#also there's not a whole lot of fics which is a tragedy cause these guys FUCK

[velvet-paradox]

Intense

Fandom: Sleep Token (Band) Pairing: Vessel x Female reader x III Length: Long Summary: Your eepy roommates suggest they can help you out. Warnings: NSFW 18 + ONLY, LISTEN UP PUNK I know what I'm about ok and I shouldn't even have to to explain this but for ffs this is for funsies, fictional purposes only. I don't know these British men and I don't claim to! But am I having an absolute ball listening to them everyday day since I heard Dark Signs??? Absolutely. I have not and will not know peace on Earth ever again so with that being said... my lizard brain wants to shoot my shot and get sandwiched between Vessel and III (purely based off their on stage personas) and I'm pretty sure all us worshippers would enjoy kneeling and begging for forgiveness for all the eepy guys. DON'T LIE TO ME; I'll know. ;) One late night thot lead us down this path so here ya' go, we've got: strong language, explicit content, MFM relations, polyamorous activities, kissing, oral (m receiving), p in v, protected sex, unprotected sex (don't do it!), double vaginal, dirty talking, creampie III is a mess, Vessel is along for the ride and you're indulging in the spoils of detailed smut. Tagging: @synnersaint my ride or die

ENJOY!!!

You stare at the red numbers on the clock next to your bed. You blink.

Unfortunately unfazed by the hum-drum pace and the position you've found yourself in.

Ugh, how did this happen again?

The man on top of you, circling his hips against your own, balls deep in your cunt should be fun, exciting, a turn-on at least but you just laid there, once again, taking it but not getting anything out of it. You faked it the last three times just to get him to get off you, out of your apartment and out the door so you could finish yourself off with some post nut clarity. Which is what you should've done in the first place.

The first time you had sex with him, you chalked it up to nerves. It'd been a few months for him and a bit longer for you at this point. The second time you excused it as you did go out for drinks earlier in the night and the last one was just plain awful. No foreplay, bit your neck too hard and pretty much gave you a titty-twister which was not fun; at all.

But he's nice! And funny, easy to talk to you and here you are, making more excuses for a man who can't even get you off. This is just pathetic, girl.

You felt bad faking your enthusiasm but even as you moved in unison with him, hearing him huff and grate out oh my fucking god for the fifth time, he didn't even have a clue.

So you dialed it up, two more minutes had passed with him just thrusting inside you, he didn't even notice you weren't as wet as before. What a fucking disaster.

You sighed and made your O face, biting your lip and holding his waist, the slapping of skin sped up briefly before he pulled out with a groan of your name, panting as he jerked himself, tore off the condom and came on the inside of your thigh.

Fucking finally.

Your date was quick to get dressed, mentioning something about an early shift change. He gave you chaste kiss on the corner of your mouth, cupping your face as an afterthought as you followed him out of your bedroom.

"I'll text you when I get home. I-- oh!"

You bounced against his back, stunned as to why he's just stopped like that when you peer around his frame. There on the couch in your living room sat your roommates.

"Oh my-- what are you guys doing home?" You asked, frantically looking between the two sober faces and their luggage by the front door. Well more like the painted chin of one and the eyes of the other. You were hyperaware of the drying cum on your leg and crossed your fingers and toes they didn't hear your activities or what remained to be seen.

"We live here, remember?" Vessel waved one of his hands, III nodding along.

"When you said you had roommates I just assumed they were other girls." Your bedfellow side talked to you as to not alert your boys.

"Is that a problem?" You asked.

"No I just uh," he looked at III when he stood, an attempt to intimidate. "It's fine um... I'll call you."

"Well that was rude," Vessel announced, joining his brother after he left. "Didn't even introduce himself."

"He won't be around for long. I wouldn't worry about it." You dryly chuckled before embracing both of them. Vessel cupped the back of your head, pressing his chin into your hair before letting III swoop you up in his gangly arms and gave you two solid spins. "Put me down! You reek."

"Ah, the mask has seen better days I'm afraid. Can't wait to get a hot shower and something in my belly. Road livin' ain't what its' cracked up to be, ya' know?" III admitted.

"Um, let me get changed and I'll make you guys some food," you jogged out of the living room, calling over your shoulder. "Lord knows what you boys eat on the road!" ....

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," You paused the movie and turned to face Vessel on the chaise lounge part of the couch, long limbs sprawled out, ankles crossed and rocking. "What's up?"

Vessel twisted his painted mouth before asking an out of pocket question. "Why do you torture yourself?"

Taken aback you wondered what he meant and crossed your legs. "What? What do you mean?"

"I think you know what I mean." When you showed your genuine confusion, he sat up. "Your little boy toy. Not that III and I have been cheeky little perverts and eavesdropping on your late night escapades but... we can't help but be concerned. Either you're a silent climaxer, some people are and that's totally fine and we're bold to assume or your partner isn't doing it right."

"Excuse me?"

"We've only been home a few weeks and we've heard him far more than we've heard you," Vessel explained, ignoring your anxious fidgeting and cuticle picking. "What we have heard though, is a lot of buzzing after your friend leaves."

Oh. My. God.

Your heart is hammering in your chest, desperate to get out of, out of your body and on the run. Blood pounds in your ears at the audacity of this whole conversation. Your roommates have heard you getting off, know you have toys, know your friends with benefits is lacking the benefits part and that you'd not been taken care of. You wished it was still cooler out and you could grab the usual throw off the back of the couch and hide away underneath.

"What are you guys talkin' about?" III popped in, holding a glass of chocolate milk, an absurdly long and coiled straw was hidden beneath his mask as he sucked dramatically.

Vessel smirked. "Oh just Y/N and how her new beau can't get her off."

"Oh finally! I've been dying for this conversation," III exclaimed and excited plopped down next to Vessel, scooching closer and leaning forward as he drank some more. "So what gives? Give us the goods."

"I don't... he knows what he's doing, it's just--"

"It's just he's bad at it." III giggled.

"I can get off, okay?"

"Yeah, we know that. Just not with him."

"I... fine. It might not even be him you know," you tried. "Maybe it's me. Maybe I can't get out fast enough."

Vessel quirked his mouth. "Get out of what exactly?"

"My own head. I think too much, you know that. I need to feel everything in order to shut my brain off and not worry about how many loads of laundry I need to do, when I need to switch out my sheets, did I pick up my towel in the bathroom? What should I have for lunch tomorrow."

The boys looked between themselves, shrugging and looking bewildered. "You... you think about all that stuff all while having sex?" III snorted and shook his head. "You're a madwoman, you know that?"

"I'm trying not to think of those things!"

"That's what I was afraid of," Vessel took III's now finished drink away from him and set it down. "If you want, we could help you out. Save you the trouble and the energy and uh, some battery power."

You chuckled. "You're joking. You two are gonna' help me out."

"Just say the word and we belong to you," Vessel crooned, licking his top lip. The pink of his tongue was such a juxtaposition to he obsidian black that covered his face, his arms and hands, his body. "This could be a one time deal, if it's not up to your standards, we don't have to mention it ever again or... it could be a three times a week sort of thing."

"Three times a week?!" You screeched.

"That's up to you."

....

"So uh have you guys like... done this before?" Your voice doesn't even sound like your own, shaky, breathy, uneven and higher pitched. You pointed between the duo and yourself. You hadn't but your incognito search history might say you've looked at it a few times.

