#year or the otp challenge

[cosplayingwitch]

Winter Wonderland

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x GN!Reader

Word count: 259

Description: established relationship, living together, absolute fluff, hate vs love of winter.

Warnings: absolutely none. It's as fluffy as one can write without melting into a puddle.

A/N #1: technically, this is based in the "year of the OTP challenge, but I made it reader insert. The January prompt I chose was "snow".

A/N #2: this is completely unedited and written in 20ish minutes on my phone. Please excuse any errors.

For as long as you can remember, you've hated winter. It doesn't help that you end up with frostbite faster than most people, but your dislike started before that.

Your girlfriend, however, absolutely loved it. The first winter you were together, she was absolutely shocked. 

"What do you mean you hate winter?" Wanda shouted, "it's amazing! The snow, warm drinks, everything is beautiful."

"I just don't work well with the cold. I'd rather have warmth and sunshine than boots and coats. I can't drive in those things." You reply, shying away from her. 

Wanda's eyes light up. She definitely has an idea up her sleeve.

"I think I can change that. Close your eyes." 

You do as she asks, albeit reluctantly. Other than winter, you also hated surprises. 

"Alright. Open them." Wanda says, after what seemed like ages.

When you open your eyes, you just can't believe what you see.

Amazed, you managed to stammer out, "y- you made it sn- snow in our living ro- room?"

"I wanted you to be able to appreciate how beautiful it can be, but without the cold and frostbite setting in." Wanda replies as she comes up and hugs you from behind.

You're still flabbergasted at what you're seeing. A flurry of white, with the smallest tinge of red from Wanda's magic. Snow falling softly from your ceiling and appearing to form drifts in front of your couch. The beauty of winter without feeling the cold.

You take a deep breath. 

"This is absolutely beautiful. Maybe winter isn't the worst after all."

---end---

A/N #3: I'M BACK, PEOPLE! This is definitely one of the shortest things I've ever written, but it feels very nice. Any feedback is welcome, but please be kind with it.

[mawrblaidddrwg]

[holysheithyall]

“We’re just two slow dancers, last ones out.”

[topsyturvy-turtely]

turtely's OTP challenge!

now on Ao3 :) (tumblr link)

read day two (*cough cough* from 2022 *cough cough*) here:

summary: John is cooking. Sherlock is not helping. Until...

General Audience, 554 words. Flustered Sherlock, Pet Names, Established Relationship (but at the beginning), Fluff without Plot (because i am good it xD)

a gif that describes this ficlet:

annoying tagging my usual people(tell me if you wanna be added or removed please 💚) @justanobsessedpan @helloliriels @catlock-holmes @fluffbyday-smutbynight @inevitably-johnlocked @hisfavouritejumper @rhasima @forfucksakejohn @ohlooktheresabee @turbulenttrouble @so-youre-unattached-like-me @totallysilvergirl @peanitbear @train-mossman @loki-lock @smulderscobie @timberva @grace-in-the-wilderness @chinike @jawnn-watson @whatnext2020 @escapingthereality @missdeliadili @kettykika78 @musingsofmyown @7-percent @speedymoviesbyscience @astudyin221b @francj15 @ladylindaaa @we-r-loonies @mxster-jocale @sherlockcorner @noahspector @our-stars-graveside @jobooksncoffee @baker-street-blog @macgyvershe @myladylyssa @battledress @a-victorian-girl @dreamerofthemeadow @oetkb12 @ohnoesnotagain @mutedsilence @jawnscoffee @raenchaosandcozyadashofmurder @lisbeth-kk @quickslvxrr @compact-and-beautiful

[sugareey-makes-stuff]

I've finally made some silhouette art for Sterek AND I wrote a ficlet to go with it! The Camaro AND the Jeep also make appearances, because of course they do. ;P I thought I'd tap into something a little different from the usual, since a. May has been a cray roller coaster of unknowns and feels, b. time has been limited and trying to work on creative work has been an interesting challenge, and c. any major WIP projects are for secret or anon events, so I sadly can't say much about them right now. This was inspired by @yearoftheotpevent's May prompt "sunshine." Because we all deserve Nice Things (and so do Derek and Stiles). Cheers, and enjoy! Title: Pink Lemonade  (<- on AO3) Rating: Teen WC: 600 (w/ art) Tags: Sunrises, Road Trips, Adventure, Silhouettes, Cars, Slice of Life, Derek Hale is a Softie, Stiles Stilinski Deserves Nice Things, Established Relationship, Picnics, Romance, Feelings, Mixed Media, Digital Art, Ficlet, POV Stiles Stinlinski Summary:

"Stiles?" Derek murmurs, watching him closely. Almost hesitantly, as if Stiles might bolt at any second.

"Holy fucking—oh my God," Stiles blurts out instead. He most definitely flails while staring at Derek in awe. "Why have you never told me about this place before?" [Or: Derek surprises Stiles by taking him to one of his favorite spots for an early morning picnic.]

[bonhughbon]

Anyway, late once again. And I'm tired at this point of publishing this. But I enjoy this challenge!

I WILL SKIP NOVEMBER tho. Because I have a lot in my hand and I don't have any much ideas for the November prompts, so yes. Will be skipping that month.

Anyway, here's for @yearoftheotpevent for October. This previous month's prompt: Text Messaging!

FF.Net's link is here!

[thesilverlock]

Year of OTP ⟢ MAY: "Who Are You"

Along their number collecting journey, Astral and Yuma witness someone dueling with strange XYZ cards. The duel captures Astral’s interest in particular, and he becomes shocked to learn of this stranger’s ability to perceive him. The mysterious duelist escapes as quickly as he was found. Leaving the envoy with a blaring, unanswered question...

AKA. Guess who decided to participate in this challenge after all! (pls ignore the four months I missed, we’llgetbacktothose﹣)

[bnbc]

The river always finds the sea So helplessly Like you find me

We are paper boats floating on a stream And it would seem We'll never be apart

Paper Boats (Darren Korb, Ashley Barrett)

_____

don't reupload my content to other sites

[onesingularartbean]

“Can I trust you, Cassian, with my father’s research?”

Rebelcaptain + Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood

[smoothdogsgirl]

February - Established Long Distance Relationship

Pairing: Brock Reynolds

Warnings: Deployments, Care Packages

Words: 943

Summary: Brock and the team get surprises during mailcall while on deployment in J-Bad.

In a Discord group I belong to, there was a post for a "Year of the OTP" challenge for 2023.

Disclaimer: This is fanfic work; no money is being made from this story. All recognizable characters belong to their respective creative authors, studios or producers.

Masterlist

“Mail call you clowns,” Sonny yells as he joins the guys around the fire pit. He opens the mailbag, “alright, let's see what we have for Bravo Team.” Reaching in, he pulls out a medium size box, “Ray, here’s a little bit of home.” He then tosses it over to him. He reaches in and grabs the next package, “bossman, it looks like the kiddos sent you something too.” On the next grab, he pulls out some letters, “heads up,” he shouts, and when Trent and Metal look at him, he flings the letters to them. They each catch them before they have a chance to hit the floor. He stuffs the last letter into his back pocket as it’s addressed to him. Shaking the bag, he realizes there is one more package inside; when he pulls it out, he grins, “looks like someone is sending Brock and Cerberus some love too.” He then tosses it to the man in question. 

