#while companies are out there using a soup of never ending new letters

[itachikun]

i'd love to read research on when and why non-english speaking subrepresented groups (living outside of english speaking nations) started identifying with color terminology for race, like "preto" "amarelo/yellow" etc. 30 years ago if you called someone "preto" or "amarelo", that used to be offensive. I dont think its a bad idea to reclaim words as they are indeed constantly evolving but there is a damage that is not yet too known about importing social fights and terminologies from other countries without the social movement themselves reclaiming it. the context is off, the purpose is off.

[ninacytosis]

For the time lost

Summary: Zuko wants to erase every reminder of his past mistakes, and Katara will take him on a journey to, quite literally, heal both of their scarrings.

Contains: Angst, Fluff, Katara has burns scars from Aang's first attempts to firebend, Katara tries to get over her resentment towards the FN, Zuko doesn't hate Azula.

Dear reader: I hope you enjoy it! <3 Let me know if you want me to continue posting.

Find chapter two here.

Also if you prefer reading in ao3 here's the link.

┊┊┊┊☆┊*🌙*┊☆┊┊┊┊

Chapter One

“Dear Zuko:

I hope this letter finds you well. Since you didn’t respond to my messages from the previous weeks, I couldn’t help but do a little investigation on my own. Aang told me he last visited the Fire Nation a couple of days ago, and to his surprise, you weren’t there. Honestly, this got me even more curious. What are you up to, Fire Lord? What juicy secret are you keeping from us?

Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that my dad made some octo-fish soup this weekend. I bet you have never tried it, well, maybe on your finding-the-avatar days you stopped by and tried. But that doesn’t seem like you. One day Sokka and I will cook you some, but only if you tell me why you’re being so distant lately!

We’re always here for you, Zuko.

Hugs,

Katara”

Zuko read the letter while waiting for the water to boil. He had never heard of octo-fish soup to this day, but he wasn’t opposed to trying new dishes. In fact, most of his favorite dishes weren’t even from the Fire Nation. After trying the Omashu noodles, who could blame him?

 “Dear Katara,

I hope you enjoyed that soup and the company of your family. Knowing that you spend good quality time with your family brings me so much joy and relief because all of you deserve it. I hope that every good memory makes up for every bad one, though unfortunately, healing doesn’t work like an exchange, does it?

As the Fire Lord, certain duties demand my presence in the other nations. So, as much as I wish my lack of responses were due to a secret vacation of mine, they are more like business trips. Might as well call me the Fire Businessman now. (Don’t let anyone read this to Toph because she most certainly will call me that.)

It was nice hearing from you. Send as many letters as you please. Even if I’m not home, I’ll promise I’ll read them. By the way, how are your little waterbenders doing? I’m sure it was harder to handle Aang, you know, back in our teaching-the-Avatar days.

Best,

Zuko”

He sat down and frowned at the piece of paper. It’s not that he wanted to hide things from her, or his friends. But it was almost embarrassing to write and send a letter describing his last weeks. It was a path of emotions he was unready to walk through. She would probably forget it in a couple of weeks anyway, and then he would be able to tell her everything.

“Dear Zuko,

Or should I say, Dear Fire Liar?

Even though I don’t have a lot of time in my hands, I still managed to get some information about your mysterious “business” trips. Sokka’s been of great help, for once, and a little bird told him that people from the Northern Water Tribe have spotted you in very weird places. But being honest, I still don’t know what is it that you’re hiding so hard. You got yourself an Ice Lady?

On another note, it’s very exciting to see both of the Nations exchanging goods and, you know, not trying to slit each other’s throats. I always wanted the war to end of course, but it was very hard to imagine a future so full of prosperity. It’s hard to grasp sometimes.

I hope I’m not getting overly emotional but it makes me think about my mom a lot. She never lived in a world without war in it, isn’t that fucked up? Some days I feel a strange guilt running through my body because I get to move on and she will always stay there. This seems like I’m getting all over the place. I don’t usually say this stuff to anybody, but I know you would get it. And today seems like a good day for letting it all out.

When I’m down, I like to think that she sees the world through the eyes of Sokka, or dad’s, or even mine. It’s silly, I know. But it makes me feel closer to her.

Well, enough about me. Tell me more about your trips, about your uncle’s new place. I’m dying to know. Maybe next time you should try doing business in the Southern Water Tribe and pay us a visit. We all miss you!

Hugs,

Katara”

Zuko took a long breath. No amount of tea would cure the unmeasurable shame that he felt reading Katara’s letter. He knew how empathetic she was, and how much he loved her family, and he could never forgive himself for what his family did to the world. Every day he looked at himself in the mirror and was reminded of a past he could never erase, his face became no longer his once his dad put his palm on it.

His sudden state made him forget about Katara’s little quest. He was not only full of shame but also full of passion to help others. Every reminiscent of the war also reminded him of the resilience of people during difficult times. And every time Katara changed the subject, Zuko needed to excruciatingly tell her how much her strength motivated him to be better. And after writing that letter, he decided it was time to invite her to the palace.

[astaroth1357]

Demigod MC Series: Hades

Demigod MC Series: Intro, Aphrodite, Hermes, Hades

Lucifer

Well… this is awkward…

He’s actually met Hades multiple times for business reasons (Underworld-Devildom relations are amiable if not a little odd. Hades was something of an uncle figure to Diavolo as a wee demon lad, which should speak for itself really). He’s a gloomy fellow and not much for chit-chat, but he never thought they’d end up taking one of his kids by accident…

He had to send a formal apology letter to the Lord of the Underworld immediately, but thankfully he didn’t seem very concerned for his offspring - if anything he appeared to think the Devildom would suit them nicely which was… concerning.

And he was not wrong. The darkness, demons, ghouls, and frights of the Devildom hardly seemed to faze the MC, if anything they fit right in. He’d dare say they were thriving if not for one thing…

They were So. Damn. Bleak.

Getting a smile out of this one AT ALL was rare. For once he felt the need to check up on someone constantly just to be sure they were alright... They’d keep assuring the House that they’re not actually as sad as they look but it’s hard not to assume…

He was a little mortified at first when they first met Cerberus cause… well they called him “Cerbi” and the massive demonic guard dog rolled over for them like a Golden Retriever! 

Apparently he and the Cerberus that they knew are from the same litter and they must have smelt familiar... He would have probably limited their interactions just to keep his dog on his side but after seeing the MC smile for once while they played with the big oaf well…

Cerberus got a new playmate and the MC got a massive, three-headed therapy animal. Win-win. 😌

Mammon

Do ya really gotta be such a downer all the time, MC…? 😔

He thinks they’re nice, like really nice. They’re always super concerned when his brothers attack him or when he gets injured, but he’s pretty sure it’s because they’ve seen people die before so…

At first, he had no idea why he had to be saddled with this depressing wisp of mortal but over time he started to understand that they weren’t all that sad. They had… Resting Gloom Face? Is that a thing? 

They also had a different way of seeing things. He could win the lottery and they’d tell him to stay inside so he wouldn’t get hit by lightning or if he pissed off the wrong people, they’d joke about him keeping his fingers and toes. Dark stuff, but not intended to be so… well morbid.

However, what he eventually found out that the REAL advantage to having a Hades kid in the Devildom was that nothing scared them. Literally nothing. Not even the ghosts - which to reiterate, are terrifying!

Cue Mammon getting dragged to horror movies nights with his brothers and pulling the MC along to be his personal security blanket. He’ll hold onto them for dear life as they just pat his head or something, watching and not even flinching at the jumpscares.

The first time the House had an unexpected power outage he clung onto the back of their shirt like a lost child while they calmly looked for the circuit-breaker...

If he could jump into their arms every time something scary happened like Scooby-Doo, he absolutely would. His brothers make fun of him, but after seeing the MC handle Cerberus like a puppy any time something frightens them they hide behind the mortal as well…

Leviathan

In some ways, he totally relates to their moodiness but come on! Who can still look so sad when watching The Magical Ruri Hanai: Demon Girl?? Ruri-chan can make anyone smile! 😠

When he first met the MC, he was a little confused about why they didn't find him intimidating at all. He even reverted to his demon form and showed his fangs but no dice! All they said was, "I've walked along the edge of Tartarus. You're gonna have to try a lot harder than that, buddy…" 

That was probably his first sign that the "human" wasn't normal…

After Mammon told him who their Dad was, things made a lot more sense. A child of Hades in the Devildom? That's ironic enough to be its own anime plot!! They certainly felt like an angsty protagonist at times. 🤷‍♀️

Truth be told, they could relate to each other in a lot of ways. You wouldn't think that an offspring of the Underworld and a demonic shut-in would have much in common but the one thing they share between them is that sense of never really fitting in.

Turns out that Hades kids are black sheep, even among other demigods, and Levi? Well, he's had trouble relating to others since his angel days. He and the mortal were like off-beat kindred spirits!

Which, I mean, you wouldn't get just by looking at them together. Levi being the impassioned super-otaku rambling their ear off while his somber companion would just go along with him quietly, but hey, there's more beneath the surface. Probably. 

Now if he could just get them to cosplay as the Lord of Emptiness with him… They'd be perfect! Perfect he says!!

Satan

Highly considered drugging their food with antidepressants for a while… 

This was before getting to know them better, of course, but for the first couple months he honestly couldn't shake the feeling that the mortal looked miserable! 

Now, he's one to particularly care for the comfort of strangers, but just looking at them like that every day would sour his own mood quite considerably. It was very irritating...

It was only on closer inspection that he realized there was something else at play, though.

The mortal was different - even for a demigod he imagined. They took to the Devildom easily and the realm almost accepted them right back!

The flora looked better in their presence, the hellish beasts that roamed the wilds would roll over for them, and they even seemed to be welcomed in by the never-ending shadows… 

It was fascinating. Like the effects of the Underworld were baked into their DNA and mingled with the environment around them… Two layers of darkness coexisting within one person.

I mean, what other creature - other than Lucifer - could ride Cerberus around like a pony??

Had they not been so kind, they'd probably scare him shit-less... Their potential power was too great to ignore. But after getting used to their gloom, at least they made for pleasant company. 🤷‍♀️

Satan likes them well enough, but even still he has to wonder just what they were capable of… you know?

Asmodeus

Oh. My. WORD. What a buzzkill!!!

Really, the new mortal was no good at parties or pictures for that matter!

Not because they looked bad, or even because he couldn't get them to smile, but because GHOSTS would always photobomb any pictures they were in!! 😫

One time he got a selfie with them on the couch and a creepy ghost child could be seen hiding behind the cushions so NOPE. No more photos with the mortal around!!

Aside from that, he couldn't say the mortal was all bad or anything…They were pretty friendly, despite their general look and feel. 

Though, personally, he thought they wore far too much black... Even in the Devildom, there's normally a pop of color, you know? Was that just the Hades dress code?

And you want to know the weirdest thing? Despite everything about them screaming "Doom and Gloom," they're straaaangely popular among the RAD dating scene…

Like. Not as some heartthrob, "Love'em and Leave'em"-type, but he's found that there's a LOT of his demonic classmates who think they're cute or have a crush on them in some way…

Naturally, he can see the appeal of the mysterious, moody demigod with a dark, troubled past. It's just the demigod in question is completely oblivious to it! 🤷‍♀️

He tried to give them dating tips or play matchmaker from time to time but eventually gave up when it was clear they weren't interested. Alas, students of RAD, this is one forbidden fruit that refuses to be shared…! Such a tragedy… 😔

Beelzebub

They remind him of Belphie… like. A lot.

The similarities were obvious. They had a similar feel, made similar jokes, and even the same somewhat dreary attitude about them...

If he were being honest, at the beginning there were times when he'd open up to them a lot more than he intended because he'd forget that he wasn't actually talking to Belphie…

Thankfully, he knew better than to try and treat them like his replacement or anything. They were two different people after all. But it didn't stop him from feeling extra protective around them for a while.

Besides, there was ONE thing that set them leagues apart from Belphie and that was the fact they were a shit cook. Not quite as bad as Solomon but uh… Actually no, that's a closer call than it has any right to be...

Apparently, Hades kids don't need to eat as much and when you hang out with shades and skeletons for most of your life, you don’t really worry about making food that's any better than… "Well, technically it's edible." 🤷‍♀️

Their food won't kill a person like Solomon's, but you WILL start seeing stuff you probably shouldn't. He tried their "soup" once and swore he saw the ghost of his mother… and he doesn't even have a mother!!!

He swears that if he ever sees the MC and Solomon working together in the same kitchen he's skipping town… Whatever culinary abomination the two of them could create would probably gain sentience and eat HIM instead. He's always figured he'd go out with Death by Food, but not like that!! 😫

Belphegor

Ever meet someone who’s like looking in a mirror? Yeah, he’s getting those vibes…

He never expected the "human" to be so similar to him, it was kind of uncanny.

Upon first laying eyes on each other there was a pause… then a squint… and then… a nod.

Honestly, their combined dry wit, dark humor, and pessimistic outlook played off of each other surprisingly well. Too well for him to hate, really.

Not that it mattered because they didn’t believe him for a second when he tried to trick them (they had dealt with loads of lying monsters before). He hated to admit it, but they had a good head on their shoulders and knew better than to trust a locked up demon…

And yet, they seemed to stick around with him anyway. Because of the good conversation or just empathizing with his loneliness was anyone's guess. 🤷‍♀️

Sometimes they'd come up and sit outside the door in comfortable silence… Or they'd talk about whatever:

MC: *sitting out by the attic with their back against the door* So what happens to demons when they die…?

Belphie: *laying on the floor on the other side, staring at the ceiling* Depends on the kind. If I die, I'll just reform later.

MC: Like a reincarnation?

Belphie: Eh. *shrugs* Maybe. Haven't died yet.

MC: You could die in there, you know.

Belphie: *throws a side glare* Well thanks for bringing that up…

MC: *shrugs* What? It's true. But don't worry, I won't let you. *small-ish smile*

Belphie: *stares at them wide-eyed and pink-cheeked before turning on his side quickly* Ugh… whatever…

They did their word, somehow. They eventually got the door open and let him out, but by that time the anger was gone and he was just happy to finally talk to them face-to-face...

And good thing too, because apparently it's not smart to fight a death-child in what is essentially their element - as he saw when they summoned an army of skeletons to kick Levi's ass when he cheated them in Devil Cart...

He would not have lasted in that fight... Dodged a bullet there. 

[missvifdor]

At the request of @chimamire-no-sakura, MC OC YUU's reaction if she is constantly ill due to the overload of her work Crowley:

Dorm leaders:

Riddle : He would be very concerned. Let the principal ask for help a few times, that's okay. But pass everything on to MC without worrying about the fact that she has to manage school work and that she had to face several Overblots without Crowley pointing the tip of his nose to come and help them and abuse his kindness, that our red head will not be able to take it! Would be able to threaten Crowley to put a collar on him or find a rule that says this kind of behavior is seen as abuse and that he would report it if he didn't stop there!

Leona: Leona is the first to exploit people (* cough * Ruggie * cough *) to do his chores for Him. But unlike, he would never allow himself to make Ruggie work to the point of making him sick, so when you go after his herbivore the lion will roar! Would be able to go find Crowley in his office and threaten to make him disappear with his One Magic. He'll even convince Crowley to let MC have preset schedules so that she can rest and make up for missed hours of sleep with him.

Azul: Poor Crowley, our Octoman already has it in the palm of his hand. So when he sees how much the NRC Principal is exploiting our dear MC, he makes sure the birdman understands his pain. Will have no problem blackmailing him and threatening him to reveal his darkest secrets without forgetting the fact that he is left a student without magic to face Overblots in his place and to make her live in conditions of deplorable life. It would be a shame if the local press learned of these unfortunate events, wouldn't it? He'll make sure Jade and Floyd keep an eye on this birdman. In the meantime, he's going to give MC well-deserved days off and offer her some sweets to "try out what's new on the menu".

Kalim: He's worried to death! It's not right of the Principal to give so much work when MC is completely exhausted and sick! Would ask Jamil for advice and in the meantime take care of MC giving her rest and good food!

Vil: Vil is for hard work, but this is too much! Watch how that pretty face is now covered in dark circles, stressful pimples, those dry cracked lips and sickly complexion! It's absolutely shameful (Not for MC of course. It is for Crowley)! Vil would use his notoriety to manipulate Crowley, threaten to use his popularity to get him fired on the spot (and the Birdman knows full well that a dedicated Fanbase is very effective with petitions and mass reporting). Our Roi des Poisons will then take care of giving MC revitalizing potions and healing so that she can relax and rest, Vil will pamper her like a queen.

Idia: Would be very concerned about the situation! His favorite Waifu is not well and it breaks his heart! Then he remembers that he is a genius and that digging up secrets well hide in the interest and one of his many talents! Idia will certainly start digging up shameful photos of our dear bird man and posting them all over social media. He will also hack teachers' private files and threaten to sink the school if Crowley does not calm down, it would be a shame if the end of year exam papers were revealed to everyone for so little. is this not ? He would then certainly invite MC to come and rest in his room and they would eat lots of junk food while watching animated films.

Malleus: So there ... If the NRC doesn't end up in little ash heaps, Crowley will be lucky! Angry Malleus Draconia is not a pretty scene. Crowley still has enough savvy not to be in the bad graces of one of the most powerful wizards of Twisted Wonderland and what is more, a future king! Our Principal will certainly try to be forgiven from Malleus and MC by offering more pocket money to buy food, some small repairs to Ramshackle here and there and beg MC for mercy. After all, isn't she so nice? Meanwhile, while Crowley renovates Ramshackle and takes care of his own work, Malleus takes care of MC by letting her sleep in Diasomnia's prettiest room, passionately chatting about gargoyles, and improvising a little picnic in a corner of the forest that Malleus particularly appreciates because you can observe the stars perfectly.

The Vice-leaders:

Trey: He activates his "mother hen" mode! MC is no longer allowed to get out of bed until she is perfectly rested and regained her strength! Trey certainly wouldn't see himself threatened by the Principal, but he would take care of MC's work in addition to his own and enlist the help of our duo Adeuce so that MC can recover as soon as possible! He will cook good little meals full of vitamins and maybe soups too. No one is allowed to come and disturb MC while she is asleep and would certainly bring out his authoritarian side if he hears too much noise likely to disturb the young woman's rest.

Ruggie: Ruggie can understand what it's like to be exploited, but he gets something out of it. He's already very busy with Leona and her schoolwork, so he can't help her with that, but he's trying to cheer her up. An example, he shares with her her donuts (which is a great gesture of affection from her) and making her laugh. Sometimes he would drop one of his tasks to make one of MC's in its place and that she could rest. And maybe even let her stroke his hyena ears, it's a win-win combo, isn't it?

Jade: Well, well. The poor little thing here, does she need a little help? Jade would love to be his serving knight. While he distracts her from her extra work to show her her terrariums and slip a few drops of the sleeping potion into her drink to go to bed on the sofa in Azul's office, Jade thinks it would be very beneficial to go visit dear Crowley, it's been a long time since Octavinelle has done business with him. Our dear moray eel is quite up for bringing his dear twin with him, after all the crazier we are the more we laugh, right? Jade can assure you that after this charming, perfectly friendly visit, MC will be relieved of many obligations. Let our dear human rest and when she is well, let's celebrate with a long and exciting hike during which a lovely picnic awaits them at the end of the path. Jade has made her favorite chocolate fondant, it would be silly to waste such a great treat if she isn't fit enough to enjoy it.

