larger than the two before it emerged, stretching his frills as though yawning. Eyes of bright gold were set in a face similar to Sun's only with twice as many frills circling the mini visage.

“Wow... big little guy,” you said with a soft chuckle. “Hello, Eclipse.”

The face turned to you, as though acknowledging you, before he was being circled and inspected by Sun and Moon. He moved and fluttered warily at the two strangers.

“Eclipse, these are your brothers, Sun and Moon. I know you're technically the little brother since you hatched last, but since you're the biggest, that means you need to look after them and protect them. Make sure they don't get into any trouble.” You weren't sure if they understood you, but you wanted to believe they did. “And I'll protect all of you, keep you safe and happy. I promise.”

-----

Years later....

You couldn't believe you were actually back. It felt so surreal to be back in your childhood home. After what had happened, you were lucky that your aunt had been willing to put you up at her house for a while. Being back brought up a lot of memories, many of them painful in light of...

It had taken you a while to get settled in, and you still felt like a stranger in the house. Like an intruder. Your aunt was kind, but she was distant and had her own thing going on. Your cousin was a jerk who spent most of his time out with his friends. What friends you had when you were younger had either all moved on or were so busy it was nearly impossible to schedule a meet up.

The plus side was that it was a coastal town, so there was plenty of beach for you to walk on and explore. You wandered around with your camera, snapping pictures of the wildlife and collecting sea shells as you walked over the sandy shores. You spent a lot of your time on the beach, gazing out at the endless expanse of ocean, sometimes wishing you could disappear into it. Like Alice falling down a rabbit hole into Wonderland. You wanted to disappear into something... better. Whatever 'better' was.

Adrift. That was the best way to describe yourself. You were adrift, and you felt like you were sinking. Filling each day with distractions, trying to keep all of the dark, painful, and intrusive thoughts at bay. Just the act of existing had become painful. Waking up, feeding yourself, getting showered and dressed... all basic care needs that you were steadily starting to neglect because they were just... so... hard. You wanted to feel numb. You just wanted to turn off the switch in your brain so that you wouldn't be sad anymore.

As you sat on the sea shore, watching the sun setting on the glittering waters, a crushing loneliness swept in as sure and vicious as a high tide. You didn't have anyone to talk to... and even if you did, you weren't sure you wanted to talk because even talking about things hurt. Talking only seemed to open up the floodgates of a never ending ocean of pain and sadness. Even just thinking about it made you hurt. You let the waves lap around your ankles, caressing your skin with the cool waters.

Your watch beeped, an alarm letting you know it was time to take your meds. You reached into your bag, pulling out a small bottle. You tried to open it, but the lid was being a dick and you struggled with it. Until the bottle slipped and went flying into the receding waters.

“Shit! Nonono!” You dove for the bottle, only for it to disappear under the foamy waters. “No... no, shit, please no...”

You frantically felt around in the water, not caring that your clothes were getting wet and sandy. After several moments of fruitless searching, you slapped at the water in frustration. You couldn't find it. The waves had swept it away. It was a stupid thing to cry over, yet you cried anyway. You cried because you were tired of hurting. You cried because you felt worthless and alone. You cried because you didn't want to be sad anymore. And you cried because it felt like this was it. This was your life. Sadness, and failure, and loneliness.

Your tears mingling with the salty sea water, the waves crashing around you as the setting sun continued to dip low over the ocean, bathing it in glimmering orange and golds. Then, the waves around you began to whisper and bubble and froth. You thought perhaps, maybe you were just imagining things. But no... a fountain of foamy sea water frothed up and from white fluffs of spray... something emerged.

A tall figure swathed in fluttering robes of red and gold. Rays surrounded their face like a halo, and every part of them glistened in the waning sunlight. You could only stare in utter shock and awe. You were dreaming... right? This had to be a dream. The figure turned to you, eyes bright and beautiful, glowing with a strange light. On their exposed chest were two bright red, symmetrical markings that stood out starkly against the yellow. They seemed... familiar somehow, yet you couldn't put your finger exactly as to why. You're pretty certainly you weren't acquainted with any mythical sea monsters.

“There you are,” they murmured.

Their voice, the way they moved as they approached you, was utterly mesmerizing. You could only stare like a gaping fish as they knelt beside you in the churning waters. Their robes swirled and fluttered around you, drifting on the waves as they crashed and receded. Up close, they were even more breath taking, and their smile was as bright and radiant as the sun itself. Long fingers reached out to cradle your face, and you shivered at how soft and cool they were against your warm skin.

“I finally found you,” the voice purred as they pulled you ever closer and you were too stunned, too captivated to resist. You were drowning in those eyes, in that gaze that beheld you like no one else had ever done before. All around you the ocean continued to sing its roaring chorus, and in that brief moment you were utterly at peace. “My precious pearl.”

Then their lips captured yours in a hungry kiss.

[chaosgodray]

So, there's something that needs clarifying. My Gender Identity is "they/them enby on feminizing hormones who presents very masculine." It's unwieldy and kinda silly. Valid, but unwieldy.

Thing is, it's intentionally a transitory stage of my life. I'm invoking denial tropes while medically going full throttle because, well, there are a few factors. So first off, my job is not a safe space. My boss is a transphobe. (He's also a moron and a doormat, but he's a transphobe). I work at a warehouse manning a security checkpoint; I deal with a wide variety of smelly people who drive big rigs for a living. Not all of them come off as the kind of people who would respect me as a trans woman (certainly not as an openly nonbinary person). I don't present male because I necessarily want to, but because I have to for safety reasons. Hence the goatee, an easily maintained demarcation of alleged maleness that I don't think looks godawful like what i look like with a full beard.

Point two: I've been so up my ass in doubts that I didn't take my hrt for about 3 months, and on top of that I kept getting denial haircuts or thinking "I'll just buy a wig hahaha" (BAD IDEA 0/10 do not reccomend). So while I've been on HRT since Jan. 2021, there's three months of stalling in the middle thereof.

Third thing, the big one: I'm plural. I'm self-diagnosed with OSDD (the non-amnesiac variant of DID) but my therapist and psychologist at the time both made no effort to deny my feelings. I have had significant dissociative breaks from my/our "core identity" that, in our mind, reinforce our confidence in the self-diagnosis.

the main factor of that is, "Ray" refers to a larger group of people than a single individual. it includes at least Jake, Ray, and Rachel, and potentially also includes Blu-Ray, Jennifer, Refraction, Hyperion, Barry, Rose, and Calem. This is the level zero and level one of our concentric rings model of our plurality. While pronouns, genders, appearance, sexuality, memories, even SPECIES varies among us, the ten of us share enough in common that we can't tell each other apart sometimes, and (this is the kicker) MIGHT NOT ACTUALLY ALL BE SEPARATE PEOPLE. (Rachel and Jennifer might be the same alter, same with Ray, Blu-Ray, and Refraction. Rose we genuinely had to invent/retcon an explanation for because they fronted for a few days without realizing if they were a new person or not and we haven't seen them since.)

It gets more confusing. Jake is explicitly, actually [DEADNAME REDACTED], the host from earliest memories to 2018-2019 or so. He was functionally DEAD for like two years before we did an edible and had a really bad reaction. To quote him at the time, "I'm vibing with my deadname, my brain is convinced it's 2018, and please close the curtains and turn out the lights because I can't stop staring at the sun." Weed is fucking wild. And he not only stuck around, he took his life back.

So let's talk about Ray. Not Ray the singletsona we project to the world, Ray the alter. but to talk about ray we have to talk about nate. Nate is a bigender foxkin roseboy nature spirit. He is adorable but not very mature. Thing is, She was the host for the first few months of our being open about our plurality, because no one else was up to the task or wanted the job. This was like spring of 2021 and Rachel (1) (we assume) was dormant after an identity crisis that resulted in our acceptance of our plurality. (it's possible we've been plural since ~2017, but definitely since 2020). Once Nate realized he wasn't up to the task, having had a series of mental breakdowns that lost us the only job we've ever had with growth potential, she basically CREATED Ray to be the mature adult we needed to host the system. Ray traded off hosting with Nate, blended with basically everyone at one point or another, stopped existing only to come back, blended with nate long term, blended with jake long term, possibly blended with jennifer to re-form rachel before rachel became a separate entity who may have absorbed jennifer (also jennifer is actually rachel 2 and rachel is rachel 3)...

its complicated, and we barely understand this. and keep in mind, this has in no way stabilized. going back to the beginning of this post, we are actively doing fucky gender stuff that doesn't necessarily make sense, and this is why. The "pilot" of the body isn't consistent or easy to determine most days.

Just the easiest example: Jake and Ray. Jake and Ray look very similar (and like the body). Jake and Ray have the same underlying personality. Jake and Ray are so good at pretending to be each other they fool themselves. What's the difference between Jake and Ray? Jake wears jean jackets and uses he/they. Ray wears flannel and uses they/them (usually). sometimes, jake and ray blend into RJ. Who is RJ? The same person as jake and ray, they just are both simultaneously. maybe. IT'S CONFUSING.

Then there's Refraction, aka Empty Spaces Ray, Blu-Ray aka more effeminate Ray with blue hair, whatever the extant version of Rachel is aka Rule 63 Ray, Rose aka Butch Rachel, Hyperion aka angry horny dragon Ray with no filter and many fewer inhibitions...

BUT

there is a plan. As we move forward in our transition, the progesterone scrip we got recently takes effect, we properly grow our hair out, our breasts get too big to ignore (and we finally buy a damn bra for them), we (hopefully) get an orchiectomy, we lose a little weight on our stomach (or it redistributes in a more feminine/sexually attractive fashion), we shave our body more often while needing to do so less, etc.. We can blossom into a beautiful woman.

Something that's been happening recently is pretty bad dysphoria attacks that coincide, with or without us realizing, with Rachel fronting. Our goal is simple: let the HRT work its magic, give it a little push, and then Rachel takes over as host. Ray disperses, Jake goes dormant (he doesn't feel like he fits in in our social circle that's mostly trans women since he's on the line between cis and nonbinary, and it embarrasses him). The others come and go as they please.

This post ended up longer than I intended but if you value me/us as a friend or just want an insight into how plurality works for some systems (no two systems are the same but some work similarly), please give this a thorough read. it'd mean a lot to us <3

signing off,

Jake, Ray, Rachel, Refraction, Barry, Calem, Hyperion, Blu-Ray, Rose, Jennifer, Nate, Serena, Maisie, Shockwave, Ginger, Lilith, Spider, Steven, Shelby, and Toby

The Sunbeam Collective

[bluejayblueskies]

eros

n. a natural, passionate love; based in physical touch, such as a kiss to the back of a hand or to another’s lips 

Words: 3.1k Relationship: Jonathan Sims/Tim Stoker Tags: Pre-Archives, First Date, Alcohol, Ace Rings, Asexual Jonathan Sims, Kiss-Averse Jonathan Sims, Sex-Repulsed Jonathan Sims Warnings: internalized acephobia (throughout), mention of past acephobia (brief), fear of poor reaction to finding out a character is asexual (doesn’t actually occur), brief mention of unsafe food

|| Ao3 ||

.

In retrospect, Tim probably shouldn’t have begun their very first conversation on their very first date at the very nice bistro by the Thames (which he’d chosen because he’d panicked and picked the place that was the least likely to earn Jon’s disdainful expression) with, “I really, uh, like your ring?”

 It had seemed innocuous enough. But from the way that Jon froze up, his eyes affixed to the menu in front of him with suddenly rapt attention, it was painfully apparent that somehow, somewhere, Tim had fucked up. It had barely been five minutes since they’d walked through the doors of the restaurant and their date had officially started, and he’d already managed to ruin it. God, it had taken him months—months—to work up the courage to ask Jon—beautiful, prickly, awkward, and completely oblivious Jon—out on a real, actual date—no, not a lunch date, not a coffee date, a would you like to get dinner with me date?—and he’d already somehow crossed a line he hadn’t known not to cross.

 “Or, uh. Not?” Tim’s mouth says all on its own, which is worse, so much worse, just shut up Timothy Stoker. In an effort to do some—any—kind of damage control, Tim says, “Sorry, just- just forget I mentioned it. The, er. The mushroom ravioli here is good?”

 Tim’s never had the mushroom ravioli. It just seemed like a good thing to say.

 Fuck.

Jon still hasn’t said anything. One of his hands has gone to the shining gold ring holding the cream-colored fabric napkin neatly wrapped and is twisting it back and forth, like Tim usually sees him do with the black ring that sits on the middle finger of his right hand. The ring that Tim had seen ages ago, back when Jon had first joined Research, a stripe around the base of his finger that was fractionally darker than the skin around it. It was something he never took off, and Tim found his gaze going to it every time Jon would hand him a book or a file folder or a cup of coffee. He’s held Jon’s hand only once, and the ring had been cool against his fingers, worn smooth from how often Jon’s hands went to it during the day to twist it back and forth, an absent-minded motion done whenever Jon was stressed or anxious or nervous or just deep in thought.

 Jon’s fingers twitch around the napkin ring, just for a moment, like they’re itching to reach for something else, before stilling, and now Tim just feels guilty. Before he can stop himself, he says, “I- I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable, Jon. I’ve just. I’ve always thought it was nice?” Oh god, stop talking, just stop—

 “It looks good on you.”

 Finally, Jon looks up from his menu, his eyes blown wide with surprise. “What?” he says, his voice just a touch rougher than normal, and Tim isn’t sure whether or not to find that incredibly concerning or incredibly hot.

 Focus, Stoker.

 Well, in for a penny, in for a pound, he supposes. So, with a shrug that’s meant to seem casual but really, really isn’t, Tim says, “I’ve always thought so. The way you fiddle with it sometimes, it’s- it’s, I don’t know, cute.”

 “Cute?” Jon says, that same roughness scraping the edges of the word raw.

 Fuck it. “Yes, Jon, cute. I asked you on a date because I think you’re cute and because I want to spend more time with you and because I like you. And I just- I don’t know, it just seemed like the ring was something special to you? Maybe should have gone for something like favorite movie first or something, but I already know a lot of that stuff, and I guess I just. Wanted to ask?”

 Tim’s thrown all semblance of this being a put-together, normal date out the window. Not that anything has ever been normal, or easy for that matter, with Jonathan Sims. Still, he wants this to work. He wants it so goddamn bad he aches. So he bites his tongue, watches Jon’s face, and waits.

 The waiter comes to their table suddenly and without any preamble, with quite possibly the worst timing ever. Tim has no idea what Jon orders. He just blurts out mushroom ravioli on instinct and orders a mid-priced bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon because if this conversation turns any more sideways, at least he’ll have wine to drown his sorrows in.

 There’s a brief pause after the waiter leaves, during which Tim can’t help but notice that Jon’s hand has gone back to his ring, twisting it back and forth on his finger with what now seems like an intentional focus, a way to ground himself in the feeling of it against the pads of his fingers. Then, Jon lets out a small exhalation and says, “I’m… I’m not upset that you asked, Tim.”

 Oh. Tim searches for something to say and comes up with nothing. Relief and confusion curl in his chest in equal measure, and he settles for just nodding, giving Jon what he hopes is an encouraging smile—though it feels decidedly more like a grimace than he’d like.

 In the interim, the wine arrives at their table, their glasses filled by the waiter and the bottle set near the candle flickering in the center. The firelight refracts off the dark glass and Tim swears he can see it reflected in Jon’s eyes, a repeating reflection of flames in Jon’s pupils that goes on for eternity. Tim takes his glass, feeling the desperate need to have something in his hands, and takes a long sip of the wine. It’s nicely bitter on his tongue, briefly chasing away the salty, nervous taste that had filled his mouth.

 Jon takes his own glass in hand and tilts it back and forth, watching the red liquid within swirl around and around. After a long moment, he says, “I wear it for a reason, and I… I suppose I’m afraid that you won’t care for that reason.”

 What? Tim sets his glass down more heavily than he intends to and reaches across the table. When his hand meets Jon’s, Jon flinches ever so slightly.

 “Sorry, sorry,” Tim says, hastily retracting his hand. Before it can retreat more than a few inches, however, Jon shakes his head and reaches forward, grasping Tim’s hand firmly in his. His fingers are warm and dry against Tim’s, and the ring on his finger is cool to the touch where it presses against Tim’s palm.

 “Please, don’t- don’t apologize.” Jon looks down at the table, catching his bottom lip between his teeth and worrying it for a moment before continuing, softly, “I just don’t want to mess this up before it’s even begun.”

 Tim says, with more certainty than he’s ever felt about anything, “You aren’t going to.”

 Jon sighs, exasperated. “Tim, you can’t possibly know that.”

 “Yeah, I can. Because whatever horrible reaction you’re expecting from me isn’t going to happen. Unless your big secret is that you’re secretly a mass murderer, or- or that you’re only dating me to use me for some big master plan—neither of which seem likely explanations for the situation at hand—I’m not going to hate you for telling me. If you don’t want to, I won’t pressure you to, but I don’t want you to not do it because you think I’m going to like you any less for whatever it is. I’ve had a year and a half to pine over you, Jonathan Sims—believe me when I say that I want to be here, with you, more than I’ve wanted a lot of things in my life.”

 Tim really hadn’t meant to say all that, but there it is, and he finds he really doesn’t regret any of it. Well, maybe the pining bit, if only to scrape back together at least a bit of his over-confident and charismatic reputation. Jon’s eyes are wide with shock again, and his mouth opens and closes a few times before he finally says, in a punched-out voice, “A year and a half?”

 Oh. “Ah, yeah,” Tim says sheepishly, rubbing his free hand on the back of his neck. “Didn’t really think I was being all that subtle, but. Yeah.”

 Jon looks scandalized. “Tim, that’s the entire time I’ve been in Research! This whole time, you’ve—”

 He breaks off with a strangled noise, and if Tim squints, he thinks he can see the tips of Jon’s cheeks darkening, though that could just be the flicker of candlelight across his face. “You didn’t say anything,” Jon says finally, after several seconds of silence during which Tim decided to stop pretending like he’d ever been anything other than completely enamored with Jonathan Sims.

 “Sure I did,” Tim says with a shrug and a sliver of a teasing smile. “Three days ago, when I asked you out to dinner. And now, of course, can’t forget that.”

 “Tim!” Jon’s hand retreats from Tim’s and he pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “Christ, and I thought six months was a long time.”

 “Six months?” Tim echoes, a wide grin splitting his face in two. “Wait, wait, have you been—”

 “Tim—”

 “—for six months?”

 “Well, it’s better than a year and a half!” Jon snaps, taking his hand away from his nose and shooting Tim a glare that contains about as much heat as a block of ice.