There is some friendly teasing as Ray and Jason open the packages from their families. Emma and Mickey had mailed their father a card, chocolates, seeds for his vegetable garden, and baby wipes. Now Naima and the kids had sent Ray some homemade cards, cookies, drawings, candy, and baby wipes. 

“So, Broccoli, whatcha get?” Sonny asked.

Causing the other guys to look in Brock's direction as he finishes cutting tape on his box, he chuckles; it’s a heavy-duty heart-shaped Kong toy and a jar of all-natural peanut butter. On the lid is a heart-shaped sticker and the name Cerb. Brock whistles, and Cerberus gets up, stretching lazily while yawning, ambling over to his handler, and sitting by his feet. 

Brock takes his knife, spreading a glob of peanut butter on the Kong Toy before handing it to Cerberus, who sniffs it briefly before biting it and retreating to his spot near the fire pit.

Digging back into the package, he pulls out a Ziploc container of homemade chocolate and peanut butter chip cookies, a container of baby wipes, a small container of homemade dog treats, a new hard copy of his favorite book ‘The Martian,’ a homemade DVD and a card in an envelope.

“Who’s sending you all those goodies, Broccoli?” Sonny asked from his seat next to Brock, eyeing the container of cookies.

“Not to mention, who knows your pup so well?” Trent asked, nodding at Cerberus, who was still munching on his toy. 

“Spill brother,” Metal’s low, gruff voice causes Brock to jump a little as he comes up, setting a bottle of beer next to his camping chair. 

Brock rubs the back of his neck; he smiles at the guys and places the package on the ground leaving the book and card on his lap. He then looks at all of the guys, “Keep your paws off of my cookies, or I’ll sick the hair missile on you. You’ll be his training dummy.”

Opening the card, he can’t help but smile when he reads the contents,

Cracking the book's cover, he places the card inside, flips the pages, and stops at page 316. Lying between the pages is a 3D ultrasound image. He picks it up, taking in all of the child’s features. Brock is so lost in thought he doesn’t see Trent get up to grab snacks. 

“Cute kid, you gonna be an uncle?” Trent asks, seeing the picture.

Brock grins at the man, “Nah, man, I’m gonna be a dad. This is my kid.”

Everything around the fire pit stops; the guys look at him. 

“What’d you just say, Broccoli?” Sonny asks his Texas accident even thicker than usual.

Picking up the image and showing it to the group, “I said I’m gonna be a dad.” Noting writing on the back of the image, “make that a girl, dad. This is a picture of my daughter.”

Ray smiles at him, “welcome to the club, brother. There is nothing quite like it.”

Jason nods his head in agreement, unsure of what else to say.

“So, who’s the baby momma Broccoli? Can’t believe you finally managed to get some and didn’t tell us?” 

Brock growls at Sonny, “my daughter isn’t the result of some one-night stand. And trust me, man, getting some has never been a problem.” 

Sonny holds up his hands in surrender.

“So you’re saying you have a girlfriend?” Clay asks, giving Sonny a reproachful look.

“Not what I said either,” Brock replies with a shoulder shrug.

“Quit being cryptic, dog boy. Tell us what’s going on.” Metal states before taking a swig of his beer.

“My wife is the one who is pregnant. It wasn’t exactly planned, but not unwanted either. We found out the week before the deployment that she’s pregnant.”

Trent tilts his head, “since when are you married?”

“We got married two days after returning from our last deployment to J-Bad. It was just us, the dogs, a JP on a floating dock in False Cape State Park at sunset.”

“So, almost a year and a half?” Trent clarifies.

Brock shrugs, “that sounds about right?”

“Dogs?” Clay questions.

“We couldn’t exactly get married without Cerberus and Artemis. Before you ask, Artemis is a two-year-old sable German shepherd.” Brock replied.

“How long have you guys been together?” Trent asks.

“We met just before I went through BUDs. We’ve been together ever since.” Glancing down at his watch, he does the calculations in his head for the time difference to Va Beach. “This has been fun, ladies, but I’m going to go call my girls.” Grabbing his things, he whistles, and together he and Cerberus head to their hootch to make a video call home.

Note:

The letter in this story was written in Dutch. I decided since that is the language he gives Cerb commands in, he picked it because he speaks it, and so does his wife. Here is a close approximation of what the letter says. I had a friend of mine do the Dutch translation.

Hey Babe, I’m missing you and our furry kid. The bed is cold without my two heat sources. Here are a few little things for when you get a minute of downtime. Only a few more weeks and this deployment will be over; we can’t wait to have you home. I had a new ultrasound technician at my last appointment, and she accidentally spilled the beans on our March surprise. So if you look at the page corresponding to that date, you will know too. That being said, when you come home, you better have a list of names ready. Love you, Babe

[moldy-mold]

Challengeshipping for Year of the OTP - January A combination of artwork + writing!

Kaito and Ryoga arrive at the meetup before Yuma does. They finally have a talk.

___

“It’s time you stay out of this, Kaito. None of this even concerns you.”

Kaito’s eyes narrow at Ryoga, who avoids making eye-contact. They were alone waiting for Yuma to arrive for their rendezvous at sunrise. Obviously, he will be late.

Ryoga’s offhanded comments are a common occurrence. In fact, every time they see each other, they both feel the need to squabble. This isn’t anything new, and yet it feels different this time.

“And you expect me to listen to you?” He always has to say something back.

“No one asked you to join us, and we don’t need your help. So, it’d be better if you’d just stay here this time,” Ryoga says flatly, still looking away.

Perhaps the constant bickering wore Kaito’s patience thin. He had always brushed off these comments as simply banter among the three of them, thinking it was just Ryoga’s way of being... himself. But Yuma isn’t here and the tension is heavier than he would like. Doubt begins to flood his mind, flowing from the root of his distress.

“Do you really hate me that much? Because of what I did to you?” Frustration bleeds into his tone.

Ryoga finally looks up to meet his piercing, icy gaze. Clearly, he somehow opened up a can of worms. “What the hell are you talking about? I’ve forgotten all about that, so why are you bringing that up now all of a sudden?”

Kaito scoffs. It’s hard to believe Ryoga would forget the night Kaito sent him into a coma.

“You don’t trust me. I’ve stood in your way in the past and you know full well I won’t hesitate to do it again. So, you’re right. I should just handle things myself as I’ve always done.”

Ryoga is utterly astonished—and irritated—at what he’s hearing, but he tries, “That’s not what I meant! This isn’t something you can just jump into. Think about this for a sec, will you? Listen, I-I just don’t want you-”

“Since when have you stopped to think about anything before jumping in? Maybe if you did, you wouldn’t end up getting hurt so many times!” He shouts, but not at Ryoga. He is blaming himself.

The calm and collected Kaito he knew was nowhere to be seen. Ryoga curses himself for not being more eloquent with his words because he feels as though he is starting to lose him.

Kaito may be an excellent duelist, but at the end of the day, he’s just an ordinary human, that much is true. To face this crisis alone is asking for death. If Kaito went and got himself killed, Yuma would never forgive him. And… what about him? What was Kaito to him?

As Kaito turns to walk away, Ryoga catches the subtle hurt in his expression. Without thinking, he grabs onto his arm.