Jamil: He's very worried even if he doesn't show it. Due to his own obligations, he cannot help MC but he can convince Kalim to describe a letter to his father to stop the donations that the Al-Asim family makes to the school. Kalim will not notice the "manipulation" and will think that the idea came from him and Jamil will not be in trouble. Once Crowley is bold enough to come to Scarabia to talk about the letter and the gifts, it's Jamil who takes control of the conversation without giving the impression. He convinces the Principal to stop giving unjustified and excess work to MC, in exchange the donations will come back. But this birdman must stop treating MC like his servant. Once the deal is done, Jamil cooks MC's favorite meals and makes sure she gets a good rest. When she gets better, a banquet will be organized to celebrate her recovery.

Rook: Oh Oh! But what happened to that graceful face? It has its charm, of course, but it lacks life and joy! Hmm? Oh, this is the job Crowley is supposed to do but has MC to do it for him? These are not manners, they are sorely lacking in elegance. Well ... The bird hunt is on. Rook is going to chase Crowley so hard and so viciously that our dear Principal will develop paranoia. Birdman nearly had a heart attack when an arrow brushed too close by when he was in the hallway giving MC even more work! And every time Crowley wants to give more work or blackmail him for money and essentials Ramshackle, a new arrow appears. Always closer, always more threatening. Our dear hunter said to himself that it would be nice to take MC to take his mind off things, why not have a barbecue? He will personally take care of the meat. Everyone loves chicken.

Ortho: Has already offered to destroy the school with his self-integrating weapons and threatened to reduce Crowley to ashes with his subatomic cannons. No one destroys the health of their Big Sister without impunity! From the day Wheat Robot Boy stormed into his office, the Principal has avoided the flaming haired child and MC like the plague.

Lilia: He will act like the responsible adult that he is and his fatherly side will immediately come out! Lilia would be able to walk into the Principal's office with the biggest and brightest smile in Twisted Wonderland. He would obviously be accompanied by a few agents from the Child Protection and Aid Service, these people would be delighted to have a little conversation with the bird man and he cannot flee because he is trapped. in his own office. While all these beautiful people are having this lovely conversation, Lilia is going to take MC to Diasomnia and he will make his special recipe for oyster and tomato pancakes, it will surely cheer her up! And surely taking a restorative nap in the company of Silver, that would be a charming picture to watch!

[irrlicht-writes]

of Rex Lapis and the water's embrace

The rock persisted for centuries. Unaffected by the wind and the weather, it was to remain forever. And yet, recently, the tide had been rising and the water hit against the stone. Stubbornly, the stone would endure the fluid form and persist still. But in the battle of adaptability and endurance, adaptability would always win; and the water tore the rock down. The stone would crumble; and the pillar would be no more. The rocks fell deep, deeper than they ever had before and the water caught them gently in their embrace. | "Tell me a story."

Ao3

Please read part 1 here

*

The tea was too hot to drink.

Childe had seemed distressed when they had talked on the pier, and Zhongli was unsure of how he should proceed. He was aware that after he gave away the gnosis to the eighth harbinger, Childe had been upset. He only wasn’t sure why exactly. Zhongli had simply fulfilled his contract. Childe had no reason to be mad.

Regardless, Zhongli had decided to let him calm down a while before he would attempt a conversation again. Childe had a wild temper at the best of times and it was generally unwise to anger him unnecessarily. The boy would go into the wilds of Liyue and kill things to his heart’s content and then they could have a civilised discussion again.

Although, Zhongli had to admit he missed his dates with the harbinger.

It was hard these days to find someone who’d be willing to listen to him ramble in full.

He checked his tea again. It was still too hot.

As he sat waiting, he pulled the Old Stone out again. He missed Azhdaha. Seeing him again had simply reminded him of how much he was missing his old friend – but on the other hand, it had been wonderful to be able to talk to him again, to maybe even ease his pain.

He wondered if Childe would be interested to hear stories about Azhdaha.

They were so alike, in heart. Big and powerful – and yet they possessed a gentle heart inside of them.

Zhongli smiled at his stone.

He hoped that Childe enjoyed his gift. The sword that never made it into the hands it had been destined for – mayhap this had been fate. Maybe Guizhong had never been meant to hold this sword and perhaps Zhongli had been a fool for keeping it all these years. Childe would put it to good use, he was sure of it.

The boy was one of the most formidable warriors he had met in recent years. He hadn’t been what Zhongli had expected in the slightest.

I shall send you my eleventh, my dearest Tartaglia. The vanguard of my forces shall serve your contract well, Rex Lapis.

The vanguard of the Tsaritsa... Zhongli had expected an old man, rich in battles and weary of heart, much like Zhongli himself.

And instead, he had received a bright-eyed, young boy with a blinding smile.

A joke, he had believed.

~*~

“Hi! My name’s Tartaglia, but you can call me Childe! You’re Zhongli, right?”

There was a young boy standing in the Funeral Parlour. His eyes were a dull blue, and his unkempt hair was orange. He grinned brightly and extended his hand in a greeting.

“Her Majesty said I’d find you here. Are you hungry? Let’s go get some food!”

There was no waste in this young boy. He reached forward and grabbed the stunned Zhongli, pulling him outside into the sun.

“Haha, it’s so hot here in Liyue! It’s going to be hard to get used to that... maybe they have thinner uniforms here. Ah, I shall just get used to it, I guess.”

Hold on.

This was Tartaglia? This young boy was supposed to be the vanguard of the Tsaritsa? No. This must be a joke.

Perhaps... perhaps this boy was the assistant of the harbinger, yes? If the real Tartaglia might not wish to deal with the outside world due to weariness or simply because he wished to remain hidden, then Zhongli could understand.

Yes. Yes, this sounded very plausible. He must have hired this boy to be his public face, to allow him to work in the background undeterred.

He did not like being deceived but he would insist on meeting the real harbinger soon. In the meantime, he shall entertain this young boy.

“How can I serve you?”

Zhongli hadn’t even noticed that they sat down at Wanmin Restaurant.

“Hi! I’m fresh off the boat and I would like some nice Liyuean food. I’m not picky; just give me what’s good! What about you, Zhongli? I didn’t stun you into silence, did I?”

Zhongli blinked. “Ah... no, you did not, I apologise for my lack of manners. Miss Xiangling, I would like a bamboo shot soup and my ah, associate would take the Crystal Shrimp.”

The boy grinned at him.

“Well, I’ll trust you, then!”

Xiangling smiled and wandered off. Now, Zhongli wasn’t sure what to say. This boy truly had come in like a hurricane.

“Sorry for dragging you away like that, but I’ve only just arrived and the bank already wants to drown me in paperwork. I know we were supposed to meet tomorrow, but I just had to get away, you know?”

“The bank? You mean the Northland Bank?”

“Yeah! I’m supposed to supervise it a bit while I’m here. Apparently, the debt collectors have gotten a bit too soft around these parts, so I’m meant to rough them up again. I wasn’t told about the paperwork though, so that’s a bummer.”

A harbinger would not talk like this, correct? This boy couldn’t have seen more than twenty summers.

“You have knowledge about collecting debts?”

“Yeah, I guess. Before I became a harbinger, I’ve been a debt collector for a while. Not very long though, because I kept killing the clients. And, y’know, dead guys don’t pay their debts after all. But I’m a harbinger now, so who cares!”

Tartaglia laughed and Zhongli blinked.

This boy could not be the Tsaritsa’s vanguard in a hundred years.

“Wha – what are those?!”

The boy’s hand was cramping around the chopsticks.

“Those are chopsticks. You use them to eat your foot... no, don’t stab the shrimp.”

“Well, then how... how do you use them?! This is impossible!”

Zhongli chuckled. “They are an important part of Liyuean cuisine, Childe. Please learn how to use them.”

“How do you guys not starve to death?! What’s wrong with forks?!”

~*~

“Yaahoo, your tea is cold, old man.”

Hu Tao’s voice tore Zhongli out of his thoughts. He looked at the Funeral Parlour Director for a second before he confirmed her words. Indeed, his tea has gotten cold. He sighed.

“What’s got your panties in a twist to make you sigh like that?”

Zhongli frowned. “I do not –“, but then he decided to just not indulge her.

“Are there any clients?”

Hu Tao pouted.

“No, there are no customers. It’s so boring. Nobody dies anymore these days. Hey, where’s your Fatui boyfriend? He always brought in good business.”

“I have not seen Childe in a few days. Last I saw him he did not seem to be in the mood for providing business, Director.”

In fact, Childe had seemed very depressed, so unlike the boy he had gotten to know.

Hu Tao started to whine. “Boooring. Go to him and make him kill some people, I’m so booreed.”

Zhongli closed his eyes and took a deep breath. In, and out. In, and out. Just this easy. This child was going to drive him insane. Childe was not a dead-body-factory.

Although, admittedly, he had provided a lot of bodies for Hu Tao during his stay here.

The two of them even got along. Hu Tao had convinced Childe to partake in several pranks and in almost all of them, Zhongli had been the butt-end of the joke.

“If there is nothing to do, I shall take a walk.”

“Go drag your boyfriend’s ass back here! And bring some dead people! I need a booming business!”

Zhongli decided to ignore her as he pocketed the Old Stone and left the Parlour.

Maybe he should check on Childe. At least, he could inquire whether or not the boy liked his new weapon.

The guard at the door barely recognised Zhongli, as he was busy writing a letter.

As usual, the bank was relatively quiet. The local manager, Andrei, and Mister Qi were talking to each other, presumably about the latter taking on a loan. They did not interest him however. Zhongli headed straight to the bank’s teller, Ekaterina. She’s always been his go-to whenever he had been looking for Childe.

“Good day, Miss Ekaterina. I was wondering –“

“Master Childe is not with you?”

Zhongli frowned. “I – no, he is not. Is something wrong?”

Despite the mask, Zhongli could tell how worried she was.

“Master Childe has left early the last evening and when he did not return, I thought he might be with you – please tell me I haven’t lost a Harbinger. Oh, I can’t even imagine what they’ll do to me. Tell me he’s fine. I don’t care if it’s a lie, just tell me he’s making a bad joke and is harassing Vlad outside the door.”

Childe was missing?

“Are you sure he is not just out for a few days?”

She shook her head. “No, he always tells me for how long he’ll be gone, and we have a matter for him to attend to tomorrow morning. In fact, I only know he has left is because I saw him leave. I checked his office for any sort of note but there was nothing which leads me to believe he intended to be back by now. Oh Seven, what if something’s happened to him? The Tsaritsa will lynch me.”

Childe was strong. Nothing could’ve happened to him, right?

“I will find him.”

Without waiting for an answer, he left the bank.

~*~

The young fake harbinger was a friendly sort. Despite Zhongli’s irritation of not meeting the real harbinger, he could not complain about the company of the fake Tartaglia.

“Xiansheng, do you really need to buy these rocks...?”

“They are of a quality made, Childe, you shouldn’t let an opportunity like this pass you by.”

The boy behind him groaned but paid the merchant. Zhongli took the pair of Jade and pocketed them. Some would wonder where he’d put all of these wonders, and he would never tell.

“Shall we eat, then?”

The boy looked up and blinked at the sun.

“Yeah but we gotta hurry. I have a training session right after lunch and it’s hard enough to keep these rat-tags together at the best of circumstances.”

The harbinger Tartaglia, the boy meant. Often, Zhongli had been tempted to sneak after the boy, trying to catch a glimpse of his real contact. But he, perhaps most of all, knew how difficult it could be to maintain their secret identity.

“Is it hard to train new recruits?”

Childe shrugged. “No, not really. It’s more about what they expect, you know? I’m not the boot camp. I’m not evaluating them, they’re already in. They just have no idea how to properly hold their weapon the right way around. I swear, I have held so many rifles in my life that you’d think I’d be replacing my bow. And you know the worst? The Hydro Gunners keep coming to me like I know what they’re doing. Just shoot your bubbles, man! I’ve never had a tank like that before.”

“You hold a hydro vision, though.”

“Yeah, but do I look like a healer to you? I heal my enemies from their pain by ending their misery. But somehow they expect me to know how theirstuff works. Just hit stuff until it works, it’s not that difficult.”

They arrived at Wanmin Restaurant and Chef Mao came to their table. Apparently, Xiangling was out today, gathering ingredients.

“We’ll take the Chicken Tofu Pudding and the Cured Pork Dry Hotpot, please.”

Childe smiled at him. “We should take a walk sometime.”

“Childe, we take walks all the time.”

“Yeah, I know, but I meant outside! Outside the Harbour. I haven’t really been, you know? There’s so much for me to do in the city that I haven’t really gotten a chance to see the landscape. And I figured, since you know everything about Liyue, you’d be a perfect tour guide!”

That was true. Childe had been for about two weeks and he had seldom left the Bank without Zhongli’s company. A young boy like Childe would grow restless in a city like this, especially considering how he’d grown up in a small village surrounded by trees. So he nodded.

“If your training session does not take too long, we may take stroll tonight.”

The training session did indeed not take long and Zhongli presumed that Childe had simply left early since the real harbinger was going to lead the training anyway.

Brash as ever, Childe stormed the Parlour and leaned over the counter, staring expectedly at Zhongli. He was not deterred though and kept going through his papers.

“Yaahoo, who are you?!”

Oh no. He forgot about Director Hu. He would –

“Hi, I’m Childe! Are you the leader here?”

“Before you stands mighty Hu Tao, 77th Director of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlour! Are you the guy who keeps stealing my consultant?”

Childe laughed. “Indeed I am! In fact, I’m here to steal him away again.”

“Hmmm, you have the deadest eyes I’ve ever seen. You’ll be a customer soon, yeah? If you sign up now, I can give you a coupon.”

Childe waved his hand. “Thanks, but I’m not going to die here. If I do, it’ll be in the cold embrace of my home. But I’ll take coupons!”

Hu Tao grinned and shoved them into Childe’s hands. “Effective only if used within three weeks!”

“Well, I’ll be sure to drop some bodies, then.”

Zhongli stood up quickly before this could escalate any further.

“Childe, let us leave lest it gets too late.”

“Oh, right! Bye, Hu Tao! It was nice meeting you!”

Zhongli practically dragged him out of the Parlour before Hu Tao could respond.

“I had no idea the Director was that young!”

“She has taken over at a very young age, indeed. At some times, I think she does not respect the dead enough, but she is surprisingly loyal to the traditions.”

As Zhongli was dragging him away, Childe looked over his shoulder, seemingly deep in thoughts.

“Anyway, where are we going?”

“It’s a place called Yaoguang Shoal. You will like it.”

“Looks peaceful,” Childe commented and Zhongli nodded.

“There is little here for the Treasure Hoarders to find here. This place is not known for its hidden treasures.”

Childe crossed his arms and looked over to the shore.

“My siblings would love to run across here, I bet.”

“Oh?”

Childe grinned. “Yeah, it’s kinda hard to do that back home, you know? They could even run bare-foot here. You know what...”

The boy turned over and got rid of his shoes, wiggling his toes into the sand. He grabbed Zhongli’s hand and pulled them both down onto the ground.

“Let’s watch the sunset, yeah?”

Zhongli complied. There was, after all, no reason not to.

“What are these called?”

Childe had picked up a conch and held it up to Zhongli’s face.

“They are called Starconches. They say if you hold it to your hear, you can hear the longing call of the sea.”

The boy held the starconch up into the sky, looking at it. “I’ve never seen a seashell with a star on it.”

He proceeded to hold it next to his ear, looking at his toes that were still buried in the sand. He seemed to be listening intently. Then, he laughed.

“Oh, what a siren call indeed. It’s like a call from the very deepest depth, from within all the endless void and darkness at the bottom of the world. So enticing, but I’m not going to drown.” A moment of pause. Then: “No use in hiding back there!”

In a flash, Childe was standing upright, a spear made out of hydro in his hands. Zhongli had barely enough time to turn around to see the Treasure Hoarders before Childe ran over to them.

With each of his attacks, Childe’s weapon shifted fluidly between the spear and what seemed to be two daggers. The red scarf on his back was glimmering with pure hydro energy as Childe spun around himself to knock the Treasure Hoarders out.

The boy turned around, shouldering his spear and grinning at Zhongli. “Do you think that there are any Ruin Guards about?”

~*~

Childe was not on the Guili Plains. After hearing the harbinger had gone there just days prior, Zhongli believed he might’ve returned but there were no hydro traces of his friend.

Why are there no Glaze Lilies on Guili Plains?

Zhongli looked at the desolate plains. He still remembered a time in which the Lilies would bloom plenty. In his ears, he could still hear Guizhong’s song to them. He has never been able to sing it, no matter how hard he tried. But right now, she didn’t matter.

Zhongli turned around again to head to Yaoguang Shoal, hoping to find Childe there. Alas, he was disappointed.

Where else could the young harbinger be?

Maybe... the sword. He closed his eyes. He might be able to find the sword. He’s carried it for so long, there were still so many traces of himself left behind. But he couldn’t concentrate. There were too many thoughts in his head. What if the harbinger was dead? No. No, he couldn’t think like that. He wouldn’t die this easily.

Zhongli opened his eyes again and looked down. There was a starconch lying in the sand. He bent down to pick it up. A conch, carried up to the shore from the depths... Childe liked them. They were a lot like him, he had said. Zhongli had never been sure he understood. Geographically, Snezhnaya was not lower than Liyue. But there had always been something about Childe, something that hadn’t seemed quite right. His eyes, of course, but there had also been the general feeling of... of something beyond this world. Like the boy had been claimed by something else, but Zhongli had never been able to put his finger on it – not that it had ever mattered this far.

Why couldn’t this shell lead him to Childe?

Not wanting to crush it, he threw it back into the ocean. The water rippled for a moment, then the surface stilled once again.

The rock persisted for centuries. Unaffected by the wind and the weather, it was to remain forever. And yet, recently, the tide had been rising and the water hit against the stone. Stubbornly, the stone would endure the fluid form and persist still.

But in the battle of adaptability and endurance, adaptability would always win; and the water tore the rock down. The stone would crumble; and the pillar would be no more. The rocks fell deep, deeper than they ever had before and the water caught them gently in their embrace.

Embraced by the deepest depths, the stone would remain forever more, gently floating away, having overseen the world for long enough.

And if the rock would ever tire, the tide would gently carry the stone to the shore.

Zhongli turned, and left the shore behind. The water was gently lapping at the sand, washing the starconch back ashore. The star in the middle of it shimmered in a gentle blue.

*

Everything inside him called him to Nantianmen. He was not sure why, but he was not one to ignore a feeling like that when he had deliberately been looking for it. There were a lot of monsters and Treasure Hoarders in the area, so that might be why Childe had been heading there. It was worth a try.

The Old Stone in his pocket gave a slight hum, but Zhongli did not have the mind to listen to it.