 Tim laughs and reaches for Jon’s hand again; when Jon sighs and allows him to take it, Tim runs a thumb along the back of it, feeling the smooth texture of Jon’s ring as his thumb passes over it. “Mm, perhaps I should have said something sooner,” he relents, his mouth still curved into a smile. “But I didn’t want to mess things up. I like you so fucking much, Jon, and right now, I can hardly think of anything in the world that could change that. All right?”

 Jon’s staring at their hands, his forehead creased with lines of mild irritation. When he says, “All right,” there’s still a touch of petulance to it, but there’s something softer behind it as well. Something warmer.

 “All right,” Tim repeats.

 They talk about everything and nothing as the evening stretches on, and Tim doesn’t mention the ring. He can tell that Jon’s still thinking about it by the way that his hand goes to it every so often, twisting it around his finger as he talks about the proper types of grass for each climate and the fermentation process for the wine they’re drinking and the food safety protocols put in place to ensure that things like insect legs and metal shards don’t end up in their meals.

 (“Ew,” Tim says, spitting his wine back out into his glass and giving Jon a look that he hopes fully communicates his disgust.

 “Sorry,” Jon says with a wince. “Um. But it’s safe? Because of the protocols.”

 Tim is not convinced.)

 Despite all of that, the meal is lovely, and the tingling warmth the wine is sending throughout his body is lovely, and Jon is lovely. Tim can’t stop staring at him—at the few curls that have slipped loose from his braid and that now frame the sides of his face, at the crisp cut of the emerald green suit he’s wearing that Tim had almost made a joking remark about before he realized that he found it really, really hot, at the way that Jon’s nose wrinkles and his hand flies up to cover his lips when he laughs, like his joy is a secret to be kept hidden. Tim has to take another long drink of wine to keep himself from blurting out right then and there that he loves Jon; he doesn’t think that an hour into their first date is quite the right time to lay his entire heart bare.

 They haggle over the check for an embarrassingly long time until Jon finally relents when Tim pulls out the a year and a half is a much longer time than six months, Jon, and also I asked you card. The night is cold and biting when they step out of the warmth of the bistro, and when Jon gives a full-body shiver as they’re walking to the tube station, Tim doesn’t think twice before shrugging off his coat and wrapping it around Jon’s shoulders.

 “Tim, I can’t take this.”

 “Oh? Seems to me like you already have it. Would probably be more trouble to give it back at this point.”

 Jon looks at the ground sullenly, gripping the edges of Tim’s coat with thin-fingered hands and pulling it tightly around him. “Must you always be so- so chivalrous?” Jon mutters, like it’s somehow a crime now to be nice to people.

 “Only on days that end with ‘y,’” Tim quips, and he wraps his arm around Jon’s shoulders. His fingers brush against the ring on Jon’s hand, settling there as they continue on their way.

 Tim doesn’t really live near Jon, but he still walks with Jon to his flat, his left hand at some point having slipped into Jon’s right. The ring cuts gently into the flesh of Tim’s palm as they walk, and Tim wonders if Jon finds the pressure of it between their hands as grounding of a presence as Tim does. Then, they’re at the door to Jon’s flat, and Jon lets his hand slip from Tim’s as he fumbles for his keys, narrowly avoiding dropping Tim’s coat onto the ground as he catches it with one hand and retrieves his keys with the other.

 “I…” Jon hesitates, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, before continuing, “I had a nice time tonight. I… that is to say, if… if you would like to do it again, I… I wouldn’t be opposed.”

 Tim chuckles, a soft, quiet noise, and throws caution to the wind, placing a gentle hand on the side of Jon’s face and feeling the prickle of stubble against his palm. It draws a surprised, breathy noise from Jon’s mouth, and when Jon’s eyes find his, Tim sees in them those same nerves from before, when Tim had finally tripped his way into It looks good on you. “Well, I certainly wouldn’t be opposed either,” Tim says with an audible smile in his voice, running a thumb softly over the curve of Jon’s jaw.

 Jon lets out another little noise, and all in a rush, Tim thinks, I want to kiss him.

 So he takes a step closer to Jon, lets his eyes fall to Jon’s lips, and says, “Can I kiss you?”

 The nervousness in Jon’s eyes multiplies tenfold, and in a quiet voice, like he’s admitting to something overwhelmingly tragic, he says, “Is it okay if I say no?”

 Something sharp shoots through Tim’s chest at that, and he only recognizes it as concern after he’s taken a small, shuffling step back in some instinctual effort to give Jon more space. Tim can see a million thoughts flashing across Jon’s face, none of them good, so he says before Jon can think to- to apologize again or something, “Of course it’s okay, Jon.” He hesitates only a moment before allowing himself to give in to the confusion nagging beneath the concern (and ignoring the hurt below that) and saying, “Is… does this have something to do with the ring?”

 Because Tim can put two and two together like any researcher worth his salt. And by the way Jon’s hand instinctively flies to his ring when Tim says it, he knows that he’s right. He just doesn’t know why.

 “I said you wouldn’t like it,” Jon says quietly, and Tim’s heart breaks at the certainty in Jon’s voice. Even though Tim hasn’t said anything yet. Tim gets the horrible, sinking feeling that this has happened before and that whoever had been standing in his shoes then had not been nearly so kind.

 “Jon,” Tim says firmly, his hand dropping from Jon’s face and finding Jon’s hand instead. He tangles their fingers together and squeezes tightly, hoping that the sensation will ground Jon enough that he’ll be able to hear what Tim has to say and that he’ll believe it. “It’s okay. If you don’t want to kiss me, then we don’t have to kiss.” He hesitates, only for a moment, before continuing carefully, “If you don’t want to do… any of that with me, that’s also okay.” He bites back the need to make a joke to dispel the awkwardness and says instead, straightforwardly, “Kissing, sex, all of that—I like them, sure, but I like you more, Jon. So if you don’t want to do any of that, then we don’t have to, okay?”

 Jon’s hand is stiff in Tim’s, but his eyes when they meet Tim’s are wide and watery and full of a raw uncertainty, like he thinks that any moment Tim will admit that it’s all too much, that Jon isn’t enough, that it just isn’t working out. Whatever he sees reflected back in Tim’s eyes, however, is enough to cut through that uncertainty and leave behind something cautiously hopeful. “You… you really mean that,” Jon says, a strange sort of wonder in his voice, like a child staring up at a truly clear sky for the first time and witnessing the full scope of the stars above.

 “I do,” Tim says resolutely, leaving absolutely no room for misunderstanding.

 Jon looks down at where their hands are joined and says, quietly, “Okay.”

 That same rushing, swelling feeling overtakes Tim in a tidal wave of affection, and he says, “Are hugs okay?”

 Jon lets out a little huff. “Yes, Tim, of course hugs are—”

 His sentence ends in a punched-out noise as Tim wraps him tightly in a hug, feeling Jon’s hair tickle the side of his neck and the rapid-fire hummingbird beating of Jon’s heart against his chest. “Good,” Tim says into Jon’s hair. He takes a chance and presses his lips to the crown of Jon’s head; from the way that Jon shivers and presses himself closer into Tim’s embrace, it was the correct choice. So he does it again, holding Jon close and trying to communicate with the press of his arms and the pressure of his lips against Jon’s hair just how much he wants this. How much he wants Jon.

 “I really should get inside,” Jon says finally, his voice slightly muffled from where his face is buried in the fabric of Tim’s shirt. “It’s gotten to be quite late.”

 “Mm, just give me a sec,” Tim mumbles into Jon’s hair, holding him a bit tighter to accentuate his point.

 Jon’s laugh is light and breathy, rumbling against Tim’s chest like the purring of a cat. “Okay,” he says, his smile hidden by Tim’s shoulder. “Okay.”

[theredconversegirl]

Hello! Can you recommend any angsty sasusaku one shots or fics that end in fluff or smut? :)

Hi nonny :) Thanks for stopping by!

First of all, sorry for the wait. It took me awhile to go through my ffnet and ao3 fave lists and confirm if the fic did have a happy ending at least. Some here will end with fluff, some with smut, and some will be more subtle but still soft and happy. 

So, I’m calling this list: 

Angst with a Happy Ending 🍅🌸

My go to story when I’m in this mood is Heartbeat by letmeannoyyoutoday, which I have recommended here before. It’s long and detailed, and it will make you cry before it will make you smile ;)

Now, let’s get started:

A Blue Bathed Litany By: Elegies for Shiva  / @elegiesforshiva

Bad dreams are nothing new for any shinobi. But being comforted is, especially in a fashion as sensual as this. Angst. Fluff. Lots of lemons. [Rated M, complete]

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

A Highly Contested Topic By: Annie Sparklecakes  

SasuSaku. He's not lonely, he says, Because he has her. In which Sakura desperately tries to form a bond, and Sasuke grows more and more attached by the day. He won't admit it, but the truth doesn't lie. [Rated T, complete]

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

Ambrosia By: refracted  

Dark/AU. In the morning, when all the pretense has dissolved and they have finished the deeds that will become the death of them, he pretends he is asleep when he hears her sob. She breaks too beautifully, he believes. [Rated M, complete]

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

Being with you By: La coccinelle bleue  

At that moment, he could recall comparing her, and her presence, to the smell of fresh paint. [Rated K+, complete]

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

Blood for Blood By: SouthSideStory  / @southsidestory

It's vengeance that drove Sasuke away from Konoha, and vengeance that brings him back. Staying, though, is a different matter entirely, and it's only Sakura that could give him a home. [Rated M, complete]

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

breaking the habit By: the blanket  

I'm scared as hell to want you, but here I am, wanting you anyway. Sakura, Sasuke, and breaking habits. And maybe, just maybe, learning new ones. [Rated T, complete]

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

Cruel Cycle By: EmilyEphebiphobia  

She really does hate this sick cycle, but at the same time, she can't help but love it. [Rated M, complete]

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

Decennial By: fayevalentines  

The ten years and ten separate times that Uchiha Sasuke catches himself staring at Haruno Sakura's back chronicled his descent into a maddening, consuming and achingly prosaic lunacy he fearfully acknowledges as love. [Canon-verse and Postcanon-verse.] [Rated T, complete]

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

Distant Ruins By: soulaire / @soulairee

AU. One-shot. She is lucky, she thinks, to have Sasuke as her first client. He's handsome, rich, and everything else she's not, and that is exactly why she's here, in his room, giving all of herself over to this stranger she just barely met. She only hopes Naruto never finds out. It would kill him if he knew she was selling her body to keep them alive... [Rated M, complete]

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

don't let go By: theeflowerchild 

He made love to her in between the hospital sheets, released her name like a prayer between cracked lips. "I thought I lost you." [Rated M, complete]

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

Elevation By: refracted  

On day three hundred, he realizes he's probably loved her all along. [Rated T, complete]

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

Enlightenment By: ClaraDraconis / @claradraconis For Sasuke, clarity comes after the final battle. Sometimes reflecting on the pain you've caused is the only way to realise what you've been missing all along. [Rated T, complete]

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

Even After Everything By: Rise of the Blossom  / @riseoftheblossom-ff

Once more, her eyes searched through the large crowds of people, searching for that certain face she knew would be lurking around somewhere. At that moment in time, to her, he was all that mattered. He would always be the only one who mattered. [Rated K+, complete]

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

Everywhere By: flowerslut  / @flowerslut

"Did you—" she hesitated, looking away, "did you miss me?" He did not hesitate, although he did pause and think for a quick moment. "No." [Rated T, complete]

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

finding the inbetween By: glossier 

Whether it's love or hate or something in the middle, his pupils dilate when he sees her. [Rated T, complete] ❣

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

For the Love of the Amaryllis Flower By: theClosetPoet7  / @theclosetpoet7

With them, it has always been like this, him doing whatever he wants and her patiently waiting for his return. [Rated M, complete]

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

Ghost By: twilightdazzle 

Sakura is officially declared missing on a Wednesday morning. Wednesday, what a stupid day to go missing. Of course, Sakura is the only person he knows that is annoying enough to interrupt the middle of the week like this. [Rated M, complete]

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

he said By: the blanket  

Sasuke, Sakura, and all that lies between. “I have never expected anything from you. That would have been the height of all foolishness, and say what you want about me, but I was never that. With you, Sasuke-kun, I only ever hoped.”  [Rated K+, complete]  ❣

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

Her Patience Was Rewarding By: DeepPoeticGirl  / @xxlovendreamsxx

"I don't care if I throw my life away. If that's what it takes to make your life a little happier, and that this is exactly what you need to fulfill your dreams... then I don't care. Anything and everything for you, Sasuke-kun." [Rated M, complete] 

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

how scattered is the shattered glass By: silence.like.sleeping 

Sasuke knows that glass is easy to break and very hard to put back together. [Rated T, complete]

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

I think By: Lady Starburst 

She thinks it's impossible to get over something that never was. He thinks there's nothing left. A few years later, Sasuke and Sakura pick up where they left off. Sort of. [Rated M, complete]

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

Intoxicated By: cherryblossomthundercrash / @uchiharvno

Sasuke always catches Sakura. (TW: alcoholism and drug use) [Rated M, complete]

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

Kaleidoscopes By: twilightdazzle 

Because Sakura loves Sasuke in kaleidoscope colors, and not all of them were so pretty. AU. [Rated M, complete]

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

Magnetism By: twilightdazzle  

No," she snarled. "If you're going to leave again, then I want you to be man enough to say goodbye to my face." In which Sakura is stubborn and Sasuke is conflicted. [Rated M, complete]  ❣

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

more than enough By: proserandom 

But of course. She never did have a place in his heart. [Rated T, complete]

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

One Touch By: Clearheart 

They're always close, but they never touch, and it's killing them both. One touch is all Sakura craves to set things right. [Rated M, complete]

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

Once More, With Feeling By: JinnySkeans

Art enables us to find ourselves and lose ourselves at the same time. [Rated M, complete]

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

parting the clouds By: in cages  

he points his finger & she bares her teeth; they are in love, or so they're told. [Rated M, complete]

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

raindrops falling up By: rawrchelle  

“It can’t be anyone but Sakura.” “Why?” “Because she’s the only one stupid enough to love me despite everything.” [Rated T, complete]

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

say anything By: the blanket  

Absinthe makes the heart grow fonder. But sometimes radios help, too. [Rated T, complete]

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

Sickness of love By: GrimmjowKurosaki19 / @grimmjowkurosakidrake

Sasuke falls sick in love and there's no cure. [Rated T, complete]

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

Tangible By: twilightdazzle 

Sometimes, she feels like she's invisible and they can't see her. Like she wasn't real. And they finally realize she's there just when they're about to lose her. [Rated M, complete]

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

The Long Way Home By: the general girl  

Sakura finds Sasuke again in Wind Country five years after the war, when he is supposed to be dead and she is supposed to be beyond caring. Neither have been very good at meeting expectations. [Rated T, complete]

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

this is how you lose her By: wistfulwhispers 

and that's when you know it's over. as soon as you start thinking about the beginning, it's the end. for most people, at least. [Rated K+, complete]

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

Three Months Overdue By: silence.like.sleeping 

There is nothing worse than waiting. Unless you fear that you're waiting in vain. [Rated T, complete]

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

time spent By: sincerelyLen / @sincerelylen

Uchiha Sasuke is not oblivious to how popular Haruno Sakura has become over the years. Once in their lives, she tried to spend most of her free time solely with him. However, years later, Sasuke begins to feel a frustrating displeasure rise when he realizes how happily she splits her time with others, especially those who are not a part of the immediate Team Kakashi. [Rated K+, complete]  ❣

🍅🌸🍅🌸🍅🌸

yours, forevermore  By: DeepPoeticGirl  / @xxlovendreamsxx He never meant to hurt her, but he did. He never meant for things to fall apart so bad, but they did. And now, even five years later, as he holds the Hokage seat and finds himself juggling more responsibilities than he can bear, Sasuke still tries to find a way to make things right. Hokage!Sasuke AU. [Rated M, complete]

——————————————————————————

Well, I hope you find what you are looking for in this list! 

And if you enjoyed these stories, make sure to leave some love & feedback. 💕

P.S.: I’m slowly going through other asks and prompts as I have free time after work and when my computer allows it - I’m still having some issues :(

~ Happy Reading & Stay Safe!

xoxo

[greenninjagal-blog]

Sentence starters: 14, with Roman & Deceit??

Haha, long time, no write! We’re having a pretty poor time right now so I figured a little bit of Roceit would be in Order! Warning: I did not edit this in the slightest. 

Summary: Roman has always been a little curious, but the pastry chef definitely takes the cake on this one. 

Words: 3007

Quick Taglist:  @chelsvans @dwbh888 @glitchybina @faithfulcat111 @felicianoromano @harrypotternerdprincess @holliberries @jemthebookworm @killerfangirl3  @musical-nerd18 @never-end1ng-suffering @nonasficcollection @silverflame-wc @stricken-with-clairvoyancy @the-sunshine-dims @themagicheartmailman @themultishipperchild @thenaiads @treasureofpriam @vianadraws  

Read on Ao3 || My General Writing List || Prompt Page (it should also be stated that you don’t need to pick from this prompt page if you don’t want to. Just send me an idea and I’ll do my best :D)

The Point of This is....

“Here, Bite Down on this.” 

Roman has had a lot of weird first meetings. As a kid he liked to wander around the town meeting knew people, which, of course, drove his mother up a wall the first ninety or so times that she had glanced away from him for a second and he had disappeared completely on her. Roman was just a curious type of kid. The first time he had been confused by a couple of workers who were fixing an outlet behind one of the counters at his mothers favorite little shop, and he had just wanted to know what they were doing.

They had told him! Which had been cool. Did you know there were wires all in the walls?! He hadn’t even realized that his mom had been frantically looking for him until she had grabbed his arm in a frantic panic and asked if he was alright, and then don’t you dare wander off again! What if something had happened?! Roman! 

It had happened again anyway, the store clerk had been redressing a mannequin and it had been neat! Then window cleaner, then flower arranger from the flower shop, then the busker outside the Irish themed pub he wasn’t allowed to be near, then the sign flipper at the street corner who taught him to spin one of the smaller signs--

The point was that by the time Roman hit middle school he knew most of the “little people” by name, and they of course knew his. Roman knew that a lot of them called him by his full name because his mother used to scream it when he went missing,-- Roman Alexander Prince, if you don’t get back here right this instant-- but he learned a lot of cool things! 

He could arrange flowers, knew when and where the most dense foot traffic was, knew how to flip signs and draw attention. He could Macgyver his way through most electrical circuits, had the sewers under his town fully mentally mapped out, and knew that if you hit the vending machine behind the laundromat just right, you could get a free snickers bar. 

He liked learning knew things. And for the most part? People liked to teach him.

As he got older, he noticed just how heartbreaking that sort of thing was. When he held the ladder steady for the owner of the Mom-and-Pop grocer while the old man replaced the “N” of the sign, the man had casually mentioned that the last person who asked him how he was doing had been a family man who had stopped coming months ago.