Year of the OTP  ◇  January  ◇  First Kiss

Omg, I can’t believe I wrote something (feral Moldy is real). I’ve never written anything outside of a script before but I just don’t have time/patience to draw a whole comic for one scene lol!

I have no details on when/where this happens in the canon timeline. :)

[readersandtmnt]

Date me, kinda? Part 1???

Okay here is my Year of the OTP fic for January. Part one at least. I am a Raph fangirl sorry everyone else.

total words: 2,050

"Raphael!" The clanging of metal hits your ears as you rush into the weight room. Raph was already on his feet, his weights abandoned where he dropped them by the bench. His eyes were furrowed in confusion, hands coming to rest on your shoulders.

"You okay? What's wrong?" The last time you used his full name was when he came home with a gash running from his shoulder to his elbow. The time before that, he had eaten the last of your ice cream. Careful eyes checked you over, no sign of external trauma, no soot marks, no gun powder, your eyes weren't red so you hadn't been crying. His brows furrowed in confusion as to what would be so important, he missed how you relaxed under his hold.

"I need you to be my boyfriend." You looked up at him with those eyes and all thought just decided to clip out of his head as if he were a Bethesda game, before crashing down into his stomach all at once. He backed away from you, brows furrowing and you had to bite back the frown as his hands left you. His voice finally came back as he gazed at you incredulously.

"Run that by me again, Princess." You bit your lip, nails absentmindedly picking at the calluses on your fingers. You shot him a quick glance before beginning your pacing, he moved to the wall, leaning against it, not minding the way your eyes lingered on his arms as he got comfortable.

"not my name." You quietly grumbled before returning to the topic at hand. "Look, I just need you to pretend to be my boyfriend. Nothing crazy, a few calls to my great aunt with you next to me, maybe some flirty text messages, and your name JUST your name, no pictures, no video, just a name with red hearts on my online profile." You sigh, taking a seat on the weight bench as Raph continues to watch you.

"Okay, but why do you need a fake boyfriend anyway?" You swallowed down the real reason, covering for time by taking a few sips from his water bottle that he kept near the bench. He didn't need to know that you wanted to ask him out for real. Didn't need to know that you heard him and Leo talking in the kitchen late one night about how 'humans and mutants' just shouldn't be together.

"I need a fake boyfriend so I can continue to hang out with you guys without my great aunt thinking I'm doing drugs." He snorted, and you flashed him a grin. "She doesn't think I'm capable of making friends."

"Can't imagine why." He threw those words out, ignoring the indignant 'hey' that you countered with.

"You guys are my friends, right?" He deflated under the single question, pushing himself from the wall and casually meandering towards you.

"Yeah, course we are. Who else would be stupid enough to befriend yuh?" The bite to his words were almost tender. You stuck your tongue out at him in response.

"Anyway, there's more to it." He shrugs letting you continue, "there's this kid in my algebra class that I've turned down three times, he's just not getting it so I would like to be able to have like a few flirty texts or at least your permission to change your contact name to 'babe' or something in my phone so I have 'proof' that I 'belong' to someone." He scoffed at the air quotes. "And that way I can simply call our hang outs date nights and get out of going to parties. Because the other girls make fun of me for not inviting my friends to the parties they invite me to, but if I tell them 'sorry can't make it to your den of bad decisions because I have a date' then suddenly it's acceptable? And before you ask why I don't go to the parties alone, it's because I know that there will be underage drinking, smoking, and unprotected sex, and I wan't no part in hanging out with people I don't really know drinking lukewarm shitty beer and having some strangers try to grind on me to CBAT." You sigh looking up at Raph as he stands before you.

He takes the water bottle from you, taking a long drink and you decide to continue talking, because your brain to mouth filter just decided to shut off I guess.

"I mean most people that talk to me already know of you and Mikey, only as names on my phone screen mind you. Mikey is ‘shitty meme guy’ and you're ‘asshole with a heart of gold’. I would like for my great aunt to have a voice to go with the name, so just calling her while we're in the lair, or having you text me while I'm in school or something, maybe a phone call? They just have to know that you're not an alarm or something, they do not need to know that you're an attractive mutant turtle. " He choked on the water, the sound causing you to flinch.

"I'm what now?" Those words came out as a croak as soon as he was able to speak again. You could only scoff at his surprise.

"Oh please. You're hot Raph, besides we both know I've been checking you out for months already." His brothers would often tease him about how he 'showed off' for you when you sat in on training, and he did overhear you talking to April about how you couldn't train with the turtles because of how distracting you found him. Still you never said it so bluntly before. Not directly to him anyway.

He mulled over everything in his head before sighing.

"Fine. I'll do it." He noticed how your face lit up, "But first a few ground rules." He internally groaned as your head did the cute little tilt as you listened to his conditions. "No telling any of my brothers about this. No PDA bullshit: hand holding, cuddling, cheek kisses, none of that." You bit back a frown before nodding for him to continue. "And I don't care if you use the relationship to get out of doing dumb shit you don't want to do, but don't expect me to put off my plans jus' because you're bored." You really did frown at that, the retort withering away on your tongue at the look he gave you. "I know you would never, but still."

"Anything else?"

"Yeah, you owe me a 'no questions'. Tha' means I tell you 'no questions, do x' and you do it, no asking me why no asking how, none of it. Got it?" You nod not really understanding but you knew he would never ask you to do anything that wasn't for your safety or benefit. Maybe he would just use it on a day when he wanted you out of the lair.

"Got it, you tell me to jump and I jump, won't even ask how high." He gives you a short nod, glad that you understood. "And I know it's not a requirement but I could be your designated gofer when you want something top side? Like yarn or wool from Alice's Knit shop (no idea if it's a real place), picking up pizza or groceries, though I might need your help getting it to the lair. I mean it, just say the word and I’m yours. It’s yours, it’s yours." He sighs as he takes a seat next to you, and you let the buzz of the lights fill the air for a moment before speaking again. "I know I'm asking a lot of you Raph, and I just want to give as good as I get. You know? I enjoy helping you guys out."

"Don't worry about us too much, Princess. Jus don't put anything too flowery as my contact name, got it?" His shoulder carefully bumps into yours and you smile, leaning into his arm.

"Since you seem so insistent on calling me Princess, I might have to start calling you my Prince Charming." He groans as you nudge his arm. "Relax I was thinking something simple, like Babe," you lean over placing a hand on his shoulder, "or My Hero." He stiffened as your breath hit his cheek and he hastily bumped you away.

"Whateva’. You sure you don’t want to ask Mikey to do this?” You watch as his hands tighten to fists in his lap. You swing your leg over the bench, putting your back against his arm.

“There’s a famous saying here in these sewers, that you gotta get the best turtle for the job.” He snorts, letting your body fall against his side as he moves his arms behind him.

“Is tha’ right?”

“Mhmmm, yup, and you,” you turn your head to look at his face, “you are the best turtle I know. So…” You trail off nudging him with your shoulder. “It’s you or bust babe.” You ignore the fake growl with a grin as Raph pushes you off the bench with ease, your laughter growing as he pounces on you, leading to an impromptu wrestling match.