Nantianmen was eerily quiet. Normally, one could hear the Hillichurls running around, but now there was just dead silence. Something had happened here and Zhongli had the uneasy feeling that Childe might be at the middle of it.

Ever the eye of the storm.

“Not a step closer!”

The voice rung out across the field. It was distorted but Zhongli recognised the voice. It was Childe. He started running.

There was a mass of Ruin Guards and Hunters in front of Azhdaha’s tree. And there was something else. Something twice the size of a human floating in the air, with a cape made out of stars. Zhongli did not recognise the body, but it was Childe’s voice. And judging by the pile of destroyed Ruin Guards, he had been here a while. There were still so many...

“Childe”, he shouted as he ran over.

The boy... turned his head.

“Xianshen –“

He didn’t get to finish as a Ruin Hunter had been charging up his drill to promptly launch forward to attack him with it. Due to Zhongli’s interference, Childe was not able to evade the attack and got thrown back at the tree behind him. Zhongli saw the boy glow and shrink in size before he fell down to the ground, not to move again. He barely saw the jade sword fall next to him.

No.

Childe always got up immediately after being struck down.

Zhongli could only stare for four painfully long seconds before he decided to take revenge. He didn’t know what brought the Ruin Guards here or how Childe was able to transform the way he did or why any of this was happening at all – all he knew was that he wouldn’t let a friend die in vain once again.

Morax was far from dead; and these enemies would know.

Gently carried by the waves, the rock saw more of the world than the pillar ever could have. The tide was careful to not jostle it too much and to carry it great distances before slowing down, allowing the stone to rest.

Countless fish and sea-creatures would come up to the rock but the sea gently carried it away. The rock was thankful and it appreciated the small whales coming with them.

“I am tired,” the rock would say to the waves. “I have overseen it all for too long. But how will they fare without my pillar?”

The water did not answer, but it changed course. It carried the rock back to the start, so that the stone could see: nothing had changed. The pillar was forever gone, and in time, it would be forgotten. Rock would forever endure, until it would ebb away with the tide.

“Take me away,” the stone requested, “show me your beginning. And when you end, I shall end with you. Until that day, let your tide carry me until I erode away.”

As the Ruin Hunters lay dead to his feet, Rex Lapis took a heavy breath. Without a second thought, he spun around and ran up to the boy that was still lying on the ground. He was breathing, right? But there was blood.

“Childe,” he whispered as he gathered his friend into his arms and brushed a strand of hair aside. This couldn’t be like Guizhong all over again, he wouldn’t be able to take it. The boy groaned and shifted a bit.

“Xiansheng...?”

“Yes. Yes, I’m here.”

The boy blinked and slowly his eyes focused on Rex Lapis.

“Oh wow... I didn’t know you had horns.”

Morax didn’t understand, but it also didn’t matter. “Please. Are you in pain? What do I do?”

Childe laughed a bit. “It’s... don’t worry, yeah? It’s nothing a little herbs and bandages can’t fix, right? I’m more exhausted than I am hurt.”

“You are bleeding.”

“Oh believe me, I know. It’s okay though. Still, I... I should probably bandage it, right? I don’t wanna pass out.”

Morax sprang into action. “Don’t worry, baobei, I will take care of it.”

Childe blinked at him hazily as he removed his jacket and started wrapping it around the boy’s torso.

“...that looks kinda ineffective.”

“This is all I have. I will take you to the Harbour immediately.”

Gently, Rex Lapis gathered the boy in his arms to begin the trek back to the Harbour. Childe’s grip on the sword handle was steady.

“They were attacking the tree,” he said after a few minutes of walking. Morax could tell he was about to fall asleep.

“You were protecting it?”

“No, I came here because I heard about the Ruin Guards. But then I saw them attacking the tree and I... I didn’t want to, but I had to. It’s where... it’s where you sealed Azhdaha, right?”

Rex Lapis just nodded.

“I thought I could take them all on, but they just kept coming. Your sword did good damage but I needed something bigger.”

“Which is why you... transformed.”

“Yes,” was all Childe replied.

“Does it hurt?”

“Yes.”

Childe pressed his forehead against Morax’ neck.

“I wanna see the shore.”

“Childe, you’re hurt. Baobei, I need to take you to the Pharmacy.”

“Please.”

So Rex Lapis turned and walked to Yaoguang Shoal.

“Tell me a story,” the young boy asked.

“Please, baobei, let me take you to the Harbour,” Rex Lapis pleaded.

“You can. Just one story. Just tell me one story to fall asleep to. I won’t die. The tide’s not gone yet. I won’t go anywhere just yet, alright? Just one story, alright? Please.”

“Once, a long time ago, Rex Lapis encountered a young boy. The boy would never walk beside the god, but the god would always follow. The god was as steady as stone, but the boy was like the tides, ever-changing, ever-evolving and forever coming back.

Rex Lapis would oversee his country for eternity, and always he would watch the waves, wondering just when they would erode him. Perhaps, the god thought, perhaps erosion would not be the worst if it meant flowing like the tides.

After all, the boy would gift him a starconch, telling stories of a far-too-distant shore.”

In his arms, Childe had fallen asleep. The water was gently lapping at their feet and a starconch was washed ashore. Rex Lapis picked it up and put it gently into Childe’s arms. Carefully, he picked the young boy up and made the long walk back to Liyue Harbour.

Behind him, there was a singular rock carried by the waves.

As Zhongli and Childe disappeared from view, so did the rock vanish as if it had never been there.

[themurphyzone]

If I Can’t Love Him Ch 4

AN: I do eventually wanna write out an entire BatB AU, it’s just that it’s kinda on the backburner compared to Nova and Pinky the Snowmouse right now. Decided to finish this story before working on anything else in BatB AU. Unlike the other chapters, this one’s not based off any scene in the 1991 movie.

AO3 Link

Ch 4: Hints of Kindness  

Two days since the West Wing incident, and there was still no sign of the Beast. His servants all said not to worry, he was always reclusive until it was time to give orders, but Pinky still worried for the Beast’s arm. He didn’t seem like the type to take it easy.

“Hey, if the scratches get infected, that’s on him,” Rita reassured Pinky as she escorted him down the corridor for breakfast.  

The servants were on a rotating schedule of helping him get around the castle to prevent another incident of wandering somewhere he wasn’t supposed to. Pinky appreciated the company, but part of him also wanted to sneak around too. If he was going to be here for the rest of his life, then he wanted to know every nook and cranny of the castle.

At least the nooks and crannies of the places he was allowed to go in.

But sneaking around would have to wait. At least until the world stopped spinning around. It was throwing him off-balance.

“So what do you want for breakfast?” Rita asked, her halo bobbing above her head as she glided along the floor. “Cream? Fish? Or the gray stuff again? That’s always a hit.”

The moment breakfast was mentioned, Pinky’s stomach flip-flopped and churned. “Quiet, tummy,” he scolded.

“You good? You’re pale,” Rita asked. “Not exactly a healthy shade of white.”

“I’m...narf...I’m okay!” Pinky tried to smile at her, but Rita’s eyes only narrowed. “Don’t worry about me!”

A shiver wracked his body. Was it just him, or was the castle draftier than usual?

“Nice try, mouse,” Rita crossed her paws over her angel robe. “But a little tip about castle living? If the boss can’t pull a fast one over Hello Nurse when he’s sick, neither can you. Try it, and the results ain’t gonna be pretty.”

He was fine though. Pinky was used to hiding any signs of sickness from Papa. He couldn’t worry his father like that when there were other things to worry about. All he had to do was cover his mouth so all the icky stuff wouldn’t get out and run over to Slappy’s tree for help.

He didn’t like lying. It made him feel awful inside. But he had to, just so he wouldn’t scare Papa.

"Sorry," Pinky whispered, his throat tight. "I'll go back to my...I mean, the room you all gave me. I don't wanna make anyone else sick. Poit."

"Eh, don't worry about it," Rita said. "Only the boss is affected by that sorta thing. Rest of us are immune. Now c'mon. I gotta tell Hello Nurse so we can get some chow into you."  

o-o-o-o-o

Secrets never remained secrets in the castle for long. It took a grand total of thirty seconds before a crowd of servants gathered outside the bedroom door, from the littlest dinner fork to several heavy cabinets that clinked with dishes and silverware as they moved.

A tall coat rack lifted Pinky back into bed. And while Pinky didn’t mind climbing to reach the strange, huge mattress that was cozy when he was tired and not so cozy when he thought of Papa and home, he was too dizzy to climb up himself right now.

Though he wanted to snuggle into the blankets more than anything else, he couldn’t until the stethoscope finished checking his heart and lungs. He shivered as the cold bell pressed into his chest and back, but tried to breathe when he was asked to.

When it was finished, the stethoscope firmly knocked twice against the mahogany bedframe and wrapped itself around the coat rack’s thin wooden arm.

“So what’s the verdict?” Rita asked from the doorway.

“Well, his heart and lungs are strong. And nothing’s inflamed either,” Hello Nurse said. “Pinky, are you having trouble breathing?”

Pinky shook his head.

“Any chest pain?”

“Nope. Don’t worry, everyone! It’s just a fever. I’ll be fit as a fiddle soon!” Pinky said, trying to reassure them. “And I can clean some rooms or dust the staircases or anything else you want then!”

“Nope, that won’t do at all! You’re our guest and we insist you get some rest!” Yakko protested. The fire on his head burnt intensely, and the flammable servants hastily scooted away from him. “Ya know, that’s not a bad verse for Be a Pest now that I think about it. But still! Don’t even think about getting out of bed ‘til Hello Nurse okays it!”

“Only for a day or two,” Hello Nurse added. “And tell someone immediately if you have trouble breathing or the fever gets worse. You came back soaked to the bone, and I don’t want this developing into pneumonia.”

Okay, at least he wouldn’t be confined for too long. He wanted to move around and explore. What was the point of being imprisoned in a castle if he couldn’t explore?

“What about Pharfignewton?” Pinky asked. “She fell in the river too. And...she’s all I’ve got now.”

His mother’s cape was in shreds. He didn’t know how Papa was doing. Pharfignewton was the only member of the family he could see now. The blue dress was his only remaining possession from his life in the village.

“She’s okay!” Dot piped up. “The stablemaster is one of the best in the province! He’s got her covered in a pretty violet blanket.”

“She really likes apples!” Wakko exclaimed.

Pharfignewton adored apples, and while Pinky trusted the servants to take care of her, he also wanted to make sure she was alright in-person.

But that would have to wait for a few hours.

Sapped of energy, he yawned and curled underneath the blankets. Only his head poked out, and his vision blurred as his eyes drooped with exhaustion.

The crowd dissipated with promises to come back with food and medicine later, until only Yakko lingered in the doorway.

“Keep an eye on him, Marita,” Hello Nurse told the purple and white wardrobe, which had a hippo’s face carved into the top. She hummed her agreement. “Now come along, Yakko. Pinky needs his rest.”

“But-”

“I’m sure Dr. Scratchnsniff misses you. It’s been a busy past few days,” Hello Nurse suggested, and Yakko hopped away, his spirits restored as he hollered about all the news he wanted to deliver to the psychiatrist’s couch.

Soon they were gone. As Pinky’s eyes drooped shut, he thought he might’ve seen the end of a cape and a zigzagged tail dart behind a crouching gargoyle in the hallway. But the door swung closed before he could be sure.

o-o-o-o-o

Despite the fever, or maybe because of it, it was the best sleep he had in ages.

“Wakey, wakey, Rip Van Winkle!” Dot shouted. “Got your hot tea and soup here!”  

Pinky rubbed his eyes, stretching his limbs and tail as he sat up against his large pillow. His forehead was hot to the touch, and his throat was a bit sore. He breathed in fine, warm steam from the tea and soup, and while he didn’t have much of an appetite right now, he’d at least try to eat what he could. He was sure it would taste wonderful anyway.  

A tray slid onto his lap. A steaming bowl of chicken and vegetable broth, a flower patterned teacup full of warm liquid, and a spoon and napkin laid on top of it.

“It’s lovely. Thanks so much!” Pinky said, smiling at the Warners, who sat atop a rolling cart next to his bed.

“Make sure you gobble it all down like a turkey!” Wakko exclaimed, doing his best impression of a turkey call just as Pinky took his first sip of the broth, which included several small pieces of carrots.

Pinky couldn’t help but laugh, which was a huge mistake with food in his mouth. He sputtered and coughed, quickly pounding on his throat as he snatched up the teacup and took a huge gulp of tea to wash it down.

“Well, don’t make him choke on it!” Dot scolded.

“Careful, dearie,” Marita said as she shifted a lovely green dress to a hanger on her front.  “My darling Flavio puts lots of love into his food. I wouldn’t want it to go to waste.”

“I will,” Pinky promised. He ate more slowly, trying to savor every bite. Not that he really needed to chew. Everything just slid down his throat like melted butter.

“That didn’t go into your lungs, right?” Yakko asked, who’d been strangely silent during the visit.

“I don’t think so,” Pinky replied. “And no agonizing, excruciating, stabbing, or writhing pain?”

Pinky stretched his limbs, careful not to jostle the tray too much. “A bit sore, but I’ll be alright.”

“It’s only a fever, Yakko,” Dot muttered, rolling her eyes as Yakko’s flames burst sporadically. “He’s not suddenly gonna drop dead or anything.”

Wakko shuffled his wooden legs awkwardly as Yakko and Dot burst into an argument over their guest’s health, and Pinky found himself nursing a headache that developed at his temple.

“Children, I think our guest wants some peace while he eats,” Marita suggested, her front drawer opening to reveal a lavender letter that was sealed with a heart-shaped kiss mark. “In the meantime, would you do me a favor and deliver this letter to my sweetheart?”

“For true love!” Dot squealed in joy, forgetting that she didn’t have hands to grab it by as she strained to grab it from Marita’s handle. Wakko reached over and grabbed it for her, and Dot hopped to the other side of the cart in a huff, muttering that she could’ve gotten it for herself.

“Hi-ho rolling cart, away!” Yakko shouted, and the cart sped across the room and slammed into the slightly ajar door, and the Warners were nearly thrown off the cart from the impact.

“GAH!” there was a surprised shout from behind the door as it crashed against the wall.

That wasn’t a normal door crashing into the wall sound.

To Pinky’s surprise, the Beast stumbled into view from behind the door. He clutched one shoulder with his bandaged arm, an irritated growl building in his throat.

The Warners whistled innocently and gave the Beast extremely wide, guilty smiles before zooming away.

“Ooh, that sounded like it hurt,” Pinky said, and the Beast looked at him in annoyance. Then Pinky remembered that they hadn’t spoken to each other in a few days, and he didn’t really know where he stood with the Beast right now. “Did they catch you on the arm?”

The white-collared shirt was new though. It was a high quality piece of clothing, even though it was a simple design.  

The Beast stood in the doorway, the bandages outlined against his sleeve on his injured arm while he held onto the doorframe with his uninjured arm. He also wore a wine-red cape and a pair of black trousers, and both clothing items were much less worn and ragged than when Pinky had first met him in that tower just a few nights ago.

“They didn’t,” the Beast grunted, staring at the floor like he’d seen a very interesting dust bunny. The silence was only broken by Marita’s blissful humming and the clink of Pinky’s spoon against his bowl.

The Beast wasn’t the best at conversations. It was either too much roaring or stony silence with no in-between with him.

“Were you eavesdropping?” Pinky asked.

The Beast huffed. “I was napping behind the door.”

“Strange place to nap,” Pinky said. “Wouldn’t you be better off in a cozy bed? Less back problems that way. And you wouldn’t be smashed in the shoulder by a door.”

“I’ll...keep that in mind,” the Beast replied, still not making eye contact with Pinky.

Though his responses were short and blunt, it seemed to be more out of awkwardness than anything. Still, Pinky wished the Beast would come up with a topic. It wasn’t exactly 20 Questions if the other party wasn’t asking anything.

Pinky chewed a piece of chicken, even though he didn’t need to. “Is Yakko okay? He seemed kinda scared cause I’m sick.”

“Oh, he can’t help it, dearie. An illness almost took-” Marita trailed off as a growl rose from the Beast’s throat. “-well, nobody wants to see your fever grow worse. Especially Yakko.”

Had the Beast been severely ill for a time and didn’t want to admit it? Pinky wanted to ask, but from the way the Beast’s claws dug into the doorframe, he decided that maybe it was better if he didn’t.

“Sorry if it’s a sore subject. I can ask something else if you want,” Pinky said.

The Beast’s large ears lowered, and his growl tapered off. And for the first time, shadowed pink eyes met Pinky’s.

“The fabric you used as a temporary bandage...was it important?” the Beast asked.

Pinky dropped his spoon into the bowl, surprised at a question that involved his mother’s cloak. No harm in being honest though.

“That cloak used to belong to my mother. It became mine after the accident,” Pinky admitted. The two fabric scraps from his cloak had been laundered, scrubbed of blood, and neatly tucked away in one of Marita’s drawers. He figured he could still use them somehow, but hadn’t quite figured it out yet.

The Beast looked distinctly uncomfortable, averting his eyes once more. “Sorry about your mother.”

Though awkward, it was a more sincere condolence than what some who’d attended her funeral had said.

“She wouldn’t have minded though. I think she’d be happy to know her cloak helped you,” Pinky said.

He didn’t have any doubts about that. He remembered his mother as a generous, lovely soul, even though he was a child when she passed away.

The Beast placed a hand over his bandaged arm. Then he turned to leave.

“When you’re healthy again, I’ll personally make sure that you know your way around the castle,” the Beast said. “But only to ascertain that you won’t barge into the West Wing again.”

It would be nice not to get lost. He always had trouble finding the kitchen so he could thank Chef Flavio for his meals.

“Alright,” Pinky agreed as he pushed his tray aside. He wasn’t hungry anymore. “And Beast?”

The Beast was a few steps away from Pinky’s door. He paused and looked back, stumbling over his feet like he wasn’t used to walking on two legs.

“Thanks for checking on me,” Pinky said. He snuggled into the blankets once again, ready to sleep off his meal. “I’m sure I’ll recover twice as fast cause I know everyone wants me to feel better.”

There was a long silence.

“You’re welcome,” the Beast finally said. Then he was gone.

And strangely, Pinky was looking forward to the promised tour.

Fun fact: Stethoscopes were invented in 1816, which isn’t in the French Revolution era of Beauty and the Beast, but this is Animaniacs and I am allowed to be anachronistic.

Before the curse took hold, Dot was severely ill for a time (same deal as Wakko’s Wish), and Brain doesn’t want this info getting out cause it could potentially reveal the curse to Pinky. Yakko is just spooked by any type of illness as a result, even a temporary mild fever.  

[pendragonfics]

So Be It

Paring: Mycroft Holmes/Reader

Tags: gender ambiguous reader, no pronouns for reader, Mycroft Holmes has feelings, Mycroft is a softie, reunions, slice of life, domestic fluff, fluff without plot

Summary: Returning from work overseas, Reader has a guest in their house.