Then the more he looked, the more he had seen it: the when he waved to the woman who worked the bakery her whole face had lit up like he had gifted her the world, when he bought the street performer a water they had almost broken down to tears right there on the street, when he had offered the man sitting alone at the park with his head in his hands a chance to pet his dog, the man had called him a “generous kid” and tossed him five dollars before he left considerably happier than he was when he arrived.

The point-- and yes, Roman did have a point-- the point of all of this, was that Roman liked people. He liked learning things, and he liked hearing the stories that people had to share.

He liked telling those stories.

Which would probably explain how he got here: Mindscape, the ever prestigious school for the gifted. Although “gifted” tended to be a relative term. Roman had met a lot more people here, all his age, who eyed him warily like his smile was something to be scared of.

(”It is!” Remus, his twin had cackled from across the table in the dining hall, as if they didn’t have the same exact face.)

Roman and Remus had gotten in together, both on accident: Remus had crafted an application for Roman, sent it in without Roman’s knowledge, and then hacked the School’s Admissions database and marked the application for acceptance. 

Things should have gone really bad, because Remus hadn’t known that the School President, Thomas Sanders, checks each and every application and when he noticed an application had skipped most of acceptance process he started digging.

Things should have gone really bad then. Like really bad. Like Remus ends up in jail and Roman has to change his name and move countries, really bad.

Instead Thomas Sanders, had sent them both acceptance letters, and Remus was required to work in the IT department without pay and take all the computer application classes. Somewhere in the middle of that Remus had struck up some sort of deal with the cyber defense team where the Mindscape’s tech department spent all school year building their best unhackable code, and in the summer Remus got to take anything and everything he learned that year and try to break it. 

Remus had been winning for two years now. Roman had seen the grown men reduced to tears the moment that Remus’s hands had started flying over the keyboard. 

Again, the point to this-- Roman had been at this boarding school for two years now, barreling his way through the journalism and creative writing classes like they were tissue paper walls. He’s met a lot of people his age, and he’s witnessed a lot of weird quirks about them.

Like how that kid in the library who likes to sleep on top of the bookcases, and Roman had witnessed getting swatted with a broom so many times. He was a gymnast and an acrobat and really freaking flexible-- and he had told Roman to fuck off when he had tried to learn anything more than that. 

Or like that artist who ran the yearbook club took pictures of everything. It had been pretty cute the way the puffball had insisted on taking pictures of the cracks on the side walk, the clouds in the sky, the rainbow made from the refraction of the light through the glass windows. They had called it “catching little pieces of happiness in everyday!” Which was much sweeter than Roman had been anticipating. “Oops! Sorry gotta go, kiddo!” They had said and then they had been gone taking more pictures before Roman could ask anything about them.

Or like that guy from his Civics class who had gotten way too competitive about the trivia game they had played in class. It wasn’t just trivia though: Roman had learned later that he apparently Logan Ackroyd, the Logan Ackroyd, who had won the American chess tournament for three year in a row now. Any game that Logan touched, reportedly, he won. Chess, Checkers, Othello, Jenga, even Tic-Tac-Toe, and he treated them each like a life or death situation.

The point is of this is everyone had a weird quirk about them.

Roman knew that, knows that.

Heck, even Roman had a weird quirk, which apparently was wandering the school halls after classes. And now that includes being dragged into one of those classrooms by the hoodie of his sweatshirt and then immediately having a fork of something shoved in his mouth.

“VIRGIL!” Another voice squawks, followed by a telltale click of a camera taking a photo, but okay, Roman is a little too busy choking on a fork to take in everything.

There is a hand on his back, and one on his chest, holding him surprisingly steady, while he basically dies-- and man, he did not think that he’d be dying at seventeen years old. Who knew that his mother would be right all those times she insisted that his habit of walking around aimlessly was gonna be the death of him? 

There are tears in his eyes by the time he manages an inhale, and someone takes the fork back out of his mouth. The hand on his back is rubbing soothing circles and his lungs flutter weakly, like a butterflies wings.

“Dude,” A voice says boredly. Roman squints up at his attacker-- because yes this was an attack and Roman will forever be scarred by it-- and vaguely recognizes the purple patched up hoodie for the library acrobat. “I said “Bite down on this”, not choke and die on the floor.”

Roman coughs to dislodge the last bit of whatever food just got shoved down his throat.

“Please ignore him,” A smooth voice says, a new voice, and one that sounds exactly like silk on Roman’s ears. “Are you okay?”

The new person, the man who is holding Roman, is, in a word, pretty. Actually, no wait, not pretty; he’s gorgeous. He’s beautiful. He’s Michelangelo’s David come to life, an angel straight from heaven, the God Apollo himself taking a quick break from driving his sun chariot to walk among the mortals--

“Virgil, what did you do!” The breathtaking stranger yelps.

“I didn’t do anything!” The acrobat shoots back, although he looks worried, “I just put the fork in his mouth! Oh shit, dude come on, please don’t tell me you’re allergic to something-- Dee what was in that? I can’t go to jail for killing someone! I just got here!”

There’s another click and a giggle and Roman blinks himself to enough awareness to realize that beside the three of them, there’s also that photography artist and the Logan Ackroyd in the room, also what looks like a cake with three slices cut out of it.

“You aren’t going to jail,” Logan says, although he’s playing on a Nintendo Switch and isn’t paying all that much attention to what’s going on.

“It just a cake,” Dee adds, almost desperately and Roman’s knees really do go weak at that. A pretty man? Using that tone to address Roman? Roman’s surprised he’s still conscious at all. “Are you allergic to eggs? What about Wheat? Milk?”

“Deep breath, kiddos!” The person with the camera suggests, and Roman knows immediately that they are 100% aware that his flushed cheeks and lack of breath are not from an allergy. They take another picture and Roman dies a little more on the inside. 

“Please...don’t let... my brother see that,” Roman coughs one more time, “I’m begging.” 

The artist just laughs and takes another picture.

“No allergies?” The god beside him says and Roman finds him looking absolutely anywhere but at him. 

“No allergies,” Roman confirms, “None at all. It’s all good. And you know I should be--”

“What did you think of it?” The acrobat interrupts. And when Roman just blinks he snaps, “The cake, Princey! Tell Dee that the cake was fine and he can stop banging his head on the table now.”

Roman chances a glance at the man holding him up, and yeah, he could see the faint red marks were he had obviously been hitting his head on something. Unfortunately, said man was also looking at Roman, looking for his answer to the question that was just asked of him and Roman has already forgotten what it was again. 

His eyes were different colors, and that totally reminded Roman of that week in the summer when he hung around the ophthalmologist just outside of town. Roman had looked at a lot of eyes, learned a lot about eyes in that time, but really there was something different about those ones. One was a brilliant bright brown, like hickory and the other was glistening gold. He looked like something straight from a fantasy. 

Roman’s fantasy.

“Hey,” The stranger says softly, “Are you okay, darling?”

And that’s the last thing Roman remembers. 

Because he fainted.

Because the gorgeous, beautiful, ethereal stranger called him “darling” and Roman’s weak gay heart promptly shut off.

He comes to again, just a few minutes later-- long enough that his head is throbbing and his lungs hurt a bit and mere idea of moving sounds exhausting. He’s comfortable just fine where he is.

On the floor.

With his head in the perfect strangers lap.

“There you are,” The man gives him a nervous smile that makes Roman’s mouth dry out. “Do you remember where you are?”

“Heaven?”

Roman has many regrets in his life. Like that time he thought that crawling down the manhole would be fun. Or the weekend he spent hanging out in the courthouse, which had turned out to be incredibly boring. Or that time he brought dog treats to the dog park and ended up get ambushed by like seven dogs at once and broke his arm.

But this....answering that, and immediately hearing that all too familiar cackle that can only belong to Remus? Yeah Roman rates that at the top of Roman’s Regrets.

The stranger bites his lip but he’s grinning all the same. “Apologies. When you fainted we, called the emergency contact on your phone.”

“Remus is not my emergency contact,” Roman grumbles and weakly shuffles his limbs to sit up.

Remus wheezes, from where he’s situated with an arm over the artist and the acrobat respectively. “Like-- Hell! I changed that months ago!” Remus grins, “I wasn’t gonna miss a chance to laugh at you while you get carted away in an ambulance! You only die once Ro! I wanna be there for it!”

“I should have consumed you in the womb.”

“Butcha didn’t!”

“The intention was there.” Roman sways, and he really doesn’t like the way the floor shifts like waves of an ocean.

“Pussy,” Remus tosses out, just for the sake of having the last word. He pulls his arms back from around the other two and fusses with the little artist’s hair. “Alright, brats! That’s my cue to drag my dumbass gay twin away before he faints again. But this was fun! Lets do it again! This time Dee can even let Roman actually fall and crack his head on the floor instead of catching him!”

Roman’s ears burn, and he peeks at Dee with a morbid mortification, “You caught me?”

“Well I was already, holding you up so it wasn’t as much as caught you as you...ah,” there’s a twitch of his lips, “as you fell for me.”

The noise Roman makes is not in any way, shape, or form flattering. 

Remus cackles again.

There’s a click and a giggle, “Sorry kiddo! That was just too good to pass up!” The artist bounces slightly. “You both should definitely come back though! We’d love to have the company!”

“No, we wouldn’t,” the acrobat interjects, and lets out a heavy breath when he’s elbowed by his friend. 

“Yes, we would!” The artist says. “And next time you can even have some of Dee’s pastries!”

“That’s not necessary,” The stranger says quickly, “They aren’t that good--”

“Will you stop lying!” the acrobat says, “You literally got into this prestigious ass school for your pastries, dumbass. They’re good. Accept it already! Geez!”

The stranger rubs his neck and then his cheek, before turning back to Roman. “Perhaps you can be the judge of that then? Darling?” 

Yeah, Roman’s knees are weak again, but he’s stubborn enough that he keeps standing. “I think I’d like that. Although, I can’t say I’m any kind of pastry expert.” 

“We all have our faults, I presume.”

Roman’s heart beats a little faster. “And admittedly I will be a little bit bias.”

“A little bit?”

“Only a smidge,” Roman reports, “I’ve heard that good company can affect the taste of food.”

“You intend to be in good company?”

“If it’s yours I’m sure it will be.”

“Who knew there was a smooth talker under that blush of yours?”

“If you think this was smooth you should see--

Remus claps his hands loudly enough to make the acrobat flinch and Logan in the corner curse in Korean. “Okay yes we get it: You both are gayyyyyy!” Remus exclaims, drawing it out just enough that Roman feels a bit of the Cain Instinct(tm) in him rise up. “But if neither of you are going to start undressing to give the rest of us a show, then we need to go!”

“Remus!” 

“I’m just saying!” Remus shrugs and then hooks an arm around Roman’s neck and pulls him towards the door, “Its not fair to the rest of us, if you keep being a tease!”

“I hope you step on a lego and fall into a pit of sharks.”

Remus messes with his hair, which seems to be his thing right now.

The others in the room call out their goodbyes, and Remus drags Roman away before he can get more than a sloppy wave. Its still embarrassing.

Actually everything that happened was embarrassing, from top to bottom, and there was absolutely no moment were it wasn’t completely mortifying. Not only did he choke on a piece of cake he didn’t even get to taste, but he gay panicked, and then gay fainted, and every second of it was recorded via camera snapshots. And late at night, when Roman is turning it over in his head and screaming into a pillow, he barely notices his phone flashing.

He’s already miserable, because they probably just invited him back to be nice, and he didn’t even know their names. And Remus was still laughing at him for everything, and everything just really sucked. He opens up his phone to check the message, ignoring the way the his screen burns his eyes.

There’s a text message. 

An actual text message.

Stole your number hope you dont mind

Roman can’t breath. The phone in his hand vibrates again.

Oh and your heart. I stole that too. this is a ransom demand.

$40,000 in cash. Or a date to the coffee shop in town.

pls?

this is Dee Ekans btw

The baker?

oh fuck pls tell me this is the right number

roman?

And Roman rolls over and presses his face into a pillow and screams. 

But really the point of all this is that Roman got the number of the cute guy. And maybe a date.

[smolthealmighty]