Later that night as Raph lay in his bed, his online social page pulled up on his phone (all the brothers had one though Mikey was the most active, shortly followed by Donnie.) he quickly accepted the little prompt that was sent to him, linking the two profiles together. His name quickly appeared in your bio surrounded by two simple red hearts. He tried not to think about how he was smiling or how the little voice in the back of his head wanted it to be real. The little voice was quickly silenced with Mickey's not so little shouting.

“GUYS! RAPH FINALLY HAS A GIRLFRIEND! BETTER PAY UP DONNIE!” Well shit, so much for not letting his brothers know.

It was too much effort to tell his brothers the truth and Master Splinter had already given his blessing for the union; besides you wouldn’t mind him changing the rules too much. Would you? He buried his face in his hands and groaned, why did he let you drag him into this?

Raph had texted you about his brothers finding out, you responded by calling him and hearing Mikey tease Raph in the background was almost worth the guilt you felt.

“I am so sorry, I completely forgot about it.”

“Don’t worry about it sweetheart. Mikey I will beat the green off of you if you don’t stop! I forgot about ‘em too.” The name was new, the threatening Mikey was not.

“S-sweetheart? Did you not tell your family that you’re doing me a favor?” You could hear Raph’s fist hit something hard, and something, presumably Mikey, hit the floor.

“Told you to leave him alone Mikey.” Leo’s voice sounded in the background.

“He didn’t have to hit me so hard!” Mikey’s whining grew fainter as you presumed Raph walked away.

“Nah, it would take too much effort, ‘sides they all seem to think you got a crush on me or somethin’,” he paused imagining the way you look when you’re flustered, letting the grin creep into his voice, “jus’ no over the top pda and nothing else has to change, right?” You found yourself nodding even though he couldn't see you.

“Right, are you sure it’s okay?”

“Course I am. Not your fault my family’s a pain in the ass. Anyway,” you could hear the TV getting louder in the background, “you should get ready for school, I know you got all those test things comin up, so jus’ focus on studying. An’ don’t worry I won’t beat Mikey up too much, if he keeps his mouth shut.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll see you when the tests are over then?”

“Sounds good to me, doll.” You were almost afraid that the heat from your face would melt the phone.

“I’ll talk to you later, my valiant defender.” He sighed happily as he hung up the phone, tucking it safely into his pocket before sharply turning to give Mikey a proper beat down. You stare down at your phone briefly wondering what would happen if you told Raph you wanted the relationship to be real.

[driftward]

Title: Icemelt Characters: Zoissette Vauban, Y'shtola Rhul Rating: Teen Summary: Zoissette has prevailed against the Fury. Her feelings about this do not match up at all with the facts. Notes: This started as a prompt response for year of the OTP and wound up somewhere else.

She held on for so long.

After her fight with the Fury, she held on.

Through her challenge against Menphina, the others alongside her, she held on.

She would be as a glacier.

When she and her fellow adventurers traveled around the realm with the gods in their diminutive forms, asking questions, learning more about one another, she was her usual self. She felt she did not learn nearly as much about the gods as she might have liked, but knowing that they heard the prayers of all was calming, somehow. That they did not interfere, she already knew, but she learned about how faith shaped them nevertheless. And she learned that, though they may change throughout the years, they were tied to their domains, every one. Aspects of them that would never change. What they were seeing today was just one small part of what they were and had been throughout the ages.

She recognized something of herself in that. Parts of her felt as though they were never changing. And she felt that the world only saw the smallest part of her. The rest of it was all hidden away, deep and cold and safe and away, where nobody had to see.

She returned to the office for a short bit to check in with Zel. She gave him reassurance and advice, never sitting down - the seat was his, for now, until she returned from her sabbatical - and made sure that the temporary solicitor was not giving him trouble. Satisfied that all was as well as it could be, she stayed strong and moved on, even as she felt the cracks beginning to creep up within her.

She stopped by the laboratory to check in on her friends as well. Ryss and Apple both gave her their congratulations for her accomplishments, and she was all placid smiles and honest, simple platitudes. She dutifully downplayed her part in things, as she felt was expected of her, and made sure to quickly get them both distracted with questions that she could apply to her upcoming research assignment. Apple was quiet as usual, but excited, in her reserved way, to share what she knew that would help her fellow scientist. Ryss was boisterous and excited, and did not let Zoissette too quickly change topic. Zoissette did not believe she deserved such good friends, as she felt the cracks begin to fissure, but she quickly focused her friends on the equations work that needed to be done and equipment that would need to be sent over.

Even as she herself failed to find her focus, her thoughts as marbles on ice. Scattering and sliding, any single thought failing to achieve purchase in her ruminations. Nothing able to reach deeper to what she really wanted to think about, to ping against how she really felt.

Despite that, she still managed to be pleasant enough company until it was time for her to say her goodbyes.

From there, she braved the pathways of the lifestream, as she teleported to Old Sharlayan. The journey through formless aether was safe enough, so long as one was attuned to their intended destination, but something about the shift could sometimes result in unpleasant side effects. She found teleporting had a way of carrying her with a feeling of nakedness, raw and untethered, and she always found herself momentarily disoriented at her destination as her wits returned to her. She arrived, intact and whole, and was grateful nobody was there to witness her arrival.

The journey through aether had given her the distinct feeling of sinking.

She only had a little further to go. She had no place to call her own, and had not in some time, but she had places she could go. If she could just make it to her room in the Baldesion Annex, all would be well. She could lay in her bed, and beg unwellness, and perhaps sleep, and sink into the depths of herself, and maybe when she woke up everything would all fall away and she could continue to face the world as she always had, could go back to being what she needed to be, could make her way through another day.

The Annex had become a home for her, in its own way. A waypoint during the end days, and then a familiar place to drop by afterwards, and now she had her room once more as she helped with the research into the void and travels to the thirteenth and she was a good and dutiful research assistant who could be easily ignored. Ever reliable. Just another invisible face in an infinite world, quietly doing what needed to be done, never needing anything.

Never being anyone.

She found that she had stopped in the common space. Her room would be down the hallway and to the right. She could just drift into it without falling apart. It would have a pleasant view of a grassy field with sparse trees. She would be able to gaze at the buildings and peoples of Old Sharlayan in safety. Watch as people went about their business. Perhaps she could have food delivered.

She just had to make it there.

Almost there.

-*-

Y'shtola and Krile were chatting amiably at the Last Stand when at last G'raha staggered up, Snoegeim right behind him. Snoegeim smiled and waved as she approached and took a seat. G'raha, wilting under the weight of the apparatus on his back, was careful to set the device down to one side before collapsing into a seat.

“Y'shtola. Seeing you here is a welcome, if unexpected, surprise.” he said.

“Krile thought it mete that we should each share what we have been up to,” she said.

“And I’ve been talking her ear off while waiting on you two, telling her what we’ve learned from our little field trip with the gods,” said Krile, grinning over at them. “And well! Don’t you look just about beat. Finding the burden of scholarship heavy, Raha?”

Y'shtola hid a smile behind her teacup while Krile tittered. Snoegeim simply reached over and patted his shoulder.

“Yes, yes, poke fun if you will,” he said. “But while you’ve been having tea and exchanging pleasantries, Snoegeim and I have been collating the data we’ve gathered. The aetheric analyzer and its transcriber have done their jobs marvelously.”