They admitted their deep rooted feelings about you. Your stomach flipped for Vessel's breathy pet name of Duchess, your toes curled for III's Sweetness. 

With the way they looked at you, you couldn't even remember his name at this point.

Vessel shrugged. "Just with you."

"Just me?" You balked, you knew the guys were close, sometimes skin tight so to find out they'd not acted out was stunning and a major green light. "Oh um, I'm flattered. iI think."

"You should be. III isn't much of a talker, speaks his mind when need be."

"Unless its' dirty." III piped up with a shrug of his own, with the way his eyes wrinkled you could tell he was all smiles under that mask.

"A little tact there, brother!" Vessel scolded him, giving a backhand to his arm. "Don't scare her off."

"What? She should know. You should know. I am dripping with sin."

"III!"

"What? We're all adults here, right? An' we're talking about fucking each other so who cares?! And she might even like it. Do you like dirty talk, sweetness?" III asked with a tilt of his head.

"Uh I um... I. Well..."

"Do you," III stood and got closer, much closer, swaying his way to close the gap between you. He stood with his legs on the outside of your own. He tilted his head the opposite way and kept his eyes trained your face, the heat from the eye contact made you hot. His painted thumb touched your chin. "Like that?"

You'd never felt this kind of intimacy, this heightened level of attraction and arousal and it made you nervously laugh at the thought that it was radiating off your friends like a fucking forest fire.

You swallowed. "Yes."

"Aha! Knew it. Those pretty eyes and that fucking mouth are hiding plenty of secrets, yeah?" III pointed, that thumb of his traced along your jaw before pushing gently on the underside, making you look all the way up at him.

If they wanted to play, you thought, I guess... let's play.

"Maybe."

"Oh! Now we're getting somewhere," III chuckled and looked over at Vessel before touching your shoulder, moving the strap of your sleep shirt back and forth. His hands were hot, scorching your skin as he touched the light fabric. "Should I undress you or should you undress me? Or maybe Vessel wants to unwrap us both. What do you think?"

"I think--" your throat constricted before keeping his ardent eye contact. "I think I want to undress you first."

III liked that idea, he wiggled his shoulders and raised his arms. "I'm all yours, mama."

....

His hoodie is the first thing to go, floating down to the floor. A black compression shirt separates flesh and bone, it comes off easily over his head. He's only half painted there. You can see streaks of his skin, soft and smooth, hidden from view. His stomach tightens when you trail your hand down his chest, foreign to your hands.

"I think about you, ya' know? Not to be pervy or bold but... you are the prettiest thing we've ever seen."

His compliments make you warm, you clench around nothing.

He suddenly grabs your hand and moves it higher. "Feel that. You make my heart fuckin' pound like crazy. The first time I saw you in that green sundress, you know, the one with the little daises on it... fuck me," III admitted and dramatically bit his fist. "I've never been so hard in my life!"

You know the dress in question. It's hanging in the front of your closet. Guess it'll be making a debut and turn III on once again. 

"Oh yeah? Well maybe next time I wear it... I won't wear anything underneath."

III made the deepest of groans, moving your hand down his ribs while he undid his belt. "Fuckin' hell, don't tease me woman."

"You don't like that?"

"I like it too much! That's the problem."

His zipper was so fucking loud, it cut through the room like a hot knife. Smooth and seamless, even Vessel had to clear his throat. You looked over at him on the chaise, legs wide spread, lithe arms outstreatched over the back cushions. With three separate eye holes in his mask, it was hard to tell where he was looking but in this moment you felt them boring straight into your own.

"Keep going," he hummed and visibly bit his lip. " 'm enjoying the show."

With III was just in his boxers, it was your turn. Your disrobing would be a lot quicker as you were in a light pajama set and crew socks. You mmiiced III and raised your arms above your head, his nimble fingers danced over your sides, dragging the material up and over your head. He tossed to Vessel, who out of your peripheral, had inhaled your scent on it. He did the same with your shorts. The rush of cool fan air make your skin prickle, your clit throbbed when you fully noticed the outline of III's cock. Jesus. 

III got on his knees and lifted one your feet, gripping your ankle.

"No. Keep them on." Vessel spoke, pushing himself up off the couch and sauntered over to you, fully nude and on display. He embraced your face, pressing his forehead to yours before slinking behind III when he stood.

Vessel's painted arms looped around III's, locking them behind his back. III made a noise.

"Take him out," Vessel instructed with a low gasp. "Take him out and see what you do to him. Same as what you do to me. Hell, all of us, duchess."

ALL OF US?!

Before you got on your own knees, you touched III's hips, hooking your thumbs just beneath the fabric and dragged them down. His cock made the softest and prettiest thud against his lower belly. Your eyes bounced from their faces, down to his leaking cock and back again.

"He wasn't lying," Vessel chuckled, his chin now draped over III's shoulder. You met his eyes. "You make him rock fuckin' hard, love. Want her to take all o' that? Nah... you need her to take care of that, don't you?"

"Fuck yes." III whined. "Please."

"How are you gonna' help our good boy, love?"

III shook before your even touched him, you on your knees before him was enough to have him looking frantic. Completely at your and Vessel's mercy, you took him in your hand first, getting familiar with his length before dipping your head in worship, opening your mouth. You hesitated for the briefest of moments before angling him deeper and further into your mouth.

It was a good thing Vessel was holding him up because you felt and saw III's knees wobble once you got your stride, gliding your hands up and around his thighs, arching closer with your fingers reaching his ribcage. Your palms against his skin felt every twitch, every jolts, every fucking sigh. The noise that strangled out from his throat when you dragged your nails down his stomach had you clenching around absolutely nothing.

"That's it, you're doing such a good job, love bug. Atta' girl, get 'em off real good, yeah?"

"Yeah yeah, fuck yeah," III whined and bucked his hips, "Your mouth feels so fucking good. Suckin' me off real sweet, mama. Give it to me."

"She's good with that mouth, hmmm?"

"Oh fuck V...wait 'til she oh shit, right there-- wait 'til she's gaggin' on you. O-oh my God."

When III took the Lord's name in vain it sounded so sweet in comparison to your other lover. You could feel yourself getting wetter, more powerful than you ever had with him. You took their words of praise, locked them in a little safe in the back of your mind for safe keeping.

"You're lucky I don't shove your ass out of the way then." Vessel teased and III mewled with delight.

....

III made grabby hands at you, wiggling his fingers as he laid out on the chaise part of the couch. He wiggled, tapped and pointed towards his mouth too.

When you climbed on top of him, his arms engulfed you, bringing you chest to chest. You kissed his face over his mask, startled when he suddenly pulled the chin part of it up to his nose and kissed you for real. You whined and kissed him back harder and faster, tasting his mouth, licking inside of it. He smacked and grabbed your ass, groaning against your lips.

"You two are fuckin divine," Vessel breathed, shouldering off his robe finally, unzipping his own jeans. "Fuckin’ hell, what a sight."

You turned your head to his silky voice, watching him stroke himself.

You were in big fucking trouble.

III nipped your arm. "Want you. I want you so fucking badly. Think it'll fit? Think you can take it?"

You took a breath and held his cock, hot and ready against your pussy. Rocking against the crown, splitting your lips to ready you for him. You licked your lips and lowered down on it, your mouth instantly opening. "Fuck yes."

"Good God!" 

"Shit... a little more, love and you'll take him all the way in. That's it." Vessel cooed and pet your head, then your face. "Kiss him again."