Spinaraki Week Level 2 Day 5: Strays + Rain

Sunshower Fortress

It’s been a few months since they ran away, and with the threats of being captured wearing off, Spinner and Tomura are ready to find a more permanent base of operations... after this storm clears up of course. A continuation of Day 4: Let’s Stick Together, We Won’t Fall Apart.

~~~~~

It only took about five minutes, from the start of the thundering down pour that had come right the fuck out of nowhere to finding the bridge and diving underneath it, but by then their backpacks and the belongings inside had been soaked. Spinner set about remedying that by setting the trash inside of the well-placed garbage can on fire with the last of his matches, while Tomura spread the bags and their contents around the jury-rigged heat source. Once those tasks were completed, they huddled close to the fire to feed off the warmth emanating from it, and from each other.

This wasn’t so bad. Sure, they weren’t living the most stable lifestyle. They couldn’t really hold down any jobs as they were constantly on the run, since they couldn’t risk getting caught by any cops who recognized Spinner as a missing person or by the goons Tomura’s sensei had at his disposal. Even if they hadn’t actually seen those threats yet, they didn’t want to chance it. And yeah, they occasionally had to “dine and dash” or go dumpster diving to keep their bellies full when the money they saved up got tight.

But they got by. Tomura may have been joking back then but Spinner really was an “escape master supreme”. The ability to traverse nearly any surface paired up with a quirk that made things disappear created a partnership where they could “get in and get out” of most any situation without a trace of evidence left behind. And it was worth it! They were two crazy teenage runaways on the move, touring the cities and seeing the sights, and always having each other’s backs.

Of course, deep down they both knew they couldn’t keep this up forever. Today had been a sunny August day, but the nice weather wasn’t going to stay that way for much longer. So, their mission for the day had been to investigate the area around the city they were currently hiding in, and scout out a secure shelter to settle into for the foreseeable future before the weather went to shit. Case in point, they were in the middle of arguing whether the cheap apartment or the empty larger-than-average dumpster was the better option when the sky abruptly opened up and dumped a good hundred gallons on them, forcing them to abandon the squabble and find cover.

Still, it was moments like this, nestled together and comfortably snug in the light of the fire and in each other’s arms, where everything felt right. Right in a way neither of them had ever felt in the life they had before they met.

About an hour later, their stuff was mostly dry and the sun started to come out once more, but the rain, while it had slowed down somewhat, carried on. The violent storm had transitioned neatly into a mellow sunshower. With a care he only showed to Spinner, Tomura untangled himself from him and jogged out to get a better look at the phenomenon, kicking at the grass to scatter the heavy drops of water that still clung on to them.

Spinner watched as Tomura catapulted himself into the nearest puddle, a big grin on the wild-eyed boy and a small sentimental smile on his own, and as the shallow water sprung to life around his friend, time slowed down to a crawl. It slowed down so Spinner could see the starry dewdrops that had gathered on Tomura’s pale eyelashes and how they framed his bejeweled and boyish eyes, which shone brightly from the reflection of the sun’s rays breaking through the storm clouds, and from his own unrestrained glee. In an instant, Spinner knew the reason why everything felt right with Tomura at his side, the reason that had unknowingly yet deeply rooted itself since they first met online all those months ago.

Time picked its pace back up once again, but Spinner felt like he was still in a trance as he stood up and walked out into the sunlight and rain. Tomura didn’t notice that his friend had come out from under the bridge to join him until he was nearly right in front of him.

“Hey, you alright?” he asked Spinner, who was still staring at him with wide rosy eyes and his mouth slightly hanging open in awe, as if he was seeing Tomura for the first time. Without a word Spinner slowly shuffled as close as he could and, placing his hands firmly onto the slightly taller boy’s shoulders for balance, raised himself up on his tiptoes to place a soft kiss on Tomura’s right cheek, catching the dark mole that contrasted with his otherwise pale skin.

Spinner stayed there for a moment or two, letting his lips linger before pulling back just as slowly as he came in. Once his face came back into view, Tomura felt like he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. He could not do anything and would not do anything, not until he cataloged all the ways in which the sunlight scattered in the drizzle and flickered its colors onto Spinner’s face, took notice of how the soft reds and bright blues were refracted and enhanced as they bounced off his iridescent scales. And just like Spinner, Tomura instantly realized what made it feel so right to belong together. Cupping the cheeks that blushed petal pink, Tomura watched as Spinner’s similarly shaded eyes fluttered shut before leaning in and letting his own cherry red eyes close as well.

Their first kiss tasted like a raindrop. So did the next one, and the next, and the next, even long after the shower was over.

~

When the sky gave way from stormy afternoon to clear and quiet dusk, Spinner and Tomura found an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city. It was spacious, wasn’t well lit, and there were piles of random boxes on the floor and chains hanging from the high ceiling, but it wasn’t so bad. Bring in some blankets and hammocks, throw a couple pillow here and there, figure out how to rewire some of the electrics without getting severely electrocuted, and this place would do just fine. Together they’d get by. Together they’d make this newly dubbed “Sunshower Fortress” a home.

[swordandquill]

Title: Winter Break

Fandom: Leverage

Summary: The team find themselves snowed in in a little town in the middle of nowhere.

Ch 3: Hope it’s Hallmark - The team reaches the cabin, and Hardison tries to figure out what genre of movie they're currently participating in.

Author’s Note: I might have to steal Hardison's line about the worse kind of horror move to use as a title for a Leverage ghost story someday.

You can go here to read this on AO3 instead.

Hardison knew why the light took on a red tint at night when it snowed, knew how light refraction worked, even knew the right equations to calculate the wavelengths. He still thought it was the stuff of horror movies.

“Maybe we should have slept in the airport,” he grumbled, squinting through the snowfall at the dark cabin.

Eliot stirred on his shoulder, shifting around enough that it must have jarred something, because Hardison felt him suppress a flinch before lifting his head muzzily and rubbing a hand over his face.

Hardison had lost the argument with Nate over who was driving, leaving him to switch places with the mastermind as the designated Eliot pillow. As much as he had argued, once they got going he was glad not to be the one at the wheel. The roads had been terrible, and it had taken them three times as long as it should have to get to the cabin. They had almost gotten stuck on the long drive leading up to it.

Somehow, Eliot had managed to sleep through the majority of the trip. Hardison would have loved to have said that gave him the warm fuzzies, because Eliot was not a man who gave his trust easily, but mostly it just made him worry that the hitter’s injuries were significantly worse than he had let on.

“We here?” Eliot asked groggily.

“Yeah,” Nate turned in the driver’s seat to look back at them, “Sophie and I will help Parker do a security check. You stay in the car with Hardison.”

Eliot tensed up against Hardison’s shoulder, like he was going to protest, then huffed out an irritated breath and dropped his head back down.

Hardison gave Nate a pointed look, gesturing towards Eliot with the arm that wasn’t slung around the hitters shoulders.

“He’s fine,” Nate reassured him, “the meds just took enough of the edge off for him to sleep.”

Hardison opened his mouth to argue, but Parker chose that moment to climb over all the bags and groceries piled up in the back and haul open the side door of the van. The open door let in a burst of cold wind and snow, and Hardison curled away from it, ducking his face against Eliot’s beanie.

“I’m going to pick the lock,” Parker announced cheerfully and hopped out of the van, closing the door behind her.

“Parker, I have the key code,” Sophie pulled her hat hastily down over her ears and followed her out into the snow.

“I think supervision might be in order,” Nate pulled his own hat on, “sit tight. We’ll be back to unload after we check everything.”

Nate let in another burst of cold when he opened the door, and it didn’t escape Hardison’s notice that he locked the car behind him. Eliot’s paranoia was rubbing off on everyone, it seemed.

Hardison wanted to grumble and complain, or at the very least, narrate what was obviously the start of the worst kind of horror movie, namely the kind that they had to participate in, but Eliot’s breathing had evened back out into sleep, and he didn’t want to risk waking him.

The only light besides the eerie red snow reflection was the headlights of the van pointed at the front porch. The porch was high enough that the beams hit Parker and Sophie at the knees. It looked like there was some kind of problem with both the lock and the lock box, and they seemed to be struggling with getting either of them open.

Nate was standing to the side of them on the porch, just outside the narrow beam of light. He was hunched against the cold, shooting the occasional furtive glance at the dark trees ringing the cabin. This was the part of the movie where the monster sprang out of the forest and ate the idiots stupid enough to venture out into the open.

Although, they were still pretty early into the film. They had only just gotten to the cabin, and they had yet to run into any cooky locals who regaled them with stories of the monster or ancient tomes that conveniently fell into their laps warning them of the beast. This early in the film, they would get the door open just in the nick of time, slamming it in the monster’s face as they scrambled to safety.

Leaving he and Eliot in the car to be eaten.

Monsters lurking in the dark seemed a lot more possible with their resident monster slayer not at his best. Hardison didn’t care what Nate said, it wasn’t like Eliot to just fall asleep when they were somewhere weird and unsecured. Excessive sleepiness was a sign of head injury.

Or blood loss, or severe inflammation, or internal bleeding, or some other weird medical condition. Or, the rational part of his brain pointed out, barely sleeping at all the last week because the job had not got smoothly. Short of someone dying, everything that could have gone wrong had gone wrong. And yet, the bad guy had been beaten and the client was sufficiently safe and cared for. So they would count it as a win. Unless Eliot had a brain bleed or something. Then that definitely canceled out the win.

Parker got the door open finally, and Hardison watched through the front windshield, holding his breath as Parker stepped into the dark cabin, followed by Nate, then Sophie. It felt like it took hours, but suddenly the porch lights flipped on, and a warm glow lit up the front windows, reflecting golden sparks off the falling snow.

Hardison let out his breath, glad to find they had made the transition from b-level horror movie to hallmark Christmas special. Too bad Christmas had been like a month ago. Still, if they didn’t run into a Christmas tree farmer with an emo past who turned out to secretly be Santa’s long lost son, Hardison was going to be disappointed.

Eliot stirred again, turning his face into Hardison’s shoulder to escape the cold that was leaching into the van now that the engine was off. Hardison drew him in closer and rested his cheek on top of Eliot’s head.

“No brain bleeds,” he murmured into Eliot’s beanie, “we have rules about things like that.”

“Who’s bleeding?” Eliot mumbled into Hardison’s jacket.

“No one,” Hardison reassured him, “as long as you’re not.”

Eliot seemed to consider that for a moment before shaking his head and settling again, “not right now.”

“You know, El,” Hardison grumbled, “answers like that are why we worry about you all the time.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of Eliot’s head and went back to watching the porch through the front windshield. The longer the others took inside, the more things felt like they were sliding back into b-movie territory.

Hardison knew what they were doing. They ran perimeter and security checks on every place they stayed. Usually Eliot did them, but if he was already busy doing something else for the job, Parker would take care of it. She had the dubious distinction of being the second most paranoid member of the team. She also had a vast and impressive understanding of how building security worked, or how it didn’t work, since figuring out how to get in and out of places was both her job and her favorite pastime.

She had already been applying that to her own safety when the team had come together, and it had only taken a few conversations with Eliot for her to see how to apply it to assessing the security of wherever the team was staying. If she said the cabin was good, Eliot would be satisfied with it.

Hardison would sweep for bugs and any other tech weirdness once they got their gear inside. Hopefully, if everything came back clear from both he and Parker, Eliot would feel safe enough to get some rest and actually take care of his “not bleeding right now” self.

Right around the time Hardison started thinking they were going to freeze to death instead of get eaten by a monster, the rest of the team finally came out of the cabin. Parker hopped down the steps, landing two footed in snow that came up to her mid-calf, then turned to head to the corner of the building, taking exaggeratedly large steps through the snow drifts. Nate followed her, walking like a normal person and hunched against the snow and wind.

Sophie left them to it, coming back to the van. She pulled open the side door, letting in a gust of snow and wind. Eliot sat up with a start, blinking blurrily at Sophie and the open van door.

“Everything looks good inside,” Sophie smiled, “Nate and Parker are just going to do a quick walk around the outside, but we can start unloading.”

“Took you long enough,” Hardison grumbled, sliding out of the van. He pulled his scarf up over his mouth and nose and stepped aside to let Eliot out.

“The lock and lockbox were both frozen,” Sophie shrugged, “it took some fiddling from Parker to get it open, then she had to open every door in the place and climb the banister railing, for some reason”

“She’s Parker,” Eliot shrugged and started reaching for the nearest bag, “she hasn’t really seen something until she’s climbed it.”

“People who don’t tell us they’re hurt don’t get to carry in bags,” Sophie’s tone indicated that this was a punishment, somehow, “go inside and get warmed up. We've got this.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Eliot grumbled at her, but he left the bags and headed towards the cabin anyway.

Hardison watched Eliot go up the porch steps, then turned to Sophie, who was pulling bags out of the back row.

“He didn’t even argue,” Hardison hissed.

“Let him get some food and sleep,” Sophie shoved an armful of grocery bags at him, “then worry.”

“That is not how worry works,” Hardison complained as he trudged through the snow to the cabin.

******

Sophie grabbed Eliot’s bags from the back seat first, almost over balancing with the weight of the duffel before she managed to get it over her shoulder. What did that man pack and why couldn’t he put it in two or three bags that didn’t weigh as much as an elephant instead of cramming it all in one?

She passed Hardison as he was trudging back to the van. He started to reach for the bags she was carrying, but she waved him on. It was in Hardison’s nature to worry constantly, and there was something endearing about that, but worrying wasn’t going to get Eliot settled and resting. Maybe even sleeping if the ride here was any indication.

She dumped Eliot’s bags on the bed in the back bedroom, the one farthest from both doors. The blankets on the bed were a bit light for how cold it was, but they had cranked up the heat as soon as they had gotten inside, and everything was starting to warm up. She would get Parker to help her hunt down the extra blankets the owner had told her were here later.

First though, Sophie had a hitter to cajole into bed.

She dug through Eliot’s bag until she found his stash of ice packs, then headed to the kitchen. She was not at all surprised to find Eliot there, poking half-heartedly through cupboards and peering into the grocery bags piled precariously on the counter. He was holding his left arm stiff and close to his body and moving slow, but at least he was carrying around a water bottle, and looked to have drunk about half of it already.

“At least the stove is gas,” Eliot grumbled, even as he gave the knife block a disgusted look, “if we lose power we’ll still be able to have hot meals.”

“I hadn’t even thought of losing power,” Sophie admitted, “we might have to give the fireplace a once over to make sure it’s safe to use.”

Eliot glanced over the breakfast bar into the living room where a large stone fireplace had pride of place across from a comfortable, if dusty, looking couch,

“I’ll…”

“You’ll go take a shower,” Sophie nudged him away from the counter so she could start putting groceries away.

“Later,” Eliot shook his head stubbornly, “everyone’s got to be hungry, and I should get something started.”

He started to pull open grocery bags, and Sophie shooed him away again, “we’ll take care of dinner.”

Eliot gave her a dubious look.

“Nate will take care of dinner,” Sophie corrected, “he’ll enjoy it. It will remind him of his prison days.”

“What am I doing?” Nate asked, dumping a pile of luggage in the middle of the living room.

“Making dinner,” Sophie supplied.

“Yeah, sure,” Nate paused to give the kitchen a once over before trudging back out the front door for more bags.

“So go take a shower,” Sophie pushed him in the direction of the bedrooms and bathroom with a hand on the small of his back, “you’ll feel better, and I won’t feel guilty about using all the hot water when I take mine.”

“You never feel guilty about that,” Eliot groused, but he headed in the direction of the bedrooms.

“Your bags are in the second bedroom,” Sophie called after him.

She watched long enough to see him duck into the room, then turned back to the kitchen, trying to decide if actually getting Eliot to take a shower instead of haul luggage entitled her to not spend the next quarter hour trudging through the snow to unload the van.

Probably not. The sooner they could get everything inside and everyone out of the awful weather, the better.

Sophie pulled her scarf up around her nose and ears and headed back into the snow.

******

“I’m hungry,” Parker announced, “Sophie said you’d make us dinner.”

She was sitting cross-legged on the breakfast bar because Eliot was still in the shower and couldn’t tell her not to.

“Once we get the groceries put away, I’ll put something together,” Nate tossed her a box of cereal without bothering to look at what it was.

Parker pulled it open and was delighted to find it was the kind with the grainy rainbow marshmallows. She had no idea where the spoons were, so she started eating it by the handful.

“We should do something about the doors,” Parker said with her mouth full, which wasn’t as fun when Eliot wasn’t there to shoot her disgusted looks.

“What about the doors?” Nate asked absently as he started pulling everything out of the fridge that Sophie and Hardison had stuffed into it.

Sophie was giving him that funny look that she had said meant he was being a micromanaging jerk. Parker thought that was a useful thing to be able to do most times, but she didn’t like it when he tried to micromanage her, so Sophie maybe had a point when she complained about it.

It seemed mostly useful right now though and meant they would be able to fit more stuff in the fridge.

“They were too easy to open,” she told Nate.

“I’ll get everything alarmed once I finish setting my stuff up,” Hardison said from where he was unpacking his electronics and starting to set them up on the coffee table in front of the fireplace.

Sophie had told him he couldn’t use the big table near the kitchen because they needed somewhere to sit and eat, and he was still sulking about it. Parker hadn’t told him yet that there was a big desk up in the sleeping loft, because she hadn’t decided yet if she wanted to share the loft.

“I think the blizzard is going to be pretty good security for us,” Nate didn’t look up from his efforts to use the fridge space as efficiently as possible.

“We got here through it,” Parker shrugged.

“Well, we are rather exceptional,” Sophie offered, “and we barely made it here, but what do you have in mind?”

Parker considered the options. The front door and the back door both pushed inward, so the easiest way to secure them would be to put something heavy in front of them to block them from opening, but they would have to do it in a way that didn’t mess up Hardison’s alarm system. It would be good to do something about the downstairs windows too. They were easy to access and would be easy for someone to break into, but they were also easy exits for the team if they needed to leave in a hurry.

She would usually ask Eliot what he thought, but he was hurt and tired and would come up with better ideas after he got some sleep.

“I think after Hardison gets his system set up we should reinforce the doors,” Parker decided, “then maybe try to do something to secure the downstairs windows.”

“Why don’t we just stick a chair under the door knobs for tonight,” Nate finally turned away from the fridge, having managed to fit everything that needed to be refrigerated in it, “we can do a more thorough job of securing the place tomorrow. It looks like we’re going to be here a couple days, at least.”

Parker nodded her agreement and shoved another handful of cereal in her mouth.

“How do we feel about spaghetti for dinner?” Nate asked, “I think I saw green beans and cherry tomatoes around here somewhere that we can have as a side.”

“I got some of that garlic bread you just toss in the oven too,” Hardison had moved on from connecting cables to actually sitting and working on his laptop, an assortment of small sensors and cameras spread out on the table in front of him.

“Great,” Nate said briskly, then looked back to Parker, “what kind of sauce do you want?”

He gestured to the four jars of pasta sauce lined up on the counter with the other pantry goods that hadn’t been put away yet. There was extra cheesy alfredo, basil marinara, vodka, and four cheese marinara. Sophie and Hardison hadn’t been able to decide, so Parker had dumped them all in the cart. None of them were going to be as good as Eliot’s.

“That one,” Parker pointed to the alfredo; it was white like marshmallows even if it tasted nothing like them.

“Done,” Nate said, then guided Sophie out of the kitchen area with a hand on her back, “we can finish putting the rest of this away after we eat. Go somewhere else so I can cook.”

Sophie huffed, but went to sit on the couch next to Hardison. He handed her the remote to the flat screen tv hung over the fireplace, and she flipped on the weather channel, which seemed a little silly to Parker. It was snowing; they knew it was snowing.

Parker watched Nate in the kitchen for a while while she munched on her cereal. Watching Nate cook wasn’t at all like watching Eliot cook. When Eliot cooked he was focused on the food and he noticed everything about it. He was always tasting things and adjusting things as he went. Parker liked to watch him cook because he always seemed like he was happy, or at least that cooking made him feel better when he wasn’t.