“I must say, I feel slightly envious,” said Y'shtola, setting down her teacup and looking at Snoegeim. “Perhaps such a device would give me more insight into that tear to the void under Alzadaal’s Legacy. Would that the Forum might entrust me with a back to carry it,” she said, winking and looking pointedly at G'raha.

G'raha relaxed into his chair, slouching a bit, before folding his ears back and giving Y'shtola a glare. “Hey!”

The three women all giggled as G'raha sighed.

“And how, might I ask, is your work in the void coming along?” he asked, leaning forward. Y'shtola set down her teacup with a gentle sigh.

“Slowly, I am afraid. There is much and more to look into, and I fear the consequences of too much delay. We intend to return to that realm anon.”

“Wouldn’t it be nice if we could have an emergency that was perhaps less urgent every now and again?” said Krile.

“Well. While my need is not quite immediate just yet, I would greatly enjoy having my researcher returned to me, if you’ve quite done with her.”

G'raha turned a bit red, and turned his head. “Ah. Well, she might be a little bit, I’m afraid.”

Snoegeim grinned at him. A bit madly, in Y'shtola’s estimation. She ignored her, grabbing a tart for herself as she regarded G'raha cooly.

“Why, may I ask,” she asked.

“She fought the Fury!” blurted Snoegeim.

“Well, yes, I was under the general impression that was at least partially why you asked for her and her associates,” said Y'shtola.

“No, no! You don’t understand! She fought her alone!”

Y'shtola set her plate down to look at Snoegeim evenly, before turning her attention to G'raha with a headtilt.

“It’s true,” he said. “Once the initial fight was over, the Fury sought her out for single combat. She shrank herself down to do so, until she was just about Zoissette’s size. She issued a challenge, and Zoissette… well, she accepted it.”

“Oh, I was so worried for her,” said Snoegeim. “Halone was fast, and while I’m pretty sure she was pulling her punches, it sure didn’t seem like it. I don’t know how she held on!”

Y'shtola tapped her chin with her knuckles. “You were there to witness it? I thought the protocol was that only one of you would enter fully the realm of the gods at a time.”

“I was still outside,” said Krile. “Snoegeim wanted to check on matters, and she was so eager, I could hardly say no. Besides, I was interested to know what was going on myself. It’s always a delight hearing what our adventurers get up to.”

“I see,” said Y'shtola, keeping her tone controlled. “And how did my particular adventurer fare?”

“Ah, well, it is as Snoegeim said,” said G'raha. “It was not going well for much of the fight. I was certain she would prevail, of course, but even with that, I will admit that I was beginning to grow concerned. I thought that maybe her heart was not truly into it, or that perhaps something was holding her back. But then she summoned that fairy familiar of hers, and the tide of battle changed significantly.”

“She was in bad shape,” said Snoegeim, shaking her head. “She’d been more than bloodied, but kept getting back up, refusing to surrender.”

“The fairy’s magicks brought with them a minor miracle, flooding her with healing aether, and it seemed that was enough to see her as spirited as I can recall seeing her when she’s at her best,” said G'raha. “She rallied, and ultimately, prevailed.”

“You should have seen it!” said Snoegeim. “It was a wonder to behold! Once she was healed, she was so much faster, and she was almost dancing with the Fury! Blades clashed and magic flew! Oh, it was incredible! I’d love to watch her again sometime.”

“Yes, well,” said G'raha. “Ultimately, Halone declared the contest over, and announced Zoissette as the winner. She proceeded to knight her in front of everyone present, declaring her Zoissette of the Aurora. It was honestly quite the moving moment, I feel, even if the path to get there gave me some cause for concern.”

Y'shtola looked to Krile. “Did you examine her afterwards?”

Krile nodded. “She’s an easy patient, as you know, once you convince her that she’s not too much trouble to look after. You won’t be surprised to hear that she’s overextended herself. Her aether is out of sorts, and even with healing magicks, she’s got a few injuries she’ll be dealing with for a while. Fortunately, I am confident she’ll take her rest and recover fully. She’s certainly a better patient than some people present, Y'shtola.”

G'raha hid a laugh behind his hand, but quickly stifled it by clearing his throat when Y'shtola glared at him. She primly took a sip of tea while he coughed. “Perhaps I should get an accounting of your adventures from her myself,” mused Y'shtola.

“Perhaps,” said G'raha, recovering. “But hopefully now you understand why she may be a bit delayed. And she claimed to have matters she wished to look into before returning to Old Sharlayan as well. She apologized for not being able to help me with the work we need to do now, but of course I told her it was quite alright. Truth be told, I suspect your own work will be rather more important in the days to come.”

“In this, we are in agreement,” said Y'shtola. “I find your work fascinating, but I do not see any clear and present danger in it. Unlike those threats we face from those in the void. I thank you for taking the time to have lunch with me, Krile. I would enjoy spending more time with you and talking about the rest of your adventures, but you have reminded me of mine own responsibilities, and I feel perhaps I should go about preparing to see to them.”

“Well, your work may be urgent, but ours is rather less so,” said Krile. “If you make time in your schedule, I’ll make time in mine. I’d love to talk with you more, whether it’s about work or other matters.”

“I shall keep that in mind,” said Y'shtola, standing up. “Take care, my friends.”

The other three gave Y'shtola their well wishes as she headed off.

-*-

Y'shtola checked in the Baldesion Annex, meaning to retrieve a few personal effects and speak with Ojika before returning to Thavnair. She meant to ask him about Zoissette, but the cheeky expression on his face as she entered told her all that she needed to know. She kept her expression neutral, deciding to not give him the satisfaction of having any noticeable reaction to his obvious expectations.

“Well, hello, Archon Y'shtola,” he said. “What brings you by?”

“Merely stopping by,” she replied. “I do not imagine you have seen Zoissette about, perchance?”

He feigned a thoughtful expression. “Well, she may have -just- come through here. I think she said she was heading to her room for a moment of respite. Maybe I could go check on her… unless you’d like to do so yourself.”

He gave her a cheeky grin, and she found she could resist no longer, and rolled her eyes at him.

“I believe I shall go see for myself, thank you,” she said.

“My pleasure!” said Ojika a touch too cheerfully.

She shook her head, but smiled nonetheless. It was nice, after all, to be able to enjoy these all-too-rare moments of jovial camaraderie in between the various crises the world seemed wont to continue to burden her and hers with.

She left him, walking through the Annex into the common area, stopping there as she found Zoissette, seemingly staring off into nowhere.

Seemingly. The woman always had her little disarming oddities, and this was one of them. Y'sthola walked up to her, taking a moment to adjust her aethersight, putting forth just a little bit of extra effort to expand upon what she could see.

Zoissette faintly glowed, despite the layers of armor she wore. Zoissette’s aether was cool and steady, its light gentle yet strong. Of the many people Y'shtola had known over the years, few had had that same quality to them. And the power she always held so tightly controlled in reserve was obvious in her form. Broad shoulders that no amount of mail could hide. The curves of her thighs given to her by their very solid musculature, contributing to the elegance lent her by her long legs. The way she held herself, standing straight and tall as a soldier ought.

She wished to study her in detail one day.

“It always feels as though it has been too long, my friend,” said Y'shtola. “Krile tells me you and yours have been doing such interesting things in the realm of those who would call themselves our gods.”