Word Count: 1,493

Current Date: 2020-07-17

By the time the sun has set, the kettle, boiled for a cup of tea, has long been forgotten. It’s a cold day, a long day; perhaps the coldest and longest day there ever was. Of course, there is no science to that claim, but everything was always -est when you were not in the company of your boyfriend. Boyfriend. He hated that word so much, and yet, that was his word now. Before, when you were friends, carefully side-stepping around his brother’s shenanigans, he had been vocal about so much. Stock prices. The importance of public umbrella stands. The dying art of handwritten letters. And menial terminology for those who chose to be in a dalliance with another person. 

You can muse all you want about the years spent wasted, pining for the man, but it doesn’t help with the fact that you haven’t made any preparations for dinner, and there simply isn’t any room in your budget for take-away food tonight. Rising from the settee, you cast away the novel you weren’t reading - a present from your mother that doesn’t captivate your mind - you move from the sitting room to the kitchen. 

How long ago was the sunset? The room was so cold, and shivering in your knitted pullover, you flick the gas stove on, place a pot atop it, and rummage through the pantry for a tin of soup. Soup, while not the most appealing, was always an option. Once tipped in, you stand there with the wooden spoon, idly pushing the contents as so not to burn at the base. Your mind wanders to other things; the lawn would need mowing soon, and you were almost out of milk. Mycroft preferred skim milk, but it was dearer to purchase two cartons. 

The bubbling aroma of tinned potato and leek soup reaches your nose and satisfied with the consistency, you prepare to serve yourself. It’s not the same, living alone. You weren’t supposed to live alone. Hadn’t you agreed to live with him? You had. And yet, his work called him away so often, it was almost as if he was a ghost, an echo of his own image. 

The clock above the oven says it’s almost six-thirty. Your phone screen is empty - well, empty of him. There are notifications for apps you barely use, and one from an idle phone game that you’ve been meaning to delete. The only text message you received today was from the phone company. 

Taking your soup to the sitting room, you swipe the heater on with your foot and flick through the programs available on the telly. The evening news. A game show. A documentary about poor, hungry children, produced by rich, overfed adults. More news. Re-runs of a show that you never got into. Fed up, you mute the screen, and eat in silence. 

The dishwasher is on, benches cleaned, and the rubbish taken to the street by seven. There isn’t enough to do around the house to keep your mind off of the silence, so your phone’s speaker fills the air with a tinny rendition of a favourite song. It can’t take your mind off of what you’re missing. While your boyfriend isn’t the most touchy of all, you miss his presence, his voice, his hands; especially all of those toward you. His flight was supposed to land four hours ago, and you’re sure it doesn’t take this long to come through the security at Heathrow. 

Resigned, as the song finishes, you shut the app off, and take a cup of tea upstairs. Living in a cottage had its ups and downs - like how the vacuum cord couldn’t reach all the way down or up when you cleaned the stairs, and how nice it was to have a garden to yourself - but what attracted you to the life outside of the city was spending it with him. 

It’s hard to not think of Mycroft. His shoes sit at the front door, and his clothes are on the other side of the wardrobe. His side of the bed is untouched, and his clock beside the bed is growing dusty, as is his copy of War and Peace. The tea sits untouched beside the bed as you change, and as you wriggle into bed with it, it warms your hands, but not the ache in your heart. 

The mug is almost empty when you hear a scratching noise and the familiar tread of footsteps upon the carpeted foyer. You hold your breath as so to hear better; there’s a few other noises, and then, the sound de-shoed feet up the stairs. You sit up in time to see him enter; Mycroft Holmes looks tired. His hair is mussed, tie loosened and top button undone. His slacks are creased, and his suit jacket is folded over his arm. But the uncharacteristically untidy boyfriend of yours, looking so very tired, perks up at the sight of you. 

“Oh, ___________, I thought you were asleep,” he hummed, tugging at his tie. “Did I wake you?” 

“I was waiting up for you,” you place your tea beside the bed, and slowly, rise, moving toward your boyfriend. “Let me guess. Surprise briefing?”

He chuckles at that. “I’m not sure it’s considered a surprise if it happens every time, my dear,” he says, tie in hand. 

You reach for his chest, and clumsily, your tired fingers work at the buttons, revealing his undershirt. Though he had spent the last month in overseas for work, a six-hour flight from Cairo to Heathrow, and too long before ending up at your fingertips, he didn’t seem as clammy as he usually did after long nights at the office. The clothes peeled away, and you sat at the end of the bed as Mycroft shuffled off to the bathroom adjacent. As you heard the shower twist on, the water spewing forth, through the steam and the open door he talked what he could of the goings-on he had encountered since the last time the pair of you were less than six feet apart. 

“That sounds...illustrious.” 

“You give me far too much credit, ___________.” He spoke over the spray, “I’m a glorified babysitter to ministers and diplomats that toe the line of morality.” 

“Is that on your business card?” you retort, smirking. “‘Diplomatic babysitter’?” 

Mycroft steps out of the shower, towel around his waist. His hair is flat against his head, as is the light scowl at the thought of your branding of him. But he doesn’t speak any more on the matter, instead, focusing on his grooming routine. You don’t move from the end of the bed; through the doorway, you watch as he shaves, towel-drys his hair, and noticing your gaze, hangs the bathmat to dry before rejoining you in the bedroom.

“Do you think anyone knows that the great Ice Man of the UK has his partner wrapped around his finger?” You ask, leaning back, watching as Mycroft nears you. 

Anyone else would show their annoyance physically, outwardly, to you - but you know that sort of thing manifests differently in Mycroft. His face reddens, if not from the sting of his aftershave, and a small cough forces his words to stay inside his throat, unexpressed. 

“You have no idea how much I missed you,” you add. 

“Yes?” he prompts, stepping into his green and white pinstriped pyjama bottoms.

You scramble back into the bedsheets and kick your feet under the covers for warmth, watching your boyfriend all the while. “It rains more when you’re not around. Or the same amount, but it doesn’t feel as nice alone. Sometimes I read something in the news and I’ll go to show you, but you’re not around, and I feel like a fool.” You sigh, leaning back into the pillows, “...and I miss you when you’re away. You’re unlike everyone else I’ve ever met. You’re smart and handsome...” 

“How is it, that after so long awake, I want to remain alert just to be with you?” Mycroft asks, joining you beneath the covers. 

He flicks the lamp off on his side of the bed, and inches toward you. Mycroft smells of lemongrass and coffee grounds, leather and faintly, peppermint, and while it’s an odd mix, especially for the painfully ordinary person you are, it’s perfect. 

“Please tell me you’re here for a while,” you plead, fingers at the ready to switch off your lamp. “I can’t go to sleep if you’ll be gone in the morning.” 

“Darling,” he moans, pressing into your side. “I would never leave without saying goodbye.” Looking you in the eye, he says, his words just for you, “I’m here for the rest of the winter - until you can’t stand me anymore.” 

The room is plunged into darkness, and you slip beside him, and pepper his freshly-shaven cheeks in kisses. “But Mycroft,” you tell him, “You’d never leave again if that’s the case.” 

He hums. “Then so be it.” 

[zootopiathingz]

Bill and Nancy headcanons cuz they’re cute

Bill had a crush on her from the start (as we could obviously tell from Greens Acres) but Nancy didn’t develop feelings until they were a little older. She did think he was cute though.

They listened to a lot of old bands together and claimed all of the songs were “their songs”.

Nancy went to public school while Bill was homeschooled so they didn’t see each other a lot during the day.

They often drove out to the middle of nowhere and sat in the back of his truck so they could make out stargaze.

Bill liked playing with her hair. Rather they were cuddling or playing board games or just doing literally anything he was always stroking her hair.

Nancy stole his hoodies and never returned any of them.

Since they didn’t work together well when it came to cooking they usually ordered takeout or Bill would heat up soup just to avoid arguments.

They slept together a lot. Not in a sexual way, they would just fall asleep together in the truck or laying in the grass and nap for hours.

Their dates were at night when their parents were asleep and they would stay out until like 5-6 am (their sleep schedules were kinda fucked up).

Bill loved to spoil her with gifts. They were often handmade since he didn’t have a lot of money. The most he spent on her was the engagement ring.

Lots of spooning (Bill was the big spoon for sure).

Nancy would always take him to her school dances but they spent the entire time to themselves.

(nsfw?) Their first time was when they were 17-18 ish.

Alice didn’t find out about them dating for a while, but when she did she tried everything she could to keep Bill away from Nancy.

Bill gave her a lot of forehead kisses cuz he was taller.

Even though she liked being spoiled, Nancy kinda felt bad sometimes so she would always try to return the favor by doing something nice for him.

Sometimes Nancy would hum or sing to herself doing random things and Bill would just listen to her voice and get completely lost in awe.

Nancy tried to convince him to get a matching tattoo with her.

Even though Bill wanted to take over the family farm, it was actually his idea to start a new farm with Nancy.

Lots of making out in the truck lolololol.

Bill was the one who asked her out, but Nancy was the one who initiated their first kiss.

Asking for her father’s blessing was really awkward for Bill.

They got married in their mid-late 20’s but they already lived together beforehand.

Alice actually did object at their wedding but no one took her seriously.

Though they were bad at cooking together, they actually enjoyed baking (it was still difficult to get along but it was worth it in the end).

After fights they would not speak to each other for a couple hours to cool down, then they would apologize and try to make each other feel better.

Nancy would give him back/shoulder massages after he overworked himself all day.

They split the house chores 50/50 and neither of them were assigned just one specific chore, they both had to do dishes and clean the bathroom.

Both times Nancy was pregnant, they placed bets on what the gender would be. They got pretty competitive over it.

Nancy helped Bill better express his feelings and that he didn’t need to “man up”. She was perfectly okay with him being himself.

Bill would get really self-conscious and feel like he wasn’t good enough for Nancy, especially when it came to providing money.

Whenever Nancy was sick, Bill would never let her do anything. He wanted her to be well-rested and never disturbed so he would just do everything for her (make meals, give her medicine, etc)

Bill loved to carry her around on his back, over his shoulder, bridal style, etc.

When he found out Nancy was arrested, Bill was heartbroken and didn’t even know what to do (he literally panicked for days).

Even after they divorced, they would send each other letters just to ask how they were doing and such. Sadly they stopped after a couple years.

They would sometimes sit in complete silence for long periods of time but it was never uncomfortable, they just enjoyed each other’s company.

Nancy would wear his hat sometimes for no reason.

One time they dressed up as each other for Halloween.

They went on long walks through the country fields.

When they had movie marathon nights, Nancy would always pick movies she knew Bill hated just to piss him off.

Nancy always had to kill the spiders.

After Nancy’s big motorcycle crash, Bill became very nervous about her riding and would often try to stop her from doing it.

Nancy used to love his beard and would just randomly touch his face to feel it. (after the divorce Bill shaved it bc it made him too sad to think about :-;)

Bill used to try to do her makeup for her and it wasn’t that bad, except he never managed to do her mascara without accidentally poking her eye.

They went all out for Christmas (since we know Bill is a Christmas fanatic) and they would wear matching pajamas.

Nancy was a restless sleeper and would toss and turn a lot during the night, which made for a very unhappy Bill the next morning.

Every week they would set aside one entire day to only focus on each other. No work, no other company, just the two of them enjoying their time together.

For their anniversaries they would say they wouldn’t do anything big, but at the last second they’d surprise each other with gifts and go out for a drive around town.

When Nancy went into labor the first time, Bill had absolutely no idea what to do and had to call Alice for help.

The first time they said “I love you” (romantically) was on their third date.

Literally everywhere they went they held hands. Bill loved to show her off to everyone.

[baby-grayson]

Sweet Enigma| Part 7

words: 2.7k tw: discussion of death/sickness, angst tags:  @wheezeatmedolans​ @styles-dolan​ @prettyboydolan​ @evergreendolan​ @baby-turtles​ @dolanstacoma​ @kombuchagray​ @not-gbd​ @graysavant​ @someonetogray​ @dolansficsandpics​ @batgirl009 @voguekristens @letsgoget-high​ @crossedbone-kat​ @graysonsdollface 

Ethan was angry. Ethan was very very angry at his brother. Outwardly, he knew to be understanding and compassionate in Grayson’s very trying time. But as a business partner, he silently wished that Grayson would end his romantic escapade with a past flame and return from Jersey to help Ethan launch two business endeavors: the lingerie & underwear line to extend their clothing company and the Wakeheart bath bomb launch.

When Ethan looked to Twitter, to find Sherry’s public break up with Grayson: all frustration left his heart. Even from 3,000 miles away, he could feel his twin brother crushed under the weight and impact of his own lovestruck decisions. Ethan managed to get him on the phone later that night, surprised to hear Grayson’s cool tone, “It’ll be alright E,” Ethan could hear some rustling from the background of the call, “I’m flying home—taking a red eye and I’ll be there in the morning.” 

“You’re coming back?” Ethan was surprised: at both how confident Grayson sounded but also how quickly he was turning from his impromptu escape.

“Yeah but—yeah you can wear that one—sorry, but I want to go see Sherry. I want—I want to apologize in person, maybe see if I can do anything to make this better on her.”

Ethan’s eyebrows raised when he heard a girl’s voice in the background. He hadn’t asked Grayson about the photos of him and Kate, but he never pegged his brother to be unfaithful, even in the rockiest relationship, “Make it better?” Ethan mentally swore at his brother for being so idealistic, “You were caught out chea—with another woman Gray,” Ethan groaned into the receiver, “Are you sure going to see her is the right thing?” “Yeah I am,” Grayson sighed in acceptance, “I have to try—to try to apologize more than anything.” Grayson eyed Kate’s back as she innocently left his bedroom, “and E—I wasn’t with her, not like that when I was with Sherry. We’ll talk more when I get home but—those pictures make it look a lot worse than what it was.” “So, you’re saying you tracked down an old girlfriend to be nothing but platonic?” Instead of trying to mask the disbelief in his voice, Ethan leaned into it—hoping the comic edge took the sting off his words.

“No—” Grayson made a grumbling noise over the phone, “got it on in the shower a few hours ago.” “Gray!” “I know—I know. But she’s—I know that I need to apologize to Sherry and sort through everything right now before we can—before I have a chance with her. But like I said, I wasn’t with her when I was with Sherry, I wouldn’t lie to you about that E.” “Okay yeah bro, you didn’t have sex with her—sure. But your heart wasn’t with her?”

Ethan’s observation struck a chord in Grayson’s heart: joining the symphony of guilt that had been building in his soul over the past few weeks. For someone as familiar with pain as Grayson was, he hated causing it in others, especially when he considered them good people. He considered Sherry a good person, for all her faults. She was loyal, dependable, and positive. Despite his growing feelings for Kate, he was genuinely broken when he tried to face the emotional trauma, he caused his former fiancé.

In a white and gold bedroom in a house on the hills, Sherry Maddox clutched a framed photograph in her hands. Her long nails clacked against the glass of the frame while she sneered down at a happier version of herself, Grayson, Ethan, and Ethan’s ex-girlfriend on a beach in Tasmania. The only physical photographs Sherry owned were of her and Grayson from the past 18 months. She much preferred Instagram, but Grayson’s nostalgia had inspired her to collect happy memories of the two of them: memories that transformed her heart into a tainted space, left empty by the memory of who she thought he was.

Huffing, she slipped the photo from the back of the frame and pulled it out. She set the rose gold aside on her nightstand, letting it lean on a pile of a dozen others. In a swift motion, she passed the photograph through a shredder and watched as dozens of little strips came out the other end. The edge of the strips was not yet released from the shredder’s blades when she reached for another frame and began the process over again. Earlier that day, she commissioned an artist to construct a mosaic of herself, made from the shreds of her memories with Grayson.

The image of Kate shined in Grayson’s eyes, but her words made no sense to him, “Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?”

His voice held the full weight of a dubious question, as if the letters did not belong sitting next to each other in the words they formed. His eyes looked down at Kate, not wanting to accept the truth that they would be separated, if just for a short while, after being reunited for the first time in years. Having her again just reminded his heart of how difficult it was to be without her. She nodded and assured him, “I need to go see my mom. For real. And you need to—you have stuff you need to do without me anyway.” Kate reached up to a hand through his hair and down the side of his face.

On the drive to Philadelphia from New Jersey, Kate thought long and hard about whether or not to tell her mother about Grayson. She considered the possibility that her mother might have seen the pictures of her and Grayson in the tabloids but decided that her mother never knew when a royal wedding was happening, much less when a scandal hit the papers. She tossed any thoughts of Grayson talk out of her head: it was not official enough to put on her mother’s radar. Instead, she spent the next few days at her mother’s bedside.

She held her mother’s hand and reminisced about the good old days. She told stories about California until she saw her mother’s eyes close, welcoming the sweet embrace of sleep. Kate tiptoed out of the room and gracefully closed the door behind her. She welcomed the warm aroma of pumpkin soup as she made her way down the stairs of the brownstone and to her grandmother in the kitchen. When she let her anxieties out and asked why this had to happen to their family, their tiny family who didn’t have people to spare, her grandmother put a knowing hand on her shoulder.

In a semi-hoarse, but loving tone Bethel insisted, “Family is more than the souls you share this Earth with dear. They’re the inspiration and the aspiration of everything you want to be and everything you can be. Your mother gave you everything you need to soar in this life and the next: I should know, I taught her everything she knows.” A few of Kate’s tears spilled onto the black and white tile of the kitchen floor while Bethel continued, “Your home isn’t an anchor: it’s a port in a storm, a refuge from the hardest of times but not a forever shelter because you were always meant to sail harder and farther than the rest of us.”

As Kate’s heart wrenched with the acceptance of the hardest parts of her life, Grayson’s twisted in agony on the other side of the country for a much different reason. Impulsive and filled with hubris, Grayson never formulated a plan for what he wanted to say to Sherry: he expected inspiration to strike him with brilliance in the moment. This is how he stupidly ended up pulling the door knocker on the Maddox West Coast home and waiting on the front steps.

Grayson’s eyes went wide with fear when the door cracked to reveal the lanky figure of Calvin Maddox standing afront of two massive security guards.

“Don’t you know when to quit?” Calvin’s voice was sharp as his elbows from where he crossed his arms.

Grayson stammered and twitched his jaw, his eyes excavating the scene for some kind of a way out.

“Now,” Calvin started with his low Southern drawl. He peered down his nose at Grayson, twisting his upper lip as he spoke “Let me tell you how this is –”

“—Daddy!” Sherry’s voice cut the tension with a shrill acidic screech. She moved between the security to stand in front of her father with crossed arms, in an identical pose to him. Grayson’s mouth went dry. “I’ll take care of it,” she asserted. Minding her father’s disappointed look, she turned to the security guards and waved with her hands, “Shoo.”

Sherry gracefully stepped out of the threshold and closed the door behind her, careful to match her father’s antagonistic stare. She huffed out of her nose and closed her eyes, her hand rested on the doorknob. She looked like she was about to open the door and go back inside when she said, “What could possibly be left for you here?”

Grayson opened his mouth to start to speak but was cut off by her harsh tone, “I mean—don’t try to tell me you want me back. I would never. I could never after you embarrassed me like that—no woman who knows her worth would return to a man who pulled your kind of stunt.” Her words fired from her lips like projectiles that battered at the sack of guilt Grayson had forged in his own stomach.