It wasn’t like that with Nate. Nate just made food. He didn’t seem to dislike doing it, but it wasn’t anything special to him. His food wasn’t terrible, but it didn’t taste like Eliot’s. It didn’t taste like it mattered a lot to him, and he wanted it to matter a lot to them.  

Parker heard the water shut off in the bathroom and closed up her cereal, then hopped down from the breakfast bar. She left her cereal on the counter; she could always come back and hide all the boxes of cereal where she wanted them later.

**********

Eliot did feel better after taking a shower, and after giving the diclofenac time to kick in, and after dozing most of the way to the cabin, and he was kind of disgruntled about it. Had his flight not been rerouted twice and the safety of the team abruptly called into question, he would have done all those things much sooner and in the safety of one of his boltholes without anyone else to worry about.

As it was, he was still tired and achy, but at least he felt like he was tracking better. He was content to let the team struggle through figuring out dinner without him, but he did want a better look at the layout of the cabin before he tried to get a little more sleep. There were always things that needed to be taken care of when they first got into a space, especially with Eliot still feeling uneasy about how they had ended up there.

Parker was sitting at the foot of the bed his bags had been on, scribbling away in one of her notebooks. Eliot’s bags had been tossed haphazardly in a corner, but a clean hoodie and a pair of mis-matched wool socks were laying on the bed.

Eliot almost went to find the matching socks, but he was tired still and digging through his bag after Parker had rearranged it probably wasn’t the best use of his limited energy right now.

“Do you want to hear about the cabin?”  Parker asked, turning her notebook so he could see her detailed sketch of the cabin’s layout.

“Sure,” Eliot sat heavily on the edge of the bed and pulled his socks on; at least they were the same type of sock even if the colors were different.

The heat had gone a long way towards loosening up his shoulder, but he should probably get some ice on it soon. He would have to dig his ice packs out of his bag at some point so he could get them in the freezer.

“There are two doors, the front one we came through and one half way down the side of the house the fireplace is on. It goes out to the back porch. I don’t think the locks on them are very good, but Nate said we could stick a chair under the handles for tonight and fix them tomorrow. There are seven windows downstairs, double pane, latch locks that are really flimsy, but we don’t have anything to change them out with. Hardison is putting up cameras and sensors tonight though…”

Eliot shrugged into his hoodie and gave into the urge to lay back against the pillows while Parker talked. She was always thorough with building layouts and security weaknesses, and there was only so much they could do tonight anyway. Hardison’s security systems were always good, and he knew how to maximize the coverage of any space, although the snow and ice were probably going to cause problems for any cameras or sensors he wanted to set up outside.

“...from the outside it looks like there’s a crawl space under the cabin, but I couldn’t find any way into it from the inside, and Nate wouldn’t let me go into it from the outside. He said I’d get too wet or dirty or something, which is kind of stupid because I have clothes and a shower in here,” Parker kept going.

“It’s not good to get wet in this kind of weather, even if you think it will only be for a little bit,” Eliot murmured, “we can take a better look at it tomorrow when it’s light out.”

He really was tired, and there was something soothing about listening to Parker go through every detail of the building; it wouldn’t hurt if he closed his eyes for just a minute or two while he listened.

**********

Parker grinned when she saw Eliot’s eyes close, but she finished telling him about the sleeping loft before she stopped talking. His breathing was deep and even, and it looked like he really was asleep.

When he didn’t push her away while she was covering him with a blanket, she knew he really was asleep. She kissed him on the cheek the way Sophie did sometimes and turned out the light on her way out of the room.

[teriwrites]

NaNoWriMo: Week 2

Compared to week 1, this week has completely flown by. Writing has at times slowed down a lot more, but I’ve yet to have a day where I fall behind. I’m still plugging away, but with a lot of assignment due dates coming up, learning to juggle my priorities is definitely going to be a challenge. Thankfully, it’s one I’m familiar with. 

The middle of the month is always the toughest, but we’ll all get through it! And schoolwork might actually turn out to be a good rest to prevent creative burnout. 

With that, some stats and stuff:

Week 2 Goal: 23,333 

Week 1 Total: 30,251

Excerpt 1:

Along one of these peninsulas, there stood a beautiful woman. She was dancing, swaying as gracefully as the willows around her. Dark hair cascaded down her back in loose waves, flowing with each turn of her head. A white dress twirled as she moved. There was no music to follow, yet she seemed to keep a rhythm that belonged to the currents and the trees themselves.

Winnie could only gaze at the scene a short moment before Taliesin’s snapping fingers were suddenly blocking her view, drawing her back.

She leaned slightly to try and get another view. In a whisper, she asked, “Who is that woman?”

Taliesin couldn’t hide his dour expression. “Do not trust the beautiful here, child. It is the favorite mask of the cruel.”

Excerpt 2:

Footsteps came from the hall, and Winnie froze. There was nowhere to hide - no curtains or tapestries to conceal herself, no large furniture, only tall tables. 

Winnie ducked and rolled under one of these towards the back of the room, hoping it might at least spare her a moment before she was spotted. Staring over at the door, she heard a loud creak, and watched as it swung open slowly. A pair of golden feet stepped into the room.

Winnie poked her head out from under the table. Taliesin was staring at her, holding back a laugh.

“How did you manage to get inside?”

“The door was unlocked.”

Scrambling out from her hiding spot, Winnie leapt to her feet and demanded, “If you knew we could just walk in, why did you let me make a fool of myself climbing through the window?”

Taliesin shrugged with a grin. “You were so spirited. I didn’t want to ruin your fun.”

Excerpt 3:

The chest opened with ease as the padlock fell to pieces. Winnie opened the top, not sure what she was hoping to find. A map leading directly to where they had taken Bran. A document that gave a little more intel into how her brother was doing. Something of value.

Inside was a small stack of papers, and Winnie’s pulse raced. But flipping through them, she quickly realized that the yellowed pages were all blank. 

“Can you make anything of these?” she asked Taliesin, who approached with a steady eye on Winnie’s bun. 

He took them from her, darting his eyes down to the page but with his face still upturned to her hair. Winnie rolled her eyes, adjusting the hatpin so that it was secured and couldn’t pose a threat. Frowning, Taliesin closed his eyes and waved a hand over the pages, but they remained stubbornly blank.

“There’s no trace of anything written,” he said uncertainly when he’d opened his eyes again. “But that could mean special care has been taken to hide it. Detection was never my specialty.”

“Then we’d better hope we find something else,” Winnie said gravely.

Excerpt 4:

“You saved me,” the man insisted. 

Winnie, kneeling before him, nodded dumbly. Up this close, without his skin breaking out into coarse bark, he was unexpectedly ordinary. He looked back at her with skin tanned by the sun, with plain, gray eyes, with dark, cropped curls. His grateful smile showed a row of straight, slightly yellowed teeth. 

No golden refraction of light. No protruding skull. No slit pupils. Only a normal, human young man, as far as Winnie could tell. She couldn’t hold his gaze, which shone in earnest.

“Please, can I know the name of my savior?” he asked.

Winnie froze, the childhood warnings blaring through her mind. “I am merely a friend to these parts.”

The young man’s eager expression lit up. “You certainly are. And I am known here as Gelert. I am in your debt, friend.”

Excerpt 5:

Before she could finish her thought, a figure darted between trees. Winnie reached instinctively for her pack, feeling for where she’d lodged her hatpin. It came loose, and she slid the needle up her sleeve, closing her fingers around the head. 

“That is hardly necessary, child,” whispered a voice. 

Winnie jerked around to find its source, but she was alone. 

The figure ran closer, still too quick to identify. 

“I only wish to offer some advice.” The voice was soft and concentrated, like it was being whispered directly into her ear.

Winnie covered her ears, glaring through the darkness. A laugh echoed in her mind, despite her efforts, and she winced against the grating sound. 

Finally, the figure stepped out from behind a tree, several meters away. A dark hooded cloak covered most of it, a black that shone dark blue as it passed under the light. They made no attempts to approach, but merely stood and stared. 

Without moving their mouth, Winnie heard the voice again. “You place a lot of trust in this guide, but what has he done to earn it?”

“I trust in the honor of the fair folk,” Winnie retorted. “That’s what holds you all together, isn’t it? Following through on the deals you make. The Fae runs on your belief in honor.”

The figure stepped forwards, lifting their hood with gloved hands. Beneath, a dark porcelain mask stared back at Winnie. Its features were feline, but instead of ears, twisted horns curled around the back of its head. The mask was smooth, its expression emotionless, with no openings to see or breathe. 

“The Courts run on honor. Those without it are removed. Tell me, which court does your guide belong to?”

[hollyhomburg]

BTS as Sorcerers/Witches and their magic Types

W/C: 3.5K

Tags:  allusions to polyamory, fluffy, brief sickness/injury, Crack (Hoseok's- please I talk about glowing cum for like 2 seconds), 

A/N: These things are kinda going out of style but here you go! I was inspired after watching the new fantastic beasts movie, but it’s more along the lines of a fairytale magic au. If you like it please consider donating to my kofi! link in my bio! 

Seokjin- Healing magic/empathy 

- Out of all of the members of the household that can feel emotions and feel pain Seokjin is the only one who can really manipulate them in other people. 

- Seokjin might be able to feel people’s emotions but he can shut off his power too, and (unlike Jimin) he doesn’t confuse other people’s desires with his own or hear their thoughts. 

- It’s a power that he tries not to misuse, but when there are arguments it is especially hard. 

- “Seokjin, you can’t win arguments just by making me agree with you.” 

- “Don’t make me laugh at your joke- it wasn’t funny in the first place.” 

- Seokjin is definitely the one who has the most control of his powers in the house, it’s also really hard for the others to hide things from him. 

- Like when Jungkook falls off his dragon one morning and sprains his ankle and really doesn’t want to be babied by anyone, seokjin takes one look at him and orders him to sit at the kitchen table so he can see the ankle. 

- Or when Yoongi is kept awake at night by the whispering voices of the dead and his whole body hurts, Seokjin always has a soup for that. 

- Some of his healing magic translates into cooking- it’s just so easy for him to infuse what they’re eating into something that will stabilize the moods of everyone in the house. Including yours. 

- Seokjin feels the little melancholy when your heart hurts and wants to ask, it’s unusual for you not to come to him when you’re hurt, or feeling frustrates, or sad, or bored. But before he does he mentions it to Namjoon who kind of stutters over one of Seokjin’s tea blends. “You might not want to ask, the plants have told me they’ve caught her...uhm... looking after all of us in that way.” 

- Seokjin can feel the love you have for all of them and ask Jimin who scoffs and reaffirms what he’s noticed. “I’m surprised it took you this long hyung.”

- The love-ache that he can feel hurting you is something that he can’t ignore. And Seokjin only wants to heal it, he’s a healer after all. 

- And one night you’re trying to make some popcorn for a movie night and you end up burning your hand. Seokjin notices and despite the fact that you try to hide it.

- “It’s okay Jinnie, I can just get some of Namjoon’s aloe.” 

- “You know he always regrets cutting him, he almost cried when Jungkook took a little too much for his face the other night, and this is my area of expertise, let me help.” 

- Seokjin presses his lips up against your burnt finger and heals it with a spark of magic, but your skin against his feels good enough that he keeps kissing your fingertips. 

- Seokjin feels the pain in your heart jump and looks up to find your face red, his hands hovers over your heart feeling it beat unevenly,  puzzled about the ache. But he follows his instinct. “I can fix this too.”  

- He kisses you in the kitchen and feels one of the pieces of your heart slide into place, while 6 others stay misaligned. Seokjin sighs, and pulls away from you, bright red and flustered and adorable.

-  The rest of the healing can’t be helped by him- that’s up to the others.

Yoongi – fortune telling/clairvoyant 

- Yoongi is a little bit sadder than the rest of the wizards in the house because often he can see the bad things that are going to happen to the people he loves or the things that they’re hiding. 

- He can also hear the voices of ghosts, and see them sometimes. They keep him awake at night. 

- This comes partially from his psychometric powers- if he touches things he can often get a read on them. 

- He often curls up with his tarot cars, a nice cup of coffee, and a cat on his lap to get a better read on some of the things he sees.  

- Out of all of the magical members of the household, cats are always drawn to Yoongi the most (though Jungkook is a close second) 

- The day you and Yoongi first kiss, you come down the stairs and brush his hand making him groan, you answer it with a perplexed look and he says “Can you please not wear lipstick today?” 

- “Why? Does it not look good?”

- “No, it’s just- never mind.” Because he’s seen that later Namjoon and Jimin will notice the smudges of red on Yoongi’s lips that he won’t quite be able to get off and will tease him mercilessly. 

- More often than not Yoongi sees things that he doesn’t want to see. He’s out getting some herbs that aid with astral projection: he and Taehyung found a spell in one of the old books in the library and want to try to contact the dead and you know- it’s not like the dead don’t already talk to Yoongi on the regular but Taehyung wants some help with it. 

- When all of a sudden he gets a crystal clear vision of you falling down the stairs and knocking yourself out. Everyone is out no one’s home and he can’t really tell if it’s already happened or if it’s going to happen soon. 

- They rush home and sure enough, you’ve just fallen. You’re only out for a few minutes before you wake with Yoongi lying his head on your lap while you lay on the purple velvet sofa, 6 other faces looking at you concerned while Jin makes you a healing potion for the headache Yoongi says you’ll have when you wake up. 

- “You’ve got to be more careful then that- if anything had happened to you I-“ Yoongi blushes and holds onto your middle tighter, and you run your fingers through his hair and remind him that you’re alright. 

- He’s super overprotective of you for the next few weeks until you tell him. “Yoongi, even you can’t protect everyone from what’s going to happen, you can’t be afraid of the future forever.” 

- And eventually he relents- still doesn’t let you carry heavy things up the stairs by yourself though.

Hoseok - light/sun magic

- The sunshine always seems to follow him wherever he goes, the whole room literally lights up when he smiles. But his power is related to all stars/light, it just so happens that the sun is the closest star. 

- Clouds are puffier, fires crackle loudly and glow fantastic colors. Water seems to sparkle and refracts the light differently- almost like diamonds when Hoseok is around. 

- A lot of the time he’ll be absent-minded about it and the others have to be like “Hope? Lights?”  Like honestly they can’t go to the movies with him because he draws too much attention. 

- Because he has somewhat control of light he can manipulate colors to a certain extent most of the time this is his own hair, he can change his hair color at the drop of a hat or others- and he often turns the other boy’s hair a different color as a joke. 

- He has the least control over his magical abilities as any of the boys because they’re so tied with his emotions. 

- His hair turns red when he’s angry, blonde/light brown when he’s happy, and dark brown when he’s feeling calmer. 

- And because of course, he loves you, he often finds his magic bleeding into you, you’ll fall asleep on a chair in the study and blink away the rays of the sun that just won't stop shining in your eyes. 

- Hoseok’s hair turns pink at the tips when he’s around you (and when you kiss him he goes full on pink/lilac) and sometimes he accidentally changes your clothes different colors. Because of this, most of his clothes are white/pastel because they start to lose their color after a few months. 

- He and Taehyung have this little joke that they do where he cracks Hoseok’s back and Hoseok lights up like a glow stick.

- And one night when you're drunk and playing truth or dare, Jimin asks him if you know…his cum glows? and Hoseok glows bright pink and downs a whole glass of Namjoon’s moonshine to get out of answering. 

- Can totally see in the dark, and he’ll take you on night walk dates and he makes the stars literally dance like Vincent van Goh's painting for you.

- Of course, he ends up watching your wide with wonder expression more than the display of the magic, starlight dances along his fingertips when he reaches out to touch you and spreads sparkles onto your skin, only to tilt up your mouth to meet his. 

- When you kiss him Hoseok’s hair literally starts to glow like a candle.

Namjoon - plant magic 

- Namjoon spends most of his time talking to his plants in his greenhouse,  watering them, and helping them grow with little pulses of his magic. 

- Technically his powers are the strongest out of all of them- it’s one of the reasons why the woods by their house has grown so large. 

- When they were children, Yoongi foresaw Namjoon sleeping in the hollow of a tree and went to find him. No one really knows how old he is because it seemed like he was there for a while before Taehyung woke him up. He has no memories before this, other than his name. 

- He’ll fall asleep with a book in his lap on the velvet settee only to find daisies and mushrooms growing from the spine when he wakes. 

- They grow out of his hair too, especially when he’s happy they’ll pop up behind his ears. 

- You’ll touch his arm on your way out the door to work and Yoongi will snicker behind him and be like “flowers Joon” and he’ll pull out the purple clover while he blushes.  

- “You’re so bored you’re growing moss hyung” –Jungkook probably.  His magic is a little bit peculiar that way. 

- He literally puts plants on every shelf in your house, much to the ire of the rest of the witches. Because they’ll be talking shit and then Namjoon will come in later and say things like “I hear someone managed to break one of the cauldrons again.”  None of the youngsters can get away with anything. 

- It’s also strange how his love for you kind of feeds into his magic as well. 

- Sometimes when you and Namjoon talk in his greenhouse you fall asleep in the patch of sunlight like a cat (Hobi’s doing as well) and wake up to some of the little vines shading your eyes or curling around your hand, almost like they’re holding your hand.

- His plants tease him when he kisses your forehead after you’ve fallen asleep. 

- “The luminescent verbena tells me that you’re looking sad, and my caladium told me that you sighed, what’s bothering you my flower?”

- “All of my plants love it when you come talk to me, they even say hello, the oxalis wishes you luck, the orchids in my room miss you, and they tell me to ask you questions sometimes.” They’re as in love with you as I am. 

- Namjoon also grows you some of the most fantastic flower, like blue roses that shimmer metallic and glow in the dark peony’s.

- Namjoon says he has a hard time being lonely because the whole world talks to him. But he feels most at home with you wrapped in his arms in his greenhouse while you both read side by side. 

- Grows you flower crowns of roses just to make you smile.

Jimin – Mind reading/Emotion reading

- The most frustrating thing about Jimin’s power is when he can literally feel you getting flustered by his presence, but can’t fathom why you won’t do anything about your attraction to him.  

- “Come on I know I’m right- I can literally hear what you’re thinking” ‘he’s right but I won’t admit it Cuz then he’ll be insufferable about it”

- The worst part about it is he’s very easily influenced by other people’s emotions, someone will ask “are you crying?” and it doesn’t even have to be at Jimin and he’ll start sobbing. 

- He thinks it’s absolutely adorable when you chant things in your head like “oh my god he’s wrapping his arms around you just act natural” or when he can feel your heart jumping with emotion when he touches you. 

- For some reason, you’re so much easier to read than the other, and instead of turning him off- like it does with most people when he meets them and they instantly start thinking vulgar thoughts, it only heightens his own feelings towards you.

- He will ask the others what he should do about it, and he questions if the feelings he’s feeling towards you are just the emotions he’s reading from the others reflected onto him. He’s around everyone so often that it’s hard to sort through which of his emotions are actually his. 

- After all, everyone else in the house is in love with you, and it’s kind of intoxicating just being in a room with all of that love and wanting. 

- But then one day he catches you laughing at a joke of Jungkook’s and feels emotions coming from inside him from himself, not even Jungkook whose feeling a little bashful at your teasing. And that’s when Jimin knows he truly cares for you. 

- He gets even more unbearable after that, making you so flustered and constantly playing with your emotions by figuring out what makes your heart pound. He walks into a room without a shirt on and he hears you chanting  “oh my god don’t think of him naked he can probably tell you’re thinking- oh my god oh my god” 

- and then your embarrassment, when he winks and says “you know the real thing would be a lot better than your imagination sweetheart and all you have to do is ask to see me naked.”

- Literally, the love coming from your heart tastes so sweet on Jimin’s tongue that it’s almost addictive.

- Sometimes he gets so drunk on it that he has to leave the room or else resist letting out a purr of contentment. He can’t help it. Feelings of love just feel so so so good 

- It’s because of that, that Jimin has very little problem with you showing affection to the others. 

- No one really has a problem with it, but out of all of them, Jimin actually loves it the most. It just amplifies what he feels when he can tell the others love you. 

- Whenever you kiss him or do anything with Jimin he gets so wound up so fast because touching you make your emotions feel all the more intense. 

Taehyung- Dream Magic 

- Taehyung has control over his dreams, can dream walk, and take things out of his dreams. It’s helpful but at other times the others find it annoying when Taehyung literally won’t let them enjoy their rest. 