Zoissette turned, and looked at Y'shtola, blinking.

“Oh. Uhm. Yes,” she said.

“Well then. I thought to stop by before continuing on to Thavnair, but perhaps if you’ve a moment, we might sit and you can tell me of your adventures, and then we can continue on our way together. I am certain you have learned much from them.”

Zoissette gifted her with that faint smile of hers, that real smile of hers. It was a gentle and soft thing, subtle in its affection. Not like the half asleep look she oft had when indulging others, nor the frankly frightening rictus grin she tried to force when she was nervous. As the two sat on the couch in the common area, Zoissette tucked herself into one corner, and Y'shtola into the other, keeping the polite distance the Elezen seemed to prefer.

She felt a tension she did not know she had been holding release, and wondered at that. Even as Zoissette opposite her sank down, and seemed to soften as she did so. Y'shtola tucked her feet up on the couch.

“Well, do not hold me in suspense,” she said.

Zoissette looked up at the ceiling, her expression blanking. “My apologies. Was there some specific question you had in mind?”

Y'shtola considered. “Krile told me much. She told me of the discovery of the epigraph, and how the means to completing it apparently required you to travel to each of the waystones of the twelve, scattered throughout the realm. She said that the gods are apparently curious creatures, oddly eager to interact with mankind. She told me of her journey, but I am full eager to hear of your accounting of the same.”

Zoissette nodded. “It was… interesting. I - I am not sure what to make of them. Or rather, I am, but I do not want to - I am not sure. I do not want to state anything with insufficient evidence.”

“Then it is as it has always been,” said Y'shtola. “Present your testimony, and we shall tease what truth there is in it through interrogation and examination.”

Zoissette took a deep breath in, and Y'shtola thought briefly of how distracting she was, and let it out, before she began to tell her tale. She told of the incomplete epigraph in Omphalos, and how the gods present offered to grant the knowledge of how to complete it, in exchange for meeting the adventurers in combat. She spoke briefly on the challenges, though on her own challenge with the Fury, she barely spoke at all, and Y'shtola made a mental note to interrogate that later. Afterwards, the gods had kept their side of the bargain, giving the adventurers gifts that could decipher their mysteries, and bidding them travel to the waystones they had set throughout the realm.

Then they had apparently traveled alongside the gods in their diminutive animal forms. This was of rather more interest to Y'shtola, and she asked more questions here, Zoissette gamely answering them. The two fell into an easy back and forth rhythm, a long and familiar pattern for them. Y'shtola enjoyed sharing these moments with Zoissette. Zoissette was straightforward and guileless, and she approached life with a hungry curiosity that granted her keen insight. And she was patient, never seeming to be irritated at questions like others might, and not put off too badly by Y'shtola’s occasional sharpness.

Moments like these, seeking the truth, were moments that she treasured.

She could not fail to notice, however, that in it all, Zoissette seemed to be more reserved than usual. It was not her place to pry, however, and so she would not.

And at last, her story was told, as Y'shtola was bringing back two cups of tea for each of them. Zoissette accepted hers gratefully, an Ishgardian black blend that Y'shtola knew she preferred, and Y'shtola nestled in on the couch next to her, with her own La Noscean orange blend. She sipped at her tea as she continued the conversation.

“And so the gods listen, but do not interfere with the ways of mankind,” she said thoughtfully.

Zoissette leaned forward, and clasped her hands in front of her.

“That seems consistent with what we know, yes,” she said.

“If they have indeed heard all the prayers mankind has offered in supplication over the eons, they must have great knowledge indeed, if not wisdom. I myself would greatly appreciate the opportunity to speak with Thaliak, or perhaps Nymeia - if they were wont to share any of what they have learned.”

Y'shtola looked at Zoissette. “And what of the conversation with your own goddess?”

Zoissette did not meet her gaze, instead just staring off again.

“She challenged me. I believe I said that.”

Y'shtola purposefully kept her tone gentle. It was obvious that there was something more here. “And what came of it, if I might ask?”

“I passed the test,” said Zoissette. “…it was a near thing. I do not know how to describe it, now. One moment, the challenge was hers, through little effort, if I were to be honest. The next, everything just seemed so… so clear. I remember offering up a prayer. Not to her. But I did pray, and everything just came into focus, and I managed to overcome her, well, to prevail, but - I could not tell you how. I’m, I am, I am sorry.”

“For what? Is it not well that you succeeded? I shall settle for seeing you hale and whole.”

Zoissette nodded as she responded. “…but you asked about what we said, not about the fight. I’m… I am not trying to be evasive, I promise. It is just - it is difficult to think about. She… she said something important, I think.

"She said that I was worthy. No. That I had always been worthy.”

“That is of little surprise to any who know you true, dear friend. Even if none in the realm could be described as such, it still could be said of you.”

“You are very kind.”

“I am very honest.”

Zoissette stirred her tea, and shook her head just the tiniest amount before continuing to speak. “At the time, I was tired from the fight, but as we pieced together the epigraph and learned more about the nature of the gods, it sort of shifted what I thought about what she said.”

“You told me that the epigraph was a sort of lodestone for the gods. A reminder of the core of who they were, even as faith changed them over the years.”

“Right. Exactly. So, Halone. We call her the Fury. A goddess of war. But her epigraph said nothing of the sort. Nothing about war or fury. She is a goddess of ice, and constancy, and tranquility. That is what she is. At her core. It is our beliefs that made her what she is now. Shaped who she became.

"I am not sure how to feel? I thought myself almost a heretic. My beliefs are not those of the Holy See. Not really. I mean, sort of. They are shaped by what I learned as a child. And what I knew, what I thought I knew. And, if I am to be honest, which I must, by my love of story. Even after all this time. Even after everything. Knowing that the beliefs of my nation were built on a foundation of lies, it is… it was hard to face my goddess. Knowing what I have done. What I have prayed. What I believe. And even now, here, in safety, it is hard to confess. But… everything I have learned has actually confirmed beliefs I have long held in secret. That there is a real Halone barely matters. She and the other gods claim that they do not act, do not meddle in the affairs of mankind. If that is true, then the Halone I have worshiped my entire life is almost exactly what I believed her to be. An ideal, a storytale. Made up by us. Made up by people. The epigraph tells me that the core of who she is is real enough. And I want to believe that. And that person who I met. She is real. Real enough. But everything else? Storytales. Our faith is our faith in a truth that comes from each of us, and that alone.”

Zoissette took a deep breath in. “My first duty is to the truth, Y'shtola. But why does it feel as though I have failed it? What does it say about who she is to me and what she said to me?”

“Who is she to call me worthy. Who am I, to be called worthy.”

“You are as you have always been, Zoissette.”

Zoissette fidgeted with the cup in her hands.

“I full find myself rather envious,” said Y'shtola.

“Envious?” said Zoissette, and she sounded skeptical, and Y'shtola laughed lightly.

“Yes, a bit,” she admitted. She swirled her tea in her cup, and smiled at it, imagining her distorted reflection in its surface. “You ask me who you are, though I suspect you know rather well enough the answer.”

Zoissette nodded, just a little. “I always welcome your perspective, if you would share it with me.”