With his heavy hand on your head you kissed III tongue first, the sounds of you two kissing had Vessel praising both of you, leaving him breathless.

III grabbed your hips, rolling and fucking up into you, breathing you in.

You and III stilled at the sudden dip of the couch.

Vessel's hand on your shoulder, his other ghosted and trailed over III's mask and vulnerable chin and mouth behind you. He lost it at that, whimpering against your cheek, a new flood of arousal coating your walls.

"Just relax pretty girl. We've got you, we got you."

"What are you--"

Vessel's thick fingers reached around your front, pressing and swirling down around your clit. "We're both gonna' fit. Just remember to breathe for us, ok?"

Holy shit. This was intense.

III's arm surged up and over your shoulder to touch Vessel, ghosting over his naked hip, gripping his bare skin.

"I've got you both. Trust me."

It was your idea to lift up, empty of III only to arch and take a deep push of Vessel. You frowned and touched III's face when Vessel pulled completely out. You both gasped when he spat. III squirmed and whined, the sudden intrusion of Vessel lining them both up against your hole, wedging their cocks inside you.

It didn't necessarily hurt, more pressure than anything and for fucks sake, you'd never felt so full in your life. 

"Fuck V! Give us a warning, holy fuck." III breathed when the frontman started to rock and move. After a few minutes of fucked out bliss, it seemed like Vessel was fucking III through your body.

He smeared his face along your spine, your shoulder, leaving wet open mouthed kisses along your neck and ear.

"Good fucking God duchess, you are absolutely soaked for us, aren't you? Can feel you really start to open up for us now, yeah? Fuck you're amazing. Isn't she?"

"Ye-yeah yeah. Positively sweet," III's eyes sparkled in an amorous way. You kissed him hard. "Can't wait to have a taste of you, sweetness."

The thought of him working his mouth on you made you keen and fuck down on them.

Limbs twisted and tangled, Vessel nipped a small, incredibly sensitive spot behind your ear before licking the shell of it. Humming and praising you with that gravely timber. He was touching you, holding onto one of your tits for stability and III did the same, using just the pad of his thumb to pebble your other nipple.

You would never recover, that much you were sure of. They were out for pain and pleasure.

On a particularly hard thrust from III your moan slipped into sex drunk chuckle. "I think she likes it."

"I'm in fuckin' heaven." You breathed, reaching back to touch Vessel's thigh, digging your nailbeds in deep.

"That's it, you fuckin' naughty thing." His hand left your breast and found a new home around your throat, turning your head to face him and receive a sloppy kiss. III moaned at that.

"You two are fuckin-- ah shit. I'm close, fuck. Give it, give it to me."

Vessel's laugh against your lips made your walls constrict.

"Just like that!" III practically yelled, digging his fingers into your thighs, alternating to your hips, changing the tortuous pace. "Fuck, 'm gonna' bust, sweetness. Fuckin' cum inside you all nice and deep. Make it stick."

"Fuck me." You hung your head and rode it out, nothing but pure pleasure and bliss was shared between the three of you. And it was worth it. "Oh you guys... aha! I'm gonna' cum."

You couldn't remember the last time you came that hard with a partner and never with two! They both rubbed their hands and mouths over your skin, groping over your sandwiched body. Vessel's chest stuck to your back like glue, III grabbed and pushed both of your breasts together as he came shortly after with a grunt of your name, stringing along a beautiful array of obscenities. 

"I've got you, I've got you both in my clutches now." Vessel's voice sounded like silk on glass next to your ear as he continued to thrust, spearing III's load all over your gummy walls. III reached out a lazy hand and Vessel took it, lacing their fingers together over your shoulder. 

Skin on skin on skin.

III leaned up for another smooch with you greedily enjoyed, smacking your spit and lips together until all you could feel and hear was Vessel shudder behind you.

....

Vessel couldn't stop smiling as you giggled, helped to your bedroom, wedged between them on your bed as they cleaned you up. You would certainly need to clean up that side of the couch later. III was careful of your more tender bits, being stretched out and filled, removing black grease paint of where they were.

He drummed his fingers over your arms when he was finished, molding his body to yours. His head against the side of your neck. III soon joined in the snuggle, jumping into bed and under the covers with you. He gave you another kiss before pulling his mask back down, and pet Vessel's head.

Your phone buzzed when your boys had fallen asleep, you had a feeling of who it might be and if this is how the future looked; there was no way you were gonna' give this up.

#this kinda got outta hand but i'm into it so #these boys are so special #ugh i love them #little eppy boys #sleep token fanfiction #sleep token imagine #sleeip token fanfic #vessel x female reader #vessel x you #iii x you #iii x female reader #iii x reader #vessel x female reader x iii #vessel x you x iii #also there's not a whole lot of fics which is a tragedy cause these guys FUCK #part deux?? #ENJOY!!! #heaven help me

[akystaracer22]

Distrust Fall:

A leap of faith gone wrong, an eternal promise kept eternally. No matter how long it has been some things never truly change.

Notes

How to fail a trust fall: Step one

Vaggie's relationship with Adam is very complicated, but at the moment there is a lot of animosity and it shows.

Adam is of the opinion that Sorry doesn’t mean jack shit if you make the mistake again, so he just doesn’t apologise because he thinks he’ll just fuck up again so there’s no point.

The hotel needs a licensed therapist at this point dear lord.

Alastor still isn’t over the whole “Radio is fucking dead” thing.

If there is one thing that Adam knows off by heart, it’s the names of animals scientific or otherwise. That was the guys job once upon a time and assuming he doesn’t know that stuff is the true quickest way to piss him off. He’s also really good with animals which pisses off Anthony because Fat Nuggets *likes* Adam and it drives the sinner up a wall.

Alastor and Lucifer are on the ground. Angel, Husk, Charlie, Vaggie, and Adam are on the roof.

Alastor was going to let him get a cm from the ground before catching him dw.

Lucifer used to be friends with Adam in the garden because I live for that sweet sweet friends to enemies tragedy.

Adam really does not like people staring at his face, it’s a mild form of scopophobia caused by his time in heaven with people always giving him shit for how he looked, particularly his facial features (Yes I drew on everyone calling him ugly and average on twitter and shit). He used the mask to get around it, that way people couldn’t actually see what he looked like.

This was originally 1260 but then I got an idea that blew this out by 500 words lol.

The graveyard with be elaborated on in a future connected one shot.

This is officially a fully fledged AU

Regarding Adam's claws, they're gold to combat the greyness of his palette, but also as a nod to Midas, the arrogant king who's touched turned everything to gold. Angelic blood is also gold so if you want you can interpret it as having blood on his hands.

Fingerless gloves because I thing they're neat.

I based Lucifer's wings off of duck wings!

Also Lucifer's angelic appearance was based on space. I heard Sera call Charlie "Daughter of the Morning Star" and I went feral.

He has a full shifting night sky in his wings, clothes, and hat.

Angels have white pupils now I don't make the rules.

References saved my life.

Word count: 1725

(Comic and fic under the cut! Click for better quality)

@irregular-child

Adam leaned away from the edge as the wind drifted through his wings, keenly aware of the fact that his wings wouldn’t break his fall and he did not in fact trust jack shit in hell to break it except the ground.

“Are we sure this is a good idea?”

“I’m with princess perfect this is a fucking death sentence,” Adam agreed, a little reluctantly because it was still the princess of hell, “You’re trying to fucking kill me.”

