#Anyway I think a lot of problems would have been solved if Dream and Desire had gone through developmental stages like regular siblings

[theaceace]

Hob is woken, not by the shrill cacophony of his alarm or the sunlight hitting his face where they'd forgotten to pull the curtains last night, or even the warmth of Morpheus' hands and mouth, but by the sudden dip in the mattress as another person flops onto the bed with them.

Several lifetimes' worth of instincts see him jolting awake in an instant, heart racing and sweat already beading on his back and brow. Hob may not be able to die, but he's been ambushed in his sleep more than enough times to be getting on with, ta very much, and he's not keen to do it again. Suddenly he's twenty-five, and exhausted after days of marching on Troyes, feet sore and heart sorer, waiting on a battle that never came. He's twenty-eight, and the knife that flashes in the darkness misses his throat only because Herry has ears like a bat and enough blind-foolish loyalty to leap on their attacker's back. He's seventy-three, and lying barely-conscious among the dead that need burying or burning, and he knows that he needs to rouse himself even with the arrow still in his chest, or he'll be burnt or buried with them. He's two-hundred and sixty-four, and they've come to the home he'd made for his family, to drag him from the bed he had shared with his wife some thirty years before, and haul him away as a witch.

He's gripped now by the same fear, and it has him up and moving, one hand fumbling at the bedside table for anything with enough heft to dent a skull before he realises that none of his attackers have ever smelt like peaches.

Beside him, Morpheus shifts just enough to free his face from the clutches of his pillow.

“That key was given to you for use in emergencies, my sibling,” he says, voice thick with sleep and the cotton pillowcase.

Desire stretches luxuriously between them and smiles, fox-sharp, at Morpheus. They roll their head to look at him – beneath the perfume and sweat and wet pavement smell of them, Hob catches a sour waft of alcohol.

“Oh but my dear brother, this is an emergency,” they say, and – look, Hob has been drunk enough to recognise the exquisitely deliberate care at the edges of their words. He huffs a little, pushes himself up so that he can slap a hand on the bedside lamp and blink furiously against the sudden light. It takes a few seconds for his vision to clear, and he rubs his hands over his face in a vain effort to convince himself that this is some new nightmare that Daniel is testing out, before he gives in to the inevitable and turns to examine their guest.

"And what could possibly be so pressing at –" Morpheus snatches Desire's wrist up to stare blearily at their watch "– two thirty-seven in the morning? That could not be expressed in a phone call or wait until a reasonable hour?"

"Do you know, brother mine, how many partners I found to dance with? Whose desire for me, once so integral as to be a given, I had to simply guess at? To read in the curve of a smile or the enticing lull of a question? I didn't know them, not a one, and can you guess, sweet Dream, how many of them took me to their beds?"

And Hob has heard quite enough of that. He stretches and tosses back the sheets, while Morpheus shoots him a filthy glower that softens immediately into a plea for respite with his sole visible eye. Desire either doesn't notice this silent communication, or doesn't care.

“None!” They crow gleefully, clasping their hands, and Morpheus scowls as he's jostled in place.

It's not that Hob wants to leave him to fend for himself against his sibling, only that he doesn’t fancy being in the firing line when Morpheus inevitably snaps and thumps Desire with a pillow.

Doing an admirable job of ignoring Morpheus' wounded expression, Hob groans and lurches himself in the vague direction of the kitchen. Might as well put the kettle on for this.

"Jasmine or apple tea, love?" He calls. No sense having any caffeine now. If they're lucky, Desire will wear themself out quickly and they'll be able to go back to sleep before the alarm goes off.

"Apple, if you would," Morpheus replies.

"Ooh, I'll have jasmine if you're making."

"Didn't ask you!" Hob shouts back, already adding a spoon of sugar to the third mug he'd fetched down for them. 

“Oh, so forceful! You know, if you ever get tired of my stick-in-the-mud brother here…” Desire trails off meaningfully, and Hob snorts, smiling a little to himself. They know full well it's not going to happen, however much or little they remember about his desires, and even if he were – impossibly – to change his mind about Morpheus, they'd get bored of him soon enough. 

He sets all three mugs on a tray, and grabs a pack of chocolate digestives while he's at it. Morpheus would never admit to being fond of them, but he doesn't need to. Hob's watched him absent-mindedly devour most of a packet while he pecks one-handed at the keyboard. Besides, Desire could probably do with something to line their stomach. 

“Is being human always this delightfully contradictory? So baffling and solid and… damp?” Desire asks, lifting their head just enough to peer at Hob as he re-enters the room. It's a moot question, of course. They've been human long enough now to know that the answer is, largely, yes. 

“Often. But do you know, my sibling, the very best part of being human?” Desire turns lazily to look at Morpheus, smiling wide. Their lipstick today is dark purple, and smudged at the corners of their mouth. 

“Mm, do tell. You know how much I crave your… wisdom,” they say, rolling the words indulgently over their tongue. Hob sighs and nudges Morpheus’ book to one side so he can set the tray down on the nightstand on his side of the bed.

“It is that it is no longer against the Old Laws for me to do this,” Morpheus says, planting one foot against their side and shoving hard enough that they topple off the bed with an outraged squawk and undignified thump. There's a blessed moment of stillness, the same kind of breathless anticipation that Hob remembers from the battlefield, before the charge and the mud and the pain. Then they pop back up over the side of the bed with a cry and launch themself at Morpheus. He'd be more worried if he couldn’t hear the laughter in their voice, nor see how their outstretched hands target Morpheus’ ribs and armpits, rather than his eyes.

Hob's sisters have been dead for centuries now, but he remembers this well enough.  Maybe if the Endless had ever been anything like children, they might have gotten all of the murderous posturing out of the way before they grew up enough for it to be a problem, he muses. Still. Better late than never.

He takes a sip of his own tea and grabs a biscuit. Lord knows he won't get a look in once Morpheus has finished trying to jam his elbow into Desire's stomach and realises they're there.

“It was never against the Old Laws for you to be a bastard, which is lucky because you always were one!” Desire gasps, writhing away from Morpheus’ pointy limbs. Hob's been at the receiving end of those elbows before, and even when Morpheus is being gentle, they're decently sharp. He wonders idly if either of them'll tire of this before their tea goes cold, and decides not to intervene either way. Serve them both right if they have to drink cold tea.

“You tried to kill me!”

“Don't tell me you're still hung up on that?”

“I am, because you tried to kill me!”

“Well it's not like it worked!”

Not really the point, Hob reckons, but then again he's had plenty of mates that have tried to kill him. 

“More by good fortune than good judgment,” Morpheus hisses.

“Oh, so you admit to your poor judgment?”

Hob snorts, and the wounded look Morpheus swings towards him would fell a lesser man. Hob takes another biscuit.

“Ha!” Desire takes advantage of his momentary distraction to lock their arms around his shoulders and blow a loud raspberry against his cheek. Hob doesn’t think he's entirely successful in hiding his smile. Morpheus doesn't even try to hide his look of disgust. 

Well, he had to learn the downsides of being an older brother at some point, Hob supposes. 

Judging that the worst of the scrapping is over, he perches on the edge of the bed and pats Morpheus’ flank idly. Desire, loose-limbed with alcohol and triumph, flops over him to reach for their tea. Morpheus magnanimously doesn't jab his fingers into their exposed side.

“Thank you, Robert darling,” Desire says, eyes half-lidded as they drink. It comes out far less coquettish than Hob imagines they intended; too genuinely content. Morpheus sighs, and frowns, and doesn't quite do a good enough job of hiding his own ease as he sits up and leans against Hob. 

“I suppose you intend to stay the night?” Morpheus asks. There's nothing of the dignified dreamlord about him now, with his hair flattened on one side and just a little lank, and pillow creases on his cheek. He peers at Desire, half of his weight still supported by Hob, who takes another slurp of tea and polishes off the last of his biscuit. It's still unbelievable, sometimes, that he may see his dour and distant old stranger like this. Something tangible, something grounded, something he can hold. Unbelievable, too, after the way they had almost parted, after the way Morpheus had almost –

Well. Doesn't bear thinking about, really.

“Mm, yes, if you'll have me.” Do they have to work to make everything they say sound like a double entendre,  Hob wonders, or does it come naturally? He's not entirely sure they even notice they're doing it. 

“You're always welcome,” Hob says. “Guest room's all made up, and there's a spare toothbrush under the sink you can have.”

“How very kind. Dream, dear, isn't your man kind?”

“Unreasonably so.”

“Ta, love,” Hob says, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Desire rolls their eyes theatrically, as though that might mask how their expression softens. “Now drink your tea, I'd like to get a few more hours’ sleep before I need to get up.”

Morpheus grumbles but straightens up, plucking his mug from the nightstand and cradling it in one hand while he reaches for a biscuit with the other. 

“Should we expect any of our other siblings to join us tonight?” He asks, managing somehow not to spray crumbs everywhere as he does so, which is a bit unfair. Hob has centuries more experience talking through mouthfuls of crumbly biscuits, and he still can't do as good a job of it. “I take it you did not venture out alone this night.”

“No I didn't, but don't worry,” Desire says, tilting their head back as they drain their mug, a neat ring of purple left behind on the ceramic. “My sweet twin is unlikely to make an appearance. I certainly hope, at least – she went home with that little exorcist friend of yours. If she comes here, then something’s gone dreadfully wrong.”

They grin, cat with the cream pleased at the expression on Morpheus’ face, and flick their hand in something like a wave. “Well, goodnight brother! Robert.”

They flounce away towards the spare room, and Hob presses his smile into the curve of Morpheus’ shoulder.

“I hate them,” Morpheus grumbles. Hob kisses the bony jut of skin where his t-shirt has slipped, once, twice.

“No you don't,” he says. Morpheus sighs, sets his mug down, and returns to hold Hob's face still for a proper kiss. Not that Hob would try to get out of it. 

“No,” he agrees softly, pulling Hob down with him for a cuddle onto pillows that still smell a little of peaches. “No. I do not.”

#dreamling #dream of the endless #desire of the endless #hob gadling #This was originally going to be part of 'Em's retirement home for wayward Endless' #in which Dream retired and all of the other Endless followed (except destruction who didn't want someone else saddled with the job) #A sort of 5+1 thing with each of the ex-endless siblings interacting with dream and hob #and 1 of the current endless #But unfortunately my brain isn't up to that so you guys get this instead #Anyway I think a lot of problems would have been solved if Dream and Desire had gone through developmental stages like regular siblings #Here we see the 'toddler' phase. Hob is lucky they're not biting each other #Not exactly a writing tag

[lunarsilkscreen]

Jesus and the Law

At some point, I'm going to turn into a hippie youth pastor if I keep talking about Jesus, and I should probably stop but here we go.

Evangelicals turn away, this is gonna be an alternate interpretation you're not ready to hear. I'm not quite ready to say either. But no doubt, will regret saying anyway.

Jesus noted something important in his days. He was one who spoke of the invisible guiding hand, the machine that controls humanity, the system of which to rage against.

He was a child of God. And God was not the law.

A child born against the law, however you wish to interpret that. Rape, incest, premarital. The Bible never quite explains, but if we're thinking realistically, he calls God "The god of those Alive, not the god of the dead" the living word, the living God. And he stands law and God side-by-side.

He says that God doesn't care about the laws of man and will do as he pleases. And if not for that creation, Jesus would neither have lived nor died.

If humans were lawful, Jesus wouldn't have existed. And if they listened, Jesus wouldn't have been crucified.

He routinely talks about the things that humans were doing to each other, that society had agreed were shitty things to do, but did them anyway. Broke commandments and laws, and nobody bats an eye.

But you call people out on their transgressions, and everybody loses their mind.

The gist is this: when you give people no choice but to break the law in order to survive. Even if you offer them a livelihood through a system that makes them burnout, or a lack of freedom of thought and desire, or a lack of being able to pursue their dreams.

Then they'll pursue that which gives them that hit of dopamine their body should be giving them for free.

Think about it, you get dopamine from eating, creative thought, sex, solving problems, and exercise in moderation.

What happens when you restrict freedom? Give people too much stress? They resort to other methods in order to get the dopamine they need to get through the stress.

I can't get through the morning without coffee.

So if you take away freedom of expression, of thought, of sex, force them into hard not-moderate exercise, restrict their food intake to protein powder and water.

How do you think they're gonna get that dopamine?

It's not by wanting to keep working that's for sure.

"man cannot live on bread alone."

What kind of people resort to hard drugs? Depressed people, who don't want or can't afford children, who eat a diet of whatever is cheap and sodapop when they're feeling like splurging, who couldn't break free from the grind to do something that was actually meaningful, and was told they'd have to jump from one shitty know nothing boss to another ad-infinium until death.

Sisyphus pushing that rock up the Hill. A perpetual motion machine for others to profit from.

It's right there documented in our historical texts, that which still happens. And people at the highest level of powers have decided "you know who had It right? The ancient Egyptians, whose workers were so tired of their shit, THAT THEY DECIDED to go on strike in the middle of the desert FOR FORTY YEARS."

They went on strike for so long, their descendents still carry the stigma of being lazy to this very day, by people that keep trying to reinvent the slaver wheel.

That cycle repeats, even by people thumping Bibles, that definitely should know better had they thought to open the book.

Jesus was a lazy hippie, leader of the feral hippies, and probably hosted the first burning man festival before it was called burning man. Literally fed a bunch of unemployed lazy good for nothing's when he did that one sermon on a mount.

Jesus proved it was possible to feed a lot of people at once, that it was possible to have wine aplenty after it had all been drank, and was a carpenter, all the way up until he wasn't allowed to be anymore.

[asomethingintraining]

Recently, I was diagnosed with ADHD. I found this hugely ironic for a lot of reasons that I don’t want to go into but I honestly have been struggling with the idea, even as I take the medication. For so long, any error, any mistake was squarely my fault. If I didn’t do well, I should’ve done better. If I didn’t do well, I was a failure. My malignant perfectionism and external pressure kept me going and going until it didn’t. I have a very negative self image per my therapist so maybe that’s the culprit here.

But as I look back on my life, things do strike true. I absolutely prefer work with instant feedback and really struggle with long projects. I have no idea how I managed a 2 year obsession with college admissions - maybe I was so convinced that going to an Ivy would fix me that it overtook it. Hyper focus is a thing as well..Anyway, I’ve had professors comment on my disorganization, I really can’t focus on stuff that’s “far out,” I definitely have time blindness, I switch thoughts quickly, I get distracted very easily etc.

This is one of the reasons why I like dermatology. You see patients pretty quickly and solve their problems. Idk if I have a burning desire to resolve skin pathologies but I think it fits in other ways. What I do believe in is the power of true precision medicine. Of course, that’s a big buzz word but I think the dream for medicine would be to efficiently document symptoms, incorporate genomic data and possibly liquid biopsies, and estimate risk, come up with a list of differentials, and even predict useful treatments. That would be peak medicine and I think it’s a dream worth pursuing. We need more data and better ways to analyze it. But it’s not a dream I would die for, you know?

What I really care about is my family and my personal relationships and having fulfilling experiences and also doing whatever I do well. I will never ever take the practice of medicine lightly. I’m not 15 and blinded by the idea that one thing will fix everything anymore. But at the same time I expect myself to be able to make progress on these objectives.

[makeste]

some follow-up thoughts on BnHA 306

mostly Deku angst, but also a little Baku angst (and some TodoBaku angst) mixed in for good measure. because there’s plenty of angst to go around.

1. “if I’d only been stronger...”

I���ll talk more about Deku later in this post as well, because there’s definitely plenty to talk about; this is the most character development he’s gotten in almost 200 chapters. but for starters, I want to discuss the possible parallels between Deku’s current character arc, and what is arguably the most iconic moment of angst/character development in the series.

remember how this kid, who up until this point had rarely seemed to give two fucks about the world around him, suddenly revealed that he blamed himself for being the downfall of All Might? remember how it came almost out of nowhere? how he’d been hiding it, and trying to suppress it? “but even if I try to forget... sometimes it all just comes rushing back.”

yeah. so anyway, I got to thinking -- if being the cause of one hero’s downfall could affect someone this badly, what about being responsible for the downfall of all heroes?

what if a boy who wanted nothing more than to keep people safe suddenly found himself at the epicenter of a disaster that killed hundreds, possibly even thousands of people?

now obviously, this is not the sole thing that’s troubling Deku right now; this kid has a whole array of traumas as of the War arc. like, you know it’s bad when Society As We Know It Coming To An End Partially Because Of You is the least of your problems. but still, I think this is worth bringing up, because the hero kids blaming themselves for things that aren’t their fault is hardly anything new. and yet, what with everything else that’s been going on -- all of the Todoroki drama, and Vestige revelations, and hospital antics, and political strife -- I feel like it’s easy to forget or overlook this little detail.

the fact is that AFO put this entire plan into motion solely in the hopes of finally obtaining OFA. every single thing that happened at Jakku -- Tomura powering up; Machia waking up and going on his rampage (after being ordered to do so by Tomura); and even Dabi/Touya choosing this moment to finally strike (because he knew this was when the reveal would do the maximum damage -- when people’s faith in heroes was already wavering) -- every last bit of it can ultimately be traced back to AFO’s desire to steal OFA. which, obviously, makes it AFO’s fault, not Deku’s. but then, Kamino wasn’t actually Katsuki’s fault either. it wasn’t his fault the villains went after him (but he blamed himself anyway), and it wasn’t his fault that people got hurt in the ensuing battle to save him (but he blamed himself anyway).

just. I think we’re underestimating just how strong of an impact all of this likely had on Deku. we haven’t really had the chance to see him process it yet. he’s been too busy, and there have been too many other things going on. but I’m telling you guys, that empty look in his eyes in the final page of the chapter? I can all but guarantee you that at least some of that emotional weight is coming from this.

sure would be nice if he had a friend who knew exactly what that was like, and could help him process the guilt and all of the other associated emotions, just like Deku once helped him. unfortunately I’m not so sure things will be that easy this time around. anyways though let’s move on to a couple of other thoughts and speculations.

2. “...and I bullied him.”

one of my least-favorite BnHA fanfic tropes is the one where the rest of class 1-A somehow finds out about Katsuki and Deku’s history -- i.e. that Katsuki bullied Deku throughout most of their childhood. mind you, it’s not the concept itself that I dislike; it’s mostly how it’s used. a lot of times it’s just an excuse to have all of the other kids turn on Katsuki and ostracize him; either because the author thinks that’s what he deserves, or else so that Deku can eventually come to his rescue and defend him and shame the rest of the class for not seeing how much he’s changed. either way, it’s usually pretty awkward to read, and more often than not the characters are pretty OOC (especially Ochako and Todoroki).

however! there’s a big difference between fanfic and canon, and just because I’m not a fan of this trope in the former doesn’t mean it couldn’t be executed well in the latter. and lately I’ve been thinking about this a lot. mainly for three reasons:

the recent (can we still call it recent?? well whatever) scene where Katsuki confessed to All Might that he used to bully Deku is now one of my favorite scenes in the entire series, and proof that this can be executed well.

both Todoroki and Deku have finally had their respective big secrets revealed to the rest of the class. so like, idk. feels like it just might be secret-revealing season now, you know?

and lastly, as a result of Deku’s secret about OFA finally being revealed, the rest of 1-A now either knows, or can extrapolate, that he used to be quirkless.

and from there, I feel like it’s not all that hard to put two and two together with how terrible Kacchan and Deku’s relationship was when they first started at UA. that’s not a terribly difficult puzzle to solve. so I feel like it might come out anyway, and if so, I’d prefer Bakugou telling them himself, and taking responsibility as part of his atonement process. because we know that he regrets it. we know their relationship has changed. we know that he has changed. and so I think I might like to see this.

alternately, if confessing to the entire class is too much, at the very least I could see him confessing to Shouto, because I’ve always felt like this was one of the big things that made Katsuki so resistant to letting Todoroki call him a friend. because I feel like there’s a part of Katsuki that saw the parallels between Endeavor’s abuse of Shouto and his own bullying of Deku, and thought, he wouldn’t be so quick to call me his friend if he actually knew the truth. and so there’s actually been this roadblock wedged between them this whole time that Shouto doesn’t even know about. because Shouto hates Endeavor. and so it’s not such a leap to assume he’d hate Katsuki too if he knew just how terrible he’d been to Deku when they were younger.

not that I think he actually would! actually I don’t think either of those things is actually true (because Shouto clearly doesn’t hate his father either, in spite of everything that’s happened). but the point isn’t what I think -- the point is what Katsuki thinks. and I really do think there’s a good chance he’s worried about Shouto hating him, and it’s one of the things that’s made him so reluctant to accept his friendship. anyway, so I’m really just rambling now, but you get my point. I don’t know if this is actually going to happen, but it’s a scene I would like to see if Horikoshi decides to indulge me.

3. “...so when you wake up, please give him my best.”

and now, as promised, back to Deku.

ngl guys, when I first saw this image, my immediate thought was that Gran must have died. because I mean, hello, leaving U.A.?? donning himself in his teacher’s old cape?? empty, exhausted look in his eyes?? what else were we supposed to think lol.

but maybe that was an overreaction. because when I think about it more, Gran’s death isn’t strictly necessary in order to push Deku over the edge. first of all, there’s already the whole “hero society is in ruins now because of you” thing I mentioned earlier. but also, there are just so many other things. like, let’s just list them here because omg. what a rough couple of days this kid had.

he was forced to battle TomurAFO and was terribly injured in the process (most of which was his own fault, but he wouldn’t have gone that far with OFA unless he felt like he had no choice)

and it wasn’t just him that was injured, either. in fact, even though he tried to act as bait to keep everyone else safe, he wasn’t able to stop three of the people closest to him from nearly being killed right before his eyes

and of course that last one was especially traumatic, because it was Kacchan, and because he had to watch Kacchan nearly die just to protect him. out of all the things that Deku witnessed in this arc, this might be the one that had the biggest impact on him

he was also basically helpless to do anything to protect Shouto and Endeavor when Dabi showed up. so again, we have this running theme of people he cares about being hurt and him not being able to save them

and he also got sucked into the OFA Interstellar Dream Vortex for a brief spell during the battle, during which he learned that AFO had possessed Tomura. more importantly, he learned that Tomura was Nana’s grandson, a fact which was only briefly touched on during that scene, but which I think wound up being the trigger to the whole avalanche that ended with Deku leaving UA. but more on that in a moment

anyway so just to wrap this all up, the battle eventually ended, Tomura got away despite all of their efforts, and then Deku wound up comatose in the hospital for two days. which brings us to the most recent chapters, during which

Deku learns that he will be the last wielder of OFA, whether he likes or not

Deku learns the identity of the last two mystery OFA users

and then at some point, he wakes up and presumably talks to Gran, and winds up with his cape

something happened during these last two scenes which helped to push Deku over the edge. I won’t delve into the matter of the Second or Third users for now, although most of you already know my suspicions regarding that, and I do think that would fit into the general pattern here (that is, the pattern of Deku feeling more and more strongly that he is putting the people around him in danger, and his fear of losing them becoming so overwhelming that it eventually pushes him to leave).

but that’s not what I want to talk about for now. what I want to talk about is Gran. specifically, what it is that Deku discussed with Gran. and this is where we come back to that reveal I mentioned earlier -- that Tomura is Nana’s grandchild.

basically, what I think happened is that Deku mentioned seeing Nana in the OFA Zany Psychedelic Spirit Void, which led to the topic of Tomura, and the fun fact Deku recently learned about him being related to Nana. this, in turn leads to Gran divulging his various regrets about everything that happened with him and Nana and Kotarou. his intent is to apologize to Deku for placing the burden of their failures on him. unfortunately, the part that Deku actually gets fixated on instead is this:

All for One hunted down and killed Nana’s son (and probably her husband as well), and stole her grandchild and psychologically tortured him into becoming a mass murderer, for no other reason than that Nana had once held OFA

in other words, AFO can and will hurt and kill anyone Deku is close to, anyone who has any kind of connection to him at all, without mercy, and regardless of whether it actually gives him any kind of tactical advantage or not. he’ll do it simply to hurt him. no other reason necessary.

I don’t know about you, but for me that would be a terrifying realization. and for Deku, I think it just might have been the tipping point.

so, let’s recap.

Deku learns that AFO is after him

AFO/Tomura very nearly kills several of Deku’s most important people, including Kacchan

and then he learns that this is just the tip of the iceberg, and realizes that all of their lives are still in danger and will continue to be as long as Deku is AFO’s target

and then add to all of this the misplaced guilt about society already being shambles, and the heroes already having more than enough to worry about. they’re barely holding things together as it is. and we already know how Deku feels about being a burden to them:

and so instead, he leaves. of course he does. in hindsight, I think this was inevitable.

the question is, did anyone else also put the pieces together in time to realize what Deku was planning before he actually left? specifically, did Katsuki, who understands Deku’s self-sacrificial nature better than anyone else, see the signs and put two and two together? like he did back at Jakku?

and if he did, would Deku have been willing to accept his help again?

somehow, I can’t help but think it might not be that easy this time.

anyway, so that was a lot of rambling, lol. sorry about that. I JUST HAVE A LOT OF FEELINGS about all of this angsty shit. tired nomad Deku needs hugs and comfort and someone to reassure him that he doesn’t have to face this alone, and that everything is going to be all right. HE IS JUST A LITTLE BOY. this is too much, and I cannot handle any of these feels, and oh my god, somebody please help him.

#bnha 306 #midoriya izuku #bakugou katsuki #todoroki shouto #gran torino #bnha meta #deku meta #bakugou meta #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #long post #bakudeku #todobaku

[fanmoose12]

Have you ever done like a high school aged au except Levi and Hanji are penpals?

so levihan here aren't exacty penpals and it's a high school!au, but this idea has been living in my head ever since i received your ask so i hope you enjoy this fic, anon, because i dedicate it to you <333

As cliche as it sounded, but Hange never thought that her life was gonna be this way.

When she finished her journalistic degree, when she graduated from university on top of the class, everyone kept saying, "A bright future is ahead of you, Zoe. The whole world is at your fingertips..."

And Hange had believed them, Hange had expected it too. Uncovering the truth, saving people with the might of her words, making the world a better place one article at a time. Hange couldn't wait to get started and make her dream come true.

And then...

And then every serious newspaper turned her application down, not ready to give a chance for someone with a lot of skills and even more brains, but not enough experience, and then her pride got in the way, and so she didn't wish to settle for some local, small newspaper, refusing to waste her degree and years of hard work on some mediocrity.

And now, here she is - working as an advice columnist for Sina's Gossip.

Not a place Hange ever thought she'd end up at. Not a place she would have ended up at, if she had a choice. But she didn't have that choice, had taken it away herself when she refused offers from more respectable newspapers and didn't get a job at the place she had aimed for.

The magazine isn’t large, small enough for Hange not to know about it at all prior to receiving the job offer. She wouldn't have looked at that job offer twice, would have dismissed it immediately after seeing the name Sina's Gossip written on top, but as chance had it, she scrolled through the letter and saw the name at the end.

Erwin Smith.

The Erwin Smith, a local star who had disappeared from public eye some years ago. And now Hange knew where he had gone to.

He was only in his thirties, and already made a name for himself after he uncovered a conspiracy at the local pharmaceutical company. Just like Hange, perhaps even more so, he had a bright future ahead of him. But suddenly he quitted his job and founded his own magazine.

Hange would be lying if she said she wasn't at the very least a little bit intrigued at Erwin's sudden change of course.

That's why she agreed to a meeting with him. And that was her mistake.

Because Erwin turned out to be handsome, intelligent and charming to the point of ridiculousness. He smiled, spoke a few flattering words and next Monday Hange was already on her way to Sina's Gossip, where she started off as a mere copy editor.

It's been three years since that fated meeting, and Hange is still here, now promoted to an advice columnist. And, despite it not being what she dreamed of, despite working at a gossip magazine she used to despise... She likes it here.