Y'shtola closed her eyes, and lifted her tea to her mouth, and took in a deep breath, smelling the strong scent of citrus mixed in with the darker notes of the tea. She took a long sip and considered her words before she spoke.

“Whenever I look at you, I see much the same as what everyone else sees, I imagine. A dutiful knight of Ishgard, ever ready to defend the realm. An adventurer, capable and strong. A scholar of Limsa Lominsa, with a keen mind. But I do not believe that to be the core of who you are. Nay, I believe I see something more than that. I see a woman, ever curious. I see someone who approaches the world with that self-same curiosity, coupled with an openness that I find I simply do not have, and with that openness, you see truths scarce few could imagine.

"I remember, once you accused me rightly of being rather too much like my master. I would like to think that I have improved in temperament and manner since then, but you were not wrong in your criticism. I learned well from her, and when I approach the world, there is a certain cynicism I cannot help but bring with me. I trust nothing at face value, and I used to believe that made me better able to get at the hidden truths of the world, to dig past falsehoods and facades. I believed in naught more than myself, and felt I needed little more than that.

"Oh, but how wrong you have proven me, time and time again. You approach the world with an open heart and an open mind, believing and seeing the best in your fellow man, allowing them time and time again to disappoint you. But even when they do, your heart ‘tis no less diminished for it, nor do you grow cold in your disappointment. Nay, you reach out again and again, and it is that, that I envy. That is the core of who you are, is that bright and curious and open woman. In that openness, you are ever able to see the truth that lies right in front of you, that I myself so oft neglect in pursuit of deeper meanings that I may yet find if I simply looked with mine own heart. When I describe you as Light, well.

"That is who you are, Zoissette de Aurora. I find I must needs agree with Halone. You are worthy, and always have been. Yours is a Light that all may lift their heads and be guided by, if they but looked. I sense in your words that you struggle with these revelations, but has not the pursuit of truth always been such? Knowing what I know of you, you shall see past this, and find greater truths yet unveiled. To do otherwise is simply not in your nature.”

Y'shtola’s voice was soft as she finished, a small smile on her face, a warmth in her at her utter fondness for this woman. Y'shtola understood what a crisis of self was like. But how could Zoissette view herself as anything other than what she was?

She turned to face her, and saw that Zoissette was staring at nowhere once more. She saw the gentlest shade of clear and blue on her face, and the glint of what were the faintest motes of living aether, sparkling as a very few tiny specks, drifting down her cheeks.

She felt her ears go flat as she frowned up at Zoissette, and she focused, flaring her aethersight to fuller potential. She knew she would tire out faster from the exertion, but that would be a problem for later.

Zoissette looked over at Y'shtola, and frowned slightly. “Y'shtola? Archon Y'shtola?” asked Zoissette. “Is something the matter?”

Y'shtola reached up a hand slowly to Zoissette’s face. Zoissette’s eyes followed her hand as she reached up, and wiped away a tear.

“You would ask that,” she said.

Zoissette blinked some more, and Y'shtola watched as her eyebrows wrinkled and her face slowly collapsed into an expression of dismay. She turned her face away, stuffing a forearm into her mouth, and folded in on herself, her shoulders beginning to shake.

She should not meddle further. She could not say what had gone wrong these past few moments, but it was readily apparent that she had misstepped. Not merely misstepped, but overstepped. What she should do was step back, allow Zoissette her space and some privacy. Perhaps give the woman some tea and a warm blanket, direct her to her bedroom, and be on her way. And if Zoissette wished to share later, that would be her prerogative, and if not, that was no business of hers then, was it?

That was what she should do.

Instead, she touched Zoissette gently on the back.

“If I ask you to stay, would you?”

Zoissette did not look at her, but after a moment, nodded.

“Very well,” said Y'shtola. “I will be back swiftly. I promise.”

-*-

Zoissette cringed as she heard the door to the common area close.

She was not sure why she was crying. She did not want to be crying. Certainly she did not want to be falling to pieces in front of Archon Y'shtola of all people.

Nothing but nice things had been happening lately. The world was safe, the work was good, the research was interesting, she had friends, and she had faced her goddess in single combat and overcome her trial. Zoissette was living a good and comfortable life. She was happy. She should be happy.

And despite herself, it was happening again.

She could never let a nice thing just be a nice thing. She always found some new and more interesting way to screw it up. She could have just answered the Archon’s questions, and passed a pleasant afternoon, and made it to her bedroom where she could be a complicated mess all by herself.

Instead she was here in the common room, and the Archon had left. For what, she could not guess, but she was all alone for now, until she came back.

She tried to focus. She thought briefly of the hallway. She could escape. She could be gone by the time she returned.

But she had promised to stay.

And so she did, her mind swirling in on itself. Fragments of thoughts, disconnected but together.

Why was she crying?

Why did she feel this way?

Everything had been going so well.

Why was she like this?

She wanted to drown in the stupidity of it all, and be carried away to somewhere, someplace. She could come back tomorrow, all neat and clean and proper. Dutiful Zoissette once more.

She sat quietly, not sure if moments or minutes were passing by, trying to force herself to think, aware that she was in a whirlpool of emotion, but if she could just get free of it, perhaps she could move on and move past whatever this was.

Worthy, Halone had said.

Worthy, Y'shtola had agreed.

She had done everything right, and for once, for once, others agreed.

So why was she crying?

She looked up as she heard the door to the room open. Y'shtola had returned.

But she had not returned alone.

“Klynt…?” said Zoissette, her voice unsteady, as the large Roegadyn woman strode across the room towards her.

And then she was up, in the air, and her face was buried in Klynt’s shoulder, as Klynt just scooped her up like she was a coeurl and squeezed her as she wheezed.

“Heard you were in a bad way,” said Klynt.

Zoissette went red with embarrassment.

“Klynt! Why!?” she gasped.

Klynt just sat down with her on the couch, while Y'shtola busied herself in the background. After a moment, Zoissette gave up, and just curled up further on herself, bringing a hand up to push her glasses off her face and press her hand against her eyes. She could hear other movement in the room, but she shut it out, and let herself cry for a while, just clinging to Klynt and, generally, feeling sorry for herself.

It did not last forever, though, and eventually she began to feel herself calm down. She began to breathe again. She felt a soreness loosen, and a cold that she had not realised she had been holding release itself to allow warmth back in again.

She looked up, and as she did so, a teacup was pushed into her hands.

She was surprised to see Meya, smiling warmly at her. Meya’s other hand had a plate of food, and she suddenly realised she felt as though she were practically starving.

Zoissette gingerly took the proffered tea and looked dumbly at the plate, before looking up at Klynt.

“Please put me down.”

Klynt obliged, setting her down on the couch next to her. And as she was settled, she saw what the noise in the room had been about.

People were bustling back and forth, Y'shtola directing them. No; not people. Not just any people. Her friends, among the many peoples she had known over the years. Members of Gage Acquisitions, Scions, and more aside. She recognised no few of her books being taken back to her room, and Ryss and Apple helping get her lab equipment settled in as well. Y'mhitra was chatting with Zel, who noticed her attention, and turned and waved before falling back into conversation with her cousin. The solicitor she had asked for from the Arcanist’s guild gave her a nod as she continued talking with both of them. And while Meya may have been the one to bring her the tea, she could see others making other arrangements for food.