Grayson nodded and balled his mouth into a tight knot, “I know. You’re better than that. And I will say this until the day I die, but I’m so sorry Sherry. I—I –I—” Grayson reached out for something imaginary in the air, “I was fighting a war in my mind and I took you down with me as collateral and you—you never deserved that. You were never anything but good to me,” Grayson’s eyes welled in kindness and sadness. Sherry stared at him coldly and narrowed her eyes: still not convinced he wasn’t about to ask for her back.

“I would never want to be yours again,” Sherry retorted, trying to anticipate his next move, “The world would never believe it. The entire world would look at me like some kind of doe eyed, brainless Nancy.”

“You have every right,” Grayson nodded, breathing heavily and feeling his chest tighten with every syllable, “You—you ended us and you had every right to Sher—”

“Every right to?” her words came so slow they were slick on her tongue. “I had no choice to. What was I supposed to do?” she sneered, “post motivation quotes on Instagram and keep telling my family that it was just a phase?”

Grayson nodded and his sweaty palms found a home in his pockets. He looked at the floor, where he noticed an obtuse patch of dirt on the toe of his shoe. “I’m sorry,” his voice was barely above a whisper, “I’m so sorry. I’ll always be Sherry. I can only imagine what I put you through—and you didn’t deserve any of it.”

Grayson was shocked when she laid a delicate, graceful hand on his jaw. She drew him in and placed a puckered kiss on his cheek, “Grayson,” she stepped away from him, “you made me an underdog,” she placed a hand on the door knob, “and everyone loves an underdog.”

She turned to leave but twisted her upper body in his direction, “Was that all?” her tone was flat and devoid of any emotion.

Grayson gnawed at his lip and circled his head, “If—well—those pictures weren’t what it looked like—that girl, she’s—”

Sherry held out an intimidating, long, perfectly manicured finger in his direction. She spoke through gritted teeth, “Don’t.” She unlocked her jaw, “Don’t tell me a single word about her. I’m not about to spend the rest of my life swimming in those kinds of comparisons.” Sherry made a calculated move to swing her backside while walking away and closing the door behind her.

***

Later that night, Kate hung up the phone with Grayson as she leaned her backpacks against the dresser in her childhood bedroom. She dropped on her bed and eyed the science fair ribbons and faded polaroids strung on her wall. One of them showed her old cat, sleeping contently on a dusty couch. A few of them featured her friend Tabby: each iteration of Tabby wearing a different hair color. Kate never had many friends: tending toward shyness and introversion. Her eyes locked on one on the far left. She sat up and reached out for it. She thumbed the faded glossy surface carefully. The photo showed her and her mom on her 16th birthday: in front of a grocery store cake decorated with a few candles. She thumbed the surface again but standing up and walking over to put it in her bag to bring to California.

On her nightstand, her phone started ringing. She stared at the unknown number flashing across the screen. She questioned the chance of a paparazzi being on the other end: she swallowed hard and pushed the thought away that it might be Sherry. Throwing caution to the wind, she picked it up “Hello?”

“Hey..Kate. How are you?” Even three years down the line, she could tell the difference between Grayson’s voice and Ethan’s.

“Hi Ethan! Oh my god, how are you?” She turned on the speaker phone and sat cross legged on her bed: mimicking a pose she used to take when Tabby would come over to gush about boys. She hunched forward, leaning in as if Ethan was in the room with her. “I’m good.” Ethan started plainly, “Gray told me you were flying back tomorrow?”

“Yeah I should be there by lunch, I’m leaving at like 6 in the morning,” she started. She sighed and looked down at the phone. In that moment, she was struck by the fact that Grayson and her had yet to share the details of their mundane lives in the past few weeks, that had been anything but mundane. “Do you two still live together?”

“Yup,” Ethan let out a breathy chuckle, “I get to smell him every morning.” Ethan sucked in his top lip, wondering if it was too soon to make that joke in their relationship. “Um but yeah I wanted to call you, say hi.” He shrugged from where he stood, “Let you know that if you need anything, I’m here.” He was silent for a moment. “I’m happy the big guy came to his senses and found you again. I think the best version of my brother happened when he was with you.”

“That means more than you know Ethan.” Kate sighed and fell back against her pillows, “I just—this is so complicated. You don’t think that’s a bad sign or anything?” She spoke openly, feeling relief to have a place to candidly think out loud about the situation for the first time.

Ethan breathed through his nose and picked his words carefully, “It’s what you make of it. And as his brother, I know I’m--I’m biased, but all he wants is just an honest chance. He’ll come through if you let him. Just because things are twisted, doesn’t mean they’re broken.” “Thanks Ethan, that means more than you know.” Kate’s words fell heavy onto the phone. She sat up, as if somehow powered by the idea that twisted did not equal broken.

“Don’t stress about,” Ethan’s voice came with a promise, “If anything, you two taught me something about love last time around. You shouldn’t be worry about it.”

  A/N: I feel like this part is kinda boring and I am sorry!

[pinkhairedlily]

Great Expectations

Chapter 4 of The Spring He Came Back | 4 of 12

Hinamori found herself spacing out in the middle of chores for about a month now. She would be cooking miso soup, and her mind would trail to their conversation on the hill. She would halt in front of the daffodil meadow on the way back from the market and reminisce in the midst of stalks yet to flower, counting down to the third month. She also stopped going to the library because of a growing resentment. If she didn’t bring Hitsugaya there, he wouldn’t have found the book, and he wouldn’t have left. She wondered if she had the right to feel this way, to feel like she lost a friend or a family.

The money from Hitsugaya’s generous allowance came in every end of the month through an academy representative. Baba’s refusals fell on deaf ears, but Hinamori knew she was grateful for the financial support.

True to his promise, Hitsugaya sneaked out of the academy on his third month and met Hinamori on the meadow. He saw her black tendrils flowing with the yellow petals. “Oy, Hinamori.” For a time, it would seem that the gears were running in normal shifts.

This went on for the next three years. Hinamori was given glimpses of his newfound life – of an increasing circle of friends that consisted of a noisy Rangiku, stubborn Rukia, and glutton on steroids Renji. For every encounter, their childhood memories and laidback banter on the yellow field were being replaced by tales of his experiments and model construction with Dr. Kuchiki, the culture shock to the life of the brightest, and the cutthroat competition in academia. For every encounter, he seemed more and more different, but he never let these get the best of him. After all, his silver hair was still shaped like a broomstick, and he still challenged her to watermelon eating contests.

Their meetings stopped when he had to participate in an overseas internship in Karakura. Monthly letters replaced his physical presence until there were none. Exasperated because of her growing loneliness, Baba assured her it was the natural course of things.

“As we grow older Momo, we form a lot of bonds. Some becomes the foundation of our nature and identity while others are circles at certain phases of our lives.” Baba gave her a cup of black tea with a dash of honey, her favorite brew. “There comes a point we grow out of those circles and seek the next set of bonds. The rarest of all, those bonds that accompany you forever.”

“I thought we were his family, Baba.” There was a burning feeling behind Hinamori’s eyes, and she felt a headache forming.

Baba stared at her wistfully and tucked a loose tendril behind her grandchild’s ear. “If you’re so adamant to keep those bonds, why won’t you walk beside him?”

Hinamori shook her head vehemently and slapped her palms on the table. “Baba! I will never leave you. Please stop saying that!” Some of her black tea spilled. “Besides, the academy is invitation-only, remember?”

“Momo my dearest and only, I’m almost 70. I’ve lived a good, full life so far, and I want you to live like that as well. I don’t want you shackled by your past or be burdened by taking care of me. The world is bigger than this town,” Baba chuckled to herself as she took a sip of her tea. “Besides, I have reliable neighbors who will take care of me. We have a telephone now so we can always communicate. Wondrous technology. Oh but you have to teach me.”

“Baba, stop it. The academy is not accepting low-tier students like me.”

“Oh Momo. Just throw it out there and the world will right itself.”

Baba’s wisdom never failed. When Hinamori became 15 years old, the academy opened its gates to the common folk. The complaints about accessibility and inequality probably got to the administration. Investments in the town kept pouring in, demand for residential space was increasing, the clamor to enter the academy regardless of social status eventually gained traction. While the invitation and referral arrangements still existed, the opportunities leveled through general admissions. Well, not quite. The examinations were grueling, and the interviews were tricky to answer. They asked outright for research proposals and the field of specialization one was interested in. On top of her head, Hinamori stated her concentration on terrestrial ecology. Actually, she just wanted to create perennial daffodils so their meadow would be yellow all year round, no matter the season.

Hinamori passed the screening. General admission passers were granted wider freedom but lesser privilege. They were not restricted to stay in the dorms and had normal class schedules that didn’t involve laboratory and experiments on weekends. On the downside, they were provided lesser amount of allowance (good for family of three) which Hinamori was still thankful for. They weren’t also allowed to venture into the buildings of the core members. From her initial grant, she bought a bicycle to make her trips faster and quicker across opposite end of the town. It was an unstable feeling, landing on shifting grounds, but soon enough, she found her balance.

I’m in. I’m inside the academy’s gates. It was an exhilarating feeling of great expectations and humble beginnings.

Only 100 students were admitted in the winter. Amid the flurry of post-inauguration activities, Hinamori saw the familiar silver hair sticking out like sore thumb in the middle of the crowd.

He’s not supposed to be here. He was accompanied by three people trailing behind at a safe distance. She presumed they were the three Rs – Rangiku, Rukia, Renji. On Hitsugaya’s arms was a bouquet. “Oy, Momo.”

Her cheeks were flushed red. She wished she wore her hair loose instead of a bun because it had started to snow. “Broomstick Shirou-chan.” Was he taller when she last saw him? Silly, he was gone for two years.

“I just got back from my internship in time for your inauguration.” He handed her the bouquet of bright yellow daffodils, fully blooming in winter. “Congratulations.”

“Oh, I’m still taller than you,” Hinamori blurted out. “Oops. It was supposed to be a personal observation.”

“You know what, give me back the bouquet.”

“But it’s true! You probably still have the same height!”

“Momo, give me the bouquet back.”

“Won’t.” They both laughed it off, unaware of stealing glances from his company.

“Oooh is she the one you’re always writing letters to, Hitsugaya?” the blond-haired girl asked. “How sweet! Childhood sweethearts!”

“Shut up, Rangiku!”

“Oh no, we’re truly not-“ Hinamori started, but she was immediately cut off.

“Childhood sweethearts?!” the red-haired one yelled. “You mean to tell me this was fate? Wow, I’m so jealous.”

“I’m literally right here, Abarai.” The black-haired kid who was almost the same height as Hitsugaya was probably the least intense of the group. “I’m Kuchiki Rukia, by the way.”

Well, her surname certainly is, Hinamori thought. “I’m Hinamori Momo, Shirou-chan’s childhood friend.”

“Shirou-chan?!” They collectively egged him on, laughing at his clear embarrassment.

“Momo, stop using that nickname!”

Hinamori inhaled the clear scent of pine and camphor trees, reminding her of Baba cozy with her stacked fireplace and of stored jams in their pantry. She can’t wait to tell her Hitsugaya’s back. With the mended symbol of their bond on the crook of her arm, she entered the new phase of her life. Shifting grounds and great expectations.

-------

“Please greet Dr. Sousuke Aizen. He’s one of the foremost molecular biologists outside of Soul, and we are privileged to have him teach here. He will be your professor for biology. Keep in mind that you are arranged by your specialization, and he will be your mentor until you graduate in the academy,” Dr. Unohana, the academy director, announced to a class of fifteen.

Hinamori already outlined ten distinct thesis proposals in her first week. She made headstart on her readings too, already halfway on their given references for the year. If she was going to reunite fully with her friend, she needed to be a core member, and she will work hard for it.

Then, the name finally registered in her mind. Sousuke Aizen. The author of the most recent book she borrowed from the library which was also her inspiration for her thesis topics. She was engrossed with his theories, his writing style, and argumentations that she borrowed all his related books. If she was a radiologist, he was her Marie Curie. Sousuke Aizen was her teacher.

He had a magnetic presence, demanding all eyes on him. It was difficult not to notice him with his broad figure and soft tussle of dark brown hair. If eyes could smile, then he had those, albeit hidden behind square-shaped spectacles. His authoritative stance and the emanating kind disposition were confusing and difficult to compromise.

What an interesting person. Hinamori thought herself perceptive of people’s personalities based on her first impressions with them. That wasn’t successful with Hitsugaya though.

“So, should we start, or would you like me to immediately dismiss?”

It also perked up her interest that he was comfortable enough to teach without a lesson plan in hand or books. He would just talk conversationally with his students and still cover a multitude of topics. He wasn’t the stiff professor that Dr. Kuchiki was. Her classmates would seek him out after classes, asking him to join their group dinners. When she attended once, he noticed she wasn’t talking.

“Hinamori, are you still uncomfortable with your new learning setting?” Dr. Aizen asked. He gestured to refill her now empty teacup, and she obliged him with a nod. “I’ve heard you mostly got your knowledge from reading. Impressive.”

She blushed at the compliment. “I try to do my best, Dr. Aizen.”

He placed his cheek on his hand and stared at her. “You know, I also came from a rural area. Made it hard for me to mingle with the central town brats.”

Brats. She laughed at this sudden connection. “I’m also trying on that area, Sir. I made friends, but they’re on the other side of building.” Was it safe to share that?

“Oh, you have friends from the core Soul group? Fascinating. That means you’re really interesting Hinamori.” He smiled at her, tapping the empty tea pot. “You can talk to me anytime. My office is open for any concerns, academic or otherwise. I want you to know I can be on your friend list.”

The fact that he related to her situation made her happy. A renowned professor with the same roots as her still managed to get to the top. She felt seen. By the end of the semester, Hinamori volunteered to be his research assistant.

NEXT CHAPTER | 5 OF 12 | WANTING VALIDATIONS

[mikkomacko]

Dear Daisy 5

Daisy never realized how big the house is until Harry's not there. Without his large personality sitting at the table, or his lanky legs kicked up on the coffee table while he works, or his broad body moving around the kitchen, Daisy feels like she's living in an empty palace. It's gotten to the point that she hates being at the house, but going to visit her family is just as depressing with them now crying over Sterling's departure. Her father's taken up more work with Thomas, hoping to make up for the usual revenue Sterling brings into the family. It's not much seeing as most of her brother's earnings goes into his personal savings so he can afford to marry Stella and take care of her. Daisy tried spending time with her future sister too, but that ended up being even more depressing then staring at Harry's empty couch cushion. So she goes on walks now. She's been putting off walking through the park because it reminds her of Harry now, and she stays as far away from the beach as possible. That really only leaves the town for her to walk through, but she likes the shops so she doesn't mind. She hardly buys anything, but the browsing keeps her mind off of Harry and how much she misses him and if he's okay. Her favorite shop to go in is the local bakery, owned a ran by a man named Robin and his kids. It's nice to sit at one of the tables, picking at a scone or mini pie and watch Robin teach his son's to roll out dough correctly and cut shapes into the pies. The three men are always so happy and carefree, and the feeling rubs off on her after sitting there for a bit.

Today, however, is different.

The bell above the door chimes as she pushes it open, stepping into the little shop and expecting a smile from Richard who's usually behind the counter. He's not there today, and walking up to the counter she realizes that Sam isn't either. It's just Robin, lips drooping down in the corners as he dusts some flower onto his apron. Daisy's smile falls, confused by the unusual gloomy mood in the bakery.

"Oh, hello Daisy." Robin greets when he notices her, offering her a pathetic smile. Daisy rests her elbows on the counter, holding her chin up.

"Is everything okay Robin?"

The man shrugs, shaking his head with a sad chuckle. "My boys left today," he mumbles, "one of them to the Poland, the other Germany."

Her heart falls to her stomach, and she thinks of Harry again. She's so worried knowing he's in France, she can't imagine how upsetting it'd be if he were sent to the front lines. "I'm sorry," she sympathizes, pausing a brief second before deciding what the hell, "my fiance shipped out a few weeks ago."

Robin looks up, a bit surprised as he moves to stand across from her. "Mr. Styles was called out?"

She shifts uncomfortably, scratching her fingernail across the wooden counter to keep her mind off of the war as much as possible. "To France for training and then assignment. I haven't gotten a letter yet informing me of where he's heading afterwards."

One of Robin's hands move over the counter, patting the top of Daisy's comfortingly. "It's tough, but I can't think of a greater man than Harry Styles fighting."

Daisy pauses, looking up at him curiously. She's never heard anyone say anything remotely kind about Harry before. He's always whispered about, gossiped about, but they're all tells of his rudeness or his harsh words. Daisy, having been privy to both, never really questioned anyone's dislike for Harry. But she'll definitely question their compliments for him.

"You know Harry really well?"

Robin nods, moving to untie his apron. "Grew up with his father. When he passed away I tried to keep an eye on Harryand Gemma. Of course that uncle of his stepped in, tried to raise Harry to be a prick like him-" Daisy giggles, never having heard Robin curse, "but good always beats bad."

He hangs his apron up, reaching under the counter for a small basket of oatmeal cookies. He places them on the counter in front of Daisy. "Free of charge, for Harry." He says, smiling softly. Daisy watches him for a moment, thinking that Robin must be a great father. He's kind, compassionate, but also tough. And judging by the two boys she's met in here before, he knows how to raise a good son. It's then that she realizes he's the only one running the bakery now, and while rations for the war have started, bread is always in demand. He'll be getting busy, busier than usual, and he might need help.

"Mr. Robin," she murmurs carefully, waiting for him to look at her expectantly, "if you'd like company or help around the shop while you're boys are away, I'd be happy to do so. Don't have to pay me or anything, I'd just like to get out of the empty house."

Robin's smile is warm and grateful, and he looks around the kitchen as if trying to picture Daisy back there helping him. Finally, he nods. "I'd love to have you Daisy, and I'd be happy to let you take home the tips for the day."

"No that's-"

"It's the least I could do," Robin interrupts, "owe it to Harry and his father."

She knows by the firmness of his voice that there's no room for arguing, and she knows tips aren't very much right now anyway so she won't feel bad for taking money from him. Plus the holidays are coming up, and she'd really like to get gifts from everyone without having to use Harry's money. It doesn't feel right to use it without him there, but then again, nothing really feels right while he's gone anyway.

~

Dear Daisy,

My training has been completed and I've received my assignment. Luckily for us, I'm staying in France, patrolling Paris in case Germany attacks. I'm sorry I didn't write sooner, it was difficult to find time during the first couple weeks, but you should know that not a day has gone by where I haven't thought of you. I ache for you, long for you so much it makes me dizzy. Patrolling Paris is wonderful, I've been here a few times, but I can't help but find you on ever corner. In the flower shops, laying among the soft petals. In the warmth of the bakeries and restaurant, beckoning me. Swirling in the air around me, shining in the stars above me. It's not the first city I've found you in and I'm certain it won't be the last.