- “Tae I don’t want to listen to your theory on the avengers”

- “But you fell asleep in the middle of our conversation...”

- “Why do you think I fell asleep in the first place?” 

- You don’t mind, especially when he Wanders into your dreams to take you on dates, running through dark sparkling cavers, he takes you dancing among valleys of starlight, and together you hop from dream world to dream world visiting castles and cities that you could only dream of. 

- But other times his powers really help the others- especially Yoongi who suffers from frequent insomnia. 

- He’ll walk into Taehyung’s room and wake the other up. Tae just has to take one look at the sleepy and emotionally drained Yoongi and knows what he needs. 

- His powers could be dangerous- Seokjin had warned him off that, if Taehyung isn’t careful he could make someone fall into a coma. But he gets enough practice that he doesn’t think it will happen.

- But then it does. You get injured and you need to get put to sleep so that Seokjin can heal you and Taehyung is so panicked that he puts you into too deep of a sleep. You’re more susceptible than the rest of the people Taehyung usually practices on. 

- They try everything; Seokjin, Namjoon and Yoongi make a wakefulness draft that should make you wake. Hoseok tries an incantation that will wake you too the sun, but after 3 days nothing is working. If you stay down for much longer they might not be able to wake you at all. 

- Taehyung dream walks into your dreams but finds them a tangled web of pain and memory, he searches for what feels like a year- but is only a day in the dream world. Until he finds you in a sunlit glade. 

- Taehyung calls your name and you turn to him, running to fall into his arms. 

- “You need to wake up my love,” he says into your hair. “You need to come awake so that we can hold you again.” 

- “But I don’t want to Tae- it’s so scary there. And here it’s so calm and quiet.” Before Taehyung can get another word in he’s pulled out of his dream into his own body. 

- “I’m so sorry honey.” He says to where you sleep under the covers next to him, crying because it seems his attempt was useless, leaning over to kiss you on the lips before he leaves to tell the others.

- But when they all come back in you’re awake and grumbly, asking someone for something to eat because you’re starving. 

- And Seokjin rushes to make you something while Jimin cries over your lap in relief, and Jungkook holds your hand and the room lights up with Hoseok’s smile. 

- And Taehyung disappears to his room with his hands shaking. And doesn’t let himself believe what just happened. 

- Because out of every solution they’d tried, the only think they’d never tried was true love's kiss.

Jungkook- Magical creatures

- Jungkook really loves all creatures, they’re so much easier to understand than people, especially because he grew up shy. 

- At first Jungkook’s shyness makes him harder to talk too. 

- But that’s only until you get him talking about the behaviors of mermaids, centaurs, pufskys, and dragons. Then you can't get him to shut up. 

- Jungkook could talk about dragons all day- every day, and wants one of his own so badly. But Namjoon won’t let him bring one into the house because his plants are super flammable, so most of his dragons stay in this little home he’s made for them by the cliffs on the other side of the woods. 

- It’s far enough away from the other paddocks where they keep the magical creatures (like griffins, sphinx’s, unicorns, and Pegasus’s) that seek out Jungkook. There are a lot of those; injured magical beasts always somehow make their way to Jungkook, (Seokjin will sigh, weak to Jungkook’s pleading doe eyes, and help Jungkook heal them). 

- Eventually, Jungkook offers to take you flying one day. 

- Jungkook falls a little in love with the way you look at the clouds in wonder, and laugh (even though you’re terrified) when he nudges the dragon to go faster. 

- He holds you tight enough between his legs that he knows you’ll be safe but that doesn’t stop you from clinging to him. The memory of your body aligned with his stays even when he settles down to go to sleep, he catches himself wondering what it would be like to cuddle you. (Taehyung finds him in his dreams later and almost dies laughing when he finds jungkook dreaming of it)  

- You start to feel something for him when you see how gentle he is with his magical creatures, how kind and caring he is with them. The same delicacy he shows you when he brushes twigs out of your hair or pulls your chair out for you at dinner. 

- One night you both get caught in the middle of a snowstorm and have to hide out in the caves with the dragons for warmth and Jungkook wraps his arms around you while you curl against the belly of the dragon that has claimed Jungkook as her child? (He calls her ‘ajumma’)

- Eventually, he finds this super small dragon (really no larger than a cat) that has some kinds of dwarfism, and convinces Namjoon to let him stay in the house. 

- The dragon terrorizes Yoongi’s cat. And they have fights about it daily. The dragon always manages to set Yoongi’s pant leg on fire and then scurries away back to Jungkook before the elder can scold him. “You can’t hurt him hyung, he didn’t mean it” 

- Jungkook will pout and then Yoongi can’t do anything about it- even if he really wants to give the sentient dragon a little kick across the floor.

- All in all, the house is very full of love, magic, and the boys caring for each other as well as you. 

[canid-slashclaw]

The Outliers - A Guild Wars Love Story

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9,  Chapters 10 and 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16 , Chapter 17, Chapter 18

Chapter 19

A month had passed since Kaleb's last visit while Amalthia was still in the infirmary. She was now in the long process of finishing her recovery at her father's place. Kaleb had written to her often and she did so in return.

"That's quite a lunch you're packing, young man. Why there's enough in that thing to feed five people," Kaleb's mother quipped as she noticed her son shoving several brazed wild foul shanks into the basket.

"That's because I'm a hungry boy, mom. Anyway, I'm sharing them with a friend."

Overhearing the conversation, Rachel stepped into the kitchen and provided her own opinion on the situation. "The reason he's taking so much meat is because he's going to share it with that charr girlfriend of his."

Bristling over the comment, Kaleb tried to respond in a measured tone. "She's just a friend. Anyway, I haven't seen her in over a month."

Shirley frowned for a moment then drew in her breath, trying to maintain tranquility in the household.

"There is no need to be sassy with your brother, Rachel. Now go to your room."

Grumbling but obedient, she complied and left without further incident. However, once she got up the stairs, she eavesdropped on the conversation from the edge of the landing.

Mother Grimwald turned to her son and said. "Try not to let her get to you, son. She's just at that age. Anyway, I hope you have fun with whomever you have plans with."

"Thanks, mom. I'm sure we'll have a great time." Kaleb finished his packing and was about to leave when his mom made one final comment.

"It would be so romantic if you and Trish did a picnic together. Speaking of whom... you haven't mentioned anything about her in awhile."

Oh, great. I see where this is headed, Kaleb thought as he bolted from the kitchen.

Her mother started following him. "Why are you avoiding the question?"

"It wasn't a question, mom." Kaleb darted from the front door then closed it behind him.

Her prying ears never being far away, Rachel stepped down the stairs and commented once more. "It's because he's got a new girlfriend. Rawarrrrr!"

Gah. I would love to slap some sense into that kid. Shirley stepped from the front door a short time later and shouted to her son as he was walking from the property. "If you are seeing that charr friend of yours then remember the teachings of Dwayna. For the sake of your soul, I hope that's all it is." Quoting scripture. Now I'm pissed! *** Amalthia knew that Kaleb would be at the shop within the hour. She was in the process of trying to find the right outfit to wear, but thus far, nothing seemed to adequately fit the situation. It was at that time of the month when her heat cycle was in full bloom. Her body yearned for his closeness. More than anything, she wanted to physically bond with the one she loved. Ah. I think this one will do just fine. She examined the cotton outfit for a moment before putting it on. The sleeveless top revealed the ocher tiger stripes on her light yellow-orange fur. Covering the high-cut leather loincloth underneath, she wore a dark brown skirt that sported a slit up the right side. She decided to forego wearing shoes of any kind and, instead, chose to adorn her digitigrade arches with gold bangles. Once she had finished dressing she promptly headed down the spiral staircase towards the spice rack area. She sniffed the various aromas hoping to find a scent that would drive Kaleb wild. Jasmine oil with cinnamon powder. She purred with erotic pleasure over thinking of her hansom human mate. "Amalthia." Her father's voice called out from the hallway beside the meat counter. "Sire?" Her odor wafted towards his direction and he became visibly agitated. "I'm guessing Kaleb will be over soon, am I right?" "Yes. Of course he will. That is, unless he is suddenly abducted by a flock of harpies." Her father shook his head. "I know you and him haven't seen each other in awhile. And what I am about to ask may come across as my being a meddlesome sire... but Amalthia - I ask that you break off going out with Kaleb. At least until next week." Amalthia quickly realized what her father was pining to say. "I will be fine, sire. Trust me." Ludrick let out a low grumble. "I don't think now is a good time for you to be seeing him." "We are both responsible adults. Neither of use would do anything to dishonor you, sire." "Then why the jasmine oil and cinnamon? That's a traditional charr…" Amalthia abruptly cut him off with a terse response. "Because I happen to like the smell, that's why!" Her father relented then hung his head low. "Just remember your boundaries, cub. For your sake and his." Thirty minutes later there was a knock on the door and Amalthia ran to answer it. When she opened it, she found Kaleb standing there holding a freshly cut bouquet of chrysanthemums. "Kaleb! Come on in!" She hugged him then took the flowers and placed them in one of the empty cookie tins. "Good to see you too, Miss Mouthy," he said with a devilish smile as he waved around the picnic basket he was carrying. "I made one of your favorites - braised guinea fowl with rosemary and peppercorn." Amalthia's ears twitched as she gave him a large, fangy smile. "I can smell it from here!" "Mmm. And I can smell you. What is that you are wearing?" She walked up, placed her muzzle against his left ear and whispered. "An ancient charr arousal perfume." Kaleb's mind was already awash in carnal thoughts as he gazed at her revealing outfit. "I'm ready when you are," she said as the pair departed from the shop. Upon locking the door, Amalthia turned to Kaleb then pointed in a westward direction. "Sire wanted the day off so I'm shutting things down. Anyway, there's a place I wanted to take you to. It's really beautiful." As the pair walked towards their destination, Kaleb looked over his love and commented. "It is you who looks beautiful. I never knew your people wore outfits like that." "I got it at a boutique in Lion's Arch run by a human and sylvari couple of all things. The sylvari woman is really into designing things that reflect a blending of the races. The briarthorn gown really tempted me, but I think she took the design a bit too literally. I mean while thorns may look good fashion-wise, they don't really feel good, especially when wearing them." Amalthia laughed as she gave Kaleb a playful squeeze on the wrist. "A sylvari and human? That's amazing! At least we aren't the only oddballs in Tyria," Kaleb said with a chuckle. "Jest... Jestin! That's the human's name. The sylvari's name is Ariyana. She's got a really interesting, quirky personality to say the least. Anyway, it took me forever to find an outfit that blended human and charr cultures together." "Hmm. It doesn't say much, does it?" Kaleb noted. "No. It doesn't. But somewhere, someone has to change it, somehow." She turned to him looking him in the eyes. "I was terrified that I would never see you again, Kaleb. That is why I'm not afraid anymore. If people can't accept us for being a couple then they can just shove it where the sun doesn't shine!" Kaleb smiled drawing closer to her muzzle. But just when he was about to kiss her, she playfully placed her clawed finger on the middle of his forehead and laughed. "Follow me... we're almost there." The two of them reached the edge of a lake that was shadowed by an enormous rocky outcropping with a massive waterfall cascading down the middle. When Kaleb looked up he could see the shimmering rainbow effect coming off the foaming mist. "Behold, Thunderfalls. At least that's what many of the locals around here call it anyway. Isn't it just amazing?" Once they had found a secluded spot, Kaleb nodded as he opened the picnic basket. Within moments the pair began sharing a hearty lunch together that consisted of brazed wild foul, roasted potatoes and peach cobbler. Amalthia lay on a satin blanket sprawled out with her back to the sun. She removed her top allowing the rays to more evenly warm her fur. As Kaleb saw her intricate pattern, he began tracing his fingers over the individual stripes starting just below the nape of her neck then eventually working down to her lower back. "Your fur is so beautiful. I just never realized that until now." He began tracing out the stripe contours around her upper thighs then around her lower calf muscles while her long fluffy tail twitched in delight. Amalthia purred in pleasure as she rolled over on her back exposing her white underbelly and the small patch of partially grown fur from the wound she had received two months prior. Kaleb gently worked his hands from her shoulders then down across her chest until he reached her abdomen where he felt some of the scar tissue that was left over. "I am so sorry this happened. I wish I was there to protect you," he said as he began stroking her left ears then ran his fingers along the contours of her muzzle. Amalthia rose up, rotated around then placed her large pawed hand on the side of his face, as she looked him in the eyes. "You already have."

Kaleb noticed the sunlight refracting off her amber eyes as he drew close to her. "Your eyes. The way the sun catches the hues of your irises, makes them stunning beyond imagining." But just as they were about to kiss, Amalthia placed her clawed finger on Kaleb's lips then laughed aloud once more. "Hold it there you silly mouse. There's something I have to show you. Follow me!" She immediately bounded off on all fours leaving him far behind. As Kaleb ran over the hill to catch up with Amalthia, he found that she had discarded her skirt and bangles. When he got closer to the water's edge, he found that her undergarments and crop top were lying on the ground as well, but with no sign of her to be seen anywhere. When he looked around to find her, he suddenly heard her voice coming from the lake.

"Over here! If you are a strong swimmer, head over towards the waterfall." She waved to him covered only in the pelt she had been born with. It was at that moment when Kaleb realized that the next phase of the courtship ritual would transpire. Upon knowing this, he promptly disrobed until; he too, was clad only in his skin. He could see Amalthia off in the distance as her feline form disappeared under the waterfall. It took him a good couple of minutes to swim there. However, once he reached his destination, he was greeted by a deep nook that lay just under the torrent of rushing water. Under the constant stream, rested a slab of smoothly hewn limestone that lay just a few feet below the surface of the falls. "Behind you, silly!" Kaleb turned around to see her wet furred form bobbing up and down to the undulating current smiling with joy. As he swam over to greet her she grabbed his arm then pulled him towards the rocky slab. The sun-heated gush of water poured over the pair as the two of them drew together. Amalthia laughed as she ran her clawed fingers though the soaked hair that covered half of Kaleb's face. "How can you see like that, silly little man?" She reached behind his head as he clasped hold of the smaller horns on either side of her face and the two became locked in a passionate kiss. "I think you will find, Miss Steelblade, that there is very little, that is little about me." Kaleb's manhood was in full bloom when the tip of his spear found its sumptuously warm mark. Amalthia's legs parted to accommodate him, being very careful not to inadvertently jab him with her dewclaws. Once his angle was true, he thrust deeply inside of her. Amalthia's body quivered with unhinged ecstasy as she could feel him going deep inside. Her muscles tightened around his engorged member causing her to let out a caterwaul, the likes of which he had never heard. The two lovers began an elegant rhythmic motion, being buoyed by the water, as they moved with a synchronicity of one body and one mind. They switched positions as Amalthia clasped hold of the limestone rock that jutted out from the rocky slab. Kaleb positioned himself from behind and began thrusting into her causing her vaginal walls to contract on him even tighter. The sheer intensity of the moment caused him to gush his seed as she let out another primal and glorious moan. The two lovers - one human, the other charr - climaxed with each other several more times before their bodies had become completely spent from exhaustion. For today was one of the few days on Tyria where two souls from two vastly different worlds had intimately joined together as one.

(All chapters have been posted to AO3. Chapter 19 is posted here.)

[thedreamsmith]

How (Not) to Seduce a Blueshirt (Chapter 5)

@atc74​ @arrowsandmixtapes​ @alleiradayne​ @captain-s-rogers​ for #OC appreciation day 2020

Warnings: swearing, innuendo

Pairing: Jim Kirk x OFC

Chapter summary: The morning after

Reyne smiled to herself as the door to her room swished shut, the lights automatically coming on as she entered the space. Although basic, the hotel room was far bigger than her quarters aboard the Enterprise. Despite the flagship’s size, it housed over a thousand crew members and space was very much limited.

The bubbly feeling in her chest hadn’t abated since Jim had first asked her to dinner – if anything it had gotten worse. With a shake of her head that dislodged several of the bobby pins in her hair, Reyne reached back to grab the zipper on her dress.

It took her several minutes and as many spins to grasp the tiny metal zip but the relief of being out of the tight dress was instant. As lovely as it looked – the garment had not been made for comfort. It had almost been as uncomfortable as the thigh holster that her legal-carry was tucked into.

Thankfully the strap hasn’t come loose during dinner. She felt that some of her mystery would’ve been lost if she’d had to hike the garter back up her leg in the middle of the restaurant. Classy.

Her feet ached as she climbed into her bed, but despite her exhaustion, Reyne’s mind whirled with memories and colours from the last few hours. The bubbly feeling from the other week hadn’t abated, in fact it had spread, fizzing in her chest as she replayed the kiss over in her head.

She hadn’t been on a date in a long time, not one she’d enjoyed half as much, There had always been the Academy, then work, and despite her friends’ urgings the years had just slipped by. But somehow James T Kirk had forced his way into her life; with a cocky grin and surprising depth of character. She was powerless to resist.

A soft sile remained on her lips as she drifted into sleep.

                                                              ***

Two pairs of hands grasped Reyne’s elbow as soon as the door swished shut. If it hadn’t been for the strength in the grip on her arm, she wouldn’t tripped over her own feet as her friend slipped into step beside her.

‘Were you waiting outside my room?’

‘Nah, lucky coincidence.’ Ensign Layla Scott (no relation to Montgomery Scott), grinned up at her, her dusky yellow skin glowing like the dawn even in the artificial lighting. Her right hands loosened their grip on Reyne as they continued along the hotel’s plush corridors. ‘So…’

‘My date with the captain?’ Reyne huffed in amusement.

‘Yes! Tell me everything.’ It wasn’t a long walk to the entrance, and before long the pair were blinking in the mid-morning light. Having known Layla since the Academy, she barely noted when her hair seemed to shimmer and change colour. Although it was an easy mistake to make, her ‘hair’ was actually make up of thousands of opaque fibrile filaments that refracted light and changed colours with her surroundings, much like the oceans of Earth.

Reyne had made her watch an old Terran movie called Avatar once and the Pertalian had laughed herself hoarse over the ‘hair sex.’ ‘I’m surprised you didn’t end up in his room. Did you two-‘ She made a sound in her swooping, bell-like language, accompanied by a gesture that involved three of her hands and a vulgar-looking tongue movement.

‘I don’t know what that means, and I don’t even think I want to.’ Reyne tried to arrange her face into something approaching unamused and failed miserably, shoulders shaking with laughter as she shook her head.

‘Humans.’ Layla sighed dramatically, tipping her head back as they continued towards the main plaza. ‘The way you reproduce is so boring. I bet I could show you a proper good time.’

‘This is harassment.’ Reyne commented mildly. ‘I am being sexually harassed.’

‘Whatever. You still hadn’t told me anything about your date.’ The Peraltian pouted, crossing her upper set of arms petulantly. The lower set remained behind her back, gloved hands loosely linked. It was a common posture for her species, to keep their second set of thoracic limbs away from accidental contact, even when wearing gloves. Their secondary hands contained billions of psychosensory nerve endings, and even the smallest of contacts could be overwhelming. Humans were such an emotional species, Layla had explained once, that touching them without years of training and experience was a sensory overload – like a million fireworks going off in your head at once.

‘It was nice. Really nice, actually.’ She smiled, remembering the previous night. ‘First base only, before you ask.’ Her friend only rolled her eyes. ‘We actually have a lot in common.’

‘Will he be getting a second date?’

‘If he wants one.’ Reyne laughed, adjusting the stack of PADDs under her arm.

‘Of course he does.’ Layla frowned as she finally noticed their trajectory. ‘Why are you going back to the ship? You do know we’re on shore leave, right?’

‘Animals are still on board.’ Reyne shrugged, ‘We’re only doing minimal checks, but I want to keep an eye on the leviathan.’

The creature in question was an aquatic reptilian species that they’d found on a K-class planet several months ago, affectionately named Noodle by the vet team. It was no longer than a foot in length, but so closely resembled the titanic sea creatures of ancient myth that they’d named the new species leviathan istum aquaticus. There had been some debate as to whether they should keep it aboard the Enterprise; several crew members weren’t convinced that the creature had reached its full size and they would wind up with a forty-tonne sea serpent aboard the ship.

However, Noodle had yet to grow any bigger, despite his voracious appetite for prawns, which he cooked using a peculiar ability to super-heat the water in his tank that had only ever been observed in rainbow mantis shrimp centuries ago on Earth.

Layla gave an exaggerated shudder. ‘That thing creeps me out.’

‘Aww but he’s so cute, look at his little whiskers.’ Reyne pulled out her comm, tapping away to bring up a picture.