Vaggie smirked, because of course she did because she was trying to kill him, he wasn’t that dense, and just shrugged, “I mean, worked for me didn’t it?”

“That wasn’t even a fucking trust fall that was to get you to fucking fly and you know it! Fucking bitch,” The first man scowled and tried to step away from the edge, the crack whore of an arachnid immediately shoving him back up, “Would you fuck off?!”

“Would you stop being a dick?”

“Would you stop sucking them?”

The white jumping spider stared at him for a long moment and Vaggie stepped away from him for once, great! Cool! One person was leaving him alone and soon a second one will!

Great! About fucking time they got the message-

-------]

Lucifer paced nervously around Dazzle’s statue; this was a terrible idea. Having Adam go through a trust fall this early was going to end in disaster one way or another.

The main issue being nobody liked Adam and wouldn’t care if he fell. Hell, Charlies girlfriend has already tried to kill Adam off for good multiple times since he got here!

This was going to be a mess; Alastor was supposed to be catching Adam but he was just standing there looking completely unprepared and-

“Are you going to get ready or not.” Lucifer snapped at the radio demon, wings flicking out behind him in agitation.

“Oh, I have no intention of catching him.”

Lucifer froze, his tail stilling before lashing behind him as he turned on the deer-eared sinner, “What.”

“You heard me.”

“Oh, I heard you alright, and I think you should try that again.”

“And why are you getting so worked up, hm?” The sinner hummed, sneering down at the king, “Last I checked, the first man was your enemy after he tried to kill your own daughter.”

“I-” Lucifer paused, then scowled because Alastor was right. Why was he getting so worked up over this. This was Adam they were talking about. Adam who was crass and rude and cold to everyone. Adam, who would rather sit in his room all day than even look at any of them. Adam who was…

“…Luci, do they all hate me?”

…

“I can see why they left me for you.”

…

“It is good to see you again my friend! Come, much has changed since your last visit!”

… Adam who was so much more than who he was now. Who was probably the only person left in hell that remembered Eden.

Damnit.

“That’s none of your business you son of a bitch,” The fallen angel snapped at the cannibal, eliciting nothing more than a growing grin from the bastard.

Not a day went by in hell where Lucifer wished that this wasn’t his circus and that the sinners weren’t his monkeys.

Someone screamed above him.

The seraphim whipped his head up, eyes widening as he registered Adam twisting the air as he was shoved off the roof by Angel Dust.

Fear struck his heart like an exorcists blade when the first man tried to use his wings to glide, only for a single wing beat to send him into a spiral hurtling towards the ground.

He caught Adams eye for a single moment before it was obscured by his good wing, the man was terrified. He didn’t know sinners reformed after death and despite it all. Lucifer would never wish someone to experience falling from their death after quite literally falling from heaven.

Not even on Adam.

Something in his heart spurred the king into action, kicking off the ground as his wings snapped open to catch the air. A single beat of his wings and he was already well off the ground.

Lucifer reached a hand up for Adam as the fallen angel reached out to him in kind, panic written across both their faces at the idea of a horrible accident.

Lucifer’s wings moved the air one more time and-

“And… you will catch me?”

Lucifer laughed softly, a gentle chiming sound from where he stood behind Gods first man. He was trying to show him a game Lucifer and his kin would play from time to time amongst the spires of heaven.

The game was simple, one angel was to stand up high with their wings folded and fall. Then the other angel was to catch them. It was supposed to build trust, not to mention it was a delight in and of itself.

Standing amongst the grasses of Eden, Lucifer saw no reason not to share this game with Adam. He’s already grown fond of the way that Gods creation would go out of his way to show the angel what he’d been up to since his last visit.

“Be not afraid my friend!” Lucifer’s wings spread quietly to punctuate his point, divine magic threading his words, The Voice ensuring that the first man would hear and believe him.

“No matter how far you fall, I shall always be there to catch you.”

Lucifer wrapped his arms securely around the fallen angel as his wings curled around wing and man alike, bracing himself as the added weight as they both fell together.

It’s funny, it reminded him of when Adam first fell, a fiery ball that could have almost been mistaken as a shooting star had Lucifer not known better.

They hid the ground with a slam and the fallen seraphim had to bite back a shriek as his wings took the brunt of the force. They’d be left aching for a while.

Lucifer grunted as he pushed Adam off of him, sitting up and folding his wings in, allowing them to slip out of existence while they healed, he definitely didn’t want to do that again.

He slowly got to his feet while the first man got his bearings, dusting himself off and rubbing his shoulders to try and alleviate the pain.

“Why the fuck did you save me?”

Lucifer jerked and looked down at Adam from where he was glaring up at him, a note of confusion held carefully in his gaze before it dropped.

“I-”

“Well, isn’t this quite a surprise!”

Lucifer’s expression shot into a scowl as he rounded on the radio demon very blatantly interrupting the moment. The bastard just grinned and stared down at the both of them.

From the corner of his eyes Lucifer noted Adam’s good wing hitching up instinctively to cover his face from the demons gaze before dropping.

Lucifer turned his attention back to the radio demon with a glare that could melt steel, “You were going to let him fall,”

“I was going to do no such thing,”

“You just said-!”

“I said nothing you just assumed I was going to do nothing at all!”

“Listen here you!” Lucifer was just off again by the main doors opening and the other’s all barrelling out at the commotion.

Lost in the sudden onslaught of attention and having to field Alastor’s snarky comments, Anthony’s suggestive remarks, and Charlie’s concern, he didn’t see Adam flee the scene.

It wasn’t until much later that he was able to recognize the first man’s absence, searching the hotel to see if Adam was okay.

He found him at the graveyard, sitting among the many tombstones for the exorcists slain in the battle that caused Adam to fall.

Lucifer paused at the entrance to the burial ground, watching Adam sit there facing away from him for what felt like an eternity.

Despite the dead being gone, the king of hell still felt like the exorcists weapons were pointed at him, a warning that if he made one wrong move they would rise from their graves to protect their leader, to avenge him, to strike Lucifer down in an instant.

The once-angel of the morning star carefully stepped away from the cemetery, making sure he didn’t break the silence. Even if Adam wanted to be disturbed, he wasn’t the right person to do it, not in this place.

Besides, he still had his own thoughts to sort through, like why in the name of the divine he saved Adam when he would have survived regardless. He would have been fine even if he did hit the ground unimpeded so why-

Lucifer grimaced as the answer stuck to him like a parasite, he knew damn well why he saved him. It was the same stupid reason he preened Adams wings for him, the same reason he treats the first man’s wing rot and the exact same reason he made that deal with Adam after he fell.

He was attached.

Stupids horribly foolishly, Lucifer still cared for Adam even after everything.

By the stars he beat Adam within an inch of his life! Adam tried to kill his daughter!

But emotions were hardly logical. They weren’t logical when he fell for Lilith in the garden and taught her and Adam both The Voice, they weren’t logical when he freed Eve, and they weren’t logical now.

Lucifer cared for Adam, even if by all logic he should hate the man.

“Dad?”

Lucifer looked up to meet his daughters eyes, a small smile letting her know he was okay, “Hey there Duckie.”

Charlie’s expression softened at the nickname even if he still looked concerned, “Dad… are you sure you’re okay?”