I know I have so much to say to you. Secrets and truths that have been on the tip of my tongue since the night we met, pleading to be told. Oh how desperate I was on our last night together, aching to tell you everything. Again, I'm sorry, for I'm making you wait. I know you hate me, enough to cry for me, enough to marry me. I was once told my parents hated each other as well, and I had never seen love like theirs.

I hope you're staying warm as the days get colder, maybe planting vegetables in your garden in the back. Pumpkins grow well against the wall of the house and my mum has a wonderful pumpkin soup recipe. I'll dream of you tonight, and maybe every night, in our kitchen with the pretty blue apron around your hips, filling our house with a warmth only you could bring. My radio playing in the background, I'll wish to be sat there with you, argue over how you under-cooked the pumpkin just because I like the color of your pink cheeks when we fight.

Stay safe for me Daisy for I need a home to come home to.

-The Harry Styles x

~

Cold winds come with fall, blowing into the bakery every time the door is even slightly cracked. Daisy's lucky enough to be on oven duty, staying warm in the back while Robin works the counter. She's been working with him for almost a month now, finally skilled enough to help decorate the Halloween cookies and package them. Robin does most of the baking, but she always helps, and every time she finds a recipe of interest he goes out of his way to teach her to make it. Daisy finds working at the bakery to be quite wonderful. It's a good way to spend her time and she's never been good at cooking despite her mother's hard efforts to teach her. Meredith isn't much of a baker either so Daisy never learned that growing up either. It's exciting, working here. Like she's got a new hidden talent or secret that only her and Robin know.

It's only a matter of time before her mother or Summer starts questioning what she's been doing during the days, and she's dreading having to answer. Some may it find it silly but if she tells them about her new hobby she's afraid it'll lose its appeal. When she's here, everything is simple. She bakes and laughs with Robin, forgetting that men are fighting a few countries over. And if she's feeling particularly lonely, she can imagine that Harry's just at work, that she'll finish her goodies for the day and take them home in a box wrapped with pretty ribbon, body flushing when her husband praises her.

Even if it makes going home even more disappointing, Daisy will enjoy her time in the bakery. She's nearly curling the ribbon on a package of croissants for the girl on the other side of the counter when Robin says he's going to take the trash out back real quick. They were starting to close up when the lady came in, a Mrs. Weathers as Robin had greeted her, and he instructed y/n to quickly wrap her order. She carries the package over, smiling politely at Mrs. Weathers and charging her.

"You're Mr. Styles' fiancee aren't you?" She asks, counting out the coins in her purse. Her green eyes look Daisy up and down (as much as possible with the counter between them) but she looks more curious than judging.

"Yes ma'am."

Mrs. Weathers hums, accepting her change from Daisy. "Never thought I'd see the day he'd find a wife." Her tone is amused, mixed with a little bit of surprise, and her eyes shine at Daisy with a newfound respect.

"Why's that?" Daisy questions. She knows Harry's not well liked. He's not really liked at all, but everyone has their person. Maybe she's not Harry's person but her family made it so she is. And it turned out to be better than expected. So maybe she actually is his person and she never knew.

"I had a bit of a crush on him myself a few years ago." Mrs. Weathers admits, looking sheepish. "Tried to talk to him on the beach once, maybe get him to take me on a date in that pretty car of his. Barely spoke to me though. Ignored my flirting, even went as far as telling me I was desperate." Daisy cringes at the word. Harry used to hint at her being desperate too, but he never outright said it to her. If he had she thinks she would've hit him.

"I'm sorry," she apologizes, feeling the need to make up for Harry's rudeness. "He's got a sharp tongue and an ego big enough to keep his mouth flapping."

Mrs. Weathers laughs, waving her hand. "Don't apologize! It hurt at the time but I'm grateful he's the way he is. I probably would've married him and that would be awful. My husband Terry is the greatest love I've ever known."

Daisy smiles at the dreamy look in Mrs. Weathers eyes, but her chest aches for Harry. He may be rough on the edges, but she knows deep down he's sweet. He has a reason for all his actions, and maybe that's why he's terrible to everyone. A sort of test, wanting to see who cares enough to stick around. Or it could just be him knowing what he wants and being careless. Either way she's proud, knowing she was the one to turn him.

"It just takes him a bit to warm up." Daisy defends, "But I'm the lucky one that stuck around, I suppose."

Mrs. Weathers chuckles, picking up the package and nestling it in the crook of her elbow. "If you say so." She hums, adjusting her scarf and then she's heading out into the chilly air. Daisy stares at the door for a moment, thinking that Harry's actually a lot kinder than Mrs. Weathers and any other person that something bad to say about him.

~

Daisy's crouched on the lowest porch step, fingers begin to burn as she lights the last of the Jack-O-lanters her and Summer had carved yesterday. Harry had been right about the pumpkins, she grew so many that they were able to save two for soup, leave three on the steps here, and take two back to Summer's house.

Tossing the match to the side, Daisy watches the candle flicker through it's smile. She can't help but notice that this particular face has the same little bunny teeth as Harry, even if it's big smile is nothing like Harry's. Her heart sinks, eyes stinging as she pathetically imagines him. Not exactly sure how long she watches the flame dance, wishing it were Harry's eyes in front of her, she practically jumps out of skin when two hands jab her shoulders. "Boo!"

She almost falls off the porch steps as she leaps to her full height, the hands of Gemma being the one thing to steady her. "You scared me." Daisy says sheepishly, holding a hand to her racing heart.

"That was the point," Gemma teases, "it's Halloween." Her eyes look over Daisy, smiling falling. "And you're not dressed up at all."

Blushing, Daisy picks at the bow around her waist. "I was gonna be a kitten but I haven't had time to draw my nose and whiskers on. What are you?"

Gemma adjust the sleeves of the button up, tugging down the too-small sweater vest and holding her arms open. Her hip pops out sassily, "I'm Harry!" Daisy examines her again, realizing she's wearing her version of the outfit they mocked Harry about when wedding shopping. "I figured you could use a little Harry today, and I'm as close as it gets right now."

Daisy's glad she hadn't done her makeup yet, because Gemma's words send her to tears.

~

Dear Harry,

I've never been to Paris but I can't help but find comfort in the city knowing you're there. I'm sure it's not exactly what you were expecting for assignment; you've always been a front line man, but I'm grateful the universe is on my side this time.

I grew pumpkins like you suggested and your mother made the best soup for us after Halloween. I wish you could have been at the house with me. A girl came dressed up as a fighter pilot and I thought of how much you'd enjoy that. Gemma came over to hand out candy and stay the night, which was nice. The house is to big without you in it, but for some reason it made me miss you more.

While your secrets make me nervous, I respect your choice to wait to spill them. At first it drove me mad and I spent days like a tornado in the house. I've found a distraction though, one I think you'll be proud of. An old friend of you father's, Robin, has been teaching me to bake. His son's shipped out as well and we've found company in each other's presence. I don't like cooking, as you very much know, but I really enjoy baking. Maybe one day that'll be our routine. You'll come back from the war, safe and sound, and I'll bake lots of desserts for us to devour while you cook our meals. And of course your radio will be on, and maybe I'll make you dance with me. I happen to be a very good dancer when you're my partner, and no matter how much I try to fight it, you'll always be my greatest partner.

Stay safe for me Harry or I'll have no husband to bake for. With all my heart, Daisy o

~

Rain pelts against her umbrella, ice cold in the November air. It far too late for her to be out here, but at least it's a nice neighborhood. Not as nice as Harry's or Thomas', but still better than the one she grew up in. She doesn't dwell on that thought too long though, because she's still trying to figure out why she came here. Shivering, the red door stares back at her tear filled eyes, daring her to step forward and knock. She wants to, she really does. Wants to go inside, sit next to the wood burning stove she'd sat by with Harry that one time he brought her here. Maybe drink some tea. Maybe wrap a blanket around her frame and cry. It felt too empty to cry in their house. Her sobs echoed and rattled, reminding her she was alone.

Still in her pajamas, she'd thrown on one of Harry's peacoats and grabbed the umbrella from the coat closet, running through two streets worth of puddles. Her soaked socks remind her of that.

Sniffling, Daisy wipes her eyes with the cuffs of the coat, finally stepping onto the welcome mat. Inhaling shakily, she knocks before she can duck out and spend all night crying in the street. Harry would be so upset with her if he found out she was even out right now. He told her not to worry, yet here she was.

It takes minute for the door to be answered, lights flicking on upstairs, and then on the staircase, and then in the living room. Daisy wills herself to calm down, bouncing anxiously as the door swings open.

"Daisy?"

Anne has wrapped her robe around her nightgown, rollers mussed in her hair, and eyes bleary but her eyes widen when she meets Daisy's red rimmed ones. "Oh dear, come in! Get out of the rain!"

She waves her in, Daisy's umbrella dripping water on the rug as she closes it and places it in the rack. Anne shuts and locks the door behind her, immediately reaching to help Daisy out of her son's coat. "I'm sorry," Daisy mumbles, shaking off the damp fabric. Helpless, she watches Anne hang it by the door, bottom lip trembling with surpressed cries.

"What's wrong sweetheart?" Anne coos gently, reaching forward to push back her wet hair. Daisy crumbles under the affection, chest aching so bad she thinks it might crack open to reveal her longing heart to the cruel world. "Are you hurt?"

She shakes her head, finally breaking down. Her body shakes against Anne, shoulders hunching as her mother-in-law wraps her arms around Daisy. Anne shushes her, rubbing her hand in soothing circles over her back. "It's okay darling. You can talk to me."

Somehow, Daisy manages to choke out the one thought swirling through her brain. "I miss him so much." It's simple, but the words make her cry even more after finally admitting it. She didn't realize how much she enjoyed being around Harry, how much better he made her days. Being without him is like missing the broth in the soup, the flour in a loaf of bread, the roots of a plant. Nothing feels right and she hates it.

"Oh darling, I know." Anne coos, stroking her soggy hair tenderly. Daisy feels small in her arms, cradled like a girl as small as Kitty even though her feet are on the ground and not around Anne's waist. She thinks back on when she wishes she were as tiny as her sister, innocent to this kind of hurt, and she can't help but think this night was born out of that wish. Maybe the universe started a war, drafted the one boy she may one day love, just because she was being sad and petty. It's stupid, Hitler's not invading previous German land because she wished to be little again. But it does feel nice to have Anne hold her, tell her she understands. All Meredith’s ever done is tell her to grow up, act her age, learn to cook, get married, have kids. Everything she always felt like she could never do.

“He’s really irritating but I want him back.” Daisy murmurs around trembling breaths, beginning to calm down. Anne laughs, whispering an agreement before pulling back enough to see her face. She strokes her cheeks tenderly, motherly.

“Let’s her you dry clothes and a cup of tea, yeah?” Daisy nods shyly, letting Anne guide her up the stairs and into a random bedroom. She digs through the dresser, pulling out a cotton tee and striped pajama bottoms. The same pajama bottoms Harry owns multiple pairs of. “These were his favorites as a boy. Don’t fit him now but I can’t get rid of them.”

Daisy changes into them in the bathroom, recognizing the scent of Harry immediate. He still smells the same today but more manly. Maybe it's that nice cologne he wears that makes him smell older, more mature. But his teen scent is comforting too. The two of them, feeling small but together. It makes her ache a bit more, but she smiles at it. Maybe Harry's thinking about her, smirking as he fall asleep and imagining her crying. Soulmates maybe, reaching out to jab at her throbbing heart. It's a very Harry thing to do, she thinks.

And she continues to think of him when she crawls into his childhood bed, an old record player playing an album he loved as a kid, with her mug of tea on his old nightstand. Buried in his sheets, it almost feels like he's there too. That's how it should be, husband and wife, buried next to each other forever.

[kunstnurii]

sungchan x gn!reader

 pairing : sungchan x gn!reader

warnings : mention of past abuse

genre : fluff

word count : 1.5k

song recommendation :  - The Lights Behind You - Surl

summary : moving to Seoul, you never thought you’d fall for your -extremely loud- neighbour. 

disclaimer : i am not using capitalised letters on purpose. it’s my ~aesthetic~

growing up, you never really had what you could call a best friend. you were in a very friends group, sure, but you were never the person people looked forward to seeing in the morning, always being the last choice when your friends looked for someone to hang out with. it did bother you at first, you wanted to have sleepovers, dumb hangouts with friends, inside jokes, and just having someone to share your day with. but, as time passed, you noticed it wasn’t as bad, you started feeling less lonely even if you were alone by the end of the day, it was also an advantage as you didn’t have anything holding you from moving countries on your own, being the independent person you had become. 

so here you were, on your way from the airport to your new flat, as your company had rented it before you would be moving to Seoul. you had recently been appointed as chief of the marketing department of your company’s branch in Seoul, and thus, had achieved your high school dream. you looked out of the window of the taxi you were currently sitting in, thinking back on the hardships you had gone through to come to this point in life; the abuse you went through whenever you came home, the loneliness you felt in school, and in general, you proudly smiled, considering you were now in your dream city, about to work as one of the higher-ups you never even dreamt of becoming. you were positive you had become successful. 

as the taxi driver helped you move the suitcases to the front of the very tall looking building, a tall figure was approaching the entrance door holding two huge bags of snacks (was he really going to eat that all by himself,,,,?) and noticed your struggle as he sped up to quickly drop the snacks he had been ordered to buy by his roommates. he came back down to help you move the suitcases as the driver had now headed to his next customer. you smiled in appreciation and noticed him smile back even through the dark mask he was wearing. you were now both awkwardly standing in the elevator with two very heavy suitcases waiting for the doors to close. 

“which floor are you going to?” he asked in the sweetest voice he had managed to let out.

“18, please.” you smiled.

“oh! i live on that floor too! that means we’re neighbours!” he had squeaked out in excitement. cute, you thought. 

as you both exchanged names, you noticed how cute this man, well, sungchan, as you had learned his name, was. you were also hoping you’d get to be close in the future because of how nice he was. he helped you move the suitcases up to the front of your door and headed to the flat number 69, while yours was the number 70. you exchanged good nights, as the sun had already set a few minutes before your plane landed, and each headed to your own house. 

it was all fun and games at first, you finished installing your furniture (which really, only consisted of a mattress, a side table and a clothes hanger) and your personal stuff in the span of the first week, and adapted pretty well to the rhythm of the city. there was, however, one big issue; your neighbours. they were very nice, very respectful and very cute, but you truly wondered what they did during the day for them to be so loud during the night. sungchan and you had become a bit closer, having short conversations when going down the elevator together, you had found out they were artists, and that all of the group lived in this building. you wondered how many they were for them to be living in different apartments, and also because of the amount of noise that comes from their apartment at the most random hour of the night.

the noise didn’t bother you for the first month, as you were also up pretty late because of the jet lag, trying to adapt to a new timeline was harsh. however, as you got back to your original sleeping schedule of going to bed at 10 p.m, you noticed just how loud they were. there would be yellings at 3 a.m about how someone was being a sore loser or even just screaming and laughing. what bothered you the most was that you recognised one of the loud voices: sungchan. he probably was one of the loudest of the group. 

as another month passed, you had decided to gather your courage and confront them about the lack of sleep they induced on you. it was currently 2 in the morning, you were dressed in sweats and a hoodie as you do most of the time you were home, and the lack of sleep had given you a newfound courage for confrontation. you were now heading towards their door, about to knock, before realising you didn’t have the confidence to speak about it and thus, stepping back with a sigh, deciding to go back to your own apartment before the door suddenly opened. 

“uh? what were you doing in front of our door?” came the voice that you would recognise anywhere now, considering how loud it was every. single. night. 

“oh,,, sungchan,,,hi.” was all you could say in pure awkwardness. 

“it’s 2 a.m, why are you awake?” he sounded so soft when asking this, that you wondered if he gets possessed every time he enters his house.

 “actually, i can’t sleep because of you guys.” that was it. you had finally said it!

“huh?! why?” he looked like a very cute confused puppy with the attention span of 3 seconds and it made your heart ache with how much you wanted to hug him at the moment. (wait what? hug him?)

“you guys make a little too much noise at night…” yeah, just a little too much. 

“oh, i’m sorry, i’ll tell the members to tone it down.” he was now feeling guilty as he assumed you were probably about to tell them that before he opened the door to go to the convenience store.

 “but where are you going at this hour?” you were now wondering why he had opened the door at 2 a.m.

“oh i felt hungry so i was going to eat some noodles in the store down the street, and no one wanted to come with me so i decided to go alone.” he smiled a little, his mouth watering at his awaiting late night snack.

“now that you mentioned food, i’m hungry too.” you hadn’t eaten dinner as there was nothing to cook with and you were too lazy to order, and thus stuck to eating the last yogurt inside your fridge. 

“wanna go together?” he had sparkles in his eyes from thinking about spending time with you outside of the elevator. (why was his heart beating so fast?)

 “you know what, sure, let me grab my wallet.” you were about to head to your apartment when he held your hand and headed towards the elevator.

“my treat.” he smiled down at you. 

so here you were, at 2.30 in the morning, tasting sungchan’s special noodle recipe (which really was just cheese on top of it) in a convenience store dressed in your most basic attire (so was he, and boy did he look soft and cozy in that hoodie). you were feeling content at the moment, having someone to eat with for the first time in years aside from acquaintance at work, and genuinely enjoying someone’s company. you felt your cheeks go warm when he talked about random stuff with sparkly eyes and a pure smile on his face. was it the noodles? or was it that you were slowly developing feelings for the man sitting in front of you? 

sungchan was feeling a little bit self conscious at the way the person in front of him was staring quietly at him while he was blabbering about how his teammate Jeno dropped Soy Sauce on the carpet when trying to cook, he was slowly starting to get a crush on his neighbour and he didn’t want them to find him stupid or weird.

 “why,,, why are you staring at me that way?” he asked with a low whisper while trying to hide his big frame behind his chopsticks. 

“it’s just, it feels nice to have someone to eat with and talk about random stuff.” you smiled a little and he felt his heart skip a beat. 

“i’m happy i get to be that someone.” it was now your turn to try to hide behind your chopsticks because you felt your cheeks darken and didn’t want the boy to notice. 

“also because i think i’m starting to have a crush on you and would like to have your consent before i try to flirt with you.” you choked on the noodle soup as he said that. you never expected him to have a crush on you, and even less expected yourself to like that he had one.

 “uh,,, yeah i guess you,, can flirt with me,,, i don’t mind.” 

you knew you wouldn’t be getting any sleep tonight either, but this time it wouldn’t be because of the noise. 

[eleven-times-lively]

The Fight

In which reader and Fred question their compatibility. 💕 masterpost

Summary: You and Fred haven’t been the same since the girls left for Hogwarts. Can you handle the new dynamic after eleven years? Word Count: 3654 Note: I am such a whore for angst so this is one of my favorite chapters so far lol. Thanks to Liv with help with some ideas! Sorry in advance for the cliffhanger, as this is the end of part 2!!! Enjoy!

Two weeks had passed since Cassie and Callie boarded the Hogwarts Express and left for school. Two weeks since you’d seen your little girls. Two weeks since you were surrounded by constant laughter and joy. Two weeks since things had felt normal.