‘And I’m off.’ She stepped away before she could show her the photo. ‘Enjoy your creepy fish-snake thing, and tell Murray I said hi.’

‘Will do, though I don’t think he’s coming in today.’ She mimed taking a draw of a blunt, making her friend snort through her nose.

‘Alright, see you around then. I’m off to see that see horror film at the holo-cine.’

Reyne waved good-bye as she watched her retreating figure head back towards the city. The checks wouldn’t take too long, and the film that Layla had mentioned did look good. Maybe she’d ask Jaylah if she wanted to go and see it. Although, she never had been able to break her of the habit of commenting loudly on the movie, much to the annoyance of the rest of the audience.

That was a problem for later.

[musutofu]

【 I, My, Me, Mine 】

♡ pairing | Toga x ᶠᴱᴹ Reader ✑ word count | 3.9k ✎ genre | angst ✗ warnings | knives, blood, character death, identity theft ✮ A/N | the Toga origin story literally no one asked me to write

The harsh white light that glows overhead, filling the quiet room with equally muted tones has settled painfully in Toga’s head. With every second ticking past she can feel a pounding against her eyes like a prisoner beating against their cell walls. But perhaps that isn’t all attributed to the headache that’s steadily scraping against her skull. There’s always been another person inside her; smaller, weaker, easy to ignore. The pain of their nails scraping incessantly inside her head has long since become a sort of white noise, only recently has it spiked to a volume that impossible to ignore. To her credit, Toga had tried to pretend she didn’t hear the little niggling voice in her head spike in volume all those months ago, but it was a fruitless endeavor. Every time she gets her mind to quiet, to become sweet and docile–the girl everyone thinks she is; the girl she should be–she does something that has her mind screaming out at an earsplitting decibel.

It had started as a soft hum that now buzzed through her head like a fitful swarm of wasps, stinging and stinging until her mind is swollen, overflown, with thoughts of her, her, her. At times, Toga just wants to slap her hands over her ears and scream at the top of her lungs, willing everything else to silence. But that’s not what sweet and docile girls do, especially not in the middle of a classroom. But this accursed room is always when that little voice gets bigger, going from a lisping child to a lumbering beast with just one glance at her. Knowing the cause should make it easy to ignore, easy to contain her mind that’s threatening to detach from her will completely. And it would be that easy if she weren’t so magnetic. It’s a Herculean task for Toga to know she’s there, in the same room with her, to know she could look up and see her. Then not do it. It’s a sort of masochistic game she plays with herself, resting to see just how thin she can stretch her mind before it breaks. She’s getting close to the answer if the pain still galloping through her head like a herd of wild stallions is any indication.

Toga looks for a distraction that doesn’t involve the paper sitting in front of her. She’s in no mood to deal with mathematics and the margins of her worksheet is already filled with the aimless scribbles of her restless hand. To stop from tapping her pen and drawing attention to herself, Toga takes to poking at her pencil case. The gel like material gives with each prod, mutilating the pastel character decals printed on it and warping the overhead lights to a less offending brightness. After a particularly hard jab the unzipped opening gives way like a belly split up the middle, but instead of entrails the rest of her school supplies spill onto her desk. Amongst the pens, pencils, and erasers is an innocent looking box cutter. The sweet Hello Kitty design is as unoffending as it can get, but Toga is more interested in the blade still sheathed in the pink plastic.

With a steady glide of her thumb the blade emerges from its sheath, catching the painful light on the edge. It’s a new blade, never used, never tainted. Toga has plans for this particular blade. Her wrist flexes carefully, working to not flash a refraction of the light across anyone’s unsuspecting line of vision. If she’s caught her blade will most likely be confiscated with a lecture on being more diligent when it comes to her studies as the only replacement for what could barely qualify as a weapon. This wasn’t a weapon, not really. Knives were weapons. This meager blade could only offer her a taste of what she wants. And taste she does and the blade finally catches on what has been the object of her thoughts for these past, seemingly endless, months. The clean blade offers her a mirror-like surface to spy on her from like the Evil Queen looking through her magic mirror. The fairest one of all is on full display for her eyes only, working as studiously as ever on her math problems like all the other students around her.

Toga greedily absorbs everything she can about her in this moment. Mere drops compared to the monsoons she’s been gifted with in the past but it’ll be enough for now. It has to be. There’s only a few minutes left of classes for the day and she doesn’t work her part-time job today. Toga’s sure of it. Just as she watches her now, she watches her always. Wanting so badly to know about her; her likes, her dislikes, what makes her happy, what makes her sad, everything. It’s more than a wanting, it’s a necessity. She’s like a drug that invaded her mind and clouded her thoughts with nothing but the next time she’ll get her fix and Toga is a blissful addict. A fang catches on the plush edge of her lip, biting down to muffle the nearly erotic noises that are threatening to bubble to the surface.

She isn’t doing anything. Not really. But it’s all the small intricacies that make her entire being. Like each thread of a tapestry. Alone they don’t seem important, but what would the artwork be without them but an idea and an empty loom. Toga tastes her own blood, bitter and metallic on her tongue as she presses the tip of her pen against her mouth. Her lips are parted in the way Toga imagines they’d look if she were making a lewd noise, but only a sigh escapes those petal soft lips as she stares down at her desk pensively, pen catching between her teeth in thought. Toga spares a look down at the risk of missing even a second of her to see the pen so similar to the one being brandished so erotically between your lips. There’s only the faintest hint of chipping on the cap. Because she don’t chew her pens, she simply bites. Holding it in place then releasing. Toga wonders how it would feel to do such a thing to her. To set her fangs against the delicate skin of her neck and feel her sink into submission before releasing her. Her thighs snap together beneath her desk.

The sound is caught in the cushion of the final bell. No one notices Toga’s slip up, her debauched display that breaks her facade as a sweet and innocent girl. She’ll be glad to be rid of this place if only until tomorrow. Her mask can come away and be replace with a more convincing one. Their blood tastes different on her tongue. Toga hums hauntingly at the thought of her blood. Perhaps today will be the day she finally gets more than a menial sample of the liquid ambrosia flowing through your veins. She stumbles against the back of lockers at the thought of how her blood tasted on her tongue. It had been a simple happenstance during the time the both of you were assigned to clean the classroom. A clumsy slide of her hand against a stack of papers had split her delicate finger open. It was a small sliver, only a single pearl of blood beading at her fingertip but Toga had been unable to stop herself. Facade forgotten in the face of what she craved most in that moment. She had laughed so abashedly at the feeling of her tongue laving at the small cut. Toga has played it off as a gesture between friends, a worry that she might get dust in her wound if it wasn’t attended to immediately.

Because she was her friend. Toga had made it so. Anything she could do to her closer to her was done in a heartbeat. At the thought of her already slinking so far away from her, Toga’s chest tugs like there’s a string tethered from her heart to hers. She rushes through shoving her belongings in her locker and runs through the emptying halls just in time to see her dropping her bike lock into her book bag. The bike in question is an eclectic collection of stories that Toga knows by heart. Originally a somber black beneath the chipping teal paint, her father had painted it to be a unisex color; a bike shared between all three of his children. Her brother, though younger, was large for his age and able to ride it with ease. There are marks of him in the Hero trading cards pinned ever-so carefully to the back tire spokes. Her older brother is evident in the sawed off handlebars; an act of rebellion to remove the silver and white streamers that originally resided there. Her only addition was the faded and ripped flame decal slapped in the center of the guardrail; a act of solidarity with her older brother’s more rugged intentions for the communal mode of transportation.

Toga watches as she mounts the bike, carefully of sitting properly with uniform skirt–although a pair of shorts always resides beneath the pleated fabric–and kicks off the wet pavement. She wonders why she bothered to ride her bike to school in the first place. Winter is waning, but still hanging on to the last dregs of cold weather. This morning had been deceptively warm only for the clouds to fall heavy and break open with bursts of icy white just as the first bell rang. The snow has mostly melted in the afternoon snow, but there’s always the chance of small puddles icing over as the sun begins to set. It’s why she follows her, Toga insists, although it isn’t that at all. It’s an alibi for if she’s caught, but only if. She knows the route she takes home as well as her own, knows the people that linger on the way there. Toga steps into a thicket of bushes a few blocks out from campus and crouches in the fading light. Here she strips off her uniform, folding it into her bag and replacing it with something entirely new.

The woman that runs the food cart she passed everyday is clumsy and susceptible to the easy smiles and coquettish laughter that Toga has to offer. The day she caught the woman with an open wound was imminent, but took longer than expected. It had taken weeks to get even a few drops of her blood and it tastes oddly greasy on her tongue, much like the food she sells. The woman and her cart have been missing this past month, the cold keeping them at bay. Toga can only hope today isn’t the day she’s fooled into returning to her normal routine just as she was fooled into riding her bike. Toga can see her up ahead, small in the distance, but just a glimpse of you is enough to have heat spreading through her already ruddy cheeks. She wills her out of her thoughts and takes in a deep pull of the brisk air, fading out of existence as she walks the same path she’s taken so many times. Hopefully her familiar face will be enough to lure her into the trap she’s set out, but only time will tell.

A safeguard presents itself as she passes a group of children tossing chunks of ice and snow at each other. One child goes down with a wail, fat tears leaking down his flushed cheeks in an instant. Toga can small the blood and see the plan formulating. She makes a stop, ignoring the way her new body groans and lurches under its heavy weight, crouching down to assist the child. The cut isn’t terrible, just a few centimeters long and shallow, but there’s blood to be tasted, an identity to be borrowed. She soothes the cut with a maternal kiss and tastes the tart of his blood on her tongue. After a moment the tears stop and he goes back to playing. Toga ducks into a shaded store front that’s been closed for the day, taking off the woman’s clothes to become a child. With another long pull of frigid air Toga fades out of existence, only appearing again once she’s standing directly in her path. As expected, the worn tire treads don’t take well to the ice hidden in the deepening shadows and she goes flying over the flaming handlebars to land heavily in a snow back. The slush cushions her fall and Toga mourns the painless landing. There’s not a single trace of her blood in the air. Soon there will be. Very soon, Toga reassures herself. Disappearing long enough for her to start to come to.

For a moment, Toga thinks she’s missed a delicious taste of your exquisite blood, that her senses failed her. But as she moves closer to her prone, but awakening form, she realizes the red-dyed snow is the result of a Crimson Riot trading card stuck in the pile of snow like a throwing star. The Hero’s namesake color being drawn off the paper by the watery bed she’s attempting to rise from. Without bothering to remove her closes, Toga uses her last dregs of blood to nearly triple in size. The child’s clothing tearing in favor of the delivery man uniform she dons inconspicuously. It had been a lucky break that Toga had witnessed the poor man’s first workplace injury as he sliced his palm open along with the box of packages he was delivering. There’d been enough blood for her to maintain this form for at least a few hours, but with his burly build and long legs Toga won’t need all that time. She leaves her bike to be found by the next passerby in favor of turning for home. A place where no one would dare call her anything less than sane. The voice in her head rejoices at the promise of having her all to herself. No one could stop her from being her true self when it’ll be just the two of them.

She stays docile in Toga’s arms the entire trip there, eyes opening for only a few minutes before closing again. The bruise on her head is darkening with the coming of night and Toga wonders if she has a concussion. It makes no nevermind to her. She always admired how she was rebellious in small ways; wearing bright colored shorts beneath her bland school uniform and refusing to wear a helmet when she rode her bike. It’s all so endearing and Toga wants to know why she does these things, how it feels when she does it. She wants to know everything. And she will. Her parents make no move to stop her as she caries her trophy over the threshold, dropping grey sludge in the entryway as she returns to the form they gave to her. Toga was born to be a predator. They made it so. Now they must reap what they’ve sowed in her. The fierce, feline appearance; a mane of wild blonde hair, restless golden eyes that split down the center, insatiable fangs that ache for her next taste of blood. Toga is only doing what’s expected of her as such a natural born predator. She’s the meek prey, still weak in her arms. Toga can do as she pleases with the spoils she’s won. They don’t even venture to ask who she is. And if victory weren’t so palatable on her tongue she’d make them see, she’d tell them exactly who she is.

The goddess that’s bewitched her looks degraded on her bed. Simple linen sheets of a soft orange like the fading sun cushion you. White pillows spreading out like wings beneath your head and shoulders. She’s the perfect picture of divine grace and Toga can’t wait to feel just as angelic. But first she has to see. Her limbs are cold and pliable under her hands, like a freshly dead corpse. Her clothes fall away piece by piece until only her underwear keeps her celestial innocence. Clothes don’t matter anyway. Toga has a uniform exactly like hers, so does every other girl in their class. She has to unwrap her before basking in the full glory of her. Toga maps out the skin she’s never seen before. Poking and prodding warmth back into her body as she takes in the hidden marks and scars she hadn’t known existed. It’s exhilarating to run her finger over the constellation of beauty marks sitting high on the soft expanse of her thigh, to feel the slightly raised texture of the scar just above her hip bone, to marvel at the pattern her waistband has left in her skin. Toga drinks in every part of her like she’s just traversed all the earth’s deserts without a drop of water. It’s a miracle there’s anything left of her body for her to wake up in.

Watching her wake is like a dream as her lashes flutter to life to reveal the dim light of her eyes. She’s confused but placated by the wide smile Toga affords her, fangs glinting like pearly blades in the soft light. The voice is thundering through her head again, louder than ever before. Begging her to take, to claim, to possess, to be. Because that’s what all this was about, Toga become closer to you. They say the closer you are to your friend the more similar you act. Toga wants to be closer than close to her. She wants to be so close that no one can tell where Toga ends and she begins. Her head lolls back against the mountain of pillows, hazy eyes still trying to become acclimated with her surroundings. The subtle movement stretches her throat in an enticing arc and Toga’s fangs almost pulse with the need to consume and duplicate. Even with her so close the taste of her blood is fading from Toga’s memory. She needs more. And she’d have it. She’d have her.

The soft column of her trachea rises and falls with each erratic breath she takes. Toga leans closer to feel the air on her face, to fill her lungs with it. She is her. Toga inhales with her every exhale. Two sides of the same coin. Two bodies for one girl. But there can only be one. Toga profs at her ribs, slipping a hand under her shirt that’s become much too large after returning to her normal but incomplete body, prodding at the ladder of bones just under her own skin. They’re different in ways Toga can’t explain and she hates it. She hates her. She loves her. She is her. She speaks in fear as Toga’s nails rake heated welts across her skin, trying to claw her open. To see why they aren’t the same on the inside either. Blood rises through the tears in her skin and the cloying scent of her blood soothes Toga. Her tongue is like molten lava against her cold skin as she likes over the drops of blood spilled forth by her own hand. The taste is almost orgasmic and Toga drops her head between the valley of her breasts, whining as the taste being to leave her mouth. It’s not enough.

Toga activates her Quirk, finally seeing herself as she should be. As her. Gone are the blonde flyaways and vertical pupils. Her fangs have receded back into her gums and her body has become something it isn’t. Something it should be. She’s become her and Toga loves it.

“Look how beautiful we are. Look how beautiful I am.” Toga growls in that seductively sweet drawl she’s always spoken with. It’s the voice of an angel. The voice that first afflicted her with this curse to be as one with the goddess she worships. But there can only be one her. Toga forces her to look in the mirror. To see her. There can only be one. And Toga wants to be it. She deserves to be it. Not the weak angel who won’t say a thing to calm her worshipping prophet. She doesn’t deserve to be herself. What type of deity knows forgiveness but not mercilessness? Toga knows of the harsh other half. A thing she could never know of. But that’s beneath the mask of sickly sweetness. Toga knows of both sides. She is what Toga should be, what she appears to be. And she hates it. The reflections she watches her through, the routines she’s stalked her through; they’re her own. Toga is the real her. This girl is an imposter that must be dealt with.

The grey sludge beginning to drip from her shoulders reminds her to remove the imposter carefully. To protect and preserve. To collect then dispose. Her blood is Toga’s blood and she needs it. It’s hers. She stole it! Toga throws her back on to her mattress. The pillows are just pillows, the sheets are just sheets, the girl is a corpse living. The knives Toga wouldn’t dare bring to school are easily accessed her and she approaches her with one of her favorite blades, a needle, and blood bag. The cold blade is placed on her sternum, for later she promises, and the needle is stabbed into her arm with precision. Toga coos in time with her whining as the blood she stole is returned to its owner at a slow gush. It takes a few bags until her lips are pale and her eyes a dull. She looks like a cheap imitation as Toga glows with elation. The real her. She lifts your cardigan from the other discarded clothes on the floor. Tugging it over her head, ruffling the buns atop her head, to mimic the imposter in an act of poetic irony. When Toga looks in the mirror the only person she sees is herself.

Toga presses her nose into the cuff of her cardigan that’s slowly been stretched out of shape after years of wear. Even still when she sniffs the soft fabric Toga swears she can smell her. Just the faintest hint of her magnificent blood. But there’s no blood left to speak of. It’s all gone. Gone and used until she can’t turn into herself anymore. She’s left in this purgatory between as she appears and as she sees herself. Her untamed blonde hair doesn’t stay in the buns she made look so dainty and polished. Her bangs are choppy and uneven after being hacked down to length with her Hello Kitty box cutter. And her fangs still ache for the taste she’ll never have again. Toga misses her. The her she used to be. Maybe a new friend will help fill the void aching behind her ribs. After all, Mr. Stainy has blood to spare.

[daylightrays]

Prompt #3 Adytum

Inwa never thought of himself as a crybaby. His older brother was always the one that was labeled with that nickname. In the three months he’s been in Eorzea, he found that he might be trying to steal that title.

He cried when he was alone. He cried when he felt that hollow emptiness inside of himself. He cried when he saw families walking around together and remembered that he no longer had anything like that. Surprising even himself, he’d cry when he forgot Eorzean words and couldn’t communicate, or his accent made it difficult for other people to understand what he wanted to say.

Sometimes he would hear Urien working over the linkpearl. A lot of the time it would be shut off before anything important happened, but Inwa came to relish those moments. Although words were only spoken when Urien needed something or Inwa cheerily wanted to check in on the Elezen, it was comforting to even have the silence if coexistence.

Today Inwa found the linkpearl was off and he was a withering mess of tears and sobs on the side of the road leading to Gridania. He was on his way to meet with the Conjurers guild and offer what services he could. The road between Ul’dah and Gridania was long and arduous, but if he kept walking it would only be a few bells longer before he stepped through the gates to the city held within the Twelveswood.

His emotions took him before the city could, however. Since he was younger, he was told the pitfalls of losing control of himself and his feelings. When you have so much stored aether as he does, it becomes a hazard to not only yourself but others around him. It was why he was taught to push everything down and force out a happy persona. As long as he was happy and in control, ‘they’ wouldn’t come for him.

The sounds of his sniffles and sobs were deafening. Even with the sounds of the forest around him, it was like everything quietened to listen to him. The chittering of bugs, animals, and monsters was so slight that he could hardly believe they were around anymore. Not even the sounds of Chocobo’s could reach him anymore with how far behind him Bentbranch was. If he looked over his shoulder he could still see the stalls and wooden walls of the outpost, but he only felt like closing it all out.

If he could disappear, that would be perfectly okay too.

Yet, his silent wish would have to remain that. Around him, he could feel a familiar feeling of rising and bending aether. It wasn’t the same as a spell being cast. It was like the very fabric of the world was bending somewhere close to him. This feeling didn’t happen often. Something was forcing its way through the veil between worlds.