“If I’m not now, I will be, so stop worrying about little old me Char-char,” Lucifer chuckled, “However… Adams in the graveyard if you want to talk to him, he seems like he needs some company right now.”

He made his exit quickly after that, he knew what Charlie would do, it was in her nature to help people, it was what made her so special.

But Lucifer, he helped people once, and now… he had a new person he could help again.

And he might just know where to start.

#hazbin hotel #adam hazbin hotel #angst #writing #hazbin hotel adam #fluff #worldbuilding #lucifer hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin charlie #charlie morningstar #fallen angel adam #hazbin hotel angel dust #fallen angel #angel dust #vaggie #vaggie hazbin hotel #this is why i don't draw comics #i always have to render it fully #my art #adamsapple #lucifer x adam #adam x lucifer #guitarduck #ashes to ashes dust to dust

[sharpth1ng]

I don't know if you remember but I'm the trans guy who asked if there'll be a cis version for the sequel cause he couldn't read the trans version due to some heavy body dysmorphia going on.

Soooo update I finally am able to read the trans version... You probably don't remember but the way you responded helped me a lot to come to terms with the way my body looks right now and that I can still be a man, even like this.

(Tbh for the longest time I thought I was a transphobic woman bc trans characters who hadn't transitioned gave me panic attacks and it's kinda funny in retrospect lol I was just dumb)

And I dunno I just needed you to know that you wrote that beautifully and I'm so relived and happy to be kinda content right now. I haven't felt this good about me... Ever?

And I just read the christmas scene and Stu saw Billy naked for the first time and... And he just wants and loves Billy exactly the way he is and that was so... Healing. (honestly am totally in love with your Stu anyway but this really sealed the deal).

Long story short I have been crying for 30 minutes now. Honestly tears of joy and relief. Thank you!

(I hope you don't mind me telling you this)

Hey dude I definitely remember you! Your ask was important to me, honestly, transmascs like you are some of the people this fic is for. To be clear its for everyone, but the whole reason I wrote two versions was because of my own fluctuating relationship with dysphoria. I understand why you weren't feeling ok to read the trans version, and I'm glad it ended up being a healing experience for you, you have no idea how much it means to me to hear that.

And just as a side note I don't think it dumb you were afraid you were just a transphobic woman. I think it's really easy to internalize transphobia especially when you're still processing your identity. Transphobia is everywhere and it's unquestioned, and in a lot of cases it's more accessible than trans rhetoric that's positive and affirming. I would argue that transphobia has a major presence in a lot of trans communities too honestly, that's what trans-medicalism is.

The reality is our bodies aren't worse than cis bodies, they aren't less attractive. They're just different, but the world acts like it's a fucking tragedy to have to cut your tits off and take hormones, and that's bullshit. I'm a much more attractive trans dude than I was a cis woman. Do I still have a complicated relationship with parts of my body? Yes. Do I still have dysphoria? Yes. But so do cis people.

I wrote the trans version specifically because I wasn't seeing a lot of transmasc representation (in fic or other media) that felt true and affirming to me- not that the other stuff can't be affirming to other transmascs, just I wasn't finding stuff that felt like a positive version of my own experience.

I think theres a tendency to focus on body, dysphoria, and insecurity in trans fiction in a way that isn't untrue, but also which doesn't give me the ability to engage in fun smut the same way I feel cis people get to. Cis people can be insecure about their bodies in lots of ways, I'd argue cis people also experience gender dysphoria (think cis women with small chests, cis men who have breasts or smaller penises, ect.), but it's not nearly as common for sexual depictions of them in fiction to focus on those insecurities, and on navigating the way other people react to their bodies ahead of the actual smut.

The other place I see this happening is with sexual depictions of fat people and disabled people. Our bodies and minds are positioned as barriers in sexual situations, and while realistically we may have things to navigate that cis, thin or able bodied people don't, that doesn't mean those barriers need to be centered in erotica that involves us. Cis, thin, able bodied people have insecurities and sexual hang-ups too, so why do they get to be written as having fun, positive sex without centering those things when we don't? To me it positions transness, fatness, and disability as inherently being a barrier to positive sexuality and I just think that's unrealistic.

I'm rambling but all that is to say, this has been healing to me too. We deserve depictions of ourselves that acknowledge the differences and barriers we do have (like, Billy is still scared about coming out, it's hard for him to do, thats a barrier) without making them the whole experience.

I'm really glad you're feeling better about things, and i'm really, really fucking touched that my writing could be a part of that 🖤

#trans debaser #debaser fanfic #tw dysphoria mention #ask

[thekidultlife]

Through the Seasons | Seungcheol (COMPLETED)

Author’s Note: 

Please read this before continuing on to the fic! 😊 If you’ve read the first part of this story which I posted in a rush during my birthday, please. scrap. all. your. thoughts. about. it. Having completed it now, I truly regretted rushing to post it just to meet a deadline; that won’t happen again lol. 😂 I plan to write more slowly and carefully from now on because I want to be able to look back and read my stories without too much regret over how I could have written them better. I hope that you enjoy this one, and please look forward to this series! My plan is to alternate writing “The Return Of Superman”, “The And” and “Through The Seasons” during the coming weeks/months.

Birthday Greetings: This fic is one that I wrote as a gift, not only to our amazing SVT leader and my ultimate bias who deserves THE ENTIRE WORLD, Seungcheol (🥺❤), but also to my good friend, @peekabooseoksoon! Belated Happy Birthday! 🙆‍♀️ I hope you get to love this fic!!! 😄

Tags: I’d like to mention @coupsiekkuma, @minkwans, @eclvpe, @haven-cove​,  @nrhfzh, @iwalktheline97, @woozisnoots, @shoshishua, @toxicsocial, @elcie-chxn, @yslmingyux, @gostickywombat, @uglyratlmao, and @starlightshua!

Plot: Two people form memories, navigate through hardships and—most of all—learn to love each other more through the seasons of their relationship.

Warnings: Marked 18+ for suggestive content

Word Count: 10,386

1 | summer, as the night wind whispered

Bright lights flooded the town square through the colorful lanterns that hung in lines and swayed idly. The air was filled with the smell of mingling perfumes, food and beer. The cobbled streets were packed with people, of different ages, walking through the stalls that sold native handicrafts and trinkets. Tables that were laid out in the center of the square kept getting occupied as the twilight dissipated into a dark sky full of stars. Music from guitars, bagpipes and dulcimers wafted around, competing with the blare of jukeboxes playing songs from eras long past, classics that everyone still loved to sing and dance to.

One month ago, no one would have thought that this town would be celebrating like this.

A violent storm had hit and destroyed almost everything in its path, and a sense of despair had engulfed the people living there. The winds and the heavy rain had been bad, but the landslides really made things worse. Even at present, as the town held its celebration, helicopters could be seen hovering above the mountains that surrounded the town proper, their searchlights flashing here and there, aiding rescuers who made their way around the dark, slippery terrain, looking for missing people or houses that had vanished underneath mounds of trees, dark rock and soil.

Despite the tragedy and the uncertainty that hung in the air, however, the townspeople had been resilient. Pooling their resources, and seeking help from neighboring towns and cities, they managed to recover most of their losses and found cause to celebrate as houses, businesses and landmarks began to be restored.

Sitting on one of the tables, watching the merriment all around them, were three men, sipping on their beers, wearing jackets that identified them as university students hailing from a city five hours away. They, along with a group of other volunteer workers from their uni, had come to help and were now celebrating the last day of volunteer work. Just across the street, by the small parking lot of the town’s only hotel, vehicles were lined up, readied for the departure in the early morning. These three men expected to be on the first bus going home tomorrow.

The first two sitting across each other kept commenting idly about how hectic the day had been, but the third guy, nursing his drink close to his lips, was scanning the flow of people, his huge, sparkling eyes flitting to and fro. He could not process what his friends were talking about. He was too busy watching who came and went as the festivities rolled on.

“Choi Seungcheol, have you found her yet?” Yoon Jeonghan asked, lazily grinning. His dark brown hair fell down his eyes and he raked them back with his fingers. He glanced at his friend before turning back to the buoyant scenery. A crowd seated on the table next to them roared with laughter.

“I haven’t,” Seungcheol replied lightly, taking another swig. “But I will.”

Seungcheol’s seemingly dogged determination made the guy sitting across Jeonghan chuckle. “This will be a very interesting night,” Hong Jisoo said softly, smirking at Jeonghan’s direction. “Cheol won’t let up finding this mystery woman.”

“I, for one, think that we’ve had an interesting day already,” Jeonghan answered dryly, leaning back on his metal chair, “and an uncomfortable one at that. I didn’t like the fact that we had to follow someone for a whole day, all because some guy couldn’t just walk up to her and ask her out.”

At that, Seungcheol turned to Jeonghan and glared at him playfully. “Shut up.”

“Cheol is acting funny,” Jeonghan teased. “Isn’t he, Jisoo-ya?” Jisoo laughed and clinked bottles with Jeonghan in agreement.

“I have my reasons,” Seungcheol said defensively, turning back to the crowd. “I couldn’t find the right timing.”

“Oooh,” Jeonghan cooed. “The right timing.”

“I said shut your trap, Jeonghan. I think you’re drunk.”

“I will be if you still don’t find her.”

“You could dance with some of our other friends out there while we wait.”

“You know I’m too tired for that.”

Jisoo laughed again. “You could not find the right timing? After all the days you’ve spent here?”

“Complete bull.” Jeonghan grinned.

Suddenly Seungcheol stood, setting his beer bottle down so hard on the wooden table that Jisoo and Jeonghan could not help but complain in unison about the abrupt movement. However, they quieted down when they saw Seungcheol’s expression.

“That’s her.” Seungcheol pointed somewhere in the throng of people, his eyes wide, his countenance suddenly alight and stone-cold sober. The night breeze blew on his close-cropped hair as he looked on. 

His words were almost drowned out by the cacophony of voices and music all around them, but Jisoo and Jeonghan looked at each other knowingly, hearing his words perfectly.

`“Well?” Jisoo brought his drink to his lips, eyeing Seungcheol with a devious glint in his eyes.

A few moments passed, with Seungcheol simply standing there.

The right timing.

He broke off into a run.

He ran past tables and stalls and dancing couples, startling people along the way. His feet took him flying across the cobbled streets lined with lanterns, towards a spot by the exit of the square where stalls sold summer flowers. His heart pounded within his chest as he sprinted, his eyes never leaving what they had been watching for throughout the young night.

As he ran, he forgot how silly he had felt when, exactly five nights ago, he had hopped onto one of the buses leaving campus for the volunteer program. His only reason for joining had been his need for an adventure away from the city. He would have no other time for anything extracurricular in the months to come. The bar exam was looming over his mind, and before he poured himself solely to the task of preparing for it, he wanted to get away.

He remembered how you had stretched out a hand to greet him even before sitting down beside him.

Hi. You had smiled and he had felt like he was staring at the sun as you told him your name. Classical composition. You?

Non-music major, he had replied with a quick, albeit apologetic smile to return yours. I got on this bus by mistake.

Oh, that’s okay, you had said good-naturedly, winking at him, you don’t have to worry. We’re very good company. 

And you were.

As he ran, he forgot how tired he was. He had followed you and the other volunteers around all day, up and down the mountains, giving out boxes of food and clothing to the families that had been affected by the calamity. The first four days hadn’t been as grueling as this last one. But it had been worth it.

He forgot, too, how sorry he felt for his friends, who didn’t know what they had signed up for when they followed him to this town to check up on him.

All he could remember was the flush on his cheeks when he had watched as your fingers strummed at a guitar, and how he could not help but hang on to the sweet lilt of your voice when you opened your mouth to sing. 

"Deep breath and wipe those tears // Take heart and face those fears // We'll find a reason, // something to cling to; // We won't abandon // you. // There's hope in this season, // too."

All he could remember was the comfort that washed over the faces of the people who were listening, back at the orphanage in the mountains, where evacuees had taken up temporary residence.

He forgot about everything else and just ran, ran, and ran towards the only thing that mattered in his mind.

He had found you.

There you were—your hair rustling in the wind, wearing a billowing white dress that came down just beneath your knees and a knapsack that hung loosely on one shoulder, laughing with little children who were selling what looked like different sorts of flowers. You bent down to reach for a bouquet, and then lifted it to your nose, closing your eyes as you inhaled the scent.

Seungcheol drew to a stop as he neared you. His breaths slowed into pants, but his restless heart still fluttered faster than it would normally do.

Before he could lose his courage, he walked slowly to you.

He didn’t know what to say to you yet. After the bus ride, he only saw you every now and then, among the hundred volunteers that had joined. And all day long today, when he knew that he could not put off speaking to you anymore, he had been thinking about how he could approach you without scaring you off. There was one point this evening, after a little bit of beer, when he had felt like he could be brave enough to speak to you the moment he finds you.

But now, standing before you, he was tongue-tied, unable to say anything at all.

Sensing his presence, you turned, looking directly at him, still laughing, your hands holding a bouquet close to your face.

For precious brief seconds, the both of you just stood there, the night breeze beckoning as it made its sweeping touch upon both your clothes, trying to unchain you from where you both stood—whispering, it seemed, as it touched skin, Closer.

It was you who broke the ice.

“That was quite a run,” you commented humorously, your eyes filling with a gentle light. “Did I drop my wallet or something?”

Seungcheol laughed, blushing at the same time before scratching his head. He didn’t know that you had noticed him running. “Uh, no. Sorry. I must have startled you.”

“You told me during our bus ride that you came just to have some fun,” you said softly, your eyes taking in this handsome man before you and the jacket he wore. “But I saw how you worked hard, especially today. Thank you for coming with us.”

“And thank you for your songs,” Seungcheol replied, smiling. There was no flattery in his voice when he said this to you, only interest and admiration and another emotion that he himself could not clearly define at that moment.

Your eyes widened. “You listened?”

Seungcheol cocked his head to the side, hands in his pockets, still smiling. “All three songs, the whole afternoon.”

You grinned. “Ah. I didn’t know that I was in the presence of a fan. So…” one corner of your mouth turned up playfully, “…you ran all that way—” you motioned at the brilliant lights of the festival that was behind you both, “—not because I dropped my wallet somewhere around the bazaars and you picked it up by chance…but because—you loved my songs,” you grinned as you said this, “and you wanted my autograph. Was that it?”

He stifled a laugh, but it still bubbled out of his lips. “No. To be honest, I was going to ask you something else.” Seungcheol’s kind, hooded eyes smiled along with his lips. Courage surged inside him, just when he needed it. “Would you like to dance with me?”

Your slow smile answered his question before you even spoke.

“Yes.”

Closer, the wind whispered as you ran, laughing, with Seungcheol, back into the bright lights where the lanterns swayed, his hand not letting go of yours. And as Seungcheol pulled you close to him by the waist, your body arched up against him, and you threw your arms around his neck. You danced to the slow music, with Seungcheol’s eyes lighting up like the lanterns and his delighted laughter as melodious as the strings that strummed soulful tunes through the night.

Not far from where you danced, watching and making funny but adoring commentaries about how Seungcheol sucked at dancing, Jeonghan and Jisoo clinked bottles.

“It did become an interesting night.”

The town, in the morning, was greeted by blue skies and the young heat of summer. Business went back to normal, with the townsfolk reverting to their quiet, slow-paced lives in the fields and the mountains where their houses and livelihoods were nestled. The square held its usual number of regulars, some laying on the soft grass and others spreading colorful cloths around for picnics. Bicycles and occasional cars passed by.

There were no more buses that lined outside the tall, eighty-year-old hotel that was the pride of the town. No more guys wearing university jackets, no more stalls that lined the cobbled sidewalks.

Everything had gone back to how they were.

But traces of the festival night still popped up here and there in that sleepy old town.

High up the mountains, in the orphanage, children sang your songs and your words lingered on their lips. Some of them still had chocolates and candy from yesterday, leftovers from what their volunteer friends had given them as treats before heading back to the city. A plaque commemorating those who donated and came to help could be seen inside the town hall. And the gratitude people felt in their hearts as they watched their town being rebuilt made them remember their friends who had left in the early morning.

Some traces, too, weren’t just found in town. Some you brought home with you.

In that morning, you and Seungcheol were already five hours away, on a bus terminal, getting woken by the driver, who told you that you were now back in the city.

You had both missed the bus rides back to campus, but that was okay.

With your bags slung on your backs, you talked about Seungcheol’s upcoming bar exam, your major and getting breakfast somewhere. The impress of his touch on the small of your back as he gently guided you through the crowded streets reminded you of how you had felt when you danced with him all night. You blushed as he playfully protested about how his arms had gone numb when he woke up with you in his arms. Laughing with him as you both strolled along the hectic streets of the city, you found that you liked how Seungcheol’s voice sounded and how he would look you in the eyes intently whenever you would start to tell him something, no matter how interesting or uninteresting it would be. There was something intuitive and perceptive about him, something that you don’t normally see with guys that you had tried to get to know before. You liked that uniqueness in Seungcheol.

Sitting across him, eating your burger as you watched him type his number on your phone, you felt something new begin. And when he unconsciously reached out to take your hand while inside a cab that morning, you just knew, that you had both found in each other a memento from that summer night up in the mountains, in a town slowly recovering from a calamity, a town of cobbled streets and music and the wind that had teased and whispered, Closer.

2 | autumn, beneath the glowing streetlamps

Almost every sunset since the leaves started falling and the sky started to become painted in reddish-golden splendor, as people hurried along sidewalks or streets or in their bicycles and cars before rush hour set in, you would find yourself racing, racing and racing into Cheol’s waiting arms, warm and safe from the dropping temperatures and the cruel life of being an assistant producer for a crueler entertainment company.

There would be times when you would immediately look up from burying yourself in the warmth of Seungcheol’s embrace, smile sweetly up at his face and say in cute tones, “Hi, baby!”

There would be times when you would wrap your arms around his neck and stand on tiptoes to treat him with kisses as he laughed and whispered, “I missed you” in your ear.

And there would also be times when you would linger beneath his coat, shutting out all the bustling noises around you, eyes closed, and your words an almost unintelligible murmur on his chest. “Let’s stay like this for a while, please?” 

You would then feel him kiss your hair, nuzzle your face, replying softly, “Bad day?” before hugging you tighter and tilting your head up so he could give you one of his infamous pep talks. He would then be kissing you with a laugh when you would start to complain that he sounded like a lecturer you had back in your uni days.

It had been three years since you danced with the wind during that summer night, and your sunsets during this third autumn season with Seungcheol by your side usually consisted of these sweet embraces and small but meaningful whispers of affection.

But today, the sunset was different.

You are still racing through the streets, running, running and running, your coat and hair flying in the wind. But Choi Seungcheol—always standing out anywhere he went with his height and broad shoulders, huge coats and quick smiles—was nowhere among the crowd. And you now halted to a stop, catching your breath, eyes frantically searching for taxis as the dark blue and violet shades of the nighttime sky started to replace the golden sheen of the sunset.

Once you could get on one, you immediately gave out the address, telling the driver as nicely as possible to step on it. Then you leaned back on the plush leather seat, sighing loudly, looking through the car window as you sped past the city’s grey skyscrapers and its lights and the rush of commute. You listened to the noise of cars honking, of motorcycles zipping past your cab, and chatter from commuters as you sometimes halted at crosswalks. You observed these people rushing to and fro, eager to be where they needed to be. You engaged in pleasant talk with the driver, complimenting his choice of music, even confiding in him that you had helped make the second song that played.

Soon, you came to a place where the pulsing, white and yellow lights of the city softened into golden hue as the skyscrapers were replaced by townhouses and apartments, homey restaurants, little shops and an occasional clinic here and there. Passersby were not rushing in this part of the city. Rather, families were walking hand in hand, dads sometimes carrying their kids on their backs, laughing as they entered diners and restaurants. Old women in flowery dresses shuffled up the steps of their apartment, with their husbands or cats following closely. Lovers and students with their friends laughed softly as they quietly strolled down the sidewalks, amazed at the beauty of the coming night and the sighing of trees as their leaves fell. You smiled at a woman you knew as the cab slowed. And when it stopped, you got out, blinking as your eyes adjusted beneath the glowing light of the streetlamps, looking around.

This was your neighborhood. This was your world when five o'clock came and you were released from the pressure of work. This was your safety net when you felt like drowning. This was your home turf. 

And there he was, just as you knew he would be. He probably went straight home after court. He probably thought he could mask everything that had happened when he had rested enough. He probably didn’t want you to worry. 

Yes, there he was. Walking slowly to his car, shoulders slumped, his phone in his hand, probably going to shoot you a message that he was on his way to pick you up, he just ran a little late today. His head was bent down as he scrolled through his phone. His other hand was holding his briefcase, his most prized possession as a criminal lawyer. He didn’t see you coming towards him yet. But as he looked up from his phone to open the car door, his eye caught sight of you and he stopped, his hand on the door handle.

Immediately, Seungcheol’s despondent expression changed. His face lit up into a smile that almost didn’t look tired, his shoulders straightened up and he cocked his head to the side like he always does when he sees you looking at him, his now ash-blond hair touching his forehead. “Baby!” he called out endearingly, his free arm wide open.

There, beneath the glowing streetlamps, you ran up to him and wrapped him in a tight embrace, your feet on tiptoes, one of your hands raking through his hair, the other caressing his back, whispering his name over and over in relief. He’s here with me. Everything’s going to be alright.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, worried about you even at this time when you knew that he needed you more than you needed him now. “Did something happen at work?”

“No,” you whispered in his ear, still smoothing his hair, holding him close. “And let’s not talk about my work tonight.” You leaned back so you could look into his face. Your hands ran through the soft, ash-blond locks on his forehead. Now that you looked at him closely, you saw that he looked pale and drawn, utterly exhausted with his day. “Oh, baby.” You touched his face and he held your hand close to him like that, closing his eyes as he let out a huge breath.

Standing on tiptoes as the streetlamps glowed brighter and brighter in the night, as the trees shed red, gold and brown leaves and as people passed you by, each off to their respective evenings, you gave Choi Seungcheol a tender kiss.

He sighed shakily as your lips touched his. He trembled underneath your touch; it was as if all his carefully put-up defenses might fall apart in that moment.

And they did, right when you whispered against his lips, as gently as you could, “It’s not your fault.”

Tears fell from his closed eyes like the trees lining the sidewalk, weeping away their precious foliage. You felt his body heave into choking, unmanly sobs as he buried his face down your shoulder, his hold on you so tight that you felt just how much pain he was trying to release. The briefcase lay forgotten at your feet as his arms pulled you as close as he could to him.

Seungcheol couldn’t say anything, but you knew about everything already; the city may be vast and diverse, but news travels fast. There was no need for him to explain. You knew enough, and that was all you needed.

“Shhh,” you whispered, tears falling from your face as well, your chest aching at the sight of your man—this man who liked to look okay in front of you all the time—bent, broken, and crying. “You’ll be alright.” Your arms tightened around Seungcheol, and you closed your eyes. “You’ll be alright.”

There was a comforting lull as you both stayed that way for a while, not minding who saw you, not minding the time. Tonight, he needed you, and you wanted him to know that he could hold you for as long as he wanted. For as long as he needed. When you had felt like he had calmed a bit, you asked him, “Bad day?” Even though you already knew the answer, he wouldn’t be able to talk about it freely if you didn’t ask. 

You felt him smile sheepishly on your neck. “Yeah.” He sighed and buried his face onto your shoulder. “Bad day.” 

“Oh, baby.” You hugged him tighter.

“I’m sorry. I know that I’m not usually like this—”

“—I like it better when you lean on me, too.” You patted his back comfortingly, over and over. “I know that you don’t want to talk about it yet, at least, not right now, but I’ll always be ready to listen, okay?” 

“Okay.”

“No rush. But you can tell me everything when you feel ready.” You pulled away to stare into his puffy eyes. “I must say, though,” you commented with a bit of humor, “that red does not suit your eyes when it’s like that.” You smirked at him as his expression softened and his laughter came. You took out a handkerchief from your coat pocket and dabbed it underneath his eyes and his cheeks. “Doesn’t matter anyway,” you muttered lightly, knowing how much your nonsensical words would make him smile, “you still look good even when you cry.”

Seungcheol groaned. “Stop.” Then he kissed your forehead. “Thank you.” For making me feel better. You saw the words in his eyes, which began to sparkle again with a gentle light. He grinned at you, and a little bit of the sadness painted on his face seemed to dissipate. 

You grinned back at him, and you held out a hand. 

“Can we go home now?”

Seungcheol grasped your hand tightly and smiled. “Yes.”

The streetlamps glowed brighter as the dark ink of the night swallowed the brilliant colors of the dusk, and you both blended in with the people who were around you, walking towards whatever lay ahead for them in the coming night. 

Seungcheol didn’t tell you about what happened that day in court. He didn’t tell you about what had made him cry like that when you found him. He didn’t offer any explanation.

And you let it stay that way. You watched him from your perch on the duvet in your living room. He sat on the couch, poring over binders that held one-inch-thick documents and every now and then scribbling something on a legal pad. You watched him whisper to himself as he typed incessantly on his laptop. Paraphernalia from whatever he was working on was scattered on the floor in an order that only he could understand. You watched him for a time as he kept on working. This was how he was whenever something from his work would haunt him: he would meticulously go over where he went wrong (or where he thought he went wrong), and he would passionately redo that area until he was satisfied. He would anxiously (and sometimes even a bit obsessively) review each argument, each line, over and over again. 

Judging from his expression and from how he couldn't seem to stop doing this cycle of reading/writing/whispering, you knew that whatever piece of courtroom action he had brought home with him had truly gotten to him. 

You watched and watched, and then you gave up watching him. You hated seeing him become so immersed into a case because you've seen him like this before, and you hadn't liked how it affected him physically and mentally. 

You wondered about what you could do for him. Nothing came to mind. 

Sighing, you rose up from your seat, a bottle of beer in your hand. You padded softly towards the other side of the room, where an unvarnished upright piano was. 

You lifted the cover and you let your fingers run across the ivory keys. You sat down. As you stared down at the keys, a melody you’ve never sung before formed on your lips. You found the right key, and you began to play the melody that you hummed.

Slowly, scenery came to life in your mind, along with the words that painted its description beautifully.

“Autumn days of glory // autumn days of peace // red and golden splendor // in the sky and trees…”

You didn’t know where the words would lead, but you let your hands and your heart take flight. You let them come straight home where they needed to be. You let them express what you couldn't do in any other way.

“Fall is often like // a season of pure bliss // But fall is also when // change happens to things.”      

You remembered the moment you shared with Seungcheol a few hours ago, outside. You let your hands play on as more lines went out of your lips, giving voice to the emotions you had felt and painted the picture in your mind with.

“Let me touch your face // let me dry those tears // let me help you brace // for the colder winds…”

You heard footsteps behind you, but the song still flowed out of your lips as your heart poured out what it wanted to say through the music's timeless language.

“Autumn days of glory // autumn days of peace // let me stand on tiptoes // let me give you a kiss…”

You felt his arms around you, and you felt the touch of his lips on your neck. 

You found the last chord, and you leaned against him. 

You stayed like that for a long time.

Your hand caressed one of his arms as you sang softly, “I will hold you close // I will dry your tears // I will help you brace // for the colder winds…”

You felt him breathe deeply, and you felt his arms tighten around you. And when he turned your face to him to give you his most tender kiss, you knew that he had chosen to leave his books and legal pads and that case that haunted him. You knew that he had chosen, no matter how hard it was, to put the bad day behind him.

As he carried you up from that hard, unvarnished piano bench where you sat and onto the soft satin comfort of your bedroom sheets, you just knew. You just knew that no matter how bad days in the future might get, as long as you had each other, there would always be peace at the end. That both of you would always choose peace at the end.

That night, as the last of the leaves on the trees fell, and as Seungcheol's bare skin cleaved to yours, he bared his thoughts to you. You both stared at the naked truth of his anxiety, his worries. Hesitantly, at first, he let you in on his deepest fears.

That night was the beginning of honesty at its purest between you two. That night, you treated each other like the Bible where you had seen Seungcheol swear the truth and nothing but the truth countless times. That night, you both found safety in each other as you unmasked the pretenses that you both still put up for the sake of looking brave. 

That night, too, you both decided that there was no other way to overcome bad days, except to overcome it together.

When the streetlamps stopped burning brightly and another day came around, you both stepped out of the apartment, hand in hand, the warm glow on your faces obviously not coming from the sun, which had risen in a useless effort to bring warmth against the cold. 

You both went your separate ways, disappearing amongst the thousands of people who rushed about as the sleepless city burst with renewed life. 

Well, bad days, fire away, you thought to yourself as you tightened your scarf around your neck. After that night, the impending doom of a long day failed to break your spirit.

You had Seungcheol, and Seungcheol had you. Everything would be okay. You both just knew: everything would be okay.

Later that day, another golden dusk settled across the skyline. You raced down the busy sidewalks of the city again, looking out for a cab. The holiday season was almost upon you