You and Fred had gotten off to a fine start… that is if fine consists of uncomfortable silence and forced conversation. It was as if you’d forgotten how to be alone with each other. Eleven years of constant company can make a couple forget how to be, well, a couple. With each passing day you could feel a divide. Rather than a lovely time of peace, a rift between you and Fred was growing strong, vast, and cold. 

The first major fight happened just a day after the girls had left. One day and you were at each other’s throats. It would have been the twins’ second day of school, and house announcements had finally come around to family members.

“Freddie!” you shouted from the front door, “The girls’ house announcements are here!”

“‘Bout bloody time!” he shouted as he ran down the stairs. He scooped you up in his arms and carried you to the couch. You gave him a quick kiss before settling opposite him and tearing open the letter.

Your excited expression quickly fell as you read. Fred looked at you expectantly. “Calliope Molly Weasley,” you began, “has been placed in Ravenclaw.” You looked up at Fred with a halfhearted smile.

“Can’t say I didn’t see that coming,” Fred chuckled, “why are you upset, love?”

“Not upset, just… puzzled.” You paused a moment before continuing. “Cassiopeia Ginevra Weasley has been placed in Gryffindor.” You looked up at Fred, this time with a genuine smile on your face. However, there were cracks in your visage, waiting to split upon his reaction. 

“Yes!” he shouted, earning a puzzled glance from you. “Gryffindor! That’s my girl!” He was up from the couch, and quite literally, jumping with glee. However he faltered and paused for a moment. “Wait…” his words drew out from his mouth, as if the very sound disgusted him, “two separate houses?”

You looked up at him, unsure of how to precede. “Yeah,” you said just about a whisper. “I know it’ll be a tough adjustment, but if anyone can do it it’s our girls. I’m happy for them!” You were truly excited and extremely proud of your daughters, however you looked up and Fred didn’t seem to be sharing your feelings.

His face was flushed, save for a cherry red at the edges of his ears. He was breathing heavy, and honestly looked as if he was about to pass out. “Two… two,” he was stuttering in utter disbelief. “Two different houses,” he muttered as he brought himself to sit down on the chair next to the couch. His eyes were blank as he just stared straight ahead, incoherently muttering while he ran his hands through his hair. You only caught a few words in broken bits, which happened to be ‘twins’ ‘Gryffindor’ and ‘George’.

You stood up from your seat and crouched down next to him, gently rubbing his arm as you cocked an eyebrow up at him. He looked down at you, a shocked expression playing at his features. His face was contorted in such a way as if to perfectly convey his saying ‘why aren’t you shocked as well?’. 

“Two different houses,” he repeated, this time clearly, “They’re in two different houses, y/n.”

“Okay,” you began, this time your turn to flash a look of confusion, “and? Fred, they’ll be fine. If anything, this will be good for them.” You stood up and looked down at him.

“Good?!” he gasped as if you’d just told him the Hollyhead Harpies lost the cup. “How in the world could this be good, y/n?” He rose to his feet and took your hands in his, searching your face for even an ounce of a shared feeling.

Because, Fred…” you began, fighting the urge to roll your eyes and scoff at him, “they’ve been attached at the hip for eleven years, some separation will do them well.”

“But they need each other, y/n!” He looked at you as if you had ten heads. “Twins need one and other!” He was shouting, whether he realised it or not you weren’t sure.

“No Fred,” you continued, now annoyed, “they don’t. It will be good for them. They’ll have different classes, different friends, different experiences. They’ll get to make a life for themselves that isn’t dependent on each other! How in the world could you say this is bad!?” By the end, you were yelling… intentionally.

“But they need each other!” He repeated the same sentiment once again, still flashing the wide-eyed, open-mouthed expression of shock.

“I’m not having this argument if that’s all you can say, Weasley,” you did scoff this time and started to walk away when he finally spoke a different word.

“Y/n, wait.” He was rubbing his face with his hands. You walked back over to him and gave him a look that quite clearly showed how perturbed you were. He was shaking his head, almost holding back a laugh. “I know you don’t understand, love,” he began, noticing the expression of amused anger that played at your features, “but twins have a special… connection.” It was taking everything in you to not bust out laughing. “Especially at that young, I don’t know if they can handle this much separation being thrown at them all at once. I mean Georgie and I probably only survived Hogwarts because we had each other.”

Poor choice of words, Weasley. “Only because you had each other?” you spat.

Fred nodded his head innocently, not yet realising his mistake.

“Just the two of you? Not me? Not your girlfriend that you had for the majority of school?” You were yelling, genuinely hurt by his words.

“Merlin, y/n, you know that not what I meant!” he shouted back, a culmination of the misunderstanding and his confusion of the whole situation.

“No, Fred, I didn’t! I mean, when you’re sitting here rambling about twins and nonsense, how am I meant to think I was included in your distorted memory of Hogwarts?!”

“Y/n,” he began, cautiously even if he was still shouting, “I was just trying to tell you how important a sibling bond is! Especially that of twins! I mean, what’s wrong with you!”

You looked up at him, shocked and even more hurt, yet the daft idiot kept going.

“I know you don’t understand because your one brother is dead and the other you don’t even speak to!” He continued yelling, but stopped abruptly as his words, and immediately softened, “Y/n, I-”

Tears streamed down your face in a disparaging mix of emotions. “Save it, Fred. At least our girls won’t be living the fucked up utopia that you and George did! Constantly attached and only living for each other! At least they’ll have a sense of independence and can learn to grow apart from each other! Which… if you haven’t noticed… if something you and George never did!” You didn’t even give him a chance to speak, you just ran upstairs and slammed the bedroom door behind you. 

***

Never, ever go to bed angry. That fight was two weeks ago, and you still hadn’t fully recovered. Everytime you tried to bring it up to Fred, you were met with dodgy glances and fleeting responses. However, the two of you tried to carry on as normal with kisses, cuddles, and date nights. So now, two weeks without the girls, and you were dreading what was still to come. You sat up from the couch, slowly waking up from your nap, interest piqued by the lovely smells coming from the kitchen. You made your way to the kitchen where you found Fred cooking dinner. “Hi, love,” you muttered, still groggy.

“Hi, darling,” he responded, kissing your head as you walked past. “Date night,” he chirped, sounding only slightly interested. You just hummed in response. He nodded his head and went back to the pot before him as you took a seat on one of the stools at the kitchen island.

“What’s for dinner, love?” you asked Fred.

“Oh, your favorite,” he said, turning and smiling at you. You only cocked an eyebrow in response. “Look, y/n, I feel bad. I messed up and then wouldn’t bother talking about it cause it was easier to ignore it than confront the issue. I’m sorry.” A blush crept on his face as he looked down at you, clearly slightly on edge.

“Thank you, Freddie. Means a lot.” You returned the smile up at him. “So,” you began, standing up and heading over to his place at the stove, wrapping an arm around his waist, “Lancashire stew, is it?” You smiled at him and looked down, peering into the pot. Your expression quickly fell to confusion as your gaze was met by a thick, orange substance.

“Um, no…” he drew out slowly, “pumpkin soup?” His words were more of a question than anything. “Your favorite dinner. Pumpkin soup.”

You removed your arm and turned to look up at him. Your mouth opened slightly as you flashed an incredulous look at him. “Fred I bloody hate pumpkin soup.”

“What?” He turned to you, utterly baffled.

“It has to be my least favorite thing in all of Wizardom. In fact, I hate anything pumpkin. Taste changed when I was pregnant, hated it ever since,” you expression quickly turned sullen and defeated. “Fred, you knew this.”

He looked down at you, mouth agape, unable to speak.

“Whatever,” you muttered, walking away. “Wouldn’t have expected you to remember anyway.”

“Y/n, wait,” he said, voice tense and clearly agitated. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Well it seems that you’re at the store more and more, Fred,” you sighed. “I mean, how many times have I come home for the day, and you stay at the store for hours more?” You weren’t angry, just… tired. “You know what?” you began, “It’s okay, Freddie. I love you”

“No, y/n. I should have known that.” He was staring down at you, tears threatening to fall from his eyes. “I have to be at the store to provide for us, love.”

“That’s a lie and you know it,” you stated, “Sometimes you’re home long after the store would’ve closed. Besides, Fred, we make plenty of money and you know that. You’d rather be with your toys than me.”

His heart broke. Seeing you so sad and defeated. Yet he couldn’t help the wave of hurt that came over him. “Toys?”, he asked.

“I mean that’s what everything in there is, isn’t it?” You crossed your arms, staring him up and down. 

“Y/n, you helped create half those products.” He cocked an eyebrow down at you, genuinely not sure if you meant what you had said. 

“Sure, Fred, because it’s a business. I don’t spend hours obsessing over it. I don’t spend hours testing and trying everything every day. I don’t spend hours thinking up products that probably won’t even make it to the shelf! I,” you paused, voice breaking, “I don’t spend more time in my store than I do with my husband.” Tears streamed down your face freely now, and you collapsed into Fred’s arms. 

“Is that how you really feel?” Fred murmured, guiding you over to the couch. You just nodded your head in response, trying to choke back a sob.  “Love, I-... I’m sorry.” There was a long moment of silence. Him holding you in his arms, shaking and sobbing as his own tears flowed as well. “I was never trying to be neglectful, y/n. Please, please know that. I… I just needed to get away I suppose. I mean not from you of course. Just… my mind. Being there with George, and sometimes alone, actually. I’d be distracted, focused on the store or a product, and not thinking,” he sighed, and the weight that came off his shoulders was almost tangible.

“But why was I not enough,” you whispered. “Why couldn’t I distract you? Be there for you?”

He took a deep breath in before continuing. “Cause you’re a reminder, y/n.” 

“Fred, what?”

“They look just like you, act like you, sound like you. Everytime I look like you, I see our girls. And, and it’s not just that y/n. I haven’t felt happy lately.” You looked up at him, a mixture of confusion and dread spreading across your face. “Not… not with our marriage. That’s… fine. I just… I don’t know,” his voice grew quiet and slow. He took a deep breath in, shaking as he went. “I just feel different, and I don’t know why. It’s not the same and I’m not… handling it, y/n.” He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head. He pulled you into him closely, not letting go for anything. 

“Well let’s change that, Freddie,” you turned and looked up at him. You were met with his puffy, tear stained face adorned with a cocked eyebrow and upturned nose. “We’ll do something we can have fun and enjoy doing. Some of these rooms could use a new coat of paint.”

He gave you a soft smile, appreciative of your efforts. “Painting it is, then.” He stretched out to lay down on the couch, pulling you with him. The two of you drifted off into a relaxed sleep after a while, forgetting any responsibilities and settling in the feeling of normalcy… a connection that had been missing for weeks.

***

Fred groaned as he rolled over, waking up to the early morning sunshine flooding in through the window. He was met with cold sheets and an empty bed. He stood up, rubbing his eyes and stumbling into his slippers. He had a good morning stretch and wandered downstairs. He was met with you, standing at the bottom of the steps, staring up at him with bright eyes and a big smile. 

“Morning, love,” you said bounding over to him and jumping into his arms.

“Hey, y/n,” he said, chuckling lightly. He hugged you and wandered into the kitchen, where you already had his tea ready for him. “What’s this about, love?”

“Well,” you began, taking a seat across from him, “I figured we could paint today.”

He gave you a warm smile as he sipped his tea, fully waking up. After a while he stood, placing his hands on your hips. He looked down at you, smiling before placing a warm, sweet kiss on your lips. You reciprocated, humming into his touch. You separated and took a step back, staring up at your husband. Everything felt right, whole, complete for the first time in weeks. 

You guided him into the living room where you had the paints and supplies set up. “Well, here it is!” you chirped excitedly.

He chuckled, crouching down to examine the paints. “Which rooms are we doing, love?”

“I was thinking the kitchen, living room, and the front hallway.”

He nodded in approval, turning one of the jars over in his hands. His face contorted, features pinched tightly together. “Grey?” he asked, sounding perturbed and confused at the same time. 

“Yeah…” you responded, turning an eyebrow at him. 

“Beige?” he asked, lip upturned in disgust.

“Yes, Fred, what’s the issue?”

“So… boring,” he finally looked up at you, face shifted as if he smelled a horrible scent. “These aren’t real colors, y/n.”

“Real colors?” you chuckled, “pretty sure they are, Freddie.” You grabbed the grey and got to work on the living room wall.

“Wait,” he said, standing to meet you, “I mean no green, no red, not even a blue?”

“These are mature and modern, Fred. There’s nothing sophisticated about a primary color.

He scoffed at you, “Y/n we could have done an emerald green, and muted bluish grey, even a deep maroon. I’m not asking for Gryffindor red, here. But I’d rather not be suffocated by despair in my own home if that’s alright.”

“Bit over dramatic if you ask me, Fred,” you murmured, continuing your painting.

He rolled his eyes and got to work with the beige in the kitchen. After a while of heavy silence, his pettiness took over. “Hey, y/n,” he called out, walking over to you.

“Hmm?” You responded, now focused on the front hallway. He crossed over to the finished living room wall, holding up in paintbrush. “I think this grey is a bit too flashy, don’t you think, love?” You turned and looked at him just as he spread a stripe of beige onto the fresh, grey wall. “This dull enough for you?” He flashed an indignant look before smirking and returning to his work. 

You stood there, mouth agape, not sure how to react. So, doing what any reasonable adult would do, you walked over to him and painted a grey stripe on his beige wall.  He just rolled his eyes and kept going, unfazed. You huffed and walked away, leaving him smirking. 

***

Over the next weeks the tension between you and Fred continued to grow. Every day there was either a petty spat, or an exchanged that would leave one of you defeated and disappointed. 

One day you were in Wizarding Paris gathering some supplies and Fred decided to plan a surprise for your return. You came home to a trail of red rose petals from the doorway into the center of the house, where whole roses were tossed about and Fred was standing in a suit with soft music in the background. You were absolutely enamored, until he made the comment, “I know red roses are your favorite, so I had mother help me gather as many as we could find.” 

You stood hesitating for a moment, “Fred my favorite is a peach rose, not red.” You stared up at him, tears from a mix of joy and sadness pricking at your eyes, “Fred they were our wedding flowers.” You tried to brush it off and enjoy the night, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you and Fred were starting to lose touch. The night ended with him getting upset over you not enjoying the surprise and not being appreciative of his efforts, even when he tried. 

Another time you and Fred were in the store, planning for the release of a collaborative collection with Madam Malkins. You had rescheduled a development meeting without telling him, hoping to get some of your designs past Fred. This led to months of sly, petty plays between the two of you. Whether it be one of you not showing up to work, or not restocking a product, or not counting the days galleons, you and Fred were finding new ways to mess with each other. 

The new, dangerous dynamic finally came to a head just before the girls would be returning for Christmas break. You were in the backyard gardens, tending to the various year-round plants and dusting snow off of the decor. Unbeknownst to you, Fred was creeping up behind you, a snowball in hand. He tried to hold in a laugh as he hurled the snowball, hitting you square in the back.

“Fred!”, you shrieked, turning to face him. Your face was beat red as your nostrils flared.

He was laughing until he saw your face. “Merlin, love, did I hurt you?”

“What? No. But what the bloody hell was that for?”, you helped, throwing your arms up in question at him. 

“I-... it’s… snowball fight?” He rubbed his hands together, both out of nerves and a defense against the cold. 

You rolled your eyes, muttering under your breath as you turned back to your work.

“You know what?”, he began in a terse tone that compelled you to face him once again. “Enough, y/n. I’ve had enough.”

“Pardon?”

“I miss having fun, y/n! We used to be a happy and fun couple! We went out with friends, we got into trouble! We. Had. Fun! And now we live in this… this fucking charade! Are we even happy with each other?!” He yelled, face growing increasingly red as he turned and went inside.

You followed him in, slamming the door behind you. “Having fun!?”, you retorted, screaming as well, “Fred, you git, we’re thirty five years old with two kids!! There is no fun anymore, just parenting and real life shit!”

“And that’s exactly what’s wrong, y/n!” he yelled back, “This horrible attitude! Ever since you had those kids you’ve… changed! Changed into someone I don’t even recognize anymore!” Tears began to stream down his face at the utterance of his final sentence.

His words made you cry as well. “Those kids?! Fred Weasley they are your daughters, too! And think about how I feel! The fact that you haven’t changed! You’re still witty and crafty and energetic, and Fred I just can’t keep up with you anymore!! We aren’t in Hogwarts anymore, our children are, so you need to drop this childish attitude and fast!”

“What about our entire relationship that was built on wit and energy and childish fun?!”, he shot back, voice breaking, “All of the jokes and laughter, doesn’t that mean anything to you anymore!?? It’s what bonds us together, and now you just want to leave it behind like it isn’t what made us fall in love!”

“Are we even in love anymore?! I loved you for your wit and intelligence and creativity, yes, but those can be applied elsewhere! Stop acting like a child and act like the adult you’re supposed to be!” “You aren’t my partner in crime anymore. You aren’t the same woman I fell in love with. I want a divorce.” And with that he apparated away into the succumbing abandon of the wizarding world.

@it-was-three-am @hess016

(If you’re name isn’t linked, it means I couldn’t tag you! Message me to find out why!)

[ouyangzizhensdad]

Do you think wangxian's relationship would have changed in any way had WSX not been kicked out of the Cloud Receses?

I am better picking apart holes in canon-divergence idea than I am at thinking through a canon-divergence idea. I guess it might be true that people who suck at things become critics 😉.

Okay, let me give this my best try.

WWX would have continued to try to get closer to LWJ and continued to play little childish pranks on him to try to get his attention. Would he go as far as to try to get punished to copy the rule book again, just in case LWJ would also supervise him? Would LQR realise that WWX was ‘bothering’ his precious pupil and nephew and warn WWX off ‘harassing’ LWJ (which would only force WWX in being more creative in his attempts)? Possible. I don’t think WWX was ready at that age, and with his entanglement with the Jiang sect, to realise that he had a crush on LWJ and try to woo him in any way. 

LWJ, on the other hand, would have gotten more and more ruffled, and more and more reactive--which would only encourage teenage WWX more. Would have LWJ worked through his feelings and his repression faster if he had spent more time with WWX? I don’t know--did he just need the time to do it, the time to grow, to reflect, to face this new information about himself? Would he have needed until the Wen Indoctrination camp to finally accept that these feelings were there, and true, and that they would not change? 

We have to consider that WWX leaves the CR just when LWJ is starting to see the kind of person WWX is under his persona and all the mischief he’s up to. He’s seen WWX’s skills and smarts, as well as his heart, when they were fighting the water ghouls and when he risked his life to save Su She. Would having more opportunities to see these sides of WWX help LWJ reconcile himself with his feelings in a shorter window of time? It’s possible. After all, even if LWJ fell in love at first sight, he loves WWX for who he is, which is why he believes in him so strongly. 

Of perhaps more importance, would WWX and LWJ have had a relationship by the end of WWX’s stay at the CR where WWX would not be inclined to believe that LWJ hated him or disapproved of him? Probably. And if so, this change alone would have tremendous repercussions. It would change their interactions during the Wen archery competition, in the Xuanwu cave, during the Sunshot campaign and thereafter. Or would WWX leave the CR thinking that LWJ really never warmed up to him, and seemed only to want to censure him? 