Picking his head up he cursed under his breath and found the ground below himself so he could push himself to his feet and hopefully retrieve his staff. He wouldn’t have time to brush the dust and dirt off of himself, but he would grip his staff tightly and quickly try to wipe at his face. It wouldn’t do to face a voidsent with reddened eyes and a wet face. There was nothing fearsome about a moistened aether snack.

“Couldn’t wait until I was done, could you,” He questioned, grumbling as he pushed his left foot in front of himself and placed himself in a fighting position. It was his fault, though. He let his depression get the better of him. He knew it would call to them like a beacon. It didn’t feel like he was giving off more of an aether signature than usual, but this feeling was unmistakable.

Just as he expected, the veil grew thinner and more apparent. The shimmer reflected light like glass, shining in every color where the light refracted and bounced around. It grew from the ground, up to a few fulum higher than his head. Inwa was used to the veil for voidsent being darker, emptier, but he wouldn’t take the chance. Placing a hand out in front of himself, he began his own cast. He wouldn’t wait for them to break through and attack him.

Before he could know what it was, the veil opened. The pitch black hole was ripped open like pinprick that grew quickly. Something large fell out of the tear, unceremoniously dumped on the dirt road before the darkness closed. Just like that, the visible veil shimmered brightly and then disappeared, going back to normal. Inwa had seen it many times before, but usually, Voidsent were more graceful than whatever was dumped before him.

Inwa stayed poised a few moments longer, watching the forest kick back up to his usual low rumble, life returning to the way it always seemed to be. For something he built up in his mind to have been a far bigger deal than he turned out to be, he was let down that he came out of the situation unscathed. His heart wasn’t thrumming against the chest. The numbing fear was missing.No nervous twitch was to be seen in his hand on his legs. Although he had been irritated to be interrupted when he was having an emotional downward spiral, he found he was far more upset now that nothing came out of this interruption.

That was when his eyes traveled down to see what was dumped before him. The dissipation of his disappointment was instant when his gaze fell on the Elezen was groaning and still trying to push himself up onto his feet. Inwa spent many quiet moments watching his man pick himself and his lance up, hold it with conviction and peer around as if he had never seen a forest before in a shocked stupor. Something about watching the whole scene play out reminded him of that day when he was dumped in Ul’dah.

Relaxing his stance, his shoulder’s slumped, letting the top of his staff point down towards the ground.

“Are you … okay? Ser?” Inwa inclined his head, taking a step and tilting in the direction the Elezen was looking to try and catch his line of sight.

What he found when they were looking at one another face to face was not what he was expecting. He knew this face. It wasn’t one from home. It wasn’t someone he knew from where he came from, but the inkling of recognition was scratching away from inside of him. Light eyes met red with only confusion, showing the recognition only went one way. The Elezen’s face was dirty, possible from his fall. Now that they were looking at one another, Inwa felt unsure. He was sure he felt the veil between worlds, but maybe it was different. He wasn’t familiar with every sort of teleportation or what was possible. It would have been just a very strange way of teleporting from very far away. The doubts only grew the longer their awkward stare continued.

Stepping back once more, Inwa reached up, pushing his bangs out of eyes and sliding his fingers back to make sure his bun was still tightly in place on the back of his head, mostly in nervousness.

“Are you heading to Gridania? It’s not far from here. I’m headed there myself. Iiiiif you wanted… we could go together? I mean! You don’t look like you meant to drop yourself here in the middle of the road.” He stammered, elongating vowels and overall sounding like a nervous mess. Inwardly he winced. Not only does he probably look like a wreck, he probably sounds like one too. Surprisingly, the Elezen nods, still seeming to be confused. Inwa watched him ease up a little, holding his spear at his side and peering around the forest around the two of them. It seemed that he would follow Inwa’s lead as far as getting there was concerned, and that was more than fine with him. It gave him time to wipe any remaining tears off his face and try to pat the dirt and dust off of his long lilac purple jacket.

“Ah!,” He called, remembering his manners as he stepped lively on the road towards Gridania, looking over his shoulder with a put-on smile, “I’m Sw’inwa. Just Inwa will do!.” The cheery tone was put on as well to complete the package.

“Elias,” the confused Elezen answered, looking down to the strange Miqo’te again.

It seemed they would be in each others company for the time.

[veridium]

“Comparing Notes”

Cassandra and Theia, ft. Josephine and Olivia

Summary: Some good friendly banter between the good friends as they watch their partners converse over Orleisian politics. I’ve always wanted to write this dynamic so here it goes!

--

The day was young, the dawn rising every warm body out of bed for another day of work at Skyhold. The Ambassador’s office didn’t need much time, though, to send for Olivia and Cassandra, sending an assistant directly to Cassandra’s quarters as soon as day broke. The two women were suspicious, but nevertheless showed up with open minds and sleepy faces: Cassandra, already in her day armor, and Olivia wearing one of her work dresses.When they arrived, Lady Josephine was sitting at her desk, her elbows on the table with her hands clasped in front of her face. She was grinning as Theia stood at her side, arms gathered behind her back. They looked fresh-faced for the early morning. 

“Ah, wonderful, you received my message!” Josephine leaned upright in her seat. “Come, come, I have much to discuss with the both of you.”

Olivia smiled, always easily moved by Josephine’s kind tact. “Of course, Ambassador, I would not have us keep you waiting.” At once, she approached her desk, standing directly in front of her as they embarked on the conversation at hand.

Cassandra, meanwhile, lagged behind, standing a couple yards from the desk. Something told her this was an Orleisian matter, and it made her hesitant to deliberate such a topic so early in the day. Seeing her reluctance to engage, Theia smirked, and meandered her way over to her friend’s side. She stood at her side facing her, and offered a piece meal smile. 

“If you think she has you up early with this lofty talk, you should have been there when we first awoke,” she played. Indeed, if Josephine Montilyet was anything, she was an early riser in both mind and body. It was one of the things Theia loved to be annoyed by. 

“I see,” Cassandra grinned slightly, “Well, Olivia will be much more proficient in this discourse than I. Why summon us both?” 

“She is sending you both to the Capitol for business. There are some suspicious activities going on with some aristocratic tradesmen, and Leliana suspects collusion with Venatori. That is why you will be going, to ensure Olivia’s protection whilst she manages the dirtier details.”

Cassandra’s brow furrowed. “Can you not send guards or a security detail?”

Theia’s lips parted, and she held her breath for a moment. It wasn’t that they couldn’t do so -- that was most definitely an option on the table -- but it was Theia’s personal insistence that it be this way. 

“Cassandra,” Theia exhaled the tension from her ribs, “Now that you and Olivia have...established, yourselves, I see no one better suited besides myself to ensure her safety. We still have a while before we are prepared to embark on the Wastes. I trust you will remain on top of your duties whilst traveling for lighter tasks.”

The Seeker lowered her chin, noticing the hushed tone the Inquisitor had adopted whilst Josephine and Olivia talked out loud rather gregariously. Her eyes flickered over to them: Olivia’s animated hands as she discussed some mouse-brained noble, Josephine smiling with critical pleasure. It was hard to believe she was experiencing such a sight: both her woman, and the Inquisitor’s, in the same place and time. Not to long ago she thought such a reality was impossible. 

“I will do as you ask, Inquisitor. Rest assured, she has the dedication of every inch of my person to her welfare.”

Theia smiled with relief, reaching a hand and lightly patting Cassandra’s shoulder. “That is what I like to hear from my most trusted friend.” She then turned to stand parallel to her, folding her arms with a new confidence in her posture. The women then both turned their attention to their lovers who were seemingly hip-deep in intrigue and gossip. It was quite a pleasant sight for an otherwise fatigued dawn. 

Taking it all in for a spare moment, Theia smirked under her breath. “To think, a month or two ago I would have never thought this to be feasible. You surprised everyone, Seeker, even your friend who thought she understood everything about your character.”

Cassandra did not turn her head, but she did offer a smile on the corner of her mouth. “I still have the potential for impulsiveness, at times.”

“Yes, but I don’t think she is a proof of your impulsiveness, my friend. I think, instead, she is evidence to the power of your intention, even as you are being proven misguided in your convictions.”

Cassandra chuckled low. “You are one to talk, Inquisitor.”

“Oh, yes, of course I am,” Theia’s eyes went to Josephine, and she could feel her heart ache with devotion seeing the way her mannerisms gracefully formulated themselves in her face. The way the light through the window refracted low colors of blue and green in her eyes, the way her brow furrowed when she was in the middle of making a most cunning point. 

“What did it for you, Seeker?” she asked quietly, her head leaning towards her from the side as she spoke quietly in the direction of her ear. 

Cassandra heard the question and was a bit unnerved by it -- such honesty and candid emotions were not uncommon between her and her friend, the Inquisitor, but being asked by Olivia’s closest friend was a bit daunting. It was as if she was being tested, albeit with the best intentions. 

But, then, her eyes locked on Olivia across the way. She watched her, and her breathing stilled. She was talking, telling some outlandish story, with her hands in the air waving in circles as she illustrated it. Her eyes were slightly glowing with honey metallic shades, her spirit lively even with just being asleep a half hour prior. Then, she did that thing -- one of those things Cassandra’s heart always skipped when she witnessed it -- she sent both hands deep into her waves of blonde hair, pushing them out of her face. As she did so, she smiled broadly, the dimples on either cheek out for all to see. She glowed, not in an artificial or overpowering way, but the way someone did when their heart was the most sincerely kind, her spirit matching its wholesomeness. 

She blinked, feeling captivated beyond propriety. 

Theia tilted her chin and gazed at her friend from her periphery, and it took everything in her not to start laughing with joyous compassion. She held her reaction in, waiting for the astute answer she thought she could always depend on Cassandra to provide. Turns out, she may have found the one person to throw a wrench in that consistency. 

The Seeker then took a breath, and cleared her throat quietly. 

“I suppose,” she adjusted her shoulders, “it would be the strength and brilliance of her character, Inquisitor.” 

Theia nodded a few times, amused, but not convinced. Witnessing such a loss of sense in a fleeting moment gave her the true answer to her inquiry. 

“Sure, Seeker. That was it.” 

Cassandra’s eyes narrowed a bit. “Inquisitor. I can be both beguiled by her beauty and her intellect!”

The elevated voice broke the discrete ambiance of their dialogue, and whilst Cassandra looked directly at Theia, both Josephine and Olivia turned and gazed at them, breaking their conversation at once. The silence in the room illuminated the truth of their dual discussions. Olivia, making eye contact with Cassandra, put her hand to her mouth to suppress her laughter.

Josephine lowered a brow, eyeing Theia with suspicion. “My Love, what on Earth are you sparring about?”

Theia’s expression turned to one of culpable mischief, and she shrugged. “Nothing, my dear. Just some friendly banter, is all.”

“Yes,” Cassandra followed up quickly, “nothing to worry about.”

Olivia burst out laughing then, unable to hold it in any longer. The “caught with our pants down” expression on her friend and her woman were insurmountable comedy. Then Josephine, in a small departure from decorum, started chuckling as well. Olivia’s laughter was infectious, especially when it was uninhibited. 

“Theia,” Olivia said melodically as she laughed, “leave Cassandra alone, would you? She faces enough argumentative questions from me in her day.”

Theia shook her head, her smile widening. “As you wish, Gem. Anything for you.” She invoked her nickname from their rebel days, and it always made Olivia feel bittersweetly touched. 

“Oh, you follow her directions the first time she dictates them?” Josephine quipped, watching as Theia made her way back over to her side, standing tall even for being caught in her machinations. Theia placed a hand on Josephine’s shoulder as penance, and promptly lowered herself and kissed the side of her head. “My Love, do not be offended. Only you have my soul’s devotion, surely.”

Watching them quarrel, Cassandra shook her head. She then turned and gazed back at Olivia, who’s wide smile was a recovery from her laughter. They exchanged a knowing look; seeing the way she lit up the room, the Seeker sneaked a smile her way. Interrogation or not, she knew there was no secret as far as Olivia was concerned.

[bsd-hq-writer]

I hEaRd U wRiTe BnHa... request for a gal that can invoque a Golem (made of whatever is surrounding her) that copies her movements. She's in 1-A, wanting to be a hero. But she's also an artist. Would fall for Hitoshi (cuz she's kind af, tho pretty smart and fun), Todoroki or Midoriya. Kissus! SZ

This is a great request, and I had a great time filling it! I went pure fluff with this one and I one-hundred percent did it with Hitoshi, cause this tired boy needs more love! ~Admin Ghost

Metal was great, there was never enough metal around and it always made your golems harder hitting as you directed them through the fight. Today’s one on one battles had you matched up against Sato, who had already taken down a couple of your golems, but you had kept them small enough that you still had the energy to make a couple more. The rubble of the battleground was great because you didn’t have to expend as much energy to break the materials up and assemble them into a golem, but finding good material was harder. Bricks were decent for structure, but not very durable, metal was much stronger but heavier to move, and concrete was plentiful, but again it wasn’t super durable either.

Sato rounded the corner of another building, already raging through another round of his sugar rush and despite the cuts he was covered with, from the glass fisted golem you used before this one, he was still going full steam. You got yourself into a fighting stance and your golem copied you. Every move you made was made by the golem, and it stayed at the exact distance from you that it was created at, like a puppet. You let Sato get closer before throwing your golem at him, the first punch was a write-off as he smashed right through it, but the second fist came immediately after, sending a swift uppercut into his jaw using a chunk of an I-beam you’d used some extra energy to detach. He bellowed and you let the broken arm batter him again in order to give you another opening to smash him with the metal fist. He was ready as he sent a flurry of punches directed at the shoulders of your golem and you instantly regretted not reinforcing those. You, however, didn’t regret putting another chunk of that beam into the golems foot as you smashed Sato right in the chest and knocked him flat.

In the end, you won due to the fact you could keep yourself relatively well hidden as not to get captured before you managed to score a knock out blow with a condensed Golem. Yet Aizawa still managed to find something to criticize.“With your position as hidden as it was, you could have held off on sending your golems out to fight, sometimes the best method of defense is to wait out your opponent, let them tire themselves looking for you, instead of wasting energy,” he lectured you tiredly, “but you still won, so you pass, you can leave now,”

Getting let out early was a relief since Aizawa was doing some personal matchups, he had agreed to let people go as they finished their fights. Honestly, some of them were clearly for one person’s benefit, but her’s had seemed rather mediocre, more of a battle of stamina between the two of them.

“If you think much harder, I wouldn’t be surprised if you started muttering,” a voice broke you from your train of thought.

“Oh geez, Shinsou, you startled me,” you let out the breath you had sucked in, “Want to got sit out on the lawn again? I got let out early,” you offered quickly. Shinsou had caught your eye in the sports festival, though he’d done it for a very different reason than anyone else. “What so I can lie around and let you drawn me some more?” he chuckled, “I’m not sure what to make of being your only model,” “You’re not-” you stopped mid-sentence as Shinsou’s quirk took hold and at his command, you spoke the truth, “You’re the only model in this sketchbook,- Geez, Shinsou!”

“Haha, it’s not like I didn’t already know, but hearing it from your mouth makes me feel somewhat better,” he chuckled as you punched his arm. He flinched but it was all show, he had been training lately, still making his bid for the hero course.

That had sparked a minor animosity between the both of you, a spot had been freed up in the hero course and you had been the general studies student picked to fill the hole. Not that you knew Shinsou much, other than from when the general studies classes got together, but he had really stood out in the sports festival, something you had missed due to an unfortunate bout of the flu. Even still you had been training hard and when the spot opened you didn’t hesitate to put your name forward. The day it was announced, and you earned a few glares, but none more spine-chilling than Shinsou’s.

A week after your transfer he caught you in the library watching footage from the sports festival and sketching him idly. He hadn’t actually told you that until you became friends, but by then you had filled half the sketchbook, he just accepted it. It took him a while to convince you he didn’t care, but after a while, you just started asking him when you wanted to draw.

“So how come I never see any of these drawings in the student gallery?” Shinsou asked idly as you drew him up in a tree that you insisted was perfect for some perspective sketches.

“Cause I mostly sculpt, you know with my quirk?” you said offhandedly, “I figured out I can half make my golems short of fusing their movements to mine,”

“Those are yours?!” Shinsou gasped.

You didn’t stop sketching, but there was a blush creeping up your face, “Yeah, I thought you knew,”

“No way!” He jumped out of the tree down to where you sat, “Which ones?!”

“The dragon and the swan are the two I have on display right now,” You fidget with your hands. You submitted your pieces anonymously and yet you found yourself telling Shinsou outright, you wondered if he was using his quirk again, but at the same time maybe you had just wanted to admit it to someone other than Midnight, who managed the art displays.

“I saw the swan go up and I was instantly taken by fascination and when I found it was anonymous it drove me crazy because…” he seemed to reign in his excitement at the last moment, “It’s fine, you have your reasons,”

“Shinsou…” you sighed. He looked really conflicted like he also wanted to admit something. He was a pretty private person after, and you seemed to realise just how close you two had grown in the past months.

“You can continue, I don’t mind, cause I know you,” You prompted him and he looked up into your eyes, slightly taken aback at your soft tone.

“I,” he cleared his throat nervously, “I thought it was so beautiful, but so deadly at the same time. The glass you used, the jagged edges, really made it meaningful. Swans are an icon of beauty, but at the same time are the most ill-tempered birds. Its such a powerful parallel, and glass reflects that, literally and figuratively. Glass shards are deadly, but at the same time they refract the light cast down on them into such wonderful patterns littered with tiny rainbows,” He began to ramble, “And the way the lights are set up its absolutely glittering, I couldn’t believe it was just broken glass,”

You couldn’t believe the way his eyes were basically shining, he genuinely loved it and you felt your heart swell, “I didn’t even think anyone would look that closely, the lighting is part of the sculpture, Midnight helped me set it up just right,”

“I had to spend a while looking at it from all angles, and I was amazed at just how much the perspective changes,” Shinsou took your hand in his and shook it, “I’m glad it was your art, because-”

You waited a moment for him to continue but he didn’t, “What is it? You can be honest,”

“Because it reminds me of you,” Shinsou said quietly, “Beautiful,”

That sent the blush that had been creeping up your face straight to your ears and your voice came out as a sputter of sounds. That drew a laugh from Shinsou that surprised you. He wasn’t the kind of guy to just burst out laughing, but here he was laughing at your nervousness so openly.

“I shouldn’t laugh, sorry,” He said after he regained composure.

“It’s fine,” you cut in before he could say more to embarrass you, “I like the sound of it, your laugh I mean,”

It was Shinsou’s turn to be surprised, and you didn’t miss the way his face changed colour before he put you under his quirk’s control.“Just stand still for a moment,” he told you as you froze in place obediently, even though you wanted to berate him for using his quirk now of all times, “Jeez, this isn’t exactly how I wanted to confess, but I can’t really see a way around it now,” You felt his control slip as he settled his hands lightly on your arms, squeezing them slightly before letting them slide down to link your hands.“I don’t really think I want a way out, do you?” You hummed looking up at him, sharing a moment of eye contact before his gaze fell again to your hands clasped together warmly.

“No, I like this,” he nodded slowly. It looked to you like he was waking up from a long sleep and you itched to be able to draw this moment so you could keep it forever, but you couldn’t bring yourself to scratch that itch, especially when he stepped closer, closing the space between you and slipping his hands around your waist, still holding you gently as if you were made of the same glass you used for your sculpture.

“I won’t break,” you let yourself press closer, your faces centimetres apart, “Will you?” you almost whispered as his head seemed to drift closer to yours.

You always imagined your first kiss would be explosive, full of sparks and fire. That had seemed like the perfect first kiss, the one all the girls at your middle school had raved about having behind the gym or in a supply closet, not that you’d really believe these girls really had liked the boys that much as the declarations came with a scoff and an inevitable denial.

This was different. This was perfect. You barely registered when your lips met, but suddenly he was so close and it was gentle and warm. This was a boy you genuinely liked, holding you and kissing you, somehow able to express himself so thoroughly with such a small gesture.

“Shinsou,” you sighed as you broke apart but when he shook his head, you had to smile and fix your error, “Hitoshi,”“F/N” he grinned, clearly satisfied with the situation at hand.