She likes the people she works with, and she likes people she works for.

The letters people send her, asking for an advice or sharing their grievances, Hange likes them too. Enjoys reading them again and again, mulling over each word, looking at presented problem from each angle and doing her best to come up with the best advice possible.

Perhaps it's a simple wishful thinking or whispers of an ego she still hasn't lost, but Hange likes to think she helps these people. Solves their problems, guides them through trying times. Or brightens their day, at least.

She's not saving the world like she dreamt of, but she's making it a better place - or strives to, at least. Sometimes people she helped write her again, thanking for kind and wise words. Hange takes huge pride in that. The job pays well, enough for her to rent a small apartment and live comfortably, but it's these sincere words of gratitude that she treasures the most.

And what makes her hold onto her position in Sina's Gossip even more is the people that work alongside her. Erwin is a kind, if a little dorky man. And he gathered a team of similar people. They're all experts in their respective fields too, Erwin went through great lengths to get them all aboard.

When Hange just started working, the prospect of meeting new people made her more than a little bit nervous. As much as she liked other people and enjoyed getting to know them, getting along, truly belonging somewhere was always a problem for her. Too loud and too weird, she was usually an outcast.

But not at Sina's Gossips.

There, almost right from the beginning, ever since she walked through the glass sliding doors and met a tall man who started sniffing her, she knew she would feel right at home.

In the end, she wasn't wrong. The employees of Sina's Gossips became colleagues, then friends and then family.

She loves them all, even the grumpy midget who opens the door to her office without knocking, his face showing no ounce of friendliness or joy.

But— he's holding a cup of coffee in his hands, and even if Hange were truly annoyed, she'd forgive him just for that.

"Four-eyes," he says, a greeting and complaint at the same time. Hange lets it slide too. Levi hands her the paper cup with coffee, and it's still hot, almost burning her fingers. Lifting the cup to her lips proves that the coffee is black with three sugars, just as Hange always takes it. For that, she's ready forgive Levi any possible sin. "Are you neglecting your work once again?"

"No," that is an offence worth pouting, and Hange does exactly that. She wasn't neglecting anything, how could he even think about it. She's just been staring in the distance for... Hange glances at the clock on her computer screen... For almost ten minutes now.

Alright, maybe, Levi wasn’t completely wrong about that one. Not that Hange will ever admit it to him.

“Did you check the letters I send to you then?”

Hange blinks, a little startled. Letters? It’s the letters day already?

Another quick glance to her computer screen tells her that yes, it’s Tuesday and the letters day already.

Levi takes a seat at the other side of her desk with an irritated grumble. “I sent them to you last night, you ass.”

Hange snickers at the profanity. For an editor, Levi possesses a surprisingly foul mouth.

“I’m checking them now,” she bites her lip, opening the mail. Right beneath advertisements and notifications from her social media, there is a letter from Levi, just as he said there would be. Hange opens it, downloading the archive. As soon as she clicks on it, her eyes light up in anticipation. She starts scrolling down, swiftly going over each letter.

A father who doesn’t know what to give his estranged son for his tenth birthday…

A woman who is worried that her sister is dating a gangster…

A strange man who lost his pet lobster…

A teenage girl who isn’t sure what she wants more – to move to another city to the university of her dreams or stay at her hometown with her best friend and boyfriend…

Hange greedily drinks in every word, hurrying to get to the bottom. What if there is a letter from him…

Levi interrupts her by kicking her leg under the desk.

“I’m glad you finally decided to pay attention to your work,” he pauses, his scowl deepening. In her head, Hange finishes his sentence for him – but now, I want you to pay attention to me. God, Levi is just the cutest. So endearing and precious, and he tries to hide it so hard. Nothing gets past Hange, though. “But I didn’t come here to stare at your deranged smile.”

Obediently, Hange shifts her gaze from a screen to Levi, staring at him with a hand beneath her chin. “Why did come here then?”

“You have a meeting this Friday, remember?”

A meeting, meeting… It takes Hange a long moment to catch up with what Levi is talking about.

“A meeting!” she yells, when it dawns on her at last. She snaps her fingers, grinning at Levi. “Of course, a meeting, with that guy from, mm…” she frowns, tapping her forehead. “From Monkey Island?”

“Money Island,” Levi corrects, but he does so with a hoarse chuckle, and Hange mentally pats herself on a back.

After all, who doesn’t enjoy making their attractive co-workers laugh? Especially if they’re just as broody as Levi?

“Do you remember his name at least?”

“Zeke Yeager, right?”

“Right,” Levi nods, and it could be Hange’s imagination, but his face becomes just a little darker, and his voice just a little gruffer.

Hange’s senses start tingling…

“Do you know each other?”

And, yep, there it is – Levi purses his lips, turning his head to the side to mutter a quiet curse. “We’ve graduated from the same university.”

In what world that is a reason enough for such apparent dislike? Hange longs to know more, find out every possible detail.

Levi sees that desire reflect on her face, and sighs. “He’s an asshole,” he reveals. “Who loves his asshole little brother.”

It doesn’t explain much anyway, but Hange feels like it’s the best she can get out of Levi. She decides to surrender and quell her curiosity, just this once.

“This is the only reason why you came? To remind me about the meeting? I have an assistant for that, Levi.”

Lifting his thin eyebrow, Levi gives her a long look. Hange struggles not to fidget under it. What has gotten into him?

“You really don’t remember,” Levi shakes his head, his disappointment more than transparent. “Four-eyes, Berner is on a sick leave. Had been for three days already.”

Oh, right… that’s why no one answered when she yelled a greeting upon entering the office. That’s why she forgot about the letters day. And that’s why she was staring in the distance for almost ten minutes.

She awkwardly giggles, rubbing her neck. “It just slipped my mind.”

“Lots of things do,” Levi rolls his eyes. “Don’t forget about meeting with Yeager, though. He’s an asshole but—”

“But an important man,” Hange finishes for him. She knows that, can hardly forget about that, since Erwin is so adamant at reminding her every time they cross paths at the office. “I know, I know, that interview is important just as that Zeke is. It can make our magazine more popular and blah, blah, blah.”

“Not only our magazine,” Levi sharply retorts. “It’s a chance for you too, Hange. Don’t ruin it.”

There is an uncharacteristic intensity in his voice, one that turns Hange speechless.

It’s a surprise that Levi knows about her ambitions at all, of course, she told him same as she told practically every person she came across. One day, I’ll show you, I’ll show you all just how great I can be. But it’s a surprise Levi not only knows, but remembers about it. It’s a surprise that he seems to care whether she truly achieves her dreams or not.

“Do you wish to come with me?”

It tumbles out of her lips without a second thought. But just as her mouth starts moving, Hange realizes that she truly wants it, wants to have Levi there with her. As a moral support, if nothing more.

Levi doesn’t answer her right away. His eyes narrow, as he mulls it over with his hand on his chin.

“Zeke doesn’t like me,” he mutters. “I will only make it worse.”

“Or you will make it better,” Hange winks, pressing her elbows into the desk to lean closer to Levi. Now that she knows what she wants, she doesn’t hesitate to apply a bit of pressure. “Maybe, he secretly likes you.”

Levi scoffs, crossing hands on his chest. “I doubt it.”

Despite his curt answer, Hange knows that she is close. Levi is almost ready to break. To ensure that, she decides to play a little dirty. “Levi,” she tilts her head and pinches her eyebrows, sticking her bottom lip out. Her puppy eyes aren’t that impressive, not nearly as good as Nanaba’s, but, for some reason, they seem to always work on Levi. “Pretty, pretty please, will you go with me?”

Levi curses, and that’s how Hange knows that she won. “If I end up destroying your whole career, four-eyes,” he points a finger at her. “That’d be your fault.”

“If you ruin my career, that means I’ll stay here with you forever. Won’t that be splendid?”

He doesn’t say anything, but his face seems pensive, thoughtful. Something in Hange’s heart pangs at that.

“Are you going to Nanaba’s place this Sunday?” she asks to change the topic. And distract herself from the strange feeling Levi’s expression provoked.

“No,” Levi answers. Hange grins.

Levi always says no, always tells them that he won’t let them pull him into their shitty shenanigans again, always swears that this is the last time he dragged their drunk asses home.

And yet, he shows up time and time again. He complains, calls them idiots, drunken fools and disgraces to society, but he still shows up. If that’s not a sign of true friendship, Hange doesn’t know what true friendship is.

“Can’t wait to hang out with your broody mien, shorty!” she exclaims, laughing when Levi flips her off. “Don’t forget your gloomy attitude!”

“And don’t you forget about letters I sent to you,” Levi stands up, throwing his paper cup in a trash bin next to Hange’s desk. “You have two days to answer them all.”

“I know, I know,” Hange waves him off. “I don’t need you or Moblit to tell me how to do my job.”

Levi raises an eyebrow at that, looking overly skeptical. “Two days,” he dryly reminds her before leaving her small office.

For a moment more, Hange continues staring after him with a fond smile on her lips.

Back to work, Zoe, she shakes herself and returns her attention to the computer screen. Her mail is still opened there, and Hange scrolls down to the end, searching for a username she hopes will pop out.

Almost near the end, it does, and Hange can’t keep in a quiet squeal of delight.

[email protected]

The username is a bit ridiculous, pompous even, so Hange opts for a shorter and, in her opinion, more accurate one – lover boy.

Every two weeks without a fail, that same user sends Hange a letter, asking for an advice. They all wary in everything, but the subject – a person the lover boy has a crush on.

What do I do to become closer to her, what is the best way to make her smile…

Each and every letter, without a fail, brightens Hange’s day, no matter how shitty it was. The care, affection and love that radiate from these letters melt her heart and strengthen her belief that the world is truly a wonderful place if kind-hearted people like him still live here.

Apparently, romance isn’t quite dead yet.

Gripping the edge of her chair to at least try and conceal her excitement, Hange eagerly opens the letter and starts reading.

Thank you for your last advice, as always, it helped.

We’re growing closer, at least, it feels like we do. However, there is another problem that I hope you can help me with.

Admittedly, I’m not very good with my words. I never know what to say to tell the others how I feel, and sometimes I can come as rough and rather rude. It’s a fault of mine I had ever since childhood, and, truth be told, it never bothered me much.

But with her… it’s a bit different.

She can take a joke, and I know she doesn’t really mind my manner of communicating, but, still, I wish I could show her just how much she truly means to me. Sometimes it seems like she doesn’t quite realize it. Doesn’t really understand just how amazing and wonderful she is.

I know that the subject is not exactly ordinary, but your advices helped in the past, and I believe it will help this time too. Even if it wouldn’t, it’d be interesting to read your opinion on that.

Thank you in advance.

After finishing the letter, Hange starts rereading it, rubbing her forehead in thought. The lover boy is right, the subject isn’t easy at all. The lack of details and context complicates things even further.

A lot of people struggle at communicating what they feel, and it’s especially true about romantic feelings. But different people struggle in different ways.

Someone like Moblit, for example, is open enough with his affection, but he’d stutter to death sooner than confess to someone.

Someone like Erwin can charm pretty much anyone. His carefully crafted words and easy, handsome smile do all the job for him, but his words are crafted just a little too carefully and his smiles come a little too easily, and, as a result, he only rarely comes off as truly sincere.

And then there is Levi, whose walls are higher than skyscrapers and mightier than a fortress. But once you get past them, once you invest enough time and effort to break them down, you’ll find a gentle, caring man, who just isn’t used to showing his true feelings.

Hange can only guess what type the lover boy is.

Sighing, she decides to leave his letter for now and deal with it after she finishes with the rest. Somehow she feels that finding a lost lobster would be much easier than dealing with that particular dilemma.

***

A couple of busy days, filled with Erwin's warnings - Hange, remember the reputation of our agency rests on your shoulders, Nanaba's cheerful encouragements - you can do it, Hange! you'll charm the guy in no time, I know you will, Mike's horrible jokes - if you can't charm him, just ask Levi to punch him, that might do the trick too, and Moblit's frantic remindings, spoken over the phone in a throaty voice, later Hange and Levi arrive to the café Zeke had chosen for their meeting.

“It looks fancy,” Hange whispers to Levi, eyeing the entrance with a slight pout. “I didn’t know it’d be so fancy.”

“That’s Zeke for you,” Levi grunts. “Fancy asshole.”

“R-right,” suddenly every single precaution Erwin had told her come back, more frightening than ever. “Let’s just get this over with.”

The inside of the café seems even fancier, and Hange spares a longing look at her attire – an over-sized yellow pullover thrown over a light green plaid shirt with a brown khakis and worn-out converses. It’s not something one would call professional or stylish, not that she owns anything much better… but now Hange wishes she at least combed her hair.

She doesn’t know what Zeke looks like, hasn’t bothered with looking him up, since Levi is accompanying her, but she easily spots him even without Levi’s help.

Just as the café’s entrance, just as its interior, Zeke looks fancy. He’s not overdressed, in his dark green shirt and light cardigan he is all but casual, but damn, he is one of the leading journalists at the magazine called Money Island, and it clearly shows.

Levi wasn’t wrong about the fancy part, but he also failed to mention that Zeke is handsome. Extremely so. Blond and bearded, he is not exactly Hange’s type, but, well… there are exceptions to every rule.

Not just attractive, but, apparently, Zeke is a gentleman too.

He rises from his seat as soon, as he sees Hange, a blinding in its brilliance smile curving his thin lips.

“Hange Zoe,” he greets and eagerly shakes her hand. “I’m so happy you’ve come.”

The smile doesn’t leave his face, doesn’t even diminish, but his eyes narrow ever so slightly, when they land on Hange’s companion.

“I didn’t know you’d bring a friend.”

His voice is friendly, if only a little surprised, but his eyes are colder than they’d been before.

“It’s our editor,” Hange pats Levi’s back. “Levi—”

“We’ve met before,” Zeke’s still showing that same smile, but there is just enough frost in his voice to tell Hange that there is no secret affection between him and Levi.

“I’m glad Hange invited me to trail along. It’s nice to see you again, Zeke.”

Levi doesn’t bother hiding his sarcasm or schooling his expression in something more amicable. Hange rolls her eyes and kicks him as soon as Zeke turns around.

Will it kill you if you try to act a little friendlier? her gaze asks him.

I warned you about this, Levi’s huff answers.

Oh, well. At least, he didn’t call her four-eyes in front of Zeke. Clearly, that’s an improvement.

Hange sighs and sends a quick prayer that this meeting won’t turn into a complete disaster. She sits down in a booth across from Zeke and hopes that her smile will be enough to counter any possible tensions.

“The strawberry cupcakes are exceptionally good here,” Zeke notes, when a waitress bring them menus.

Without looking up from a menu, Hange nods. The prices in this café are much higher than she is comfortable with. She’d never bring her friends here, but, well… Zeke isn’t a friend, so Hange swallows down her discontent and orders herself a coffee with a strawberry cupcake.

She doesn’t even like strawberry cupcakes.

“Let’s start, shall we?” Zeke says after three of them receive their orders.

Hange takes a sip from her coffee – it’s honestly not that good to be so pricey – and tries to look composed and professional.

Truth be told, she doesn’t know why she is here. An interview, Erwin told her, but why would anyone want to interview her? She’s not a celebrity – not an actor or an artist, she’s a journalist, who works for a small, local magazine.

Why would a person like Zeke and a magazine like Money Island be interested in someone like her?

“I’ve prepared a small list of questions…” Zeke takes out his tablet, turning it on. “Are you ready to begin?”

“Yes,” Hange says, smiling when she feels Levi’s calf press to hers in a silent encouragement.

“So tell me more about yourself – your hobbies, talents outside of work…”

It starts easy like that, and Hange loses herself in her ramblings so much that she doesn’t notice that Zeke isn’t taking any notes.

But after a few trivial questions – what do you like about journalism, what made you choose this career path, what are subjects you’re most passionate about – everything gets just a little bit stranger.

“What are your greatest strengths?” Zeke asks, then follows it with, “What are your greatest weaknesses?”

Where do you see yourself in five years? What’s your dream job? Do you consider yourself successful?

One question after another tumbles out of his lips, and soon Hange realizes.

It’s not a simple interview, it’s a job interview.

A confused look Levi sends her confirms her suspicion.

“Mister Yeager?” Hange calls after a question about how she prefers to be managed.

“Call me Zeke,” he retorts charmingly.

“Zeke,” she forces a smile and hopes it doesn’t look too fake. “I don’t wish to appear rude… but what is the meaning of this? I thought you wanted an interview for your magazine?”

“It’s more for me than Money Island,” Zeke confesses. “I wish to get to know you better.”

Beside her, Levi tenses. Amongst the noise and clutter of the café, Hange can almost hear the sound of his teeth gritting. She doesn’t spare a glance in his direction, too busy gawking at Zeke.

“May I ask…” she clears her throat, feeling too far away from her comfort zone. “…Why?”

“Sina’s Gossips is a fairly small magazine,” Zeke begins, his voice as sugary as a strawberry cupcake before Hange. “But it became ten times more popular after you started working there. Clearly, you have a lot of potential, and something tells me that advice columnist is not your dream position. So I thought you’d be interested in my offer.”

“Your offer?”

“To change your workplace.”

“But I have no experience in the finance area.”

“I’m willing to give you a chance,” Zeke says graciously. “You’ll have to be approved my by superiors first, of course, and then you’ll need to undergo a bit of training...”

Hange can’t help but frown. “I can’t just abandon my previous position like that.”

“I’m not asking you to. Not now, at least.”

“So what exactly it is that you want?”

It’s Levi who asks, and his low, almost menacing voice startles Hange. She turns to look at him, but his face is as guarded and neutral as it always is.

Zeke raises an eyebrow, his expression curious as he studies Levi. But when he shifts his attention back to Hange, the same handsome smile is already plastered on his lips. “I want to offer a collaboration project. We can use your platform to let people ask things, not about their everyday struggles, but to ask you for an advice about their finance related problems. Our magazine can advertise it, and this will help to expand both yours and ours audience. And…” Zeke pauses, lowering his voice just a fraction. “It will give us a chance to see if you’re up to the job at Money Island or not.”

“I…” it’s a lot to take in, and, naturally, Hange struggles to find her own words. That’s why she’s so grateful when Levi decides to step in.

“We have to discuss with our boss first. Then we can give you a definite answer.”

There is an edge to Zeke’s smile that tells Hange exactly what he thinks about Levi’s interruption. However, it disappears instantly, in a blink of an eye. With his features much more relaxed, Zeke waves a waitress over and asks to bring them a bill.

“I’ll be waiting for your answer,” he says as he stands up. “I enjoyed our time together, Hange Zoe. And I know our companionship will bring me just as much pleasure. I hope we’ll keep in touch.”

He leaves after that, but Hange isn’t yet ready to go. She pushes the cupcake around the plate, mulling it over.

“What do you think?” she asks Levi after five minutes of silence.

“What do you think?” he shoots back, and Hange scoffs, kicking him under the table.

“I asked you first.”

Levi doesn’t answer immediately. He stares at her for a long moment, and there is something in his eyes, something Hange can’t quite understand the meaning of. She wants to know, though, almost asks him, but then Levi breaks the eye contact and slumps back in his chair.

“You’ve always wanted to do something more, right? It’s your chance, Hange.”

“And…” she swallows a heavy lump in her throat and briefly wonders where it had come from. Levi is right, that what she always wanted. Then why she is so hesitant to even entertain the idea? “Do you think I should take it?”

“It’s your chance,” Levi repeats.

He stands up and wraps his hand around her elbow to push Hange up too. His touch is too careful, almost gentle, and the confusion inside her continues to grow.

“Let’s go back to work,” he says, and adds in a voice so quiet, Hange almost misses it. “You did well, Hange.”

***

Hange goes to find Erwin as soon as they return to the office. She doesn’t tell him about the second part of Zeke’s offer, about the possibility that she’ll soon leave Sina’s Gossips and all of its employees, and focuses only on their future collaboration. Erwin listens to her frantic retelling with a calm, attentive face. He agrees to Zeke’s offer without much thought.

“That is,” he hastily adds, “if you wish to proceed with it, Hange. I don’t wish to force you, so if it’s not something you’re interested in...”

“No, no,” she shakes her head and hopes that the smile she forces on doesn’t look pained. “I’ll be happy to work on this project.”

Is she truly happy, though? Hange isn’t sure anymore.

***

She spends the whole evening and most hours of night thinking about it.

She goes to the Money Island’s website and reads most of their recent articles. She googles the most prominent employees and reads about them too, every bit of information she can get her hands on.

When the sun is starting to peek out from the horizon, Hange looks up Zeke. She finds out he has his own youtube channel, where he talks – no surprise here – about finance.

Being rich is easy

God, even the name of the channel reeks of arrogance.

But Hange has to admit – Zeke is good at what he’s doing. His pretentious manner of speaking and his apparent habit of scratching his ear is a little irritating, but he talks with confidence and ease that shows just how much knowledge and experience he has.

His videos are engrossing and his articles are, without a doubt, extremely well-written.

Hange likes Zeke, finds him interesting enough, but what he talks and writes about… she can’t help but think that it’s a bit too dull for her taste.

And it’s ironic, it’s foolish, she should be on a cloud nine from the opportunity presented to her. Hange feels like she would have been on a cloud nine… Three years ago.

But now she has a job she loves and people she loves working with. Should she really leave it behind just like that? Can she?

Then again, can she leave behind a dream she nurtured for as long as she could remember? Can she forget about every ambition and desire?

She doesn’t find an answer to that in the evening, it doesn’t come to her during the night.

And Hange can only hope that she’ll be able to answer it when the time comes.

***

But, instead, Saturday comes, and Hange forces these thought out of her head.

She wants to forget about her doubts, and with Nanaba’s fingers in her hair, a bottle of cold beer in her hands and Mike’s deep voice in her ears, forgetting about everything else is surprisingly easy.

They’re at Nanaba’s summer house, gathered around a brightly-lit brazier. Hange is warm, relaxed and content. Mike’s story about some fisherman from his hometown is a little boring, but Nanaba remedies that fault by whispering sarcastic comments to Hange.

When Mike’s thrilling tale is finally over, Erwin clears his throat, attracting everyone’s attention.

“In case some of you didn’t know, Hange had a very peculiar meeting yesterday…”

“Right,” Nanaba’s grin is too wide and gleeful for Hange’s taste, and when Nanaba fixes her eyes on her, Hange involuntarily squirms. “Very peculiar indeed.”

Knowing but not liking where this is going, Hange leaves the warmth of Nanaba’s lap and moves away. This action brings her to Levi’s side, and he tenses, but doesn’t protest which Hange takes as a sign that she can become a little bolder and lean on his shoulder.

Perhaps, he’ll shield her from Nanaba’s curiosity. Although, Hange has to admit that it’s highly unlikely. No one can stop Nanaba if she gets curious about something. Hange always admired that about her. Not now, though.

“So tell us, Hange,” Nanaba slowly begins, her eyes glinting in the light of the fire. Hange takes a quick survey, and confirms that, yep, everyone is looking at her. Apparently, Nanaba is not the only who is curious. “Did you have a good time?”

“Well, Zeke’s offer looks promising, and that project certainly is intriguing…”

“God, leave that boring stuff to Erwin,” Nanaba rolls her eyes.

Mike agrees with her by adding, “Not everyone here is as nerdy as you two.”

“Exactly,” Nanaba nods. “We want to know more about Zeke. Is he handsome?”

Perhaps, it’s the beer or the warm atmosphere or the fact that everyone – including Levi – is looking expectantly at her, but Hange chuckles and says, “Very much so. Not in the way our fearless leader is,” she salutes Erwin with a bottle, enjoying the slight blush that appears on his cheeks. “But he’s still attractive.”

There is pure wickedness in Nanaba’s gaze, when she leans a little closer to Hange and asks, “Is he as handsome as Levi?”

Hange chokes on her beer. Her eyes water as she coughs it out, her throat is sore, but with the help of Levi’s gentle pats, Hange manages to get her breathing back under control.

She glares at Nanaba as soon as she straightens out, but then remembers the stupid question and feels color rise to her face. She can blame it on a coughing fit. Probably. Hopefully.

“It depends on one’s preferences…” she mumbles, hating how weak her voice sounds.

Nanaba is merciless, though. “What’s your opinion then?”

It takes Hange more than a moment to gather enough courage to sneak a glance at Levi. Their eyes meet, but for no more than a heartbeat. Levi looks away instantly, his hands clenching into fists.

Hange decides to be honest then. Her gaze still fixed to Levi, she murmurs, “No, Zeke is nearly not as handsome as Levi.”

Nanaba coos, Mike guffaws and Erwin simply smiles, like that is exactly the kind of answer he expected.

Levi doesn’t react at all, but Hange is still pressed against him and so she feels – he relaxes considerably.

Hange relaxes too, and moving closer to his ear, she whispers, “Hey, help me get revenge on Nanaba.”

The look in Levi’s eyes is positively evil, wicked enough to send a shiver down a spine. Hange feels that shiver acutely, but… not because it scares her. Truthfully, it has a diametrically opposite effect on her.

“With great pleasure, four-eyes.”

“Oi, Nanaba!” Hange calls. She doesn’t know what to say next, finds it hard to concentrate with Levi so close to her, but she trusts he’ll back her up.

As always, he doesn’t disappoint.

“Is that your lipstick on Mike’s neck?”

There is no lipstick on his neck, Nanaba isn’t even wearing one, but they both panic and they both exchange quick glances. It’s enough of an evidence to make everyone laugh.

Mike is smiling, as he pulls Nanaba closer, tucking her under his arm. “We really suck at being discreet, aren’t we, Nana?”

“That we are,” she agrees with a smile as gentle and loving as Mike’s. “I guess there is something we want to tell you then.”

“About damn time,” Erwin shakes his head. “Do you know how many times I’ve caught you making out in the supply closet? I was getting tired of keeping quiet about it.”

“You didn’t keep quiet about it,” Levi grumbles. “Every time you caught them you ran to tell me.”

“And then me,” Hang gleefully adds.

Nanaba and Mike groan in unison, their faces red as tomato.

“We have the worst friends ever.”

Hange laughs. She very much begs to differ.

***

Beers and constant laughter very soon make all of them sleepy. That’s how Hange finds herself sandwiched between Erwin and Mike on a bed in the guest room, and though there is enough space for another person to fit in, Nanaba claims the master bedroom, and Levi takes one look at them and retires to the living room, sprawling over the couch.

In Erwin and Mike’s arms Hange feels safe and content. Her previous doubts take a seat back and let her enjoy the night with her friends. Thankfully, sleep comes to her that much easier than it did last night.

It doesn’t last for long, though.

The sun still isn’t up, but the world isn’t dark anymore, when Hange wakes up from her slumber.

Erwin is snoring into her ear, but there is a vacant place to her left, where Mike used to sleep. It’s not hard to guess where he had disappeared to, and Hange allows herself a small smile at the expanse of her friends’ happiness.

She doesn’t feel like sleeping anymore, so she throws one blanket over Erwin and snatches another one, wrapping it around her shoulders. With her feet bare and still dressed in a pajama shorts and Mike’s t-shirt that almost reaches her knees, she leaves the room and goes downstairs, walking outside. She takes a seat at a porch swing and draws a slow, deep breath, taking in the beauty around her.

The world is only starting to wake up, and grey color is more prominent than anything else, but there are just enough soft shades of purple, blue and pink to make up for it. Nanaba’s house sits just at the edge of a clearing that leads to a small lake, and the morning brings thick streak of fog that spreads over crystal surface.

It’s beautiful enough to take her breath away, and Hange loses herself in the calm, gentle feeling that finds its way inside her.

That feeling is strong enough to hide the sound of soft footsteps that approach her. Hange notices someone else’s presence only when the swing starts moving. She startles, her head darting to the side, but relaxes instantly, when she sees Levi’s sharp profile. He’s holding two cups of steaming tea in his hands, and hands one cup to Hange.

“Thank you,” she smiles, inhaling the sweet aroma of tea. It tastes just as sweet as it smells, she realizes after taking the first sip. Then, she turns her attention back to Levi. “I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

“No, I usually wake up at this time. Insomnia,” he says, and, right, now Hange remembers something-something about Levi sleeping not nearly enough for a normal human being. “Heard that you woke up and decided you might want a company.”

“How did you know that it was me who woke up?”

Levi gives her a short glance before shrugging and returning his gaze back to the scenery in front of them. “Your steps are different,” he answers, like it explains everything.

It does explain everything for Levi, Hange muses. He works in a strange, obscure way, so very different from other people. That’s why Hange likes him. That’s why she feels so comfortable with him.

Perhaps, it’s a fault of a dim, morning light or, perhaps, it’s her own sleepiness that changes her perception, but Levi looks a little different, softer around the edges. Because of it, Hange allows herself a small indulgence and moves close enough for their shoulders to touch.

Just a fraction, barely an inch, but she feels Levi move closer as well.

All of it – the colors merging on a horizon, the fog that makes everything look almost ethereal, the sweet tea made by Levi, Levi himself – fuse together to create an impossibly light, gentle feeling that very rarely visits Hange.

In that moment she feels happy, so happy that not even a brief thought of what’s going to happen if I leave is enough to ruin that mood. She simply drowns that pesky doubt down with tea and turns to look at Levi.

“I’m so lucky to have met you all,” she reveals to him in a quiet voice. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt so happy before.”

Levi stares at her, and there is something in his eyes, something fierce and at the same time vulnerable that Hange can’t quite understand. She isn’t sure she wants to, not now, at least.

“Let’s stay like this,” she says, almost a plea. “At least, for a little while.”

“As you wish,” Levi agrees easily as though… as though whatever is it that she wants, he’ll get her.

The thought is both comforting and terrifying. Comforting, because it means he cares about her, because it means she’s not alone anymore.

And terrifying, because it makes her happy, and Hange isn’t sure she’d be able to part with that happiness, when the time comes.

***

No matter how much Hange wants to prolong that fuzzy feeling and stay in that small bubble with her friends, all too soon the weekend ends. Monday comes and with it arrives a new wave of responsibilities.

But not only responsibilities return – Moblit does too, and as soon as she sees him, Hange hugs him close to her chest, laughing when he starts complaining that she squeezes him too much.

“It’s been too quiet without your nagging!” Hange pats him on a back, smiling from ear to ear. “And you’ve missed one hell of a party! We’ve been sleeping so peacefully without your snores.”

“You like my snores,” Moblit argues, and he is right to do so. Moblit’s throaty snores lull her to sleep better than any lullaby. Besides, cuddling with him is always a delight, his tummy softer than any pillow. “And I’ve heard about that party already,” he continues with an almost sly look. “Nanaba told they found you and Levi getting cozy on a porch.”

Hange huffs, turning away from his knowing look. “I see Nanaba’s obsession with gossips is infectious.”

“It’s Sina’s Gossips we’re working at. Love for gossip is the requirement to get a position here,” Moblit jokes, and Hange shakes her head with a low chuckle.

Moblit’s been absent for just a week, but it was enough to make her miss him like crazy. She’s glad he is back. And more than anything, she wants to chat some more, but the work doesn’t wait.

She contacts Zeke as she drinks her first cup of coffee, and not even five minutes pass before he schedules another meeting with her.

There is no need for your editor to join us this time :)

Hange isn’t sure what irritates her more – Zeke’s apparent dislike of Levi or the stupid emoji.

However, Erwin’s words ring in her ear, yet another reminder that this is important, Hange, we can’t afford to blow this off, especially not with a man like Zeke on board. So she replies him with a stupid emoji of her own, and, gritting her teeth, adds that she is looking forward to their meeting.

Then, not wanting to repeat her last mistake, Hange checks the place Zeke has invited her to. This time it’s a restaurant, and a flashy one at that. The time he sets the meeting for – seven pm – is another hint that it is not a casual meeting, and therefore she needs to wear something better than her usual clothes.

She isn’t sure she can pull it off all by herself, though, and she isn’t sure there is at least one item of clothing in her closet that can be classified as fancy, so Hange asks Nanaba to help.

Nanaba agrees instantly, her eyes brightening up at the prospect. She promises to come over at the evening of the meeting with Zeke, bring some new clothes for Hange and pick up something classy.

At five pm sharp, just two hours before her meeting, Nanaba shows at Hange’s place, holding two large packages.

She doesn’t come alone, and with wide eyes Hange watches how Mike, Moblit and Levi trail inside her apartment after Nanaba.

“Erwin couldn’t make it, because he’s old and boring,” Nanaba cheerfully informs her. “But he asked to send him pictures of every look I’d pick for you.”

“Has anyone told you how wicked and vile you are?” Hange asks her with a glare that could almost rival Levi’s.

“Mike makes sure to tell me this regularly,” Nanaba flippantly replies. “Now go and get changed! We don’t have all evening.”

It takes five changes of clothes to finally find something that satisfies Nanaba’s fashion sense and doesn’t make Hange feel like she’s out of her element.

She is dressed in a dark brown suit with a black shirt underneath, and after Nanaba makes a controlled mess out of her hair, Hange has to agree – she looks very good.

“Let’s show you to the boys,” Nanaba whispers before taking a quick photo for Erwin. She pushes Hange into the living room, where Mike, Moblit and Levi are already waiting for her, all of them nursing a bottle of beer. “We’ve got yes from Erwin!” Nanaba cheerfully announces after checking her phone.

“That’s a definite yes from me too,” Mike nods in agreement.

“You look so handsome,” Moblit says earnestly, despite his shy smile.

Levi doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t tear his eyes away from Hange either. As she waits for his verdict, Hange wonders if the desire to change her look, because Levi obviously doesn’t like it, is simply stupid or downright pathetic.

“Levi,” Nanaba glowers at him, when the silence stretches for far too long.

Hange wants to deflate the tension with some joke, but then Levi clears his throat. “Not bad, four-eyes,” he says, making her heart stumble. “Go get that stupid monkey.”

Hange wants to hug him, so, so much, but she’s afraid to ruin the suit, so she settles on thanking him with a bright, happy smile.

Levi’s expression softens like that is all the thanks he desires.

“Continue making heart eyes at Levi, and you’ll miss your little meeting, Hans,” Nanaba whispers.

Hange hopes the red on her cheeks will be interpreted as anger, but Nanaba is right – she has to hurry, all this effort would be in vain if she arrives even a little too late.

“C’mon,” Mike wraps an arm around her shoulders. “We’ll give you a lift.”

Hange smiles, feeling so grateful – to all of them. She wouldn’t be ready for this evening if it wasn’t for Nanaba, she probably wouldn’t get that deal with Zeke if it wasn’t for Levi, her column wouldn’t be so successful if it wasn’t for Moblit’s assistance and Mike’s constant help, she wouldn’t have this job, this family if it wasn’t for Erwin who decided to hire her.

They all wish her luck one last time at the entrance of the restaurant. Nanaba and Moblit fruitlessly try to peek inside and get a glimpse of Zeke, when Levi wraps his hand around her wrist, dragging Hange aside.

“It’s Tuesday,” he says matter-of-factly.

More than a little confused, Hange blinks, then nods in affirmative, she knows it’s Tuesday, she’s not that disorganized.

“It’s Tuesday,” he repeats, tilting his head just so.

It is only then, to Hange’s shame, that she finally understands what he means.

“The letters, right?” she grins, proud of her own quick-wittedness. It took her only a moment to guess.

“I sent them over already. If you won’t be too exhausted after the meeting…”

“I’ll check them out as soon as I get home,” she promises.

There is nothing else to say, nothing else to do but walk away from Levi and inside the restaurant, where Zeke is probably waiting for her. Still… Hange is reluctant to leave. There is something between her and Levi, something almost tangible, and it keeps her glued to his side.

This feeling, it grows bigger, harder to ignore, until—

Until it disappears, when Nanaba tugs at her hand. Hange allows her friend to pull her away from Levi, stopping just for a second to turn around and wave him goodbye. Levi’s face is set in the usual scowl, but his gaze softens, and it fuels Hange with determination and resolve.

She looks around and, encouraged by her friends’ unwavering support, steps inside the restaurant.

***

Just as Hange predicted, Zeke is already there. When he notices her approach, he stands up and with a dazzling smile and pulls a chair for her.

“Hange Zoe,” he all but purrs. “You’re absolutely ravishing tonight.”

His words are too sweet, Zeke himself is too sweet to seem genuine, but Hange gives him a smile nevertheless. His compliment doesn’t succeed in making her heart race like Levi’s quiet ‘not bad, four-eyes’ did, but it still pleases her.

She doesn’t believe he truly means it, knows that Zeke uses flirting to get something out of her, but, oh well… if a man like Zeke Yeager wants something from her… isn’t it already fluttering?

“I took a liberty to order for you myself, if you don’t mind,” Zeke says.

Hange does mind, not that she can express it now, after Zeke already ordered. That’s exactly what he was counting for, Hange can very well see it – in the slight curve of his mouth and an amused shine in his eyes.

“As long as the meal is delicious,” she murmurs slyly.

Zeke laughs, and Hange mentally congratulates herself. Erwin would be so proud.

Speaking of Erwin…

“My boss agreed to your offer, he’s very interested in it and hopes…”

“Hange,” Zeke cuts her off with a wave of his hand. “We have work email to discuss things like that. Delicious food, beautiful night… why don’t we simply enjoy it? We can talk about work later.”

Hange frowns, looking at the man before her intently. For the life of her, she can’t comprehend what does he want from her.

“You’re a journalist with bright future ahead of you,” Zeke says, like he knows what exactly Hange is thinking about. “I want to help you succeed, but, aside from that, you’re an intriguing person. I simply wish to get to know you better. Is it so bad?”

Either she really sucks at reading people, or Zeke is that good of an actor, but… he seems genuine enough. Hange struggles with keeping her suspicion.

Before she can give him an answer, their food is brought in. The plate before Hange looks more expensive than she could probably afford, and she is pretty sure she won’t be able to even pronounce the name of a dish, but she takes a first bite, and… can barely resist a moan.

It’s good, really good – spicy but not bitter, and just crunchy and juicy enough.

“Is it delicious?” Zeke quirks an eyebrow, smug and amused.

The dish is so tasty, Hange can’t find it in herself to snap at him. “It’s perfect,” she confesses, sending another slice into her mouth.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it, to be honest, I was quite nervous about your reaction.”

Zeke doesn’t look nervous in the slightest, but if he’s so dead-set on playing a gentleman tonight, Hange can indulge him.

“So what exactly do you want to know about me?” she asks, pouring wine in both of their glasses.

“Ah, right,” Zeke pushes the glasses up his nose. “The first thing I’m interested in…”

***

They spend the whole dinner talking, jumping from one topic to another. Despite his arrogance, Zeke is an interesting man, he knows how to entertain and engage his companion, and so very soon Hange loses herself in conversation with him.

Time flies fast, and when they stand up from the table, Hange is shocked to discover that it’s almost ten in the evening.

Zeke remains a gentleman till the very end, and after paying their bill, he drives Hange home. He stops just outside of her apartment block, and when he turns off the engine, Hange knows she is ought to say something.

“I had fun. Thank you for the evening.” She says, and she means it. She doesn’t feel nearly as happy as when she is with her friends from Sina’s Gossips, but Zeke proved to be a good company. Hange is looking forward to working with him.

“I should be the one thanking you,” Zeke tilts his head, ever the charmer. “I’ll see you again?”

“Sure,” Hange agrees and gets out of the car. “Good night,” she yells into his open window and then hurries up the steps to her apartment.

Exhaustion sips into her bones the moment Hange crosses the threshold. She kicks off the shoes and takes off the suit, trudging up to the shower. Once she is clean and fresh, she falls onto her bed and gets under the blankets. Only then, Hange remembers her conversation with Levi.

With the last bit of her energy, she takes the phone into her hands and unlocks it, going immediately to the mail. She isn’t awake enough to read all the letters, so she just quickly scrolls through them. A thank you message from a man who found his lobster… a distraught mother who doesn’t know how to communicate with her son… a middle-aged teacher with a mid-life crisis… Hange scrolls further down, until she sees a familiar username.

She smiles and opens the letter.

Good day, and thank you again for the last advice. Admittedly, I was a bit skeptical about it, “trust that she knows you well enough” seemed just that side of too easy, but I think she does know me well enough to see through my rude exterior. What’s more, I think she knows me well enough to see things I don’t even wish to show her. I can’t yet decide if that’s a good thing, or a terrifying one.

Alas, there is another problem, one that bothers me constantly.

Without getting too much into details… there is a chance she might leave the company we both work for. I know it might not seem that awful, we can still remain friends even if we don’t work together, but… I’m afraid we’ll drift apart when she leaves. Without common ground, without our friends bringing us together, she wouldn’t have a reason to talk to me. Maybe, she wouldn’t even want to.

But that’s not the thing that bothers me the most. She hasn’t yet decided if she wants to leave or not, and, as much as I am reluctant to let her go, I… I wish she follows her dreams, even if they tear us apart. But she’s perceptive, and, as I’ve mentioned before, she knows things about me that I very well try to hide. So what if she learns about my reluctance? What if it somehow influences her final decision?

I don’t wish for that to happen, whether she stays or she leaves, I don’t want to be her reason for either.

Because if she grows to be unhappy about that decision… I don’t think I’ll be able to take.

I… don’t think I’ve explained my point clear enough, maybe, because it’s not clear enough in my mind too. However, as always, I put my trust in you.

You haven’t left me down before, after all.

Thanks for bearing with me. Hopefully, it’s not the last time.

Hange groans in frustration, as she comes to an end of the letter. Here she was hoping to receive some sweet news from her lover boy, but he presented her with another dilemma instead. And one that is so similar to hers too. Maybe, it’s a sign, a way of universe telling her… something. The message is not yet clear enough.

Perhaps, with a little time, she’ll be able to decipher it. But as for now, Hange decides, putting the phone on top of the bedside table, the only thing she really, really needs is sleep.

And, thankfully, it comes to her easily.

***

The next day Hange dives deep into work and stays in the depth of articles, lectures, textbooks and letters from readers for entire two weeks.

In almost everything, Zeke is the one to assist her. Email exchange, video calls, personal meetings… because of all that, Zeke seems to be constantly by her side.

He invites her to his company, organizes the tour around the offices, introduces her to every employee. They’re nice, Hange supposes. Overly politely and unnaturally friendly, but that’s to be expected from total strangers.

Zeke shows her his office – a big room with glass walls and large window that overlooks the city. It drives to a point just how different their newspapers are. It almost makes Hange self-conscious about inviting him to her own office. Thankfully, Levi is there to chase away any discomfort.

As soon as Zeke gets inside their office, Levi is there, glaring at him like he’s trying to burn a hole in his head.

“As Hange’s editor, I’m here to oversee your work with her,” he explains, and proceeds to critique everything Zeke does.

Zeke’s habit of scratching his ear makes him look like a monkey and his beard makes him look like a homeless person, his voice makes Levi’s head hurt, his cologne stinks, he talks too much and works too little, his jokes aren’t funny and his remarks are unnecessary. Levi finds a way to insult everything about Zeke.

Hange would have reprimanded him, she did a few times, but she can’t deny that Levi’s hatred is… kind of funny. It’s petty and childish, but at the same time hilarious to the point that Hange has to constantly bite the inside of her cheeks otherwise she’d be laughing at his jabs like a mad person.

Still, Zeke is an important business partner and her possible colleague, so…

“Please forgive Levi for his… lack of professionalism,” she tells Zeke when Levi leaves to bring them tea. Just moments before Levi had called Zeke ‘an insufferable snob who doesn’t give a single fuck about people around him’, so naturally, Hange feels that apology in an absolute necessity this time.

“Don’t worry, I’m not offended,” Zeke smiles, and it looks just that side of arrogant, reminding Hange about Levi’s words and making her feel like maybe, his assertion of Zeke isn’t entirely wrong. “His reason for acting like that is perfectly understandable. When one stands between a man and his… well,” Zeke trails off, staring at Hange enigmatically.

His what? Zeke is standing between Levi and… what? Is it the reason why they don’t like each other so much? Is it something that happened in the past? Or is it a recent development?

Hange wants to ask, but the moment for this is lost, when Levi comes back, holding a trail in his hands.

“I spat into your coffee,” he says to Zeke with the most deadpan expression. If Hange didn’t know Levi a little better, she’d believe that he actually did it. But Zeke isn’t fooled so easily, so he just wolfishly grins and thanks Levi in a sweet voice. Levi swears under his breath and then turns to Hange, murmuring, “Yours is with three sugars.”

“Just as you like it,” Zeke sing-songs, and Hange can’t stop laughter from bubbling out of her throat at the sight of pure hatred on Levi’s usually indifferent face.

“Let’s get back to work,” she says, still chuckling.

Thankfully, they both listen to her.

***

When Zeke leaves to return to his own office, Hange breathes out in relief. She stretches her arms and sprawls out her long legs beneath the desk with a pleased hum. Working with Zeke is satisfying enough, but with just Levi around, she feels much more at ease.

“So,” she nudges his foot with her leg. “What’s up with you and Zeke? What is the source of a drama?” and, remembering Zeke’s previous comment Hange adds, “Did he steal your crush or what?”

Levi looks affronted. He glares at Hange, hands crossed on his chest and a slight pout curving his lips.

Hange thinks he’s going to tell her to fuck off, almost expects him too, but this time, Levi surprises her.

“Remember my cousin? Mikasa?”

Of course, Hange does. How could she ever forget Mikasa, the only person in this world with a scowl as scary as Levi’s?

“Well, Zeke has a little brother, a brat named Eren.”

Hange nods, she vaguely remembers Levi mentioning some brother, and, more than once, Zeke had bragged to her about Eren, his darling sibling.

“He and Mikasa are friends, and my idiot cousin has been pining after him for years.”

Hange has some troubles imagining a pining Ackerman, and she briefly wonders what Levi would act like, if he had been pining after someone. Can he even pine?

“Eren had been an asshole to her, even made her cry once, so...”

“So?” Hange prompts, practically at the edge of her seat.

“So I decided to teach him a lesson. I wanted to scare him a bit, but it kinda backfired when Zeke spotted the two of us. I wasn’t going to punch him or anything, but apparently that’s how it looked.”

“And?”

Levi sighs. “And Zeke did what he could to protect his little brother.”

“He punched you?” Hange’s eyes are wide, as she tries to imagine that particular scene. Zeke is so much bigger than Levi, if he had punched him… Hange suddenly feels very angry.

“No, although I wish he did. It happened just outside of our university, and so Zeke had me reported to the dean. Something about assaulting a minor… it almost got me expelled.”

“What a fucker,” Hange growls, her fist clenching involuntarily. She knew just how hard it was for Levi to get into that university and pay for the classes, and to think that he nearly got expelled because of something so stupid…

“It was an asshole move, I agree. But a part of me actually understands him.”

“Huh? Why?”

Hange can’t even fathom a reason to defend what Zeke did. She knows she would never forgive him for that. It doesn’t seem like Levi has forgiven him either, but he understands him? Hange doesn’t think she would be as gracious.

“Do you have a sibling, four-eyes?” Levi asks. “Or a cousin?”

“No.”

With a thoughtful expression, he hums. “That’s why you don’t understand.”

His answer confuses Hange. And at the same time, it intrigues her. She knows that a bond between siblings is a special one, and as an only child, she can’t grasp the meaning of it. Levi seems to cherish his relationship with Mikasa, even if he always calls her a brat and complains about her bad manners. It must be nice to have someone, a friend that lives with you in the same house. Hange can’t exactly imagine it, but she acknowledges the importance of it anyway.

“But enough of this,” Levi says, bringing her out of her thoughts. “Your collaboration with Zeke is almost at its end. Your article will come out in a few days, have you decided what are you going to do next? Have you already told Erwin that Zeke offered you a place at his newspaper?”

“I haven’t.”

She doesn’t quite know how to approach this conversation. What’s more, she doesn’t quite know what her decision is. Money Island is an opportunity that shouldn’t be ignored, Hange doesn’t want to ignore it. A resignation letter that is hidden inside the desk's drawer is a testament to this. It will give her career a boost she always dreamed of, and Hange can’t let it just slide past her. She isn’t going to, probably, but… she is reluctant.

“We still don’t know if our collaboration will turn out to be a success or not,” she adds, an attempt to justify her indecisiveness. “Maybe, Zeke wouldn’t want to do anything with me, if we fail.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Levi rolls his eyes, apparently refusing to even entertain this idea. “The article will be a success. And you’ll do great at that job.”

Hange snickers in an attempt to lighten up the mood, to distract Levi from her unease. “Sounds like you just want to get rid of me.”

“It’s your decision,” Levi doesn’t deny, not confirm her comment. It sets Hange just a little further on edge. “What I want doesn’t matter whatsoever.”

His words sound familiar, strangely so, but Hange refuses to think about it any further. The words might sound like those from the lover boy’s letter, but the context is different. Levi and him are different. And whoever lover boy is devoted to, Hange is sure that she and that person are different too.

“I’m starving,” Levi stands up, a bit too abruptly, but Hange is too lost in her thoughts to take note of it. “Let’s steal some food from Mike.”

Hange smiles, grateful for the offer, and stands up to join Levi. “I saw Erwin bring yoghurt today.”

“We need to hurry then,” he grabs her hand, quickening her stride. “Otherwise Nanaba will steal it before we even have a chance.”

Hange laughs and eagerly follows after him.

***

When the article finally comes out, it turns out to be a glaring success. Both newspapers gain new audience, a number of newcomers bigger than Erwin had anticipated.

Everyone is happy and proud of Hange accomplishment. No one is surprised at her success.

Mike, Nanaba and Moblit all but run into her office, interrupting each other in their haste to congratulate her.

Levi is the last one to approach her. He wears an unusually open, almost happy expression.

“Told you’d do great,” he murmurs.

Hange knows she shouldn’t do it, knows that Levi won’t enjoy it, his aversion to invasion of his personal space is proverbial, but… Hange accomplished a lot, right? She deserves a little celebratory gift.

With that in mind, she shortens the distance between them and goes in for the tightest, squishiest hug she had in a while.

Levi grunts his protest, but doesn’t object further. In a move that sets Hange’s heart ablaze, he wraps his arms around her too.

Hange likes hugs, receives lots of them – at parties, she often cuddles with Nanaba and Mike, sometimes falls asleep with Erwin holding her close, and Moblit always gets too clingy when he has a little too much to drink. She enjoys embracing her friends, but a hug from Levi – perhaps, Hange tries to reason, because it is such a rare occurrence – makes her brim with unbridled happiness.

***

After the short, but very much enjoyed celebratory hug, Hange invites her friends to get celebratory drinks.

The evening is great, it is filled with pleasant conversation and so much laughter that Hange’s stomach starts to ache from it. The evening is great, could have been perfect… if Hange could forget about the resignation letter that is hidden inside her desk’s drawer.

It is a little after midnight, when they leave the bar and call it a night. But while everyone else heads to their homes, Hange decides to come to the office.

Almost wistfully, she turns on the computer. The first thing she sees is the time and the date, displayed at the bottom of a screen, that tells her it’s the early hours of Wednesday.

The second thing she sees is a notification that Levi sent her a letter.

Right. It’s letters day. Perhaps, the last one for her.

Hange opens the mail, her eyes instantly searching for the familiar username. She doesn’t find it.

She goes through the whole archive again, this time much slower. Still nothing. Then – what if third time is a charm – she scrolls down to the bottom once more. And…

No luck.

It’s the first time in a while that Hange doesn’t receive a letter from the lover boy. It can be a good thing, she supposes. Maybe, the lover boy finally confessed and his beloved stayed with him. Maybe, that’s why he doesn’t need her advices anymore. Or, maybe… Maybe, she left. That will explain the absence of the letter too.

It’s just a letter, from a total stranger at that, but Hange feels sad. Her eyes water as she stares at the computer screen.

She can’t help but wonder – did lover boy’s beloved know about his feelings? Did she decide to leave anyway? Or was she none the wiser about the extent of his affections towards her? If so, did she regret leaving him behind?

Would Hange herself regret leaving her job and friends?

She’s not sure. The worst thing about regret is that it doesn’t appear until after you’ve already done something.

Maybe, she will regret it, maybe, she won’t. The only way to find out is to keep moving forward.

With a heavy heart and tear-streaked face, Hange takes the resignation letter out of the drawer.

***

When she breaks the news to Erwin, he is not at all surprised. He’s not even angry or disappointed, he doesn’t ask to reconsider. A part of Hange wishes he did. That would give her an excuse to stay.

His smile is sad, but at the same time it’s proud. He thanks Hange for three years of hard work and wishes her the best of luck.

“When you’ll get rich and famous,” he says as he wraps his arm around her. “Think of us sometimes, even if briefly.”

Hange’s answering laugh sounds more like a sob. “How could I ever forget all of you?”

Erwin chuckles and wipes away her tears. “You’re a star, Hange, don’t you ever doubt it.”

***

Her last day at work ends with Hange getting shit-faced at their favorite bar. Everyone else is just as drunk as she is – Nanaba refuses to let go of her arm, Mike keeps asking her to call him every day, and Moblit has already cried for three times.

The only semi-sober ones are Erwin, who has to show up to shareholders’ meeting tomorrow morning, and Levi, who is an abnormal human being that alcohol holds no power over.

In the end, he is the one tasked to bring Hange home.

For the entire of their ride to her apartment complex, Hange does her best to behave. She breaks down as soon as they get inside.

Apparently thinking that forcing her to shower would be too much of a bother, Levi leads her straight to the bedroom.

Hange doesn’t fight it, too exhausted to do so, but when Levi starts tucking her in, she grabs his wrist.

“Levi,” she says, and the amount of alcohol she consumed earlier makes it easier to not give a fuck that her voice sounds almost pleading. “Levi, what do you think about me leaving?”

Levi has said nothing on the topic throughout the whole evening. And, while he has given her a hint about his stance on it before, and it probably wouldn’t matter at all, since she is going to leave anyway, Hange still wants to know.

“I told you before,” he doesn’t pull his hand away from her grasp, if anything he moves a little closer, sitting at the edge of her bed. “My opinion doesn’t matter.”

“It matters,” Hange assures. “To me, it matters.”

“It shouldn’t.”

“Do you want me to stay?” she looks deep into his eyes, but be it the influence of alcohol or the absence of her glasses… she can’t read him at all. “If you really do, maybe—”

“No.” Levi cuts her off sharply. “No, Hange, there is no maybe. It’s your decision, and my feelings can’t become your reason.”

Again, the words are familiar, but Hange is drunk. Hange is filled with alcohol and conflicting emotions and lingering doubts. Besides, she’s too lost in the intense look inside Levi’s eyes to make sense of anything else.

“Good night,” Levi whispers, pressing his lips to her forehead in a feather light, achingly gentle kiss. “I hope you will be happy.”

He leaves just before Hange thinks of asking him to stay.

***

Hange swears to stay in touch with everyone at Sina’s Gossips, and she fully intends to keep that promise, but then— then the work gets in the way.

Her first week at Money Island is all but a blur. There is so much to do, so much to learn, and Hange gets lost in it almost immediately.

She stays in the office after hours, she works during weekends, every waking moment is essentially spent on trying to make sense of it all. The employees of Money Island help, which Hange is immensely grateful for, and she is no stranger to working after hours, but… what made her power through it before is not there anymore.

After two weeks she spends on her new job, Hange can’t deny it anymore – her new position is boring.

All these numbers, charts, net worth, stocks options, so on and so forth… it’s so dull and tiresome, it sucks all of Hange’s enthusiasm and inspiration.

That thrill, that excitement, it isn’t there anymore, there is no passion to fuel her, no purpose worth pursuing.

At least, her new colleagues are nice enough. However… Hange can’t help but compare them to her old ones.

Pieck is funny and kind, but not nearly as kind as Nanaba. Porco’s jokes, no matter what he thinks about them, aren’t as hilarious as Mike’s, and watching the development of his relationship with Pieck doesn’t give Hange the same thrill as Nanaba and Mike’s relationship did. Onyankopon is so polite, and he’s always ready to help, but he isn’t as endearingly awkward and cute as Moblit. Her new boss, Magath, isn’t half the man Erwin is. And Zeke… Zeke doesn’t even begin to compare with Levi.

Hange wants to like them, she really does, but all this work leaves little to no time to hang out with her friends, and their absence makes her more unwilling to connect with the new colleagues.

Out of sheer stubbornness, Hange continues working for another two weeks, hoping that maybe, with just enough time, she’ll get her spark back.

She is in the middle of writing another article, something about yet another failing company, when her phone pings, announcing a notification. Taking it a sign from above that she needs to take a break, Hange looks away from the computer screen and redirects her attention to the phone.

The notification announces a new letter, to her personal account. Intrigued, Hange opens it and almost squeals when she sees the username.

[email protected]

Hange stares at it for a long, long moment. The letter isn’t redirected as it usually was, meaning… the lover boy knows her personal mail address, or…

The lover boy is someone she actually knows.

Not sure which one is more improbable, Hange opens the letter. It’s an unusually short one.

It’s been almost a month since she left. I still miss her every damn day. Do you have any advice how to stop it?

In that moment, everything clicks. Every coincidence and conjunction, every moment she felt like she could connect to the lover boy, every time his dilemma perfectly reflected her own. The fact that he knows her email address and the fact that he mentioned one month, precisely the amount of time that passed since she left Sina’s Gossips… there are too many seemingly random things that together create a clear enough picture.

Hange rereads the letter again, just to make sure that it’s real, just to make sure that she isn’t imagining it, that it isn’t wishful thinking.

It doesn’t seem like it is, Hange doesn’t believe it is, and a realization forces a surprised, happy laugh out of her throat.

It takes her but a moment to set her mind, and then, Hange closes the word document with an article, not bothering to save it. She opens another one right after that, and starts writing what will be another resignation letter, this time addressed to CEO of Money Island, Theo Magath. When she finishes, Hange opens powerpoint and proceeds to make a presentation that consists of almost eighty slides.

Perhaps, not her best work, but Hange is confident it will suffice.

She doesn’t bother waiting for Magath to come back from his meeting to give him a letter. She bumps into Zeke just as she exits the small office they gave her, and she thrusts the resignation letter into his hands before he can pull her into one of his endless, mostly one-sided conversation that serve mainly to stroke his ego.

When he takes a look at the letter, Zeke seems regretful, but— not at all surprised.

“I hoped you’d stay with us for a little longer…” he confesses with a slow shake of his head. “But I guess we can’t do what we don’t love.”

“I’m sorry,” Hange says, a small compensation.

“Don’t be,” Zeke waves her off, as easily and smoothly as he does everything else. “However, if you ever decide to go on a date with someone taller than a middle-schooler…”

Really, even Zeke knows? Is she that oblivious?

“You’ll be the first one to know,” Hange laughs, feeling lighter than she did in weeks.

Without wasting anymore time, Hange ducks into her office, grabs what little things she brought here and then rushes to small, not at all impressive, but so dearly loved building of Sina’s Gossips.

Just before entering, she stops and looks up at the front door. Finally… she feels at peace.

A moment is all she allows, before she walks inside.

Her first stop is Erwin’s office, where Hange plugs a USB and starts her presentation before Erwin can even ask what she’s doing here. It takes absolutely nothing to convince him to give her position back, but it does take the whole eighty slides to make him at the very least consider her new proposition – a new segment where Hange will be observing local news. It’s not much, but it’s a start, and a promising one at that.

“But I still need you to take care of the advice column,” Erwin warns just after he surrenders to Hange’s enthusiasm that slowly starts to come back to her. “Mike is quite terrible at it.”

“Consider it done, chief!” Hange exclaims with a quick salute.

Erwin smiles and stands up to embrace her. “Then, Hange Zoe, welcome back to Sina’s Gossips.”

Hange is smiling so much, she worries that her face might break.

After Erwin, she runs straight into Nanaba’s arms. As they embrace, Nanaba laughs, then cries, then laughs again.

“God, Hange, I’m so happy you came back,” she says, wiping her tears. “I was this close to dying of boredom.”

“You don’t know boredom until you’ve worked in finance, Nana.”

They laugh in unison, and Hange’s heart is full of affection, when Nanaba wetly kisses her cheek.

Just before stopping at Moblit’s desk, Hange heads to break room and is lucky enough to find Mike eating a sandwich there.

Hange steals it with a delighted laughter, instantly taking a huge bite.

“Never thought I’d miss someone stealing my food,” he shakes his head with a big smile. “But here we are, I guess. It’s good to have you back, Hans.”

At first, Moblit doesn’t actually believe she is real. He rubs his eyes and squints at her, tentatively touches her arm, gives her another once-over, and whatever he noticed – perhaps, it’s her mismatched socks – convinces him that he isn’t seeing things.

And then gathers her in his arms.

“They made me work with Levi,” he whispers into her shoulders. “Please, don’t leave me again.”

Hange laughs – she does it a lot today, compensating for that month she spent feeling sorry for herself – and pats Moblit’s shoulder.

“Speaking of our favorite shorty, where is he?”

“In his office, probably brooding as always. Since you left, he’s been doing it more often. ”

Hange thanks Moblit with a quick peck on his cheek, and then she is moving again, now heading to her final destination.

The inside of Levi’s office is dark, and awfully quiet. The only sound is the click-clack of the keyboard and the only light comes from the computer screen. It further highlights the dark circle under his eyes and the overall paleness of his face.

Hange clears her throat to get his attention.

Levi’s eyes snap to her, widening almost immediately. There is an ocean of questions, ready to spill from his lips, but Hange doesn’t give him a chance to voice any of them.

“So there is this guy, he’s been sending letters to me since forever. He’s so sweet, a true romantic, and, well, his letters were kinda the highlight of my week,” she pauses to take a quick breath, and continues. “And I’ve been rooting so hard for him, you know? I wanted him to get together with that sweetheart of his, but I also felt like she was kinda oblivious, if you get what I’m talking about. Perhaps, not completely blind, but with a vision poor enough to miss what is right in front of her. Or, perhaps, she always has her head up in the clouds and the guy is a little short, so it’s easy to miss him? And-”

“So you’ve figured it out then?” Levi interrupts her. His calmness makes Hange more nervous.

“I have.”

“Only now?”

“Yes.”

“Hm,” a ghost of a smile dances around his narrow lips. “Completely blind then.”

Hange huffs, but she can’t resist a smile of her own. She takes a step towards his desk, hopping right on top of it.

“Just so we’re clear,” she touches his forearm, slowly moving her hand up to his shoulder. “You weren’t my reason to leave, Levi. And you aren’t the reason I’m staying. But,” she leans in, hoping that Levi is not as stupid and she is, and he gets the hint that she wants him to lean closer too. “You’re the reason I decided to come back. And for that, I can’t thank you enough.”

Hange closes her eyes, when Levi gently cups her cheek. With bated breath, she waits to feel his lips on hers.

Her lover boy doesn’t disappoint, and the gentle, loving kiss makes her head spin.

After a short moment of bliss, Levi pulls away, and Hange has to forcefully stop herself from chasing after his lips. He smirks at the dazed look in her eyes, and Hange just has to retaliate.

She strokes the skin of his cheek with the most tender of touches, shortening the distance between them with tantalizingly slow speed. Just when they’re less than a breath apart, Hange whispers, in a quiet, endlessly soft voice, “You know, Levi, wings of freedom is a really stupid username.”

Levi pushes her off the desk for that, but it’s still worth it. Even more so, since he catches her right in his arms.

And then her lover boy kisses her again. And again, and again, until her heart is so full of love that she can’t even find it in her to get angry at Mike, who snaps a picture of them and runs away to tell everyone the news.

“They’ll be gossiping about that for weeks,” Levi grumbles.

Hange laughs, smoothing the crease between his eyebrows. “Well, it’s Sina’s Gossips we’re working at. And didn’t you know? Love for the gossip is the requirement to get a position here.”

#basically yet another silly romcom from me :) #levihan

[alinastracker]

If you’re still doing the prompts I have oneeeee hehe

" i mean... i-i'm cool with sharing the bed if you are. "

you got it baby 🥰

but i know something’s starting right now

It’s a sweltering Ravkan summer day, but nothing brings heat to her body like watching Mal in the pool, water droplets racing down his chest. His shaggy hair is a mop on his head, and she realizes this is what he must look like in the shower.

This is exactly why she didn’t want to bring him on the trip.

It’s the first week of July, and for the past three years, that’s meant a trip to the Os Alta Resort with Genya and Zoya. It’s a way for them to relax after exams and catch up now that they all attend different schools. But at the end of May, the two of them had FaceTimed her about a change for this year.  

“We were thinking of taking the boys with,” Genya says gently, nervous for her reaction.

Zoya is frank as ever. “It’s cheaper that way. Besides, after all this long distance, I could use a week of uninterrupted fuc—”

“Zoya!”

“Relax, Starkov. We’re all adults here.”

“Anyway,” Genya cuts in. “We’re just telling you in case you wanted to bring someone, too. Maybe Mal?”

“Mal and I aren’t dating.”

Only in her dreams.

“Might as well be,” Zoya mutters.

So in the choice between bringing Mal on what has basically turned into a couple’s retreat and going to said couple’s retreat alone, she’s chosen the former. It would be fine. Mal knows her friends. Him and Nikolai like to talk sports. Maybe it’ll be a little weird, being the only non-couple, but they could deal.

It would have been fine, if it weren’t for this morning’s check in.

"So it looks like we have you booked for three single rooms," the concierge says.

Alina frowns. "One of those should be a double."

The concierge checks again, each click of his mouse making her anxiety rise. He frowns. "Sorry, miss. It's showing me all singles."

"It's fine," Mal says. "Could we just upgrade it to a double, then?"

"Er, I'm afraid we're all booked, sir."

Nikolai claps his hands together, cheerful as ever at Zoya's side. "Well, I'll just switch with Alina, and Mal and I can — shit, Zoy!"

Zoya had stomped on his foot.

"We are not switching shit," she hisses under her breath.

Nikolai sighs. "My deadly dearest, certainly it's no big deal—"

"I bought us a new toy for this trip. We are not switching."

There is a brief moment where everyone freezes, then Genya groans, shaking her head as she murmurs apologies to the concierge, who is trying hard to pretend he hasn’t heard a thing. The tips of Mal's ears go red, and Alina is sure hers match. David, lost in his audiobook, is oblivious to all of it.

Nikolai clears his throat and turns to the two of them with a sheepish grin. "Sorry, mate. You're on your own."

The concierge slowly raises a finger and says, "We might be able to supply a cot?"

Alina can feel everyone's eyes on her, which is the last thing she ever wants. She has the strong desire to curl in on herself, but that only really works in the winter when she dons large coats and sweaters. But it’s summer, and she is in only a mustard yellow crop top and jean shorts, though she suddenly feels as exposed as if she were completely naked.

Mal takes one look at her and gently nudges his foot against hers. "I mean . . . I'm cool with sharing the bed if you are?"

Her brain is looking for anyway out of this whole conversation, so she nods.

So far, they have been in their room once to drop off their things and change into bathing suits, both of them dancing around the bed without ever touching it. The air in the room feels charged even with sunlight still pouring in. What would tonight be like?

More importantly, how was she supposed to handle sleeping beside him when she can’t even handle watching him in the pool?

Genya climbs on Mal’s shoulders for a game of chicken — David is, unsurprisingly, not in the pool, but sitting beside Alina on a lounge chair. She feels a pang of something like jealousy as she watches the game commence, which cannot be more ridiculous.

They can’t avoid the night forever, and it comes much too quickly despite how long they spend mingling at the resort bar. In their room, Mal lets Alina use the bathroom first. A kind offer, she thinks, until she realizes it leaves her to stake out a spot on the bed first. No more dancing.

Left side or right? Does Mal have a preference? Does she? How long until Mal finishes in the bathroom and comes out to see her staring at the bed like a mental person?

Right side, she chooses finally. She curls up on the left side of her body usually, so this way, she doesn’t have to face him as they sleep. Good call. As she untucks the covers from the bed, she secretly hopes to find something horrifying, like blood or bugs, so they can get a refund and leave. Sadly, it is a perfectly fine bed. Alina plops onto it and tucks herself in.

Mal finishes in the bathroom a few minutes later, and if he’s as rattled about their sleeping arrangement as she is, he does not show it. There’s plenty of space between them as he settles into bed. Maybe this won’t be as bad as she feared.

“Well, goodnight,” Mal says through a yawn.

“Goodnight,” Alina replies.

They each turn off their bedside lamps. Mal is softly snoring soon after, but Alina stays awake much too long for her liking, thinking of how close he is.

They fall into a similar routine for the next couple nights. During the day, all is fine. Their little group meshes well. Genya and Nikolai are often off together, both of them on a mission, it seems, to try every flavor of ice cream from Os Alta's ice cream bar. Or sometimes it’s Nikolai and Mal running off, joining a game of pool volleyball, both of them stupidly competitive. When Zoya gets annoyed with the overload of children at the waterpark, she joins David on one of the lounge chairs to read for a while — Zoya a smutty historical romance and David a nonfiction on modern space travel. We just shouldn't let Jeff Bezos come back, he argues to Genya later, while Zoya murmurs to Nikolai something she wants him to do to her that night.

Alina thanks the saints her room isn’t next to Zoya’s.

The trip is going so smoothly that she doesn’t realize what trouble Sunday brings with it. It’s always their favorite part of the trip: bottomless margarita night. They all have absolutely horrific, hilarious pictures and videos of themselves from the past three years thanks to bottomless margarita night at Os Alta. But the thought of being drunk like that while she’s sharing a bed with Mal?

Okay, so she just won’t drink tonight. Problem solved.

“You can’t not drink!” Zoya says, personally offended.

“Come on, it’s tradition!” Genya agrees.

But she’s determined to hold out. Only when she sees the others with their drinks, she decides one sip won’t hurt. One sip becomes one drink, and one drink becomes a couple. Soon enough, she’s drunk enough to sign herself up for karaoke, another Os Alta tradition.

“I dunno what I should siiiing,” she slurs, swaying lightly on her feet.

“I have the perfect song for you!” Genya cheers excitedly.

So that’s how she ends up on stage, drunk off her ass, horridly singing Taylor Swift’s We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together. She really gets into it, jumping and nailing the talking parts a little too well. But she can hear Genya and Zoya screaming the lyrics along with her, and it only encourages her.

Genya records a Snapchat of her performance, snickering to Mal and David about how she’s going to accidentally send it to the asshole Alina dated last year who’s still entirely too obsessed with her.

Nikolai is the only one of the boys drunk enough to sign up, taking the stage after Alina to perform a disgustingly off-key version of Queen’s Don’t Stop Me Now. They all agree that Freddie Mercury is rolling in his grave.

By the end of the night, the four of them are totally wasted. David, who had spent the night nursing one drink, his focus on getting Genya her drinks and ensuring that she didn’t trip over herself, has to help the aforementioned redhead up to their room. Nikolai and Zoya are a sight, both wickedly drunk, trying to help each other stay upright. Mal had only downed a couple drinks and is mostly sober, which Alina is very thankful for, as she can’t hold herself up to save her life. She nearly trips on absolutely nothing so many times that Mal finally scoops her into his arms, carrying her the rest of the way to the room. Alina giggles the whole way. 

There’s no getting ready for bed that night. Mal sets her on the bed, and she resigns to sleeping in her red summer dress. When Mal joins her after having a shower, drunk Alina has no qualms curling up against him and sniffing him.

“Mm, you smell good,” she hums.

Mal chuckles even as he tenses. Alina has her arm around him and her face pressed into his side. He’s not sure he can breathe. She’s too drunk to notice the blush on his face.

“That’s probably just because you smell like alcohol,” he hedges.

Alina giggles and shakes her head. “No, you always smell good.”

He doesn’t know what to do with this information, but he does a lot of thinking instead of sleeping as Alina passes out next to him.

Monday morning brings with it a pounding headache for Alina. She prepares for the bright sunlight streaming through the window, but the room is dark when she opens her eyes. Mal isn’t beside her, but he left aspirin and a glass of water on the nightstand in addition to pulling out the blackout curtains. She falls in love with him a little bit more. 

The day is a quiet one. The girls and Nikolai spend their time at the spa, Mal and David off doing saints know what. She gets the best massage of her life, and while her head still aches despite the pain pill, seeing Nikolai get his toenails painted bright red makes every sip she had last night worth it.

When they’re in the room again after dinner, tucking themselves into bed, Mal says, “You told me I smell good last night.”

Alina pauses. “I did?”

The night comes back to her. She totally told him he smelled good, and she had closed the space between them on the bed, curling up right next to him. She remembers all of it, suddenly and painfully.

“Oh, saints. Mal, I’m so sorry. I didn’t . . . I shouldn’t have—”

He cuts her off. “It’s okay, ‘Lina. You don’t have to apologize.”

“I don’t?”

Mal smiles an amused smile and leans over, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “No, you don’t. Not you. Never you.”

Alina is almost positive she can hear her heart pounding as Mal reaches for something tucked in the drawer of his nightstand.

“For you,” he says, handing her a long rectangular box. “Saw it today when I was out with David and I just— I thought of you.”

She can’t even process the image of Mal and David out shopping together, needing to open this damn box. With shaky fingers, she lifts the lid. Waiting for her inside is a dainty necklace with a gorgeous gold sun charm.

“Oh,” she says softly.

Mal blushes, and this time, Alina notices. “Do you like it?” he asks. “I just thought of you singing last night when I saw it. You’re so bright, Alina. All the time. Just like the sun.”

She has no idea what this confession means, or how she earned it from drunkenly telling him how good he smells — which his really quite good — but her heart has kicked into overdrive. She isn’t sure what, or how, but she knows something’s starting right now.

“I love it, Mal.” She turns so her back is facing him and hands over the necklace. “Will you help me put it on?”

He wraps the chain around her neck. The sun rests perfectly against her heart. She notices every little brush of his fingers against the back of her neck as Mal works the clasp.

When the necklace is secure, they both lay back down, noticeably closer this time. Not as close as last night, but close enough that their arms occasionally brush, close enough that she’ll end up kicking him during the night. Alina sleeps on her right side. 

Their trip might be ending tomorrow, but something better was beginning tonight.

#malina #malina fanfic #fanfic #grishaverse fanfic #writing #my writing #THIS IS DAYS LATE BUT I KEPT STARTING THIS OVER BC I WASNT HAPPY WITH IT #also tried writing in present tense which i rarely write in so excuse if it's a mess lmao #short and sweet and not my best imo but i hope u still like it bb!! #cuddlingwithharry #if u spot the song reference (besides the obvious) u r superior

[writeforfandoms]

Shake, Rattle and Roll 3

Chapter 3 is here folks! I’m rewarding you for me recovering from the vaccine.

Chapter one is here and chapter two is here

Summary: Things fall apart very quickly when you’ve got six prospectors and a supposed map to the treasure of all treasures. 

Warnings: More murder. Just one this time. Things crashing. Some blood, but nothing explicit. More swearing.

Tags: @fandom-blackhole @pedrocentric

--

"Do you mind if I ask you a question?" Ezra asked as the two of you descended the stairs to the basement.

"Sure." You paused briefly at the bottom of the stairs, taking a quick look around. Nothing obviously wrong, fortunately, but lots of junk.

"Why are you so determined to help the young lady upstairs? Not that I'm of a mind to disagree with you."

You paused, half-turning to look at the man behind you. His eyes were curious at the moment, not quite shrewd.

"Let's just say I know how awful being an orphan can be," you said, turning away again and venturing further into the basement. It was all one large room, with shelving lining the walls and cloth-covered furniture crowding the space. "Kevva, how does anyone find anything in here?"

"With no shortage of difficulty and frustration, I imagine," Ezra said cheerfully. "And quite possibly no lack of colorful metaphors."

You barked out a laugh at that, shaking your head. "Colorful metaphors," you muttered, amused. 

“Are you actually looking for this supposed map?” Ezra asked. “Or are you just having a grand time exploring?”

“Exploring, mostly,” you answered easily. “I mean, who would keep a map in the basement? I’m pretty sure nobody’s been down here in years, look at the dust layered on everything.”

Ezra hummed, and when you turned he was right behind you, making you jump. “It would seem that we have some decisions to make, and unforeseen time in which to make them.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, side-stepping so you weren’t backed against the wall. “Such as?”

“The girl.” Ezra held up one hand to belay your protest. “I agree she is far too young to be in the midst of this dangerous situation, but if we are to help her, we need a plan.”

You nodded slowly. “I’d like to get her out of the house as soon as possible, but I realize that might not be possible with the other prospectors.”

“Indeed, they are unwilling to let anyone go anywhere until they have that map.” Ezra’s eyes gleamed a little at the mention of it. You felt a little uneasy - you had no interest in the map yourself. It could burn for all you cared. 

“I don’t think they’re going to find it here,” you admitted carefully. “If there even is a map. Damon wouldn’t have stashed it in the house. He would have kept it on him, or maybe left it somewhere safe.”

“Agreed.” Ezra spread his hands. “Then we are faced with the conundrum of what to do next.”

“Sneak out?” You weren’t really serious in suggesting that. It wouldn’t work. Not for long, anyway. And if the other prospectors thought you’d left with the map? They wouldn’t stop hunting you. 

“That won’t work and you well know it. You’re not a fool.” Ezra shifted to lean back against the wall next to you, separated by a couple feet of space. “No, we need a rather more… permanent plan.”

“Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?” you asked, voice low. Your gaze darted to the staircase, just to make sure nobody was lingering there. 

“These folk are hard,” Ezra said with a shrug. “They are killers, the lot of them, and I do not doubt that they would have no qualms removing any obstacles in the way of their perceived wealth.” 

You sighed. You knew he was right, you’d seen it for yourself several times on the Green. That didn’t mean you had to like it.

“I don’t think murder is necessary,” you protested. “What if we just locked them in the basement and ran? They’d pick the lock eventually, but we could all just vanish. Pretty sure I’m the only one of us with anything resembling a permanent address.”

“That’s not much of a solution either,” Ezra said, shaking his head. “Now, dove, I understand this might be an uncomfortable reality, but reality it is.”

“Dove?” you asked, completely sidetracked even as you bristled a little. 

“Not the time,” Ezra protested. 

“I suppose you’d rather wait until we’re doing something rash,” you grumbled right back at him. 

You both froze when the doorbell rang. It felt like the whole house froze. There was no noise for ten long seconds, and then the doorbell rang again. All at once, you and Ezra were scrambling up the stairs to see what was going on. 

The other four prospectors all stood in front of the door, blocking your view. But you could hear Mikken growl something about someone not being home, then a polite reply. The polite person was let inside finally, and your eyes met across the room.

She was younger than you, although an adult, and cute. She looked like someone’s friend, dressed for a night in having fun.

And then Fero brought a pipe down across the back of her head. You closed your eyes a few moments too late. The blood would definitely haunt your dreams. 

“What the fuck?!” Felicia demanded.

“We couldn’t let her live,” Fero growled. “She saw us!”

“So killing her was the answer?” Felicia’s voice was steadily rising in both pitch and volume. 

“Idiot,” Inumon scoffed. 

“And what would you have done?” Fero challenged, puffing out his chest. He still had the pipe gripped tight in one hand. 

“Not let her in and not killed her,” Inumon said, narrowing her eyes at the blonde man. Her hands both drifted, one towards a strap on her thigh, the other towards the back of her pants. Weapons, undoubtedly. 

Mikken and Fero both started talking at the same time, which quickly escalated to yelling. Inumon had a dagger in her hand a moment later, steely eyes glaring down Fero. In response, Felicia pulled a little thrower and leveled it at Inumon, which prompted Fero to pull his weapon, which caused Mikken to pull his weapon. 

“Well now there’s no need for this all to go to bloodshed so quickly,” Ezra said, hands held loose and away from his body. You half-turned to glare at him, because clearly he was crazy. They had almost solved the problem themselves! “I’m quite certain we can arrange a more peaceful resolution to this little spat.”

“We need the map,” Mikken said, glaring at the blonde siblings. “Did you find anything in the basement?”

“No,” you answered before Ezra could. “Nothing’s been moved down there in years.”

Mikken scoffed. “Fine.” He settled his gaze on you. “The girl has nothing on her either?”

“No.”

Mikken was silent for a moment before he shifted his gaze to Inumon. “Kill her, then.”

“What?” Your jaw dropped for a moment before you hardened your resolve, stepping in Inumon’s way. “No.” 

“She’s useless to us,” Mikken spat. “She’s a liability now.”

“She wouldn’t be if you would stop killing people,” you shot back. 

“Easy,” Ezra muttered from close behind you, clearly trying to warn you off of doing anything stupid. Unfortunately for him, you already had a terrible track record of that.

Inumon stepped forward, into your space, and smirked. It was a smirk that just dared you to do something, even as she drew a thrower from the back of her belt.

So you did. You grabbed the arm with the thrower and shoved it up. The shot was loud that close to your ear, and the bullet lodged somewhere in the ceiling above you. Inumon snarled and raised the dagger instead.

Ezra jerked you backwards, his hands fisted in the back of your shirt. The chandelier came crashing down in between the two of you and the rest of the group, sending shards of glass everywhere. Fero and Felicia both yelled, and Inumon fell back with a shout of pain. You saw a quickly-reddening shard of glass sticking out of her shin. 

"Time to go," Ezra said, giving you another yank. The two of you booked it for the library, where Ezra pulled the key out of his pocket. You saw Inumon raise the knife again and pulled Ezra down out of the way, the solid thud of the knife meeting wood the sound of success to your ears.

You and Ezra sort of stumbled over each other into the library, and Ezra slammed the door shut and locked it again. You were both panting with the adrenaline high. 

"What just happened?" Cee asked, staring at you both. She sounded like she both did and did not want to know. 

"Your most ardent defender here seems to have either a death wish or a sincere desire for adrenaline," Ezra told her, leaning back against the door.

"Yeah, yeah," you muttered. "Important thing is we need to get out of here." 

"I foresee a slight problem with that," Ezra told you with a sigh. He nodded to the windows. Which had bars over them.

"Well, fuck," you sighed.

#ezra x reader #ezra prospect x reader #prospect #clue!au #shake rattle and roll

[2manyfandoms2count]

You can count on me (I will be there for you)

@sallteas art has been living in my mind rent free for a while, turns out my exams were the catalyst for me to actually start writing a fic inspired by it. Priorities, right?

This first chapter is a little sappy and melodramatic, but I hope you’ll enjoy nonetheless!

Read on AO3 | Part 2 | Part 3

---

Chapter 1

Marinette stares at her reflection in the full-length mirror, fiddling with her dress gloves. Her veil falls elegantly from her updo and rests on her bare upper back; it tickles her a little. No matter how real the fabric feels against her skin, though, it’s like she’s looking at somebody else.

The woman staring back at her is beautiful, in what seems like an effortless way. She knows better, though; she spent her morning swarmed by hair and makeup artists, and she has to say, the result is truly phenomenal. Never, in a million realities, would she have expected to look as much like a princess as she does now. Her wedding dress is a true work of art; a strapless, ivory ball-gown, cut in the smoothest silk faille on the market, and, incidentally, a perfect recreation of what she’s always dreamed of. 

In fact, the whole wedding is straight out of her teenage daydreams, down to the man she’ll be joining at the altar in less than an hour. Adrien has been so good about accommodating her wishes. Everybody was already saying it would be the wedding of the century before the details had even been settled.

As she observes herself, she knows that she should be happy. 

Then why does it all feel so wrong?

She tries smiling at her image, but it doesn’t sit right on her face. There are just too many thoughts swirling in her mind for it to look genuine. 

Her first concern is the plan. Just a month, which feels like eons, ago, it had seemed like a good idea. Ladybug and Chat Noir had been happily dating for a little over a year, they were confident about defeating Hawkmoth and Mayura. Everything felt right in the world. They had plans for the future. She’d felt unstoppable.

That was before her world had crumbled. 

She wasn’t sure when or where it had happened. What she did know was that someone had caught her in her transformation. 

She didn’t know who they were, or what they wanted, but something told her they were up to no good. They wouldn’t have used butterfly-themed stationary to contact her otherwise. 

They wouldn’t have sounded so ominous, either. 

I know. An envelope on her way to work had read.

Didn’t think I’d spot you, did you? Another, stuck in her mail.  

You’re a little careless, for a hero of international renown. This one on her balcony.

It had been difficult to continue to pretend it was all a coincidence.

She’d had no other choice than to reveal her identity with Chat Noir. Not only did he deserve to know, but she needed someone to share her increasing fear with. Someone to help her come up with a plan. And who better than her partner, in all senses of the term?

The gripping feeling in her stomach hadn’t even let her enjoy how happy he’d been to learn who she was. And passed his initial reaction of picking her up and spinning her around, his lips finding hers in the process, his face had lost all exhilaration. Her words had kicked in, and he'd cursed. A lot. 

Especially when she’d admitted she’d feel safer with protection.

He’d immediately volunteered -of course he had- but she’d turned him down as a long term solution. It broke her heart, but they couldn’t live that way. And she refused to know who he was. Not like this.

Even years later, Master Fu’s fate was still too fresh a memory; she didn’t want to have to resort to giving up her memories of Chat Noir, of them, if she could help it.

He’d paced around a little, lost in thought, before stopping in front of her, fever in his eyes.

I have a solution, he’d said quietly. You might not like it.

She’d listened as he’d told her how Adrien Agreste, the boy she’d once loved, now a friend she saw every once in a while, owed him a favour. How dating him, and marrying him, could solve their problem. He couldn’t go anywhere without a bodyguard. He was sure he’d do the necessary for her to get one as well. It wouldn't seem conspicuous at all.

She’d felt her heart tear in her chest at the idea of marrying somebody else than the man who stood before her. He’d told her it would be alright, though, and she’d believed him. Was there any other choice, anyway?

Even now, standing in a suite of the small castle she and Adrien are getting married in -a real royal wedding-, she can’t think of a better solution.

As she smooths her skirt, her thoughts drift to Adrien. He’d been so good to her. But why was he so onboard with the plan? He’d been all in from their first meeting. He’d orchestrated their whirlwind romance perfectly, pulling all the stops. Their very mediatised outings in the most romantic places in Paris. Whisking her away to Venice for a weekend. The interviews, in which he described their love was “meant to be”. Everybody had fallen for it, even their closest friends. It was no secret Marinette had had feelings for him, and he’d confessed to Nadja Chamack that he’d loved her as well when they were in collège. And seeing each other years later, after losing touch a little, had made it dawn upon them that their feelings had never really left.

The proposal had been the cherry on top. He’d privatised the Trocadéro, from the esplanade to the Iéna bridge, hired a private Chef, musicians, tipped off the paparazzi. Doves had flown when he’d gotten on one knee. They’d slow-danced in the gardens to "their" melody.

She’d done her best to conceal her tears as they did. It had all been so beautiful. But what if it didn’t work out?

She and Adrien were friends, sure. He was close with Chat Noir, by the look of things. What had her partner done for him to owe him such a huge favour? Why was he accepting to marry her, knowing that her heart belonged to someone else? She knew his did, too.

And a few moments before the ceremony, it still wasn’t too late for him to back down. 

Marinette bites her lip as she thinks about Chat Noir. And jumps as she hears a small tap on her window. 

She turns around in time to see the black-gloved hand retreat from the pane, and her heart soars. They weren’t kidding when they said they were in sync. It was like he could read her mind, and know exactly when to show up for her.

She looks outside. Chat Noir is leaning on the folded shutters, softly humming to himself as he looks out onto the garden that stretches out behind the castle. He doesn’t look at her directly when she opens the window for him, but he definitely smiles.

“Hi m’la-” he doesn’t have time to finish his greeting. She pulls him inside and closes the curtains behind him. 

“You can’t be seen lurking around, we don’t know who’s watching.” She searches for his eyes, but they keep escaping. She reaches for his hand and squeezes it gently. “Hey, is everything okay?” 

He finally looks up, and his eyes fill with warmth as he takes in her appearance.

“You look stunning, my Lady.” He breathes as she resumes her tugging at her gloves.

Having Chat Noir with her soothes her, but it also highlights just how wrong the situation is. As much as she knows how necessary this all is, she can't forget that he is the person she wants to be with. It takes all her willpower for tears not to spill out.

He notices, of course.

“Why is my lady looking so glum on her wedding day?” He teases, coming behind her and resting his head on her bare shoulder. He’s looking at his bride’s reflection. Does it really count as seeing her?...

She turns around and looks at him sternly. “You can’t call me your lady anymore, I’m getting married!”

“Oh yeah, my apologies.” He smiles; he doubts he’ll ever be able to drop the habit, although he knows that he really should, lest he slips up as Adrien. As her husband. His heart flutters at the thought, and he’s so distracted by it he almost misses her next words.

“What if… what if he changes his mind at the altar?” Marinette’s voice is barely above a whisper, but her eyes are full of worry. 

Fuck, she’s cute, what do I even say to her? Chat Noir’s heart skips a beat, and he’s tempted to come clean to her there and then. It’s me, Adrien Agreste, Chat Noir, whatever, you could call me anything you desire, I’d answer. My heart is yours, it has been since the first day we met. Nothing, absolutely nothing, you hear me? would make me say no at the altar. I’d never do that to you.

It takes a minute for him to battle his instincts, during which he twirls her around and takes her in his arms. He feels her shake a little as she sobs against his chest. 

He hates having to hide information from her, especially this one. Everything would be so much easier if he didn’t have to. She wouldn’t be so miserable on her wedding day, their wedding day, for one.

“Hey.” He tilts her chin up lightly, and wipes the tears off her cheeks with his thumb. “He won’t. I… I was just with him, before I came to check on you. He wants you to be safe. You’re his… friend. Not to mention, the saviour of Paris. He says it’s a pleasure to help.”

She sighs. “What about the girl he loves?”

“It’ll work out, don’t worry.” Chat Noir represses a smile.

“What about you?” Marinette looks so anguished at the thought that he may be suffering that it’s difficult for him not to kiss her. 

“What about me? Are you worried I won’t still want to marry you after the whole situation is over and we can be together in peace? I’m not that shallow, you know.” His eyes twinkle mischievously. “Unless,” he gasps theatrically, “you’re worried you’ll fall for Adrien again!” He points at her accusingly, although his grin says otherwise.

Marinette lets out a little chuckle, the first since he’s arrived. He’s so grateful for the sound. “I promise I’m not.” She cups his cheek and brushes her thumb against the rim of his mask. “I like Adrien very much, and he’s been very sweet, but somehow my heart seems to prefer a questionable cat boy to a respectable model.”

“His loss.” Or not, he thinks as he kisses the palm of her hand.

“You’re staying for the ceremony, right? As your civilian self?”

“You can count on me to keep an eye on you two. I promise I’ll tackle Adrien if he tries to make a run for it.” He winks. He backtracks when he sees the panic in her eyes. “Joke aside, I paw-mise everything will be fine. And that I’ll always be there for you. Never doubt that.”

Marinette blushes as they stare into each other’s eyes. 

I love you, they both think, but don’t say. Now is not the time.

“Marinette?” There’s a knock on the door as Sabine calls for her. “It’s nearly time to go, can I come in?” 

“Uh, yeah, just a second!” Marinette jumps away from Chat Noir and checks the lock of her room is closed. 

She then walks over to him, he has already opened the window to leave. He smiles and kisses her forehead tenderly before backing away.

“See you later, my Lady. I know, I know, I shouldn’t call you that.” He throws his hands up before she can protest the nickname. “But I like to think that you’ll be my Lady until you say yes to Agreste.” 

And even that won’t change anything, they both think as they part ways.

#can you believe i almost wrote three chapters in two days? #i hope this productivity remains #miraculous ladybug #the miraculous tales of ladybug and cat noir #mlb #miraculous fanfic #miraculous fanfiction #ladynoir #adrienette #one-sided reveal #aged-up characters #fake wedding #inspired by fanart #elle writes #yccom

[jesbelle-writes]

The Gift

After his failed attempt to reach kohlinar,  Spock found that the rhythms of life aboard the Enterprise were somehow different.  He had reached a hard-won détente between his Human emotions and his Vulcan logic, and it cast a new light on even the most familiar of rituals – such as the one now playing out in Kirk’s quarters.

“So Bones – your birthday’s coming up...”  Kirk opened this conversation just as he had every year about this time.

“I don’t want a big fuss,” said McCoy, with the same frown as usual.

“How about a little fuss then?” asked Kirk, the customary amused smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

“I suppose I could tolerate it, if I had to,” came the reply.

And so some small celebration would be agreed upon.  A place and time would be chosen for a quiet round of drinks; Scotty, Chapel, Uhura, Sulu, and (now that was no longer “the kid”) Chekov would be invited; and they’d all spend a quiet evening getting mildly inebriated and swapping reminiscences.  Spock would attend, of course.  McCoy was his friend, after all.

But this year, Spock couldn’t shake the feeling that something special was in order – something to acknowlege the shift he sensed in his relationship with McCoy.  He couldn’t really name the nature of that shift – it was different somehow to the way his other relationships had changed – but he felt a need to take some kind of action nonetheless.

He wanted to give McCoy a birthday present.

His mother had explained gift-giving to him when he was a child.  She had provided him with an exhaustive lesson on the rituals and obligations involved, including a list of the types of gifts that would be considered appropriate to each occasion.

“But sometimes,” she said, “a person wants to give a gift from the heart – something that shows how much regard they have for another person. The best gifts on these occasions are something the recipient can experience.  A happy memory is worth a thousand objects.”

Spock understood that these “little fusses” that Jim put together were exactly that – another in a collection of happy memories for McCoy.  Spock wanted to give McCoy something like that.

The bulk of his meditation time was dedicated to solving the puzzle of how to do that.

He considered the activities that McCoy engaged in during his rare breaks from work. He spent the bulk of his time simply “hanging out” with Spock or Jim or Christine.  He enjoyed reading a genre of books he called “dimestore trash” that Spock had no idea how to even begin to obtain.  And he enjoyed music.

Music seemed promising.  McCoy’s tastes were eclectic, but Spock had a good ear and he was reasonably certain that he could find something that would please McCoy.

It was in this frame of mind that he noticed the humming.

There was a little snippet of a tune that McCoy hummed when he was trying to unravel any particularly thorny problem.  Spock had heard it hundreds of times when sharing laboratory space with McCoy.  It had long ago been relegated to the background noises of the lab.

It was a pretty tune, and obviously a favorite.  He asked Dr. Chapel about it that afternoon.

“You mean the one that goes hum de dum dum dum hum de dum dum dum?”  She mangled it completely, but it was still recognizable as the same tune, if only barely.

“Yes,” said Spock.  “Do you know the title of the piece?”

“Sorry, no.  I asked him about it once.  He got really self-conscious and said it was just something his mother used to sing.  Then I didn’t hear it for about a month.”

Jim was no help.  “I don’t spend much time in the lab,” he pointed out.  “And his mom was some kind of music historian, so she probably knew a lot of obscure songs.”

Spock made a recording of himself playing the tune on his lyre and fed it into the ship’s computer, but it matched nothing in the database.  Finally, he sent the recording to the library at Memory Alpha and waited.

The answer came almost fourteen hours later – a song from the mid-twentieth century, lost for nearly 200 years before it was discovered in an archive on the North American continent at a place called Muscle Shoals.

The tune was sweet, and the song was short.  But the lyrics...

If Spock had searched for years, he couldn’t have found a song more suitable. He decided that the piece should be performed live.

“It’s beautiful, Spock.  Where did you find it?” asked Uhura.  “It’s just so… Dr. McCoy, isn’t it?”

“I believe it is a favorite of his,” said Spock.  “I would like to play it at his birthday.  I was hoping that you would agree to sing it.”

“I’d love to, but I think you should do it.  It would fit your range.”

“My musical range, perhaps.  It is a very emotional piece,” said Spock.

They practiced the song every night.

McCoy’s birthday was in the forward observation lounge.  It was busy tonight, and when Spock picked up his lyre and Uhura stood next to him a hush fell over the crowd.  

“If I needed you Would you come to me, Would you come to me, And ease my pain?” sang Uhura.

“If you needed me, I would come to you, I’d swim the seas For to ease your pain.”

“In the night forlorn The morning’s born And the morning shines With the lights of love.”

Spock spared a glance toward McCoy, but Jim was seated between them, blocking his line of sight.

“You will miss sunrise If you close your eyes And that would break My heart in two.”

Spock tried twice more to catch a glimpse of McCoy to no avail.  It wasn’t until the final chorus that he saw him.  

McCoy looked stunned, overcome, but with what emotion, Spock couldn’t tell. There were, however, most definitely tears in his eyes.

The song ended to enthusiastic applause and several people came to pay their compliments – mostly to Uhura.  McCoy was among them.  He took Uhura’s hand in his and said, “Thank you so much, Nyota.  That was lovely.”  He nodded toward Spock.  “You played that… very well – as usual, Spock.”  He raised his glass toward the others. “I want to thank y’all for coming tonight.  I know the night’s still young, but I’m not so much, and I’ve just had a week and a half of long shifts.  So if y’all’ll excuse me, I’m going to head on out and get some shut-eye before I have to deal with the next torn rotator cuff or targ bite or what-have-you.”

There followed the usual well-wishing and congratulations as McCoy left.  Spock, feeling unsettled and having no desire to feel unsettled in public, picked up his lyre and retired to his own quarters…

… where he was surprised to find Dr. McCoy leaning against his desk.

“I used my medical code,” said McCoy.  “I hope you don’t mind.  I promise I’m not planning to make a habit of it.”

Spock nodded. “I apolo--”

“I’m sor--” McCoy shook his head.  “You got nothing to be sorry for.  Just… let me say my piece and I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Go ahead.”

“Thanks.”  McCoy took a deep breath.  “I… what you did tonight, Spock – that was the nicest, most thoughtful gift I’ve ever gotten.  I couldn’t say this with a bunch of people around, but I need you to know what it meant to me.

“My mama used to sing me that song when I’d have bad dreams.  She’d come sit on my bed and… stroke my hair… and sing that song.  And it worked every time.

“She sang a lot of songs.  She had a beautiful voice and she played guitar.  She made a lot of recordings of those songs, and after she died, I’d play them all and pretend she was still there – just in the other room, singing.  Well, I was just kid...  

“Anyway she never got around to recording that one.  So I’d sing it to myself when the bad dreams woke me up.  I forgot most of the lyrics.  I forgot what it sounded like when she sang it.  I forgot what her fingers felt like in my hair.  But it always made me feel better.

“I guess I got used to singing it.  It was the tune I’d whistle in the dark, and it became the thing I turned to whenever the going got even a little rough.

“That’s what you gave me tonight.  You gave me back her song.  I don’t have words for that.”  McCoy swiped at the tear that had fallen onto his cheek.  “If you weren’t a Vulcan I’d hug you.”

Spock didn’t know what to say.  He was experiencing a rush of emotions too powerful and too complex for him to even name, let alone express, not that he wished to express them.  He didn’t even want to experience them.

Did he?

“And on that note,” said McCoy, standing up,  “I’ll just see myself out.”

“Leonard.”

McCoy had nearly reached the door when Spock put out his hand to stop him.  He took him by the wrist, his fingers curling around the warm, soft skin above McCoy’s pulse.

The sensation cut through some of the turmoil in Spock’s mind.  This was… good?  It was… fitting.

It was right because Spock had wanted to touch McCoy, hadn’t he?  He’d wanted to give a gift that would touch McCoy’s heart.

And now he was touching his skin and that was also what he’d wanted, wasn’t it?

He pulled McCoy closer, put his arms around him, held him.  And holding was also what he’d wanted.

And then McCoy’s arms wrapped around his waist…

...and there.  This is what it is to fit, thought Spock.  This is what it is to be exactly where he belonged.

McCoy drew back a little, enough to look Spock in the eye.  “You sure?”

Spock nodded.  “I am now.”

And then he kissed him.

Just a little note -- the song is “If I Needed You” by Townes Van Zandt.  I’ve used it in fics before because it gives me serious Bones vibes.  I actually had this scene in mind for one of those fics, but ended up using something else, so now you get it here.

#12daysofspones #spones #star trek #prompt: giving #yes i'm obsessed with this song

[homestuckexamination]

Selfish Vs Unselfish

Jesus. Yeah I have nothing to comment here, I’m going to read this later when I haven’t just woken up.

You know the drill. Put it under ‘Read More’. A matter of perspective it can be, but there can be an objective truth to sort that out. Let me e x p a n d on this matter using Homestuck and some philosophy. And for those who missed the last ask on Active/Passive divide, please do remember that these labels are on a continuum, not strictly boxed categories. “UNSELFISH” or UNSELFISH - The passive classes lean more to this. How? By being group-oriented. Like support classes in RPGs, their asset comes mainly from a drive to benefit others. Roxy is one of the best examples of this. While she was passive-aggressive in her pursuit of romance, she is ultimately willing to put her self aside and bettering herself if that meant making sure the group stays together. She does this by, to quote Dirk, never turning the tables to make a talk about her when she knows her friend needs something.

TG: i was gonna say why i finally quit drinkin TG: i mean if you want to know GG: Yes. GG: Actually, once you did stop, it made me finally realize it was a problem for you for a long time. GG: And I didn’t say anything at the time, but it made me wonder if I wasn’t doing the right thing before. GG: By failing to point out you might have a problem? Or just going along with it and participating in lively banter any time you clearly had too much to drink? GG: Was I just being a bad friend? TG: nah it wasnt your responsibility to fix my shit TG: and anyway i think i made it hard for anyone to come at me like it was a real problem TG: i was always joking around so much and havin a good time like kind of overzealously so TG: that i probably just made people feel like a shitty wet blanket for even mentioning it

She wants to be of use to her group. However, the downside to this is that, as passively Roxy can be, she often needs them as well.

TG: and now dirk knows that too and for some reason letting him down feels like the worst part?? TG: which is equally lame and weak cuz i should care for my own sake not for how it makes a dude see me but it still just really bothers me ???

TG: i didnt want her to meet a sloppy embarrassing mess of a daughter

TG: even if she did like to drink at some point it was kind of a childish idea that doing so myself would make me closer to her or help us bond or whatever TG: anyway i think i might of overestimated her drinkin habits

How would you know if a class is truly passive when a character just been a really selfish a-hole through the story? It’s how they mainly rely on others as well. Let’s use Aranea as the main example of a selfish passive Sylph of Light that tries to emulate a Thief. Aranea says that Sylph is a healer type of class that involves boosting others, even excessively. However, while she claims that she merely wants to help and shepard the Alpha timeline by taking control of it, Meenah says otherwise. What Aranea has been doing is a self-aggrandizing act to get into the spotlight and not sit on the sidelines anymore, much like her fellow Serket. Like Kanaya, she is meddlesome. She asserts that what she does is for the good of all, even if that means doing something others would object to. They don’t want that. But, she does it anyway.

At first, she complies when the recipient refuses, but when it eventually comes to her ultimate takeover plan, everyone else comes second. She may believe that she’s just granting their wishes, but her underlying motive is ultimately selfish- albeit by excessively “helping” others for her own cause. Aranea failed to learn what Mindfang did:

“8ut as I sit here deciding what to do with the damna8le little sphere, I understand my error. It was not in failing to chart a course through future events to turn my fortune’s tide, even so many sweeps from now. It was in 8elieving the future was mind to know, and fortune mine to control.”

Now let’s use Rufioh and compare him to Roxy. Both of them are Rogues. Both of them are group-oriented characters that act selfishly from time-to-time. The difference is that Rufioh is more selfish. He’s extremely affable to the point of being a doormat to please others all while trying to be polite about romantic advances despite being a flirt himself. He’s reluctant to voice his own reason that he wants to leave his matespritship with Horuss. Sounds familiar? He’s the Jake of the love triangle. Rufioh cheated on Damara and never takes responsibility from it, focusing on Damara being a crazed scorned girl.

Passive players that fail to balance supporting others and fulfilling their own desires often end up being thrown in a loop. Forcing your solution solution on others for 'their own good’ is selfish. Your concern on how others perceive you may be sprouted from your own insecurity. Whenever you make a donation to the less fortunate, how can you be certain it’s not without the purpose of staving off guilt, doing it because it simply aligns with your moral code, or because it feels good? 

AG: I decided not to, 8ecause I didn’t want to 8e the one to make you sad about it.

AG: Was that selfish of me? I dunno.

It’s a gem to see volunteers whose instincts are to help people to make life more bearable, mind you. But they’re also doing that because they want to see them better and it’s often their own desire to do so and fulfill that dream.

ENLIGHTENED VS UNENLIGHTENED SELFISHNESS

-I’ve rambled on this a bit. Here’s a recap:

*Unenlightened Selfishness is… pretty much the archetypal self-centeredness that makes people jerks. It’s whenever you do something for yourself with little to no regard to other people’s desires. It’s the greedy shark hoarding all the treasure. It’s when you try to justify your actions with a perspective of “everyone else is selfish, so I’m entitled to be an asshole to everyone too”.

*Enlightened Selfishness or Enlightened Self-Interest is the opposite. It’s when you respect that everyone has their own wants and needs by compromising and coinciding them with your own. It’s like a deal. It’s the Golden Rule. You scratch my back, I scratch yours. It’s when you do things for other people for the good you’ll get from it, even when the payment is simple politeness and being generally nice. Society expects each individual to benefit the community in turn by working. We work with the expectation that others work for us. Unlike the first, this form of self-interest benefits both parties. Another term is Selfish Altruism.

We see an exercise of selfishness burning brightly through Vriska’s arc.

(VRISKA): I’m not a loser though! (VRISKA): I LIKE who I’ve 8ecome. (VRISKA): I actually feel happy and good a8out my life for the first time in… may8e forever?? (VRISKA): Like, ACTUALLY good a8out my life in a way that feels real, instead of forced. Don’t you realize that’s what it was like for us? VRISKA: You don’t have a life! VRISKA: You’re DEAD, remem8er? VRISKA: I’m the one with the life! VRISKA: And I fully intend to use it in a relevant and constructive way to help 8ring an end to all the horri8le shit that’s 8een going on for way too long. VRISKA: Remem8er when you used to care a8out that sort of thing? VRISKA: No, o8viously not. VRISKA: All you care a8out now is 8ullshit hipstery fashion trends, feeling “happy”, and… whatever the fuck it is you’re doing here? VRISKA: Frolicking with some horses in an ugly field or some shit. VRISKA: Just a8solutely disgraceful. VRISKA: How could I have 8ecome so selfish??

Vriska is accusing (Vriska) for being selfish despite being selfish herself. Remember her popular hero quote?

VRISKA: I only ever wanted to do the right thing no matter how it made people judge me, and I don’t need a magic ring to do that. VRISKA: You don’t have to 8e alive to make yourself relevant. VRISKA: And you don’t have to 8e a good person to 8e a hero. VRISKA: You just have to know who you are and stay true to that. VRISKA: So I’m going to keep fighting for people the only way I ever knew how.

VRISKA: 8y 8eing me.

And a few panels after that, she does this.

VRISKA: OHHHHHHHH NOOOOOOO!!!!!!!! VRISKA: OH FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! VRISKA: WE’RE G8ING TO LOOK AT WH8T’S IN THIS CH8ST RIGHT N8W!!!!!!!! VRISKA: DO YOU HE8R ME Y8U F8CK? VRISKA: I D8DN’T SCRAPE AND CLAW MY W8Y 8ACK TO RELEV8NCE F8R THIS SHIT! VRISKA: I’M DOING S8METHING F8CKING IMPORTANT! AND WHEN I DO SOMETH8NG FUCKING IMPORT8NT, EVERY88DY 8ETTER D8MN WELL PAY ATT8NTION TO ME!!!!!!!!

Sure, her resurrection got everyone’s attention, but also annoyance. A lot of their personal problems aren’t truly solved, just put on a temporary chokehold by someone with a stubborn, assertive personality. She’s taking charge so that her team won’t be in poor condition for the big fight, but also to, well, be in the spotlight. She doesn’t care how others think of her, she just wants to help… but also because it makes her important, even if that means overpowering her friends, including her moirail Terezi. Vriska’s the active counterpart to Roxy in both class and aspect. A positive part of this is that it’s easier for Vriska and other folks like her to be self-driven.

…

What am I getting at? It’s a matter of intention. Are they doing it to mainly benefit others? Or are they acting to benefit themselves? Even if it’s grey, there’s often a tint or shade that’s lighter or darker that makes someone lean somewhere. It doesn’t matter how they see themselves and how they perceive their own actions, it’s their motivation that defines the line. Accidents don’t count. It’s the will. Looking at one’s intention is a way to objectively sift through the blurriness of it their actions, even when said intention is subconscious. You can also simply take the Active/Passive divide on strictly class roles in terms of RPG abilities alone if you’re not keen on the personalities of the bunch.

#Class #Fanon #HSE #Long Post #Longpost #Submission #submission

[creepy-spooghetti]

A Hapless Endearment [Creepypasta x F. Reader]

Chapter 10 - Tag, You’re It

_____

Jack doesn't return for several minutes, though she can hear the sound of muffled talking from the confines of another room nearby. The words are incoherent and muffled, but considering that there's nobody else in this house that she knows of, she guesses that he's on the phone, mostly based on the fact that the only voice she can hear is Jack's. She ponders what he said to her and tucks her knees into her chest, trying to tame the steadily rising fear that's making itself more and more apparent in her chest.

She knew from the beginning of all this chaos that there had to be a deeper meaning buried beneath the surface, even though she didn't want to acknowledge it and instead opted to come up with valid explanations for everything that happened, reasons that wouldn't make her seem crazy. But now? Now, it doesn't look like she has another option but to accept it. She has to admit, Jack made some pretty reasonable points, even if the points in question take a great suspension of disbelief. How else is she supposed to explain the things that have taken place over the past several days? She didn't have a clue about what was happening and why it was happening, and now she does. But is it the honest-to-God truth?

Being stalked by some supernatural being is definitely hard to believe, but so is mentally predicting the death of one's aunt and uncle, being kidnapped by someone without eyes, and subconsciously drawing some kind of freaky symbol. She hasn't another explanation for all of the eerie occurrences lately, what else is she supposed to think? At least she's been provided with an answer��whether that answer is correct or not has yet to be solved—but it's still an answer. It's more information than she could ever get out of her grandparents or anyone else. A therapist probably wouldn't even know what's going on with her. This way, she has a theory to go off of, something to build around until she finds something more... realistic. More believable.

Her eyes flick up to Jack as he re-enters the room, being ultimately pulled from her deep thoughts and watching him stuff, what she identifies as a phone, into his pocket. He turns her direction, his uncanny oozing gaze sending goosebumps up the length of her arms. "There will be someone over here in a bit to pick you up and take you to Brian's house. She's bringing a pair of shoes with her, too."

Oh, it's a girl. Maybe I can find some common ground and convince her to let me go. Unless she's trapped here too... She brushes a strand of hair behind her ear and sits more naturally in the chair, her feet meeting the hardwood floor and her posture straightening to come across as more intimidating. Granted, she knows she isn't going to intimidate this monster of a man, but it makes her feel a little safer anyway.

"Who is she?" Her words are sharp and straight-to-the-point as she stares up at his tall frame in an attempt to seem, for the most part, fearless.

"Wisteria. Don't get your hopes up, she's almost as bad as Jeff." Releasing a huff, she rolls her eyes though chooses not to respond. "Do you want a glass—no, sorry—do you want a cup of water?" He puts great emphasis on the word 'cup', indirectly reminding her of the way she launched the glass at his head in an attempt to escape previously. It did work out in the end, she supposes, and she would have actually gotten out of this place had Jeff's hellhound for a dog not taken it upon himself to chomp down on her ankle and keep her firmly planted where she laid in the dirt until someone came to retrieve her. That 'someone' being Jeff.

"What, so you can poison me?" She mutters, crossing her arms stubbornly. "I think I'll pass."

"Did you not hear anything I just told you a few minutes ago?" He sighs, running gloved fingers through his copper-brown hair. "If I wanted to hurt you I would have done it by now." Ignoring the dryness in her throat, no doubt from lack of water, she only stares up at him with an obstinate expression, refusing to take anything that he has to offer. After a couple of moments, he too crosses his arms. "Ya know, it won't do you much good if you dehydrate and end up dying anyway."

"I'd rather dehydrate than trust you with anything." They continue to stare at each other for what feels like minutes when in reality it's only around ten seconds before Jack shakes his head in defeat.

"Fine. Suit yourself." He takes a seat on the couch, being mindful to keep a fair amount of distance between himself and Y\n, and leans back to get more comfortable. "I know this is a lot to process, but you're gonna have to get used to the fact that you can't go back home. You can't see your family again, it would be too dangerous for both yourself and them."

"Is that a threat?"

"No. It's a warning. You go back home, try to live a normal life, and you eventually snap. You'd be compelled to go to the very thing you've been trying to avoid and kill whoever got in your way. Even if that includes your family." She leers at him through skeptical e\c eyes, comprehending what he's telling her and trying to brush away the feeling of trepidation that rises within her stomach. "It's happened before. I've seen it, too many times to be proud of. It isn't a nice process."

"You're crazy if you actually think I'd kill someone, much less my own family." It's true that she has less-than-desirable parents, but there's no way that she'd ever lose herself enough to physically harm them or take their lives. She isn't a bad enough kid to do something like that, not even under the direst of circumstances. Especially if it involves her grandparents. They've shown her nothing but kindness and support, why on earth would she ever murder them? The very thought sends shivers down her spine.

"Denial is something most people express at first. But it would happen, whether you wanted it to or not." She shakes her head, furrowing her eyebrows together in objection.

"I would never."

"You say that, but you don't know what he's capable of. You don't know how much power he possesses." She averts her gaze to the ground, hugging her torso insecurely and listening to the slightly muffled words that leave Jack's mouth. "He drives you mad. It may start off subtle, maybe you'll have some bad dreams, or minor coughing fits, nothing too concerning. But it will get worse, and worse, and soon you'll be seeing things that aren't there, becoming paranoid because at every turn you feel like something's watching you, but you don't know where or by what. You'll isolate yourself, refuse to talk to anyone, become distant from your friends, your family, society as a whole. And it will continue getting worse, and worse, and worse until you're at your breaking point. You'll just want it all to stop, you'll just want it to be over. You'll be desperate. So you'll listen to him, obey his commands. He'll take you to your breaking point, all without lifting a finger."

The words leave his mouth slowly, making the situation all the more unnerving. There's a sinister kind of truth to what he says that makes an eerie fog blanket her mind in a sense of dread and impending doom. He's right. She knows he's right. There isn't definite proof, but the very tone of his voice and his serious posture tells her right then. He isn't lying. This is real. This is all real, no matter how much she may try to deny it.

Letting out a shaky sigh, she rubs her face with her hands and attempts to slow the rapid beating of her heart. One question floats to the top of all of her thoughts, and she picks it up and analyzes it for a few moments before speaking. "...Why me?" She sees him tilt his head to the side a bit, silently questioning her inquiry and asking for clarification. She happily delivers. "Why, out of seven billion people, does it want me?" She scrapes a hand through her hair in an effort to compose herself, her voice trembling. "What did I do to attract it? I'm just...I'm just a normal person. Why would it want me to do...whatever?"

He takes a few seconds to respond, stringing the words together in his head and coming up with the best possible answer. "I...I don't know." He shrugs lightly, craning his neck toward the couch beneath him. "You told me you had some family issues. He preys on the weak and vulnerable. If you've been going through stressful things, that's likely to be a big contributor to the reason he chose you."

"So you're telling me that I'm being hunted by a paranormal entity because I have garbage for parents?" She chokes down the bile threatening to rise in her throat. "How is that my fault?"

"It doesn't have to be," he simply says, shifting in his seat to better face her. "He's attracted to whoever is at a bad time in life and isn't handling it very well. If you've been stressed, he'll try to get you. It isn't always the victim's fault." Thoughts swarm her mind, though they zip by so quickly she barely has time to process each one before the next one takes its place. But one question manages to stand out above the rest, and she stares at the floor intently.

"But... but I've been going through stuff for years and I haven't had any problems like what's been happening recently until I got here." Her eyes shift up to his featureless, navy-blue mask curiously. "If it wanted me, why didn't it start before?"

"It's difficult to stalk someone and drive them insane when they're in the middle of a city," he says after a moment. "He probably knew about you before, at least to a point, but he couldn't really get to you until you were closer to where he resides." She gulps, eyes glistening with unfallen tears of dismay. "He wanted you more isolated. He can affect you easier that way."

"He's only after me, right?" Worry blooms in her chest and she leans forward absentmindedly. "My... my grandparents aren't a target, too? It's just me?"

"I doubt he'd have anything to do with two people like that, unless..." He pauses, and she presses her lips together in an anxious line.

"Unless?" Her voice holds a sense of distress. "Unless what?"

"Unless..." She can tell he's hesitant to finish his thought, though if it concerns the well-being of Nana and Pops, she won't stand for any unanswered questions. "...well, unless he wanted to use them. To manipulate you."

"How would he do that?" Now fully invested in the conversation, she tries to stabilize her breathing as she stares impatiently at Jack, desperate to get a response.

"He has different tactics. It'd be hard to say which one he'd use on you." Releasing a tremulous breath and trying to ease the nervous pit in her stomach, she clenches her fists.

"Would he hurt them?" For now, she's going to assume both of them are still alive and well, though utterly frantic over her sudden disappearance. Jack hasn't given any proof that he didn't harm them in any way, but she'd rather think about the possibility of life over the possibility of death.

"I don't know. He might."

"Well, then I have to get back to them!" She shoots up from her sitting position, causing a wave of dizziness to wash over her and nearly make her stumble to the floor, but she manages to keep her balance before that can happen. "So let me go."

"Y\n, being irrational isn't going to get you anywhere."

"I'm not being irrational!" She shoots a glare at where he still sits on the couch, starting to limp her way to the front door. "I'm being a good granddaughter. I'm not letting them get hurt." He sighs, a sound that's really beginning to get on her nerves, and slowly stands. She backs away warily in response.

"Your grandparents are fine. He likely won't even do anything that involves them because they're so far away from you now." Just how far away from them is she really?

"Where did you bring me then??"

"I can't tell you. Not yet." He eases closer to her, and she eyes the door. She isn't getting anywhere with her ankle being the way it is, and she knows it. But it's worth another try, right? She darts across the rest of the living room, but before she can even get close to grabbing the knob, a pair of strong arms wrap around her torso and pull her back. Despite her attempts at freedom, his hold doesn't even loosen.

"Let me go, Jack!"

"You already know that isn't going to happen." She lets out an exasperated groan, trying not to put pressure on her injury as she struggles fruitlessly against the tall male currently holding her back and succeeding, much to her displeasure. "You need to calm down."

"How am I supposed to 'calm down'? The only two people who actually give a crap about me are in danger!" She growls, attempting to kick him in the leg or elbow him in the gut, though he skillfully dodges each time and locks onto her tighter, remaining unphased by her actions.

"And you'll be putting them in even more danger if you go back. You heard what I said. Do you really want to hurt your own family?"

"Just shut up! I'd never do something like that. Not if my life depended on it."

"Well, it would. Y\n, you don't understand." He effortlessly spins her around to face him, her neck having to bend upward due to the large height difference between the two of them. She watches the tar-like substance as it leisurely drips from his empty sockets and down his mask before having to glance away. "Once you get to that point, he controls you. He owns you. He can make you do whatever he deems necessary to please him, and you can't stop it." She huffs, biting her bottom lip and holding back distressed tears. "Do you really want that to happen to you?"

She brings both her hands up and pushes harshly against his chest to create some kind of space between them before crossing her arms and sending him a glare, gathering the nerve to look directly into the vacant pits in his head. "I don't want any of this to happen to me," she mumbles, taking deep breaths just to stop herself from crying. "I just want to go home and be with people I love." The words leave her lips as a harsh whisper, voice cracking in the process.

"That can't happen." His tone changes from mildly irritated to sympathetic in an instant, and he takes a small step back in an effort to make her feel more comfortable. "I'm sorry."

She uses the back of her arm to wipe away a stray tear that had begun rolling down her cheek as her gaze lingers toward the hallway. She doesn't want to be anywhere near Jack, or anybody besides her grandparents. She wants out of this mess. At least she knows it isn't her fault, not completely anyway. Not that the thought soothes her very much, but it's something. "...Where's the bathroom?" It comes out as a half-hearted demand, and he answers immediately.

"First door to the right." She nods in silent gratitude and starts walking that way, ignoring the bit of pain that erupts through the bottom half of her leg as she does so. Once inside the desired room, she shuts the door behind her, flicks on the light, and tries to calm her fast, unsteady breathing and erratic heart rate. What is she supposed to do? Take Jack's word for it and stay here? Escape and try to find the way to a police station? Neither option sounds too appealing at the moment. She doesn't forget the words Jeff used before he ever so kindly walked her back to her kidnapper's house.

"Cops don't scare me. I've dealt with way, way worse than guns and tasers."

It sounded like a threat, and given the brief, though memorable, interaction with Jeff she had, it's very probable that's exactly what it was. A threat. Like he was telling her if she managed to break free and get the police involved, he'd hunt her down and wipe out everyone within his path. And it wouldn't bother him a bit. Of course it wouldn't, if he's crazy enough to supposedly carve a smile into his face, then he's crazy enough not to care in the least as he straight-up murders people.

How could somebody be so... twisted? Is it the doing of that thing, the one Jack informed her about? Or is it something totally different? Well, if she's going to be here a while, as she assumes she will be whether she likes it or not, then she'll be sure to gather as many details about the ones that live around here as she can. Maybe she can ask that girl that's supposed to be coming by with shoes, according to Jack. What's her name? Wendy? Whitney? Wanda?

No, dummy, it was a flower. She's named after a flower... Petunia? Lily? She shakes her head in disregard. That isn't even close. The bathroom is small, with a sink counter to her right, a toilet to the side of that, a tub to her left, and a slender cabinet ahead of her, right beside a window. The thought only crosses her mind briefly to use the window to escape; not only is it too high for her to properly reach without some kind of boost, but it's too small for her to even begin trying to squeeze through.

Nausea bubbles in her stomach as she thinks more and more about her hopeless situation. How does she handle this? Her whole existence just got flipped upside-down in the matter of a few hours. She doesn't know where she is, the people around her seem completely off their rocker, and her grandparents are at risk of being hurt, or possibly even killed by some other-worldly creature that she's seen a grand total of once, and that sighting was vague. What about that one time she saw that figure in the woods? The one with the white mask? Was that a hallucination, or was it real too?

She has no way of knowing for sure, and that thought alone makes her want to collapse and cry until she can't anymore about her misfortune. But she won't, not right now. Instead, she throws herself at the sink, desperate to rid herself of the foul taste filling her mouth and swallowing the vomit creeping up her throat. She turns on the faucet and welcomes the cool water that spills out, pressing her lips against it and gulping it down. She savors the pristine liquid as it slips down her throat, bringing an end to the dryness she felt in it prior and relieving her of the discomfort.

Letting out a strangled cough, she turns the faucet off and looks up, only now noticing the large piece of cloth—presumably an old sheet or blanket—covering the area where a mirror usually is placed. She lifts the corner of it up, only to find that there is, indeed, a mirror underneath, but finding herself a bit perplexed. Why would there be a sheet blocking the mirror? Did Jack do it? Does he not like to look at himself?

How would he see himself if he doesn't have eyes? She knits her eyebrows together, sniffling and licking some residual water away from her lips to stop it from dribbling down her chin. But he seems to move around just fine as if he can see where he's going. She's already established that he isn't normal, but just how not-normal is he? How does one see without eyes? Does he have some kind of sixth sense that allows him to somehow know his surroundings? If the whole 'no eyes' thing is only part of his mask, it's definitely fooled her. It looks so... so real. Just like every other aspect of him.

If he's like that, and Jeff is like that, then what do the other ones look like? She knows that there have to be others, Jack made that blatantly obvious by mentioning someone named Brian and the other named...Daisy? No, that's not it either. How much freakier is it going to get for her? Just how many more psychos has she yet to come across? She isn't too eager to find out. Jack's bad enough, and though he hasn't given her any more reason to hate him, the fact still stands that he took her from her house. Not only that, but he drugged her to do so, and before that, tricked her. Lied, right to her face, all to make her think he was trustworthy. Which he clearly is not.

She isn't sure whether to feel mad, betrayed, or a mixture of both. No, the two weren't friends, but they had talked for quite a while and she had told him things about herself that she certainly wouldn't tell some grey-skinned, eyeless thing. Is he even human? He doesn't look like one. She thought that there was a sort of bond that had sparked between the two of them during their encounter, though now she knows it was just a big, dirty trick.

She sighs through her nose, rubbing her eyes and leaning against the counter. Should she have just stayed home? Sure, she didn't really have a choice but to go to her grandparents' house while her mom and dad went wherever their work lead them, but she knows for a fact that her father in particular would have much preferred to keep her away from them. For some reason though, he had still hauled her off to a place she hasn't visited since she was eleven years old. It may have had something to do with Y\n refusing, under any circumstances, to stay at the penthouse with their absolute snob of a nanny, all alone, for God-knows how many weeks on end.

And seeing as how her mother's parents weren't an option, it was either her father's or summer camp. The last time she was at summer camp, she didn't have a very good experience, and pair that with all of the people in a hurry to make fun of her just because they're jealous of her parents' money, yeah, her grandparents were the better option by a long shot. But... if she would have just stayed home, would this have happened? Would Nana and Pops still be safe? Would she still be leading a generally boring, miserable life? Jack said himself that the creature chasing after her wouldn't be able to reach her in a populated area, like a city, and that's why he only now started attacking her. Because she was easy bait.

Is this actually her fault? Could she have avoided all of this had she just stopped being stubborn and stayed put in her home? What if Nana and Pops get killed if they aren't already? All because of her want to reach out to and see family that actually still care about her? Throwing around blame isn't going to help anything. Though that's what she tells herself, she can't help but think about it and feel guilty.

If I'm dreaming, now would be a good time to wake up. It all feels a bit too realistic to be a dream at this point, but she still clings to that little sliver of hope that this whole charade has been something her mind created while she's unconscious, and that soon she'll awake, perfectly healthy in her bed, with no giant noodle man to worry about, or crazy weirdos with masks, or strange dreams, unexplained dizzy spells and coughing fits. No whacky symbols. That would be incredible, even though she knows that really, she's never that lucky. It's all actually happening, and there's no way to escape it.

She doesn't even try to stop the tears that softly slip down her cheeks and make tiny little drip noises when they land in the porcelain bowl beneath her, only huffing in agitation and dipping her head to collect her bearings. And I thought I had a screwed-up life before...

After a few minutes, she's able to compose herself and gather enough courage to step back outside into the hallway, glancing toward the living room and catching sight of Jack on the couch, book in hand, and head craned down as if reading the words on the pages. Now how does that work? She steps forward, and at the sound of another presence nearing, he tilts his head up and meets her eyes with his soulless black pits.

She pauses under his gaze, nerves jumping with unease at his attention before she continues walking, stopping to idly lean against the wall farthest from him. "You okay?" His voice makes her flinch slightly, having not expected him to speak and break the tense silence that had built between them, though she's able to blow it off and act as if nothing happened.

"No," she says, tone harsh as she crosses her arms and drops her gaze down to the floor. "Why would I be 'okay'? This isn't exactly an everyday occurrence."

"I know, I know." He folds his book over and rests it in his lap, slanting forward slightly. "I'm not expecting you to be alright with this. Not for a while, at least." She narrows her eyes at him and presses her lips together. "I just need you to understand that this is your best option. It ensures both your safety and your family's safety."

"You just told me that my family could be used to manipulate me." Her tone is taut and her eyebrows furrow together, peering at him through resentful e\c orbs. "That doesn't sound very 'safe' to me."

"Yes, and then I said he probably won't feel the need to use them at all because you're so far away from where they live." He straightens his posture and tilts his head. "Trust me, going back would be more dangerous."

"And what if he does decide to 'use' them, huh? What then?" It takes a few infuriating moments for him to respond, and she shuffles around on her feet a bit to give him a well-aimed glare. He either doesn't notice or chooses to ignore it.

"We'll have to cross that bridge if we come to it." She opens her mouth to complain, to say something along the lines of, 'no freaking way am I standing aside and letting my grandparents become targets for some freak of nature,' but before she can there are three firm raps on the door, coming from the outside. It startles her, and she cautiously averts her gaze to the source of the sudden noise.

Jack moves the curtain to the side and glances out through the window placed directly behind the couch, seemingly checking for who could possibly be at the door. "Relax, it's alright." He stands to his feet and heads toward the wooden portal. She sends him a questioning look, and he motions outside. "Wisteria's here."

#creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #female reader #Y\n L\n #Eyeless Jack #Jack Nichols #Eyeless Jack x reader #creepypasta x female reader

[desire-tenderness]

I will return to old Brazil

I’m three weeks away in New York on a laser and independence trip, I miss home. It’s only two days away and soon I’m back in Brazil to meet my family and friends. I was taking the opportunity to organize some of the things, like some clothes and documents, that’s when I missed my passport. “Where did it go, my God?! My credit card was on the cover. I’ve turned this apartment upside down and can’t find it anywhere. There’s no way I lost! This shit only happens to me. I only have two more days stay in this Irbnb, how will I solve the problem of passport loss in two days without my credit card!? I don’t have a penny more.” [ranting, going into outbreak] “OK, relax, I’m smart! I need to raise money for at least another day or two, I have enough for daily meals. Well, didn’t I want to experience something unique and inspiring? Here’s a chance to have a tragic story to tell and laugh at later.” [I thought out loud]  “I can manage as a street performer, starting tomorrow. I take my ukulele and some blank sheets of paper and make illustrations of pedestrians, I hope to reap the benefits of that. The last place I remember seeing my passport was yesterday when I was at the MoMA. Now I need to go back there and hope that I find in the "lost and found" of the place.” [The next day] I woke up early today and I’m already on my way to Central Park, hoping to find a space on Bethesda Terrace to play. The first time I went I saw a young man playing the cello so beautifully, it made me overflow with emotion. I played some songs, I noticed that I had a very positive return looking at the cover of Ukulele, I was curious to tell how much money I had made with those 5 songs played. It’s quite amazing the satisfaction of playing there, people seem to want to hear me play. I thought of ending with Naive - The Kooks and so I did. - I'm not saying it was your fault Although you could have done more Oh, you're so naïve, yet so..   {music}

Soon formed a circle of people singing together, I was shivered, did not imagine that The Kooks still had an audience. A little girl left $16 on the cover of the instrument, it made me float. With less than a minute to go, I saw a wonderfully attractive boy, at least 15 feet away, "do I know you?" I thought while I messed up a song. At the end of the last song I thanked him and forced my eyes to reach the boy again, but he was no longer there. The minute I thanked her, the same little girl started pulling a leather saying "one more, one more". I didn’t have a repertoire anymore and I couldn’t think of anything. The sky was with an attractive texture and the climate had a palette of color that sent me the song Postcards From Italy - Beirut and without thinking too much about whether or not it made sense for the moment, I started playing and singing. As I played, I closed my eyes to feel the instrumental climax of the song that was approaching. And when I opened my eyes the same boy I saw from afar was standing in front of me watching my show. Who was he? Timothée Chalamet. My whole body was frozen with the fright, but I didn’t want to leave anything evident. If I showed my anxiety, that space would turn into an afternoon of autographs and I don’t want to take your time. Did he give me money? The cover of the instrument had received more notes of paper, but for being with eyes closed I could not see. He smiled and nodded, turned away. I kept silent. Second then I hurried thanking everyone for my return, guarding my instrument and taking my bag. I run after him. - Hey! Timo! He turned at the same second, confused, trying to find who called him. He must have noticed me tightening my stride to get close to him as soon as possible. - Hi! Our is a pleasure, I can’t believe it’s really you. I let you go so you wouldn’t make a big deal out of it, but I needed to talk to you and thank you for listening to me play and a lot of other stuff. Sorry, I’m talking too much, all right? I spoke so fast that I hardly breathed. He laughed. - Hi, Beirut, huh? It goes well with today’s weather. It was nice! Am I well and you? Alias, your name? - Do you like Beirut? Gee. My name is (xxxx) but it doesn’t matter now. - Yes, you do. Are you from New York? - No, I come from Brazil. I’m traveling.. The words were disappearing from my mind as the minutes passed, I was somewhat hypnotized. - Cool! I really want to see Brazil someday. Do you want a photo? - Man I want a photo yes. I never thought that moment would be here and now. We took the photo, he thanked me for coming to him and for me playing with such emotion. He finally said that it was "very harmonious". And with a lot of pain in my heart I let him go. "Gee, I met Timothée chalamet two days before returning to Brazil! I must confess that fate has killed, just bring my passport back." [I thought out loud] Arriving at the Moma I received the terrible news that my passport was not there, it was my only hope going down the drain. I wanted to cry out of desperation, but I was also totally happy to have met Timothée and to have taken a picture that I will keep for the rest of my life. "I wish I’d been calmer and sane, I guess I just thought I was crazy. I hope he hasn’t noticed my despair, anxiety and complete fascination. Well, back to what I need to focus on.. Do I get some freelance work at some designer studio? Well, it could be a coffee shop. " The day has gone by so fast, the clock is almost 4:00 p.m. I think I’ll have a cup of coffee and a bite to eat, and I’ll get a job, if that’s not too embarrassing. I thought I’d walk around the West Village and find some cool coffee over there. Said and done, I found a coffee visibly attractive and had a delicious smell coming out the door, but it was empty. I think this is the perfect opportunity for a presentation, so I’m gonna eat something first. I ordered a latte and a lobster, one of my favorite treats. That crispy puff pastry, filled with vanilla cream, caramel and flor de sal makes me roll my eyes. I ate with such desire that I began to remember how surprising my day was. I thought I would make an illustration of the Timothée, a drawing of how I met him, the ambience was delicious to draw in peace and so I did. I noticed that someone came through the cafeteria door, I heard the sound of the door open. It was him, he was again in the same environment as me. The coincidence was so much that I could hardly believe it, I kept my calm. He sat across the room, pretended not to see it.

On the local radio started playing First date - Blink, obviously I started singing and trying to finish my drawing as soon as possible, who knows he could see before going. "Lets go! Don’t Wait! this night’s Almost over Honest, Let’s make this night last Forever' {Music} Suddenly someone came to my table and put a glass of Vanilla Malt and a snack with a great smell. When I looked up he completed the harmony. - Forever and Ever, Let’s make this last Forever. Hi again! "Are you kidding that this is really happening? And if it is not? Well, I will act as if I were dreaming, I can do better in this communication" - I don’t believe it. This is crazy, what are you doing here at my table?! - Would you like me to leave? - You’re crazy, of course not, sit down, please! - So, what are you doing? Wait, that’s... that’s me?! Fuck!  [He pointed to the drawing] - hãnn yes, look.. this coincidence I will never live again. Now in my head I go through a cruel dilemma. - Which would it be? Excuse me. [He took the marvelous drawing and took a photo] - Should I finish it and give it to you, or should I ask for an autograph and frame it? - Hmm look.. my autograph is nothing, I would ruin the drawing, but it’s so awesome, I would love it if it was mine, but I took a picture, it’s worth the frame! - Arranged, Mr. Chalamet. I told him about my passport drama and how distressed I was. His face of "Holy shit, I’m sorry, you’ll have a headache" didn’t help. But he offered me real help with this red tape. "Does that mean I’ll see you beyond today?!" - Okay, you’re tense. Let’s break the ice by relaxing with a theatrical technique. I say a word, you think fast and say the first one that pops into your head. -Okay... Can I get started? [What’s going on here? ] -Yes, of course, yes! - Silver - Gold - Desire - Fire - Friend - you - Call me by your name - And I call you by mine. Oh shit! [laughed with his hand in his mouth] - That’s pretty cool hahaha let me ask. What are you going to do now? I’m really surprised to see you "living normally" - It is sometimes I get this feat. But anyway, I have no plans. - Do you want to go to the street cinema and see what classic is going on today? - My God, yes I am, thank you for the suggestion. We left the cafeteria and I didn’t ask for a job, I don’t regret it, my day is being fucking awesome. We went to the cinema of East Village and Singing in the rain was on display, that was perfect! I’ll watch one of my favorite movies with Timothée, it’s the fourth time I’ve pinched myself and I notice it’s not a dream. This day cannot end. We took the tickets and entered without him being stopped or recognized, I was relieved. And sitting next to him in a movie theater, all I could think about was how I wanted to be able to take his hand, kiss it as classically as the movie we’re watching. He made a story, I’m dying to open my phone and see, knowing that I’m next to him and nobody else but me and he knows, fuck!

At the end of the movie we came out, another coincidence or not, it was raining. I had my instrument and drawing sheets in my purse, but I wanted to literally sing in the rain, only without an umbrella. I dropped everything on the stairs and called him into this brief shower of rain. EPIC. I danced and sang in the rain with Timothée Chalamet and he seems absurdly happy about it.

We end with: "Come on with the Rain I have a Smile on my face I walk down the Lane With a happy refrain Just Singin', Singin' in the Rain" - Do you fancy a bagel or something? - I’m in! Tompkins? - Sure, and you have better? I answer, no way. - That’s so sweet, come on! And so we continued, hungry, laughing and wet. I think he appreciates moments like this, you can see in his eyes extreme pleasure and relief, that’s beautiful. The hunger was so great that we ate 3 bagels with bacon, eggs and cheese. We were wet so we ordered for the trip and ate outside. During the final bites we’ll talk about my passport again. - Where was the last time you saw him and when did you realize he was gone? - The last time was in Moma, the day before yesterday. But I went back there and they did not find.. I realized last night when I was starting to leave part of the suitcases ready to "go back to Brazil tomorrow". - Have you looked in the pockets of the clothes you wore when you went to Moma? - I looked at that jacket 10 times and I couldn’t find it. - Why do you think it’s in my jacket? I always carry a full pair of pants. - My God this is so obvious! I took the laundry to the building, if it is there I owe you my life. - Stop it. Can I go with you and film you finding your passport? [He laughed] - That if I find, will know a mix of relief, gratitude and anger. [laughs together] - Come on.

Yes, my passport and credit card were always "with me", were in the inside pocket of the pants as he had said. I was about to explode with relief!

I was ready to corrupt the good impression made during the day, but I was so excited and happy that I jumped in his lap grabbing his neck and kissing his cheeks.

He was silent as he stared at me confused as he held my thighs around his waist. I felt his breath on my neck, I didn’t want to leave, but I needed to.

- I’m sorry, really, I’m just happy. Thank you. - Don’t worry, it’s fine. I’m glad you found it. Do you still want that autograph? - Of course! [ He signed my drawing and took another picture of it, but this time with me holding the art. ]

- Sing one last song before I go. - My God that hard, I don’t know. Huh.. Sing with me? - If I know. Then I started singing Marvin Gaye’s Ain’t No Mountain High Enough, he seemed surprised. "Just call my name I’ll be there in a Hurry You don’t have to Worry'Cause, baby, there Ain’t no mountain high enough Ain’t no Valley low enough Ain’t no river wide enough To Keep me from Getting to you, baby" We laughed and finished. I was almost crying. Shame, I’m not a child. - So that’s it, I will be eternally grateful for today. Thank you and good luck girl, it was a pleasure. He turned and opened the door, waved his hand. And I recited.. "Now, when Twilight dims the sky above Recalling Thrills of our love There’s one Thing I’m Certain of I will Return to old Brazil" He smiled and came back to me, kissing my forehead. - Until one day, anywhere in the world. - See you, Timolito. He came out and I cried. {This is a fanfic. All I write about is my feelings and desires. TEXT BY: L.M }

#timothee chalamet #timothée chalamet #fanfic #nova york

[the-pen-pot]

Patrons in my $5 a month Fox’s Sock tier get to vote on which project I offer some spare focus to. This is a full list of ALL their choices! If you’re interested, you can check out my Patreon here!

(Note: No Clean Slate is my main project right now and therefore not included in the list, because it’s what I’m predominantly focussing on anyway.)

All My Current Fic Projects In One Place

Monachopsis

"Monachopsis n. the subtle but persistent feeling of being out of place. It takes John Watson decades to discover where he really belongs." Magical realism (sorta) and dream sharing. Eventual Johnlock.

Guard Of Diocletian

'What's his Shift?' John asked, frowning to himself. Sherlock had not mentioned anything about another form. That in itself was not unusual. A lot of people were rather private about their alternative shapes. It was frowned upon to ask someone outright what creature they were when changed, but Mike was like him, baseline, and if he was going to live with this man then he needed to know what he could wake up to find one morning. Shedding on the furniture was one thing, but he had no real desire to find a strange, threatening animal in the living room one day.'He isn't one, is he?' Mike's eyebrows were up, his honest face truly puzzled. 'I've never seen him change, and he's been coming here for years. I mean, I suppose he could be, but...' Mike trailed off with a shrug. 'I think he's like us.'John pursed his lips, tapping his cane on the floor as he shook his head. 'No, Mike, he is nothing like us.' Animal/Fantasy shapeshifter AU. Casefic.

Catlock 10

Sherlock and John uncover a Felisian trafficking ring. Sherlock uses himself as bait.

Merlock

Injured and sent home to England, John finds himself guarding a mysterious tank at Baskerville. Will he do his duty, or will he risk it all to help rescue the man imprisoned within the watery depths?

Original

"Sometimes the murders were simple: a knife in the dark and bloody secrets that soon found their way into the light. Those were the good days, but in a city where magic is both revered and maligned, death is rarely so straightforward.

Lucy Davis is an officer of the Blackguard, and it’s up to her to solve those crimes rooted in the extraordinary."

No Smoke Without Fire

Years ago, an eleven-year-old boy robbed him of his dream. Now the time has come to take his revenge.A long, abandoned Roy/Ed fic where Ed's alchemy is stolen.Counterpoint"I know it sounds stupid, but that's what the reports said. Tormented shrieks coming from one of the country estates." 

A simple investigation into the bizarre leads to fatal consequences, or so it seems.. (Ed's dead but not really.) RoyxEd. 43k already written and posted before abandonment)

Untouchable

"A dark haired young man, no older than twenty, had his paramour pressed against the wall. One hand cupped his lover’s chin, holding them close for a deep kiss while the other gripped their hip tight. Not womanly hips, Roy realised with a smile. The shorter of the two was lean and masculine, a body used to working and – from the look of things – playing hard. Their face was obscured by a fall of pale hair turned silver by the moonlight. Dark clothes blended with the night, and the skin of their left arm and shoulder glowed, sheathing hard, firm muscles."

A witnessed moment between two lovers changes the way Roy looks at Ed, and the subtle attraction that he has ignored for so long blooms into something more. Unfortunately, there is more to Ed's current lover than meets the eye. Can Roy help Ed free himself from the clutches of a dangerous partner, or will they both end up facing dire consequences? (Roy's POV)

Where The Heart Is 

'There was an attack. Raiders. There was no warning of their coming.' Gandalf sighs, and it is a broken sound of someone who has failed in their duty of care.  The raiders took everything they could carry, and burned everything they could not. Many of the fallen were impossible to recognise.' Gandalf leans on his staff, and the wizard looks more tired than the King has ever seen him. He swallows, and Thorin wants to put his hands over his ears, because he knows, sick and certain now, why Bilbo's letters had stopped.'Bilbo is not among those who live.'

(Bilbo's presumed dead, but has actually been taken by raiders. Thorin must rebuild his kingdom with a broken heart, while Bilbo fights his way across the wild north, broken and bleeding, to make his way back to the mountain that has become his home. With bonus hobbits re-homing in Erebor. A fair bit written. Not yet posted)

Erebor Never Fell AU

Bilbo Baggins and his mother leave the Shire after his father's death, as Belladonna has little left to live for but adventure. Unfortunately, she falls afoul of a cruel prince, a man who is used to taking what he wants. In the ensuing struggle, both she and the prince lose their lives, and it is Bilbo who wielded the blade which avenged his mother.

Taken prisoner and accused of murder, his sentence is to be the king’s food-taster. His eyes are bound, as he is unfit to look upon the Men who imprison him, and every day he is dosed with poison and every evening given enough antidote to keep him alive.Such is his existence, until the day his Master takes him to Erebor as part of his retinue, and he discovers the promise of a future among the dwarves who live there. Especially the eldest dwarven prince, Thorin Oakenshield

(Erebor never fell AU with political intrigue, and Bilbo Baggins finding friends when he thought there was no one left in the world who cared for him at all.)

Quarantine Hobbit Fic

Inspired by the prompt of quarantine. Erebor is saved from the dragon and beginning to rebuild, but Thorin, newly healed from the injuries of the battle, suddenly takes ill.The sickness is a dwarf's worst fear: highly contagious and always fatal. Thorin locks himself away to die a slow death, alone. Or he would, if not for the persistence of a certain hobbit.Bilbo breaks into the royal chambers, effectively locking himself away with Thorin. 

Except as the disease progresses, he begins to think it looks rather familiar. In fact, it's a common childhood illness, one hobbits have been able to cure for years.

Plenty of Bilbo and Thorin hurt/comfort and a happy ending. (Of course)

Untitled Merlin Fic

Friends make all the difference. What if the knights of the round table found their way to Camelot before Arthur became king? What difference would that make to Arthur, to Merlin, and to their destiny? (25k written, unpublished. In my head this is basically entitled *~shenanigans, love and a golden age~*

Sorcerer's Bane 

For Emily's prompt, "Pillow", which basically ate my brain. Arthur gave Merlin his cloak thinking only of the warmth it would offer in a snowstorm. He never thought his manservant may be mistaken for him and snatched by bandits. Nor did he expect his dashing rescue of Merlin to turn his world so utterly on his head.Because the bandits hadn't kidnapped a prince. They'd snatched a sorcerer, and now captivity is the least of anyone's problems. (Magic reveal: Merlin being simultaneously bad ass and suffering and Arthur being conflicted but caring. ABout 25 k written so far)

#Fic Ideas #Merlin #Sherlock #Fullmetal Alchemist #The Hobbit

[nazyalenskyism]

Let’s Get Married 2

Let’s Get Married Part 2 (I've Been So Far Gone Lately)

Summary:  Zoya and Nikolai get ready for a party while reflecting on the past.

Ao3: Let's Get Married Part 2

1 Year later…

“Have you seen my bowtie?”

“It’s on the bed.”

“Thank you!” Nikolai’s blonde head peeked into the bathroom where Zoya was applying the finishing touches to her makeup for the night, the skilled strokes of her red eyeliner matching her off-the-shoulder gown. “You look fiery,” he commented, grinning when she threw him a glare, “I’m just being honest.”

“You and honesty have never coexisted.”

“Actually, we were married for a while, but you know how the story goes. We both realized we wanted different things in life, and alas, we had to go our separate ways.”

Zoya shook her head, “with the way you’re joking around it seems like you’re not nervous anymore.”

“Please,” Nikolai said, leaning against the door jamb, “I’m considering commandeering Vasily’s private jet and whisking you away to the beach instead of going to the party.”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to that, I look amazing in a swimsuit, but we both know you can’t run away from this.”

“Is there anything you don’t look amazing in?” Zoya knew that he was looser with his compliments because his mind was focused on the plan for tonight, but that didn’t stop her from rolling her eyes at him anyways. “Besides, we both know I’d never actually do it, but it is fun to dream sometimes, I suppose.”

“Is it?”

“What, is the concept of possessing an active imagination too frivolous for your sensible self?”

“Ha ha,” Zoya replied dryly, “why dream about the impossible? It just leads to disappointment. Live in reality and life operates a lot more smoothly.”

“You know,” Nikolai said, studying her face, “being a pessimist instead of an optimist doesn’t make you right?” She didn’t like the way he was looking at her, like he could see something just below her surface. He was assessing her so intently, as if she’d shown him a new part of herself that he’d yet to solve, and now that he’d seen it he wouldn’t rest until he’d put together her pieces.

Zoya turned away from him, slipping on her rings, “I’m not a pessimist, I’m a realist.”

“That’s just what a pessimist who’s in denial says.” Nikolai pushed away from the doorway, sensing that she wasn’t in the mood to discuss the matter any further. “Do you want to help me?”

“No,” Zoya scoffed, taking a step towards him, “but I fear that I’ll end up helping you anyways. That’s always how it seems to be.”

“I thought the valiant Zoya Nazyalensky feared nothing?”

“You’re right, the only thing I truly fear is that one day you won’t run out of batteries and I’ll have to put up with your babbling for the rest of my life.”

“Why, Zoya! You think we’ll be friends for the rest of our lives?”

“Not friends,” she hissed, pointing the hairbrush at him threateningly, “you are like a nuisance that refuses to leave me alone. Like an orchid on a tree or a barnacle on a boat.”

“Did you just compare my likeness to that of a flower? You think I’m pretty, Nazyalensky?”

“Yeah you’re pretty. Pretty annoying.”

“Not your best,” Nikolai tsked, “but are you going to help me with this or not?” he held out his bow tie to her.

“Mr. I’m-flying-away-on-my-private-jet-to-my-private-island doesn’t have someone he can pay to do it for him?” she grumbled, snatching the fabric from him. Without her signature heels that elevated her to his height, the top of her head brushed his chin, her fingers tilting his jaw up so that she could better access his neck. There was nothing inherently intimate about what she was doing but Nikolai felt the need to break the tension he was feeling, or else he worried he might do something stupid.

“It’s not my private jet. It’s Vasily’s. Really, Zoya, if you want to be invited onto my stolen jet the least you could do is get the details right.”

“You’re awfully glib for a man who’s throat is an inch away from my eager fingers.” When he laughed in response to her fire, she snapped at him. “No laughing! I can’t get this perfect unless you’re still.”

“Fine,” he sighed, trying to distract himself from the overwhelming scent of wildflowers engulfing his senses.

“So, do you think Vasily is going to be there tonight?”

“Unfortunately, probably. Tamar did some digging and she thinks that he’s going to start cozying up to the board tonight.”

“It doesn’t matter if he is, you’ve been planning this for years, Nikolai. Vasily’s only now trying to take control of the company because your father is stepping down.”

“Being forced out, but yes, you’re right.”

“When am I not,” she scoffed, pulling back and admiring her handy work. “You already have them in your pocket, tonight is all about reminding them why they would be better off with you instead of Vasily.”

“It’s unrealistic to assume that my father and Vasily won’t mess up the evening, especially if they think I pose an actual threat to Vasily automatically getting the company.”

Zoya sighed, brushing past him to sit on her bed. He took this as a cue to flop down next to her, dread and adrenaline starting to pump through his veins. “Do you remember when you told me you were leaving the firm to join your father’s company?”

                                                             ***

That day had been about six months after Nikolai first invited Zoya to brunch with him. It had been pouring rain all day, and by the time lunch rolled around she was genuinely worried about where he was

He was never late to work and when she asked his receptionist, she said that he had nothing scheduled. She was halfway through punching his number into her phone when the door to her office opened without warning, and in strolled Nikolai. He’d slipped into the armchair at the corner of her office, completely quiet without so much as a greeting. She was too irritated with him to indulge in what was either a setup to get her to ask what was wrong or one of his rare displays of emotion.

After thirty minutes of staring mindlessly at her monitor without a word from Nikolai, Zoya snapped. She excelled in a lot of things but being patient was not one of them.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong or not?”

“Nothing’s wrong, I just like the view from your office.” She finally looked over at him, watching his fingers trace mindless patterns on the window glass with a frown.

“Cut the bullshit, Nikolai.”

His fingers began tapping against the glass now and his head fell back to look at the ceiling. Anything to avoid her. “I made a move.”

What was that supposed to mean? “Okay,” she said slowly, “and?”

“And you’re not going to be happy with me.”

“When am I ever happy with you?” Zoya joked, trying to lighten the mood, but it was his skill set, not hers and he just shook his head in reply.

“Hey,” she said, her voice firm but not harsh as she stepped in front of the glass, forcing him to look at her. “What is it?”

“I resigned from the firm.” His voice was quiet, “I told my father I was going to come work at Ravkan Industries. I start on Monday.”

Oh. “And?”

“And I’m leaving. Going to work with my brother and father. Leaving the office. Leaving…” He trailed off but she finished the sentence in her head, leaving you all. She’d known it was inevitable, he’d told her about his desire to save the company from the leadership of his family, and she’d spent months listening to how he aligned himself with board members so that he could one day win them over, as they’d gotten closer and closer as friends. The problem had always been that no amount of sweet talking and promising bright futures would matter if they didn’t believe him, and to get them to believe him, he needed to work amongst them and show them that he could deliver on his promises.

“Leaving us, is that what you're worried about? You know that Genya will come to the company as soon as you’re in charge, the twins will go with you, and David already works there.” When he didn’t say anything, Zoya tapped away at her keyboard, turning the monitor to face him. “Great. They’re hiring in the legal department.”

He finally spoke, “I can’t ask you to leave.”

“I don’t remember you asking me to. Anyways, I’m not leaving because of you,” Zoya hummed, her eyes still trained on the website. “They have surprisingly good benefits at Ravkan Industries, not to mention that it’s way closer to my apartment, and it pays better.”

“And you’re sure about this?”

Zoya hit a few keys, and turned towards him. “Are you sure about your choice?”

“Yes.” There was no doubt about it.

“So am I.”

“We’re really doing this.”

“I wasn’t aware there was a “we,” Lantsov.”

“Come on now. Once you get the job, our status as partners in crime will be solidified.”

“Partners in crime,” Zoya mused, “I don’t hate the sound of that. And what makes you so sure I’ll get the job?”

“You’re easily the best candidate they’ll meet. I’ll be surprised if they don’t offer you the job on the spot.”

She squinted at him, “you’re flattering me now? What do you want?”

Nikolai laughed, “I can’t have faith in you? Must everything I say have an ulterior motive?” Is that really what she thought of him, that every interaction was manipulative, looking to exploit?

Zoya hesitated, then nodded slowly, “thank you.”

“What for?”

“For having faith in me.” A look of mischievousness played over her features now, “I know I’m the best but it’s good to know you’re aware of it too.”

“Can’t have anyone but the best as the Chief Legal Officer of my company.”

“Chief Legal Officer Zoya Nazyalensky and Chief Executive Officer Nikolai Lantsov,” Zoya sang, “I can drink to that.”

“You sure you can stomach working with me for another few years?”

Zoya pulled a face, “don’t remind me or else I’ll have to cancel my interview.”

“Your interview?”

She turned the monitor towards him, “I submitted my resume and now they’re already booking me in for an interview slot. They want to see me on Monday,” she said, glancing over at him.

“So by Tuesday, we’ll be working together again?” Nikolai grinned.

“Well, I’ll be in the legal department and you’ll be wherever nepotism gets you.”

“At the top, doing Vasily’s work,” Nikolai nodded.

“At least you’ll have a nice office I can take over.”

And that’s how they spent the rest of the day, bickering over how they were going to spend their time at Ravkan Industries, Nikolai glad that his transition to this new chapter of his life was going to be with Zoya at his side, he couldn’t imagine it any other way.

                                                          ***

“And now we’re stepping into another chapter of our lives,” Nikolai mused, gazing up at Zoya’s exquisite features.

She wrinkled her nose at him, “stop being so sentimental.”

“You started it!”

“Let’s go,” she grabbed his hands and pulled him off the bed. “Maybe if you’re lucky, I’ll find you a new lover so you can stop dragging me to these functions instead.”

“I thought you loved these parties,” Nikolai teased, knowing full well that she detested them.

“You’re the only reason I go.”

“Thank you.” He enjoyed her presence more than she would ever know.

“Stop it,” Zoya huffed, rolling her eyes at him, “you’ve said that a thousand times today.”

“I just want to make sure you remember,” Nikolai smiled, following her out the door of her apartment, taking a quick second to brush his fingers over the secret nestled away in his chest pocket. Another chapter of their lives, indeed.

#my writings #zoyalai fic #let's get married

[shot-tothestars]

Before you go.

Guess who just wrote a fic??? Me!!! Yup it took me 3 days to finish a 1168 words one-shot but welp...I’m not good with angst :’) (but I’m proud of this so :3) The title is just because this song by Lewis Capaldi inspired me a lot (listening to it in my dad’s car and imagining all the angsty scenes) 

ALSO A FRICKING HUGE THANKS TO @anabethtessahermione FOR BETA READING THIS, YOU HAVE MY HEART AND ETERNAL GRATITUDE <3<3<3<3

Hope you like it!!!

Summary:"He wishes he had noticed sooner. For the first time, he encounters a problem he can't solve. It's Ray after all."

Fandom: The Promised Neverland/ Yakusoku no Neverland

Pairing: (you could say) Norman x Ray 

Type: Angst, canon divergence

Arc: Paradise Hideout arc!/ King of paradise arc!

Warnings: Mention of suicide and mild spoilers (if you haven’t read the manga this won’t make sense to you XD)

Who would have said the sweet Astrid would write angst? To be honest... this my sec fic of this two, the other is in my notebook, is fluff and it would never see the light of tumblr :)

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"So, where is he?"

Her eyes darken and he really doesn't want to listen to what his brain is screaming at him.

"Norman I..."

Tears appear on her green eyes.

. . .

His eyes open up. The first thing he distinguishes is a white ceiling. He notices that his body is in a resting position (almost as if he had just woken up) and decides to stay like that for a few minutes, trying to avoid the dizziness that he would surely have had otherwise. Instead, Norman decides to take a look at his surroundings by moving his head gently and the couple of beds beside him, the mahogany wood flooring,and the infantile drawings that are hanging on the milky white walls set all the alarms on his brain because, without knowing how, he's back at that place that still gives him nightmares almost two years later.

How is he back at Grace Field House?

Quickly, his brain gets out of the shock and starts reasoning as usual. He gets to the conclusion that he must be dreaming (at least until the place starts to turn into the night terrors he is accustomed to). He sits down,grateful that he isn't experiencing any whirling sensation, and since he knows that none of what he is seeing is actually real, decides to let go a bit of his nerves, still paying attention to everything around him but with a more curious than afraid instinct. He starts to wander through the place. He can't say he hates it here, the house brings him fond moments that he refuses to see as lies. Still, he can no longer call it a home (even though he wishes he could). Staring at the old childish drawings that make him smile melancholic, the perfect made up beds that, in some bizarre way, he had missed and the "nut-brown" door, he sighs with a mixture of comfort and sadness, not knowing why he feels this way, and then decides to explore some more, maybe if this was those "lucid dreams" mama once told him about he could stop pretending for a bit (it had been so long since the last time he had the possibility to do something so carefree).

He quickly finds himself in front of the library's door he has spent so many afternoons in. He can't say he was expecting something when he opened the door and that figure was so connected to the place that the few minutes he took to approach him, take a seat next to him and give a quick look at what the boy was reading were passed without him noticing what was actually happening.

The moment his brain finally realized the situation, he almost choked on his own breath and instinctively got a few inches away, his fight or flight reflexes as active as ever.

The other gave a little chuckle and looked at him, amused.

"Why so scared? Have you seen a ghost?" His eyes sparkled charmly "Or was it just your reflex? To be honest, I thought it was impossible for you to get paler, Nor-"

He can feel hot tears running through his face, he's probably ruining the other's shirt and the whole stoic facade he has been working so hard to perfect doesn't really matter anymore.

Ray's alive here and that's all that matters.

"Don't be stupid" He gives little rubs at his back, awkward to comfort but trying his best. "You know the truth"

"I don't really care" he buries his face in the other's shoulder "let me be like this for a bit more, please"

He hears a little hum as response, a hand patting his head while the gentle strokes in his back continue.

Feeling protected was something he had missed for so long without knowing. His heart wrenches, his mind keeps trying to make him accept the truth, but he doesn't want it right now. Norman feels tired, has been feeling that way for what seemed like an eternity (even though it had just been two years) Asking himself questions he couldn't really answer, taking a role no twelve year old should, doing things that he could say his body was in a better condition than his soul. Being able to finally be comforted was, to say the least, nice.

"Why did you do that?"

"Do what exactly?"

"You know what I'm talking about, idiot"

"And I'm pretty sure you still don't want to admit the answer, idiot"

His heart gets heavier with that sentence.

He remembers discovering Ray's secret place, where he had hidden all he would need for his plan to work out. At a quick glance and with the knowledge he had, it was easy to figure out what the boy had been planning for so long. He remembers how his own lips let a soft smile, he wouldn't let him die, that was for sure, if the dumbass wanted to die, he would make sure to show him a million reasons to live, each for whatever reason Ray had for desiring to end with his life.

He, for the first time, had encountered a problem he couldn't solve. It was Ray after all.

"Was there something I could have said to change your mind?"

"What kind of question is that?"

"If only I had-"

He feels the hug being broken and a hot sensation in his cheek. Those dark green eyes covered by tears as well.

"Stop right there, I thought you were a genius, Norman" He can't look at him anymore, his voice hurts too much already. "Not some stupid with a it-was-my-fault complex, don't you dare to think it was or else..."

"You were hurting and I couldn't do anything!" His throat hurts, and his eyes are swollen but he feels strong enough. "I can't even tell for how long you had been like that and I was supposed to be your best friend!"

He can't control anything, not even his body. He feels so useless, what type of friend he was? How could he be called a genius if he couldn't even discern how much Ray hated himself, to the point of...

"That's because you two make it all better" The tone sounds so soft and broken he is forced to look at his face. He is smiling. "All the moments I had with you and Emma were the best in my poor excuse of a life."

He's about to open his mouth, but decides to keep it shut instead. There is a soft smile on his lips even though tears keep running down. He wanted to ask more questions, he wanted to make him realize how wrong he was for wanting to go so soon, he wanted so many things.

"It's already too late" He's opening the library's door. "It was nice to see you again, Norman. Tell the other idiot it wasn't her fault either. She's starting to annoy my "Eternal rest" and I want to enjoy it, you know"

The room starts to fade out.

"I'm looking forward to meet you two again."

...

"I couldn't Norman I-" She starts sobbing uncontrollably and he waits for the worst. "He's gone."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

If you read this let me tell you you are my hero <3, I would give you a cookie but I don’t have my phone so :’( anyways, THANKS FOR READING!!! <3<3

#tpn spoilers #tpn fanfiction #tpn norman #tpn ray #tpn chapter 119 #canon divergence #warning: death #major character death #angst #norray #you could say is norray XD #oreo milkshake #fanfic #fanfiction #the promised neverland #Yakusoku no Neverland #yakusoku no nebārando #fics #fic #fan fic writing #writing #thanks for reading #tpn #ynn #tpn manga #ynn manga #tpn manga spoilers #ray 81194 #81194 #norman 22194

[purplerose244]

Irrational - Chapter 7: Our world

There it is, the final chapter of my collection for the @spacecampweek!

It was really fun working on these prompts and I love writing about my math dorks! Thank you all for reading and for all the people who made material for this week, your work is amazing!! 

For this free day the fic is inspired by the FaeAU created by @akozuheiwa! 🥰 Seamus and Steve are human princes and brothers, Aja and Krel are also loyalty but fae, the two races are at war at each other while love blossoms in between 💕💕 Jim is a chef assistant and Douxie is a human with magic that was taken in by the fae when he was abandoned as a child.

Here’s ako’s beautiful fanart about it! 😍😍 This is a Space Camp of course, with Aja/Jim/Steve along with it! It got pretty long... I had fun! 😂

Enjoy!! 💙💙💙

Summary: Humans and fae had been at war since forever, they hated each other, it was a fact. Yet his love, their love alone made reality extremely questionable, to the point Seamus didn't feel guilty about his choice anymore. He wasn't going to be miserable for eternity. Today, he was going to get his own happiness.

Read it on the AO3

His lungs were on fire, he had never run this much in his entire life. The forest seemed to be getting bigger around him, it widened his horizon, it blocked his feet from proceeding. It seemed to be doing everything in order to prevent him to go forward. His boots were dripping with dirt, the adherence was far beyond compromised at this point, it was a miracle that he hadn’t slipped a single time. Powerful voices were behind his back, getting further and further away. Swords meeting, shouts of war, everything turning into a mess of fire and hate because of him.

Only because his heart wanted to believe in this, in him, in them. Seamus would have been a liar if he had said the thought that this was a mistake hadn’t crossed his mind. Despite everything, despite honor and regret and all in between, there was only a desire of piece into his mind.

That possibility of joy resided only across that border.

Gosh, he had been there a million times now, but the trip had never felt longer. It stretched to infinity into his mind, between all that he was leaving behind and all the people he was never going to see again. He couldn’t shake away Steve’s strained smile for a single moment, as he gestured him to move forward while he dealt with their father’s guards. His own brother had given him the chance to escape, despite all the consequences coming along with it. This kingdom was ruled by a merciless ruler, that knew of power and greatness but not of people and kindness. The two of them had been born into this place, taught to always prioritize the bigger picture as in the outcome was always going to make up for the losses. It had occurred time later, too much time later perhaps, that an uncaring soul made sacrifices so much easier.

This was the proof. The fact that prince Seamus was being chased by the same soldiers that for years had been by his side, providing his protection and safety for his empire to come, showed just the level of hypocrisy of this world, where the moment someone was to do differently it was like calling upon himself a death wish.

His boot caught a massive root, the blonde tripped over mud, feeling it between his fingers. He gritted his teeth, struggling to get up, almost slipping again then proceeding.

Faster, faster, the border was still far.

He needed to get there. He needed to get to him, he-

His own scream was faster than the pain. His body couldn’t take it, after a life freed from physical pain and suffering. He was weak. His breath caught up when he found himself face into the ground again, his leg pulsing like mad. Steps were getting closer, fast and agile, and it filled his heart with dread. Seamus looked, up, recognizing immediately crest of the mole of this kingdom, granted only to the royal soldiers of the guard. It hurt madly that it belonged to a friend.

“L-Logan…” The archer narrowed his eyes, another arrow prepared. Despite the look of a warrior, his forehead was dripping with sweat. He wasn’t completely gone yet, Seamus had to believe that. “P-please, don’t do this to me! You know what he will do to me!”

Logan pressed his lips together, his hold clenching around his weapon.

“You called this upon yourself, you know that.”

“You don’t understand!”

“You’re right, I don’t. Because you were supposed to become king after him and make things better.” His voice was overflowing with bitterness. “You were supposed to solve everything!”

“I thought so too, then I realized it… I won’t be the one to make the difference.”

“Why are you saying this??” Tears were born on him, as they had been held back until now. “We used to dream about that, thinking that as soon as you were to take the throne, everything was going to turn out for the better! You are older than Steve, it was the natural course! You were going to help the kingdom, you were going to help me and my mother! But that was a lie, wasn’t it??” He closed his eyes, drops falling through his cheeks. “The king told me about your escape, how you are going to give out info to save your own skin so the fae will have mercy on your soul! You’ve gone too far, and as a soldier and a friend… I have to stop you.”

Seamus gritted his teeth, slowly lowering his eyes onto the wound. The arrow hadn’t gone deep, it had most likely struck a sensible point. Logan had been practicing his aim for years, stating that he could do a lot even when no one was looking, even when no one cared. If someone else had given him the entire speech his father had been poisoning the realm with, the blonde would have not cared.

This was not the case, so he grabbed the arrow and extracted before he could think of not doing it, letting out a strangled noise. The archer’s eyes widened. Seamus glared.

“What info would I give to the fae? That we are at war with each other? They know.” It hurt madly, but not as much as realizing that his friend had been turned against him because of his dad. Again. “They have their own problems, the only thing we have in common seems to be the awful monarchy currently in control, and you are the proof. At least I know Steve is still as stubborn as ever and has people that cares about him, enough not to let him make mistakes.”

The archer kept staring at him, as if he didn’t know him anymore, as they had been knowing each other of years without actually knowing a thing. Maybe that was true.

“You… you’re lying. You’re a prince, you hold informatio-”

“If I was any other person they would kill me at sight, you idiot!” His ankle was bleeding, he pressed his arm against it. Seeing his immaculate white sleeve turning red made him feel sick, and oddly relieved as well. “I am not going directly to them, I am not that stupid! I have no fighting experience, I am no diplomat, how would I even face them to be a snitch anyway? I am not betraying, I am running away!” Oh. Wow. He had never felt this good at screaming before. He was really going for it, he was escaping this cursed world.

Logan was agape, staring at him like he had passed away in front of him. His hands were trembling, the weapon was lowered slowly. A frown arrived, a welcomed one, because it always meant that he was thinking. At last, his friend was actually thinking.

“… that’s not what your father said.” Ah, he stopped calling him king. Good sign.

“You’re surprised that he can lie?” Seamus sighed, gritting his teeth at the burning of the wound. “I’m going to a secret place, protected by pixies. It is still at the board, but I will not betray.”

“But… why? Why are you running away?” He got closer to him, kneeling, taking out a cloth of some sort. He wrapped it around his wound, something he probably had experience with Steve. “I know that he’s very hard on you, in a way that wouldn’t be allowed if he wasn’t this powerful, but you’ve always put up with it. No matter how much it hurt.” He wasn’t that lost then. “Perhaps not in the name of your future, but you still kept yourself together for years. Why is it different now?” This, this was the perfect question.

With his pulsing leg, with his father’s guards on his traces to bring him back to that prison, with one of his oldest friend questioning him, Seamus smiled.

“I didn’t think there was a better choice. Something better… someone better.”

The forest was shaken by a blow of wind. Logan was staring at him in disbelief. For a moment, it almost felt like they were back in the gardens of the castle, laying down, blabbering about secrets and the future. The smile that appeared onto his friend was just like back then.

“Smart choice, as expected.” He put a hand over his bandaged wound. “… I’m sorry.”

Perhaps this world hadn’t taken away everything from him yet.

Then, when that minuscule moment of silence cleared up between them, the gallop of a horse grew steadily close. Seamus’ blood turned cold. The heavy, intimidating march of that mount, he would have recognized it everywhere. Bred for battle… no, bred in order to instill fear into the opponent, the realization that there was nowhere to run. The end had been determined the moment that march had stopped. Seamus had always been on the other side of that sword, assisting by his father’s side terrorized out of his mind but comforted by his own loyalty to the winning kingdom. How many years he had stalled this moment, knowing that he was only human and could only take this much? It was such a meaningless thought right now, as the horse finished his march right there.

His father got off, the thud reverberated. He was in full armor, that fancy suit as to appear mightier and better than anyone else. Those piercing blue eyes that Seamus had inherited were deadly and merciless, even more than usual, as they fell onto his offspring.

An exasperated sight left his throat.

“I wish I could say I am surprised by your behavior, son. Alas, I knew you were not meant for greatness, not you nor your brother. I cannot believe my own blood is such a disappointment!” He unsheathed the sword in a lazy gesture, almost as he didn’t have time to deal with this mess. With him. Like that was new. “Prince Seamus, you have been declared to be a traitor for the realm of Arcadia. You will be sentenced tomorrow at dawn. Guard Logan, bring him here.”

“No.”

Wow, if Seamus hadn’t been this scared for his life, he would have laughed out loud at his father’s shocked expression. Someone finally denying him something to his face, priceless.

“What?” And dangerous, so very dangerous. The archer glared.

“You lied to me, you told me the prince was a traitor but he did nothing of the sort! This was all in order to get rid of him, was it not??” He sounded so angry, furious: the carefree soldier that liked to flirt with the staff of the castle just to make them smile was unrecognizable right now. His father wasn’t moving. It felt even more terrifying. “I will not turn against him again, my loyalty resides in him and his brother. Consider me a traitor instead, ‘your highness’, because if you attack Seamus then I am your enemy.” He immediately took one of his arrows, pointing it.

Seamus couldn’t look away. Nothing but pride was filling his heart, hope and joy at seeing that there were more loyal people than he thought. Yet this wasn’t how it was supposed to go, he was the one risking everything, he and Steve for what they wanted. Not him, not their friend.

The king huffed, raising his sword.

“I will not judge such a will to die. Prepare yourself!”

“I always am. Stay behind him, Seamus.” He knew he couldn’t win at all, but he was there to do everything in order to help him out. He had never been more grateful for it. “Seamus, what are you…?” For this exact reason, he couldn’t do anything else.

The blonde smiled at him, a hand on his shoulder, focusing on the image of the castle.

“Thank you… and sorry.” Logan didn’t have time to scream before he disappeared.

Right after that, in the usual blue smoke that always came with his spells, Seamus found himself with his hands in the mud for the third time. This was bad, the teleportation had been more draining than he had thought. He was insanely proud of actually performing it right, hoping only that Logan was going to be rightfully teleported into the castle and not on a tree or something. He had never had this much control over his powers, Douxie’s lessons had definitely helped. Knowing his own value, his goal, and the people he really cared about and cared about him back was a huge motivation as well.

Once again, seeing his father this baffled, out of control, would have been his biggest satisfaction if only he wasn’t there to fight for his life and for his happiness. When the mystical smoke cleared up, an expression of pure horror contorted his grumpy face.

“You dare use magic?! You freak! How dare you bring such shame to our family! I will not associate with one of your kind, not now, not ever! You’re a disgrace!!”

Seamus actually snorted, stretching his arms. He had a bit energy left. It was going to have to do.

“You do know I’m not five anymore, right? I stopped caring about your approval ages ago.”

“You dare try to act tough in my presence?”

“I don’t have to show you anything. You know, I used to think my powers were actually something to be ashamed of, something that was going to get me killed.” He closed his eyes for a moment. The forest was chanting in a low tune, it was nothing like the side where the fae resided. There everything was overflowing with energy and life. “It turned out, keeping my real self hidden, that was what was really killing me, so slowly I didn’t even realize it.” He looked up, his father was still holding the sword in that mighty way that was only meant as a show. What a fool, Seamus knew that he had never struck a foe in his entire life. He was a commander, he was of big built and that helped, but he was no warrior. Just like himself. “So today… today I come to life, at last.”

He must had taken a bit of his brother’s love for dramatic speeches, he was the one who always did that whenever he had to train. It was also a great way to gain some time, while magic operated by tying around his father’s boots. It was petty, it was extremely childish, and Steve would have been so proud of him… hoping he was going to come out of this unscathed.

His father roared at him, trying to charge. With that, he was falling, making this the highlight of Seamus’ life. The might rock that was this man, the highest place he had aspired to be at for the longest time, was falling down into the mud.

The blonde turned away right in that moment, running, forcing his bad leg.

“SEAMUS!!!” His father’s thundering voice echoed through the entire forest.

When he was a child, his mother used to read him stories. It was around the time where Seamus had chosen knowledge while Steve had picked up a sword, drastically changing how their father wanted them to be raised as. Their education had become different, the time spent together as well, almost as they belonged to two different worlds. Their mother had been the reason why they had never drifted apart. Her books were about heroes, knights, princes and princesses, legends and history all mixed together until they disappeared. The most beautiful ones where the one with long descriptions, because his mother had the loveliest voice, calm and peaceful, that had the power to materialize the place into his mind and into his heart.

Perhaps before jumping into this risky decision Seamus would have liked to ask her, if she was the reason why he had never been like other humans, why he could feel magic while others couldn’t. Despite that doubt forever into his mind, all he could think right now was how much he wanted to tell her about this freedom, this feeling of determination. How running wildly like this felt like he was part of those stories, part of his own at last.

As the forest opened up a little more around him, and he pushed his leg to the limit while it was screaming in agony, he noticed the little details. The edges of the leaves, the shades onto the trunks, the blades of grass, they were all turning slightly blue. The feeling around was changing too.

“When the forest will start to turn into the color of the sky, you will know you are close.”

“If you have no ill intent as I know, the Glade will let you in.”

“We will meet there so please, make it out alive. Please.”

Seamus smiled, his eyes pinching. He could make it. He was going to make it.

Then it came, again the devastating galloping behind his back. His body froze, for two seconds, then he was turning around with his hands out. He didn’t have enough magic to fully defend himself now, he had started to learn new tricks quite late according to Douxie. He wanted to learn more, he was going to learn a lot more. He forced his concentration and his hands caught fire. It was flickering, he was gritting his teeth like mad to keep it lightened. As soon as the face of the animal appeared, running like mad towards him, he threw both hits towards its legs. The house neighed painfully, arching its back and then falling onto the ground.

His father had his hand raised before that, a moment before he was to fall from the horse. Seamus screamed again, whimpering with anger as he caught sight of the dagger into his side. It had his crest on it, carved along the handle, almost as a reminder that he was never going to forget that pain, this feeling of inferiority coming from his own family. His frustration wanted to take it out, his rationality blocked him right on time.

He held himself up, as his father was doing the same with eyes bloodshot.

“You will not escape me, you hear me?? You are a freak, a dark spot on my family’s honor, and I will not let you leave for anyone else to know!!” He was holding the sword like he wanted to beat him up with it, he really had never followed a proper formation. He wanted to make others fear him, but his superiority made him feel like he was beyond peasants’ training.

Seamus wasn’t surprised. He was frustrated, mad, because he was so close and he wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. He couldn’t give up now, no, never.

He took the deepest breath. Nature was still by his side. He smiled.

“Scared than I might actually be a threat?”

“I knew you were a mistake, I knew you were nothing but a nuisance!”

“Oh spare me that, you never needed a reason to despise me, it had always come awfully naturally to you! At least I didn’t go through the same punishments Steve had during his own training, something you never even went through yourself.” He was most likely worsening his situation, but he didn’t care anymore. He had lived a life being as careful as possible trying not to anger him, because he thought that there was never going to be anything worse than not have his approval. It turned out there never was in the first place. “You want to kill me? Try. I will not go down easy.”

His father was breathing heavily, his nostrils were wide and fuming. His entire face was red, his sword was shaking into his sword out of madness alone. He was the embodiment of his worst nightmares from when he was a kid. Now, all his thoughts were on those beautiful blue eyes popping out of the dark, his arrogant laugh from whenever he was right.

Seamus raised his hand. No branch came up. He fought back the tears because he didn’t want this, he wasn’t going to end it like this. He had never wanted something this badly before.

The king started to march towards him. Every step felt like the tick of a clock.

This wasn’t the end.

This couldn’t be the end.

“You are not getting out of his forest alive. You are not strong enough to defeat me.” He was right, but Seamus was never going to admit it. He tightened his fists, hoping, praying that he could do something. The familiar feeling of hopelessness was starting to burn from his stomach. “I will erase you, just like I will erase every single scam that contaminates this realm! And as soon as it will be done, we will finally take over the rest of the kingdom from those dirty fae!!” This man was the real illness, the poison that was making the entire realm sick to its roots. He wished he didn’t care only to hope he was going to implode with his own sick ideals, but that wasn’t reality. He was going to bring everything with him. Seamus couldn’t stop him. “I have been waiting my entire life for it, and if you think you can stop me then- What is this?!?”

Oh. Would you look at that.

The prince wished that, at this critical moment, he was to acquire some superior magical powers in order to defeat this man once and for all. It would have definitely made up for all of his frustration, plus telling this tale would have been nicer. Alas, this was his story but not a legend, it would have not been fair, especially for such an inexperienced wizard like him. Then again, he didn’t have to be the main hero of the situation. He could take being a supporting character.

One that knew extremely well about that instrument that was playing in the air, carved from the fallen horn of a dragon and enchanted by Douxie himself, so that whenever a certain brother of his was in need of help it was going to be heard from everyone, everywhere. That meant that he was okay. That meant that Logan was okay and had warned him just in time.

Seamus immediately grinned, feeling a huge weight falling down, while the king was looking around, even more fuming and even more confused.

“You know, I might not be able to stop you, so why don’t you take someone your own size? Or maybe…” Her timing was impeccable as always. The Queen-in-waiting of the fae arrived diving in between the crowns of the trees and struck her hit right as he was talking, disarming the clueless human. “… way stronger?” Her blonde hair was flowing into the wind, her blue armor was so shining it reflected nature itself. The king backed away, eyes falling onto the sword now on the ground, then onto his new opponent.

Aja landed in front of the prince, her rapier sharp and ready, her eyes completely focused.

“If that is the request, you have found your foe, your highness.” She looked definitely pissed, which was to be expected since Steve had only ever used the horn in dead or alive situations. Her intentions were probably to finish with him and move forward to her beloveds. “Although do not be mistaken, this is not a fight you are able to win. Perhaps you untrained and arrogant human might be able to take on a wizard while hurt and lacking energy to defend himself,” No filter, like everyone in her family. “But I have trained since I have memory in order to protect those I care about. My strength, my motivation, my ability, you are nothing in comparison.” Her determination was shining through. It made every single word count.

The king stumbled onto the ground to retrieve his sword, but from his eyes it was clear that he also knew what was going to happen to him. As soon as he was up, he ran towards his horse, still down lowly lamenting, and grabbed something from his bag.

Another horn. His face contorted into a horrific smile.

“You think you are the only one that can call help?? I will not lose to a lowlife like a fae, not with an army by my side!” He blew in, Seamus held his breath… nothing came out. “What-”

“You found my present, your majesty!” Perhaps he didn’t have as much of a joyful reaction as Aja at hearing that voice, but it definitely made him smile. “Since you’ve been throwing away all my freshly made bread for years because it’s hard or something, I thought that maybe I could throw away all my sourdough in the first place. I hope you’re proud.” Especially since, as soon as the chef assistant Jim appeared from the woods, he was bringing along his brother, while holding an arm around his neck for support. “The useless stick together I guess?”

Steve was red from laughing, shaking his head.

“This was so petty, I taught you well!” He kissed him on the cheek, making him blush very vividly, then he turned to their father. “Can’t call your friends for dinner? Too bad, dad!”

He was okay. He was snappy, cocky, and arrogant. His brother was okay.

It took maybe two seconds for Aja to let out a joyful scream, take flight and immediately launch herself over the two, managing to hug them without tackling them. Steve snickered even louder without moving, his arm wasn’t probably at its best right now. Jim grinned widely, placing his free hand over her back, whispering something that made her giggle even more. Seamus didn’t dare to move, not to tempt his bad leg, not to ruin a moment that was definitely not his. As soon as he crossed his brother’s brown eyes and got the biggest smile, he knew that it was fine. The both of them, they were going to be fine.

The king was roaring like an animal, pushing his fingers inside the horn to free it from the sticky substance. He backed away, staring with disgust at the three of them. Aja was immediately in front of her beloveds, rapier out, daring him with the eyes.

“You are not going to win, human king. Surrender if you may.”

“Never! My guards will arrive anyway, it is only a matter of time!”

“They’ll find a sad old man on his own butt after being beaten up, then.” Steve snickered, turning to Seamus. “What are you waiting for, an invitation? Go get him, come on!”

Ah, that was why it hadn’t felt real before, their goodbye at the castle.

“Steve…”

“I’m not kidding Seam, come on.” Despite his conditions he extracted his sword, pointing it at his own dad while Jim was relentlessly supporting his weight. “I found my own happiness, all the good stuff mom always told us about. Time for you to do the same.” They had talked about this, that they could had gone together, as brothers. But unlike Seamus, Steve had more to hold on to, he had Jim and his life, and Aja was ready to fight alongside him.

He really found a nice place to be in. Seamus nodded, looking at the fae and the assistant chef.

“Look after him. He can be a lot.” A murmured ‘Look who’s talking’ made him laugh. Jim nodded vividly, keeping himself up like an actual warrior.

“He’s worth all of it. Have a good life, my prince.

“Of course, until the very end.” Aja smiled at him. “And you… make him happy.”

That was a promise. Seamus started to run right there, trying to make as much distance as he could from himself and that place. One last peak made him see his father one last time, red and fuming like a baby, the armor dirty and covered in dirt and mud, with his fingers covered in sourdough. This wasn’t an honorable man, this was barely a man to begin with. His entire mind was contorted and was probably never going to come back to his senses. The prince didn’t care anymore, and it was the best he had ever felt in his entire life.

The forest widened some more in front of him, this time he knew he wasn’t far. When a different horn was played in the air his breath hitched, that prank was of course only gonna get them so far. He knew they were going to do it though. Aja wanted to unify their kingdoms, she wanted to do what Seamus’ parents and her own had never been able to. It was going to take a lot of time, but if anyone had the patience and the enthusiasm, it was her.

She was the hero of the story. He was there to accomplish his own victory.

One of his legs gave up on him. Fourth time today, he was beyond annoyed. His side wasn’t collaborating, the dagger was still there. Seamus bit his lip, looking at his hand. It was going to hurt, but he needed to keep going. He really hoped he could do this much.

He focused all he had left inside over the palm, frustration, anger, despair, and soon it started to emit heat. Nowhere near his usual flames, but it was enough. He took a deep breath, held onto the handle of the dagger and pulled it out. He screamed. Then he lifted his shirt and put his boiling hand over the wound. He screamed again, louder, forcing his palm to stay where he was. Tears streamed through his cheeks. The magic left him even more tired, the pain was shocking him awake. It lasted nothing and forever. He looked down. It stopped bleeding. It was most likely going to scar, but he didn’t care. As long as he was alive.

It took even too much time to get up again. He couldn’t be sure that there weren’t any guards on their own chasing after him. He picked up the pace, he was doing better. It still hurt like mad, and he was exhausted, but he wasn’t going to pass out in a place like this, not right now. The land was getting even bluer around him, the leaves, the branches, even the ground he was stepping onto. The air was fresh but not cold, comfortably cool over his skin.

Then he noticed it, because it was like a mirror in the middle of the woods. It traced the celestial vegetation all around, and the image of a human who looked like he had been to war. Seamus swallowed, getting closer, feeling fresh air coming from it somehow.

He raised his hand, expecting a portal.

It was a wall.

His eyes widened. He pressed some more, feeling resistance, like it was a legit mirror, and he was stupidly think there was something on the other side.

“No… no, please!” He put both hands, pushing forward. “I have to get in, please!!” He felt so weak, so weak and pathetic. He could see it all. His smile, his eyes. His sharpness, his way of being, him existing. Everything was so close and it wasn’t fair. “Open! Open for me! I command you!!” His voice seemed to bound against the surface. His reflection started to cry. His cheeks felt wet. “Please… please, I have to be there…” He let his tired body lean against the surface, it wasn’t flat, but it was there. “I have to… I want to…” He had been fought for so long against his own father and now… he didn’t care. For revenge, his own pride hurt, how he could had said to him the worst ever conceived. He didn’t care. He just needed to go. “… I need to see him.”

It felt like a push towards the right direction. In reality, the resistance had disappeared, and he had fallen forward. Somehow his very trembling legs had managed to save him from just another ridiculous fall today, although he felt absolutely no strength inside of them. It was like oscillating onto two sticks. He was up by will, a pinch of pain, and a lot of despair that had almost disappeared the moment he had opened his eyes.

When he did, it was bright. There was a completely different forest in front of him, of a green so bright it looked like a sun. He could smell lots of flowers, the air was almost unnaturally fresh, the ground he was on was so tender it was almost pillowy.

He stepped forward. A purple flower moved, a pink one and an orange one as well. Perhaps it should had occurred him that those didn’t fly, but he was at his limit.

“Ah, human! How did he get in??”

“No Mary, look! It’s the human prince!”

“Oh no, are you okay? Quick, let’s get Douxie!”

Before he could even think to make sense of how those plants talked, even though someone with magic like him wasn’t even supposed to be surprised, the world started to spin. Everything was misty and unfocused, his sight was getting extremely nitid and unnaturally unfocused in sequence. He moved another step, seeing another flower on the ground, a red one. This time even his tired brain noticed that his arrow wound was open and dropping.

The dizziness came altogether.

“Hey, you made it! I thought my lovelies were just playing with me, you were so quick- Oh, you look terrible!” Ah, that direct calming voice he recognized. Even in the fog Douxie’s blue hair were easy to notice. “Hang on, you’re gonna be okay, you hear me? It will be okay!”

Something happened after that, he didn’t remember what. Only that it had probably been his fifth fall, the only one he had allowed himself to do willingly. Douxie must had grabbed him before touching the ground, because he had abandoned himself to unconsciousness without a single pain in his mind. He had lost sensibility to his leg, he was so exhausted he couldn’t feel a thing. All he perceived was a shifting of place, then a sudden humidity around him, of a mineral kind, not unpleasant. More flowery scents arrived, while his body still refused to cooperate. It felt so nice. It felt so nice to finally rest, but he didn’t want to. Not yet. Not yet.

He had hold onto lucidity with all he had left, for a time he was not aware of. Then, at some point, he had felt someone holding his hand, and a drop falling onto his palm.

“You will be fine, my love. I am here now.”

It could had been a dream, a pain induced hallucination. His mind and heart didn’t think so.

 ***

 When consciousness came back Seamus still had his eyes closed. He pondered if it was actually a good idea waking up, because despite his mind still being a little fuzzy, he was sure he was in a pretty bad condition, and it didn’t sound appealing to feel all that. Then it occurred him where he was, what had happened, and nothing was going to make him fall asleep again.

He opened his eyes, seeing the ceiling of a cavern. It shined of little sparkling minerals all over, making the rock look like a glowing blue mosaic. There was the sound of water from a far, a little waterfall perhaps, for the rest it was plain nature. It felt like the quietest place of the world, but all the doubts hurrying into his mind made it chaos in any case. Slowly, hoping into self-healing powers he never had and most likely was never going to have, he got up on a sitting position. Huh, it didn’t hurt… at all, actually.

Looking down, he found himself without his shirt, with his side showing a nasty scar. His pants had cuts everywhere, from the forest and the people, but his leg felt mostly okay.

Overall, he looked pretty good. He took a deep breath, and the smell made him gasp.

“Peonies…” They were nothing like the ones his mother had cultivated in their garden, they were glowing and changing color constantly, from red to yellow then green blue purple and over again. He had been laying down on a bed made of those. “Huh, I knew they symbolized good health, didn’t know on which extent.” This place was truly magical. He could feel his own soul regenerating. He touched a flower while focusing, it raised a little growing a leaf. He smiled.

Then he turned, and his heart skipped a beat. There was another bed station right next to him. An empty cloth lied down, a bag made of leaves, and a few books piled.

Seamus stayed frozen, looking helplessly. Then he grinned, jumping onto his feet and running.

As he had suspected, the cavern was situated close to a little waterfall. There was a pond of the most crystalline water he had ever seen in his life, reflecting the trees that were still sheltering from the sun. There was a game of reflections into the water, shining through colors and different shades. Beautiful, but nothing in comparison of the most gorgeous fae in the world.

Krel was kneeling next to the pond, filling in a little vase with water. His hair was covered in the light shapes that the trees were reflecting all over. His eyes were low and a little gloomy, following the stream of water that was filling the container. His clothes were a little messed up like his, meaning his own trip had probably been quite difficult as well. He was there, he was right there at last, keeping his promise no matter what. He got up right at that moment, sighing a lonely breath before turning back towards the cavern.

When their eyes met, it was like a calling. Their own way of communicating, because they had been both taught to repress everything in order to meet expectations, yet it was too much having each other to contain what they had.

The fae prince carelessly let go of the vase. His eyes teared up as he immediately went flying towards him. Seamus beamed at him, opening his arms right on time to take in the hug.

They made it. They were here together. They actually made it.

“Do not scare like me again, ever again!” How he had missed this voice, how much he had longed for this moment. It felt like all the rush and the pain had been already worth it. “You have promised me your life and I have promised you mine, you won’t get out of our agreement this easily!” He was pressing his wet eyes onto his shoulder, almost clawing his back closer to him. “I… I don’t want you to get hurt because of me.” His voice dropped, getting more silent.

Seamus shook his head, reaching for his shoulders to gently push him away. Gosh, they were so slim, he was so fragile, especially in comparison to his sister. They were both vulnerable, not made for the battle, carrying too much on their backs. Meant for something else.

They looked at each other again. His tears were brushing the glowing marks on his face. The blonde wiped them away with his thumb.

“You didn’t hurt me, fat- well, the king did.” This wasn’t about him. “You saved me, Krel.”

“You saved me. From living a life as a merciless monster, unable to understand that there are no good fae and bad humans.” He embraced him again, hiding his head in the crook of his shoulder. “You gave me reality, something that might not be easy to obtain for the other fae. Me and Aja are lucky enough to have found people that opened our eyes.” It had been a reciprocating situation, they had both realized many things about each other’s worlds. The mention of those people sent a shiver through his back, there was no way Krel hadn’t noticed. “The son of the human duke had sent a messenger, apparently he had befriended a dwarf. It has a particular name, at least three vocals in it, sounds quite painful. Anyway, he said that they are all fine.”

“… for now.” Krel nodded. They parted, still holding hands. Seamus smiled sadly. “Well, we knew this wasn’t going to be easy. All we can do is hold on to it.” He knew they were on the same page, he had never trusted anything more. The fae was glowing. He looked wonderful. “It was a big step this one. We can focus on this for now, right?” This was nowhere near over. Their kingdoms were still divided, their worlds were still apart, there was much to be done.

Even so, looking at how his eyes lightened up at him, smiling like it was the best future he could had asked for, it felt easier to hope for the better.

“It sounds good.” He stepped closer. “I love you, Seamus.”

Seamus grinned, brushing their noses together.

“I love you too, Krel.” His mind, his body, his heart, they all moved forward.

He had learned so much about himself and his world from this person, every important part reconnected to him and him only. There was a longing, a connection, and whenever they kissed it felt like reaching out for that bond to hold onto it, to feel how good it was. He had always smelled like wild flowers, today it mixed with cut grass and effort. Krel laced his hands around his neck and Seamus knew what was to happen, holding onto him immediately. He had never told him, but whenever the fae prince was particularly lost into the moment, he started to float, bringing him along. It was a magical experience that was only theirs.

The blonde liked to think that this was meant to be. That they had built it together, slowly and steadily, with patience and effort, but that their meeting had been played out perfectly by destiny. He wondered if that would have been the same in every other universe, if their lives were to play in another context, with them as completely different people.

Perhaps so. He wanted to think so. No matter the place, as long as it was the two of them, that was where they were supposed to be.

Their world.

#space camp #space camp week #toa space camp #kreamus #toa kreamus #krel x seamus #krel tarron #seamus johnson #toa #tales of arcadia #3below #toa 3below #toa fic #toa fanfiction #fic #fanfiction