She had seen this sort of thing before. Y'shtola had a way of taking charge in emergencies, of seeing to what needed to be done.

She was not sure how she felt that she seemed to be the emergency this time.

She did have to admit, however, that she felt a bit better. And a lot more embarrassed.

If the others were bothered however, none of them spoke a word of it to her. Instead discussions whirled, either talking about the just-passed excitement of dealing with gods, or how to handle the upcoming expedition to Thavnair, and then to the thirteenth beyond. As Zoissette caught snippets, she realised they were talking of the research expedition, and how best to help make sure it went smoothly. Much of what they were doing was towards that end, in fact.

Work she had expected to take on herself over the next few days, actually.

She made a few attempts to get up and join in, but each time, a different person just happened to be near enough to gently push her back down and set something else in her hands to keep her occupied for just a little while longer.

Many hands made for light work, though, and eventually her friends broke off their work or conversations, and said their goodbyes, and gave her their well wishes as they were on their way. Klynt was among the last to leave, after Y'shtola had taken her off to one side and had a hushed conversation with her. She did not eavesdrop, but Klynt did stop and clap her on the shoulder with a smile before she went.

The gesture helped. Klynt was a long and true friend.

At last, the Annex was quiet once more, and it was just her and Y'shtola. The plates had been cleared, the place was clean, and everything had been put away.

Y'shtola stood nearby, leaning against a wall, her hands pinned behind her, just watching her.

Zoissette managed a smile for her.

“Thank you.”

“Speak nothing further of it.”

Zoissette looked away. She wanted to say something, but she was not sure what. Something to make up for the whole mess.

“I think,” she said instead, “I am very tired.”

“Shall I see you to your room, then?”

“…please.”

Y'shtola pushed off the wall, and came over, and helped Zoissette up. As she came to her feet, she realised she was trembling slightly. The after effects of everything, she assumed. She let herself be led to her room, and Y'shtola opened the door, and then paused at the threshold.

“I do not wish to intrude.”

“…you will not be,” said Zoissette. “I - I could use the company. I think. If it is alright.”

Y'shtola nodded, and the two went in together.

-*-

Zoissette was in bed, curled up on her side, wearing a sweater and some shorts. Her glasses were tucked away, and she had taken the bow out of her hair, letting it free.

Y'shtola sat on the floor next to her bed, her feet tucked up near to her, her back leaning against the edge of the bed.

Zoissette was sleepy and heavy and sore and exhausted. She felt as though she had been drained away to almost nothing, and all that was left was the stones of her bones, sinking heavy into the bed.

“Y'shtola,” she tried to say. The first syllable did not want to cooperate.

“Hmm?” replied Y'shtola anyway, bless her.

“…I would have handled the work eventually. You did not need to call all those people.”

“I am certain. However, that was hardly the point. I felt you could use a warmth from those better to provide it than I.”

Zoissette was beginning to have trouble stringing thoughts together.

“I did not intend to be a burden.”

Y'shtola turned now to look at her.

“Is that why you are so intent on refusing to ask for the help you so freely proffer others?”

Zoissette wanted to argue. She could feel her eyes weighing down, though.

“…I do not want to be a burden to you,” she mumbled. “I’m hardly worth it.”

“However you feel about yourself, you would do well to allow me my own counsel,” she replied.

The room fell quiet at that. And after some long minutes, Y'shtola heard Zoissette’s breathing become gentle and slow.

“…and perhaps I think you are worth the effort,” she said quietly.

[sugareey-makes-stuff]

This is definitely a long time coming, but I finally wrote a text only fic for Sterek, complete with a stylized AND plain text view for reading! Also my first long fic that I've written since...I don't even know when (aka it's NOT a drabble or ficlet!!). This is also belated from July, but for reasons you can read more about below the cut. Inspired by @yearoftheotpevent's July prompt "stars," as well as sniperjade's Masturbation Midsummer Bingo 2023, using the square "I can't anymore," and Summer of Cum 2023 prompts "creampie," "come marking," "precome," "come swallowing," "coming untouched," and "coming in pants" (yeah, there's definitely a spicy theme here :P).

Title: Feel You Breathing (<- on AO3) Rating: Explicit WC: 8.4k Tags: Texting/Sexting, Established Relationship, UST, Porn with Feelings, Porn With Plot, Fantasizing, Teasing, Banter, Filthy, Dirty Talk, Masturbation, Idiots in Love, Writer Derek Hale, Bartender and Graduate Student Stiles Stilinski, Business Trip, Flight Delays, Coming In Pants, Coming Untouched, Nipple Play, Light Dom/sub, Bad Pick-Up Lines, Humor, Shopping, Sex Toys, Kink Exploration, Werewolf Mates, Anchors, Love Confessions, Pet Names, Romantic Angst, Stiles AND Derek are Little Shits, POV Alternating

Summary: Derek: So, you need a distraction. Stiles: Maybe Stiles: It’d be better if you were here to help me with that. Stiles: ;D [Or: Sexy things start late one night when Derek gets a text from Stiles and escalate from there. A few secrets are revealed along the way.]

Some of my lovely Sterek friends know I've been dabbling in and out of writing text fics since last year (2022). Easier said than done 1000%, I'm going to tell you that right now. It only took me 3 tries to get it right! (And yes, it means my other 2 WIPs need to be reworked, le sigh.) It's one thing to write a text fic, but it's a completely different beast to style the damned thing with AO3 skins while making it as legible and accessible as possible. I thankfully know how to code in CSS and HTML, but it took me quite a long time to create a custom skin template that I liked and could reuse while getting the look and feel just right for our idiotic boys and the overall Teen Wolf world. Texting and sexting is legit an art. There are so many ways to approach how to write a text because each person does that differently. There's also intention required when using emojis, figuring out how someone would react to things, and hell, even playing around with timestamps and timezones is important. A text fic isn't just about words. All the tiny details add up and make a new experience. I think I took a full week to QA this whole fic because I wanted the aesthetic to look good, and it was worth it! It was nice to make something for myself, which let me write dialogue and banter and a lot of fun things I normally wouldn't had this been a different kind of fic. Super grateful for having a Write-A-Thon sprint weekend, which motivated me to finish the bulk of this baby up. And when I think about it now, this labor of love was originally supposed to be an experiment for me to play around and learn more about coding intricacies. It was supposed to be a short Porn without Plot thingie (but uhhh, it's definitely Porn with Plot and Feelings because that's the way it is). 1-2k words somehow became 8k+ words. No regrets though. It has been a long time since I've felt good about writing something this long and doing something different than the norm. It has been such a blast coming up with all the texts in this fic, because they're humorous and spicy with the usual banter and sarcasm we love between Derek and Stiles. But hey, there's some romantic angst too (they might be texting and using words, but they could do better, of course). Anyway, I hope you give this a read when you have a chance. Enjoy!

[bonhughbon]

The final YOTP is here! Man, it was a tiring but fun challenge! I don't love all of the works I made, but hey—it was something! 😅

Anyway, here's the final fic for this challenge. @yearoftheotpevent for December: Forgiveness. Enjoy!

FF.Net link is here!

[templeofskelegod]

We have not yet realized how Tumblr Polls could revolutionize fandom prompt events.