Self-indulgent extras:

WWX stumbles upon the bunnies and realises that LWJ kept them. He lies in wait for LWJ to come and feed them and then “harrass” him a little with jokes. Somehow, without them saying anything, it becomes a ritual. WWX realises how fun it is to talk to someone boring like LWJ, even when he never seems to say anything beside “嗯”.

WWX asks LWJ to practice sword fighting with him since no other disciple of their generation is as skill as he is (JC yells in the background about how much of an arrogant prat he’s being). LWJ remains silent, incapable of saying no, and WWX gets him to agree to fight with him only this one, Lan Zhan please, just this one time at least!

JC gets punished for losing his temper at some point, nothing that earns him a particular significant punishment, but WWX never lets him live it down. He goes to spy on his during his punishment just to make fun of him and JC, knowing he’ll only get punished even more, nearly pops a blood vessel trying to keep the rage inside (later that night they wrestle and JC tries to put a sock in his mouth, so that you’ll maybe shut up for once, you insufferable moron).

LWJ becomes increasingly good at catching WWX when he’s trying to sneak out to Caiyi Town. WWX accepts all the punishments with mild grumbling. LQR, feeling like WWX is not learning his lesson, makes him copy down the rule books while doing handstands. WWX becomes increasingly ripped, and LWJ becomes increasingly constipated while supervising him for no reasons at all, none whatsoever. 

WWX gets caught again trying to help NHS cheat on his test. NMJ is called to meet with LQR and while NHS shits his pants, all the disciples are looking forward to being able to see and meet NMJ because he’s just so cool and manly and strong and cool. WWX copies while doing handstands and complains that NHS is not required to do the same. Wei-xiong do you really think I’d even be able to keep that position for a second? 

The disciples go on a nighthunt supervised by LQR and they hate every second of it. LWJ comes to help keep the disciples in check, but he spends his whole time keep his eye on WWX who wanders around to go look for clues. They manage to get separated from the group and to have to fight a resentful spirit on their own with teamwork, don’t we make a good team, Lan Zhan? wouldn’t you say so?

LWJ goes into secluded mediation for a week or two (to improve his cultivation.... or to meditate the gay away, choose your own story) and it’s not like WWX misses him, who would miss the company of a stick-in-the-mud like Lan Zhan! Well, maybe someone could miss the view, since Lan Zhan is so pretty it is almost unfair, but that’d be the end of it. There’d be no other reason to want someone so boring around. In fact, I didn’t even notice Lan Zhan hasn’t been around these past five days. I wouldn’t even know how long it’s been. 

JYL congratulating WWX in her letters for making a new friend, and hoping he will invite him to LP. WWX invites LWJ again but warns him that he has to come for sure because if he doesn’t he will disappoint the best and most perfect woman in the world, and LWJ is a peerless gentleman, he wouldn’t dare do that. And JYL makes the best lotus root soup, you have to try it, Lan Zhan, and it’s not even spicy so it’s perfect for someone like you who’s used to only eating rabbit food. 

[p1nkwitch]

If I may one last director's cut: And the Nightmare Collapses? 👁️

Ask as many as you want i dont mind.

Oh my monster au, what to say? I had this in the backburner for a few months now. Originally i was going to make a series of one shots from different characters perspectives.

So first it was going to be Jon waking up from the coma and realizing that everyone were monsters but him sort of like a walking dead scenario. I had the clear picture of him seeing Georgie in her hald deaf state being like, what the fuck happened???

Now the entire idea came to mind with how pissed off i was at everyone in season four acting like Jon was the worst for no discernable reason. Like, Melanie, Basira and Georgie, all treated him in different levels rather cruely. Georgie wasnt so mean, but she was playing blind eye to the whole thing being fucked.

So Jon is the only one who remains human because he tries so hard to keep his humanity despite everything. While everyone else becomes more monstruos, Basira and Melanie in particularly were much more affected, i had a clear vision of a slaughter Mel. But had to keep it brief since Georgie wouldnt want to dwell on her becoming a monster, since now she had no way to deny it. Daisy gets a pass because while on the coffin she regains her humanity by her regret of what she became, its why her changes are minimal in the text.

The other one shots were supposed to be from Elias and Peter perspective with the last being them reuniting.

Now my original idea had no reasoning as to why they were monsters all out sudden. Its not until i realized the potential of the entities just dropping in a world similar enough where they already existed and they end up overcharging, while still carrying the vestigies of the apocalipse that i went like-

Hoy fuck.

Ultimately i am happy with the one shot the way it came out, with Elias being able to see, he was capable of tying up those little threads i wanted to make and make the reference to having an anchor. Anchors tie you to humanity, people are fundamentaly capable of good if they wish too, kindness even in the face of despair, destroys the horrors of the world.

The world wont fix itself, but you adapt and grown and try to make it better.

Now as for the story itself? I just wanted to go buck wild with the scenery of reality fracturing itself and Elias just losing it while perceiving the horrors and understanding far more than possible.

I like eldritch horror i just dont use it enough, or horror shorts in general, maybe i should put up the small ones i made in tumblr they are like a paragraph long each.

For realsies, I really like the idea of monster Elias for several reasons and i wanted to go with it. I have another different take on this verse of how things pan out too, but i will see eventually if i want to write it. There is... also the horny aspec of Peter being, as the fic implies, a monster fucker, not really he just loves Elias whatever shape he comes even if its some weird owl spider thing. If i ever feel brave enough to go thought it in an extra will shall see.

Anyways Jonah goes through life replacing people while manipulating them and toying with their sanity like he did to the ogElias in his interview. Despite being beholding, as per the soup theory, at this point he also represents the stranger, web and spiral fairly well. I have a soft soft for him losing the ability to recognize himself after a while. Because as i pointed out? He kept sort of a more or less stable life, sure, but it must be jarring having to go from one face to another, to have to pretend to be someone else, at least enough that its not glaringly obvious that something is wrong.

So he loses it. The fears overcharge and it all stacks up on him, causing his transformation to be so strong, it ends up consuming him. Not only that but he is vain too, so to be changed into something so horryifing it breaks something else in him, it gives him the idea that no one could want him now, he cant make people do as he says like this, he doesnt know himself and now no one would want to know him anyways. The more he changes the more he loses his sense of self, its not only him, he was so many people it feels weird to be just him, it doesnt fit anymore, so through the story he starts to use they until its what he mainly uses at the end, because he grows and its happy with it by the very end.

His body changes when he doubts himself, the more time it passes the more he forgets. Now the main reason he didnt become a puddle of ink and die, was because as i mentioned he thought about being alone, and it made him think of Peter, that was his last connection, the last thread to a humanity he wasnt sure he still had. When he thinks that he loves him, even if a little, its enough to let him move.

That small lifeline is what actually saved him and what kept him more or less stable for longer that he would have otherwise. Same goes to Peter whos last action before becoming one with his siblings was pick up the phone, the same though went through him, its why even if he was already at the brink of being melded he kept himself alive for longer.

Then there was the idea of copies.

Because, eyes? just the eyes?? I know it works with supernatural energy but, the doubt, the idea or posibility that Jonah Magnus actually died the moment he transplanted his eyes the first time and that Beholding merely put the copied memories of Jonah that it reatained into the new body was such a good concept, i have a special love for it, to not be sure if you are you, but ultimately chosing to live your life despite knowing that you may not be the real one.

I like to point out at the end that he does, that he is the original and that he is not a copy but... its not really proof, Jonah wants to believe it is. Wether is true or not? Thats up to anyone.

Also his monster concept, i toyed with a few options, and ended up adding it somewhat in the final product, originally he was going to be sort of an owl monster sort of mixed with a cat, no not for the joke, i saw really nice fanart of owlcats and i was in love. But as it is i went with something similar to his body in the afterlife beach party.

Instead of tar it was the ink of the letters he wrote, the static remains because he doesnt know his face anymore and he wont again. The fur... i just wanted something nice for later when Peter made his appearence, less sticky more fluffy. 8 arms like a spider, more eyes because of beholding- you get it.

Speaking of Peter!!

Here is the deal, i know or at least believe that the curruption? Is the oposite of the lonely and viceversa. Wanting to be alone vs being consumed by what you love? Perfect.

So the Lukases become amalgamations of fog trapped in a hive mind that they cant escape from. Forced to be together and then to be alone once someone manages to impose themselves like Nathaniel did. Peter could have theorically left his siblings become him, after Elias saw them, but in this, the closenes they shared was enought that he could not do it. <3<3

I wanted to play with the fact that being stuck with so many people, mainly his sisters while slowly melding into one, made him switch from pronouns feeling comfortable in all of them. Lydia, Judith and Clara were all nice and accidentaly he wanted to feel that nice, so he switches more often to her. It too, because at one point he was litreally nothing since the rest were rather happy being one.

Reality check comes and they all realize that, oh shit we fucked him up. Hence the road trip, unfortunately the melding was inevitable, either they became one or someone took charge. Still it gives them time to bond too, which adds to the decision to let them stay with him despite everything. Peter plays into a similar idea, but from a different perspective, you lose yoursef but become a different person. Luka is all of them being at peace with being one, being happy and wanting the same thing, but still mantaining some way to be apart. If i was being sappy i would liken it to a fusion in Steven Universe.

It wasnt as such at first, but later once Peter is the main body they can do it with less fear of dissapearing. It is also true that his feelings bleed out onto them and likewise to him. Its hard being a single being while simultaniously be 5 people in one.

They do love Elias, except for Clara who is mostly just enjoying the company while judging everyones tastes. It is also true that if this hadnt happened they would never have tried it. But life works oddly. Plus they are happy.

The world cant be fixed, but life sort of goes on and people adjust as they can.

Final note? I really, reeeeally wanted to have JME corpses just drop and have everyone freak out. There was a brief idea of having them alive and react to what they did to the world, but i did not want to deal with that many explanations. So yeah, they are dead.

AGAIN SORRY FOR GOING OFF!!! I NEED TO BE STOPPED.

D:

If you want to ask something in particular go ahead i have the ideas still fresh for this one in my head.

[trouvelle]

Wish

Fandom: Detective Conan Pairing: Shinichi/Ran Rating: G Genre/Tags: Hurt/Comfort Prompt: @dcmkemogust20xx 17.08 — Wish Summary: How Shinichi wishes things were different.

.

Shinichi looks around, scanning the near empty neighborhood, illuminated by the dim moonlight. It’s late at night, and the heavy clouds seem to be moving at a faster speed, obscuring the moon every now and then. It’s about to start pouring. He shivers, his hand reaching out to grab the shoulder of the man next to him before the other disappears into the dark street.

“Be careful, Hattori.” Shinichi gives him a firm nod, and he receives a fierce grin in return; their silent exchange is an indication that they’re not about to give up, now. It’s too late to back out and Shinichi has no means to change his destiny anymore. Besides, he is the one who convinced Shinichi to tackle it head-on anyway. “Same goes fer ya, Kudo.” 

They part ways, only for a few days, before they will meet again for their next rendezvous. Shinichi is grateful that he has Heiji, the only person he trusts more than himself. It is Heiji’s fight as much as it is Shinichi’s. They’re in the front lines, only trusting each other and never another.

He walks up to the door feeling a lot lighter, and he knocks. On any other day, he would be anxious to be there, for fear of being followed by one of them; but now, it’s too late in the night, too dark to be seen. Tonight, he’s not in a hurry. 

He hears the steps and he lets out a long breath. There are good things in this world.

“Who is it?”

Shinichi smiles, imagining her behind the door, her eyes inspecting, but kind and trusting. Her voice is as beautiful as any other music in the world – it’s… Shinichi’s favorite sound.

“It’s me,” Shinichi says, so close to touching the door, smelling the wood. It’s an old, used door, but it smells like home.

Ran opens the door. Her hair is wet, and she’s in her night clothes, the ones made of soft cotton like she’s ready to go to bed. He opens his mouth to say something, but he feels his throat constrict. She sniffs at him, and he knows she’s not going to ask. Shinichi washed himself many times before coming, but death is a lingering scent.

Ran takes him by the hand, and after all the violence, her hold feels like feathers. She takes him to her tiny bathroom and takes off his clothes, concentrating. She folds the clothes and walks away; places them in the laundry bag in the corner. Shinichi sits on the floor and makes no movement while Ran washes him – he wants to touch, but it’s not the right time. He closes his eyes and just feels her hands on him. If he concentrates enough, he may believe he’s really fresh and new, he may feel like he was washed from all the pain, all the blood, all the screams. Her fingers touch his scalp gently, the cold water refreshes his body and the soap’s smell makes him dizzy. It’s his rite of passage; now, he’s not fighting. As if he could sense it, he feels the soft crashing of lips. It’s just a symbolic demonstration of affection because Ran knows they don’t do anything unless they’re in bed.

He’s methodic, he likes the right place, the right moment.

Ran dries him off precisely. “Wait for me in bed,” she whispers. There’s no reason to be quiet but feels right to be a bit solemn. “I’ll clean myself for you.”

It means they’ll go all the way tonight.

Shinichi wasn’t expecting it. Right now, he wants nothing but her company, like most of the time. He wants to talk his bad memories away and he just wants to hold her tightly, too tired to do anything else; while she listens patiently, accepts his embrace, his sobbing, his pain. That’s enough.

He stares at the ceiling quietly and expectantly, rubbing his hand on Ran’s soft blanket. Like everything she owns, it’s simple and old, and it doesn’t feel regal like the ones he has at home. Home, where his parents are waiting. Shinichi should have gone to them first, his heart knows, but his feet took him here and he spared no energy to fight with himself. He will go home to his parents soon, maybe in the morning later, when he wakes, because he knows they’re the ones who worry the most. 

Ran walks over to him and he watches in silence. He never understood the reason people bought paintings before he saw Ran naked. Now, he thinks he would pay good money to have this image accessible to him anytime. An impossible dream, for sure. As long as the fight goes on, he has no time to sit and appreciate it. He is painfully aware he has no reason to take root. He has to leave again, and the only thing he can do is keep in his heart every detail he can memorize.

Shinichi had asked Kazuha, if she can take care of Ran for him, in case he meets his destiny. Kazuha, it turns out, and he should’ve known, is just as stubborn as her other half. She had insisted that she would look for him and kill him herself, if it were to get to that point. But just in case… he left her a letter for Ran. He’s no poet, no artist, but…

Ran kisses his thoughts away. Shinichi lets her do whatever she wants. He’s in no position to ask for anything; never has been, to be honest. He is grateful for every drop of affection, caress, for every second of the time they spend together. He knows that after every moment he’s with her… he has to leave again, and he’s not sure if he will come back the next time. Ran waits, but for how long can she keep waiting?

He has to focus on Ran again. He’s not in the field anymore. He has a beautiful lover kissing him, and her hands touching precisely, getting them ready. This is what everyone wishes for. Everyone wants to come home to their lover, someone soft and welcoming, a comfort.

Seeing Ran like this, over him, her face showing pleasure and desperation at the same time. No sight would be more beautiful and fulfilling than Ran melting when she was rising and falling with Shinichi inside her, lips parted and eyes shut, too concentrated on finding release. Moments like this made Shinichi fight harder, wanting to win the battle to come back and see her again.

He was warned once, you need arms to come back to, otherwise you won’t live; we all go insane if we don’t have someone to heal our wounds. Hattori Heizō was the roughest man Shinichi met, his words were like a prophecy. No man is lucky to have Heizō as his enemy. Even Shinichi’s terrified of him then, when he finally came out from the shadows, and they met, under the starless sky of the night. The terror doesn’t leave, only dampened, despite the revelation in the light of recent events that Heizō is actually on the same side of their battle.

“Shinichi,” Ran touches his chest. He’s dirty, he has finished already, but he’s still moving his hips. She presses his sides pointedly, and he lets out a heavy sigh, trembling. He touches her thighs, her soft belly. He doesn’t want this to end, but it does, like everything else. Shinichi is restless now, so he walks to the window and opens it. He’s naked, but it’s raining strongly outside, so no one will see him if he stays at the corner. He wants to see the stars, but unfortunately, the sky doesn’t permit, so he just closes his eyes and enjoys the sound. Ran brings him the blanket, but Shinichi holds her instead. He presses Ran tightly against him, kisses her shoulder, and feels the texture of her skin and the blanket over it.

No one can touch him this way. Even in the worst condition, life is worth living if he can have moments like this.

“It’s been too long,” Ran murmurs. It is. Too long. “Are you going to stay?”

“A few days,” Shinichi whispers in her ear. “But I have to go to my parents.”

Ran nods. Shinichi kisses her skin lazily; he enjoys the salty taste. The rain is angrier and few water drops hit them. It’s unusual to be silent like this, but they will talk later. A thunder lights the sky, and its noise makes Shinichi shiver. He doesn’t mind it. He loves being the spectator and to be the one appreciating, especially when he has Ran next to him.

—

As he has expected, his parents are more than overjoyed. He pretends to ignore his mother’s visible sigh of relief, her deep intake of breath when he comes in through the door and presents himself to them. It hurts them and it hurts him, but he has to see the end of the battle.

Shinichi goes back to Ran’s place the evening of the next day. She doesn’t complain. She makes soup, and he watches the way she prepares it. To think that her hands can create beautiful things, while his hands…

“It’s too hot,” Ran warns before he drinks it. “Wait a minute.”

Shinichi puts the bowl on the table, scoots closer to Ran.

“I’m worried,” she says. So Shinichi holds her. “Did you lose your voice while you were away?”

Maybe. There were definitely screams, maybe his, maybe others. They have lost many people this time. Shinichi took down some of them by himself. They will haunt him for a while. 

“What happened?” Ran frowns. He kisses her briefly, just to calm her down. She touches his chest again, pushing him away. “Shinichi?”

He can’t say many things. He can’t say when he’s coming back, if he’s coming back, what happens while he’s out there. The fighting, violence – he hopes it never reaches Ran. Shinichi doesn’t ask for much. He doesn’t want her to be tainted by the darkness. He wants them to hold and love each other, while they can.

“Do you have a story?” Shinichi says, finally. “A happy story.”

So she reads him a children’s story, a fairytale. He knows Ran likes to read stories. He remembers when she read stories for him. Ironically, he wishes he was still Conan, when he wasn’t away from her.

How he wishes for things to be different. He wishes that the battle will be over soon. He wishes to see the light at the end of the tunnel. He hopes to have a good ending for himself. However, under all his wishful thinking, he always keeps in mind the worst ending they could have.

One day, Kazuha will knock on the door, presenting her a letter, and it will not be a happy story for her to read. He can picture it. Ran, sitting like she is now, a piece of paper on her hands. Then, and Shinichi will be grateful to be long gone, she will see the only poem Shinichi has ever written in his life. It’s about her lips, gentle hands, soft voice and loving heart.

After that, maybe Ran will have another lover; she can’t sleep alone in a cold bed forever. But Shinichi would have done something beautiful, at least once; maybe Ran wouldn’t be mad at him for losing, for not coming back.

It couldn’t be that bad of an ending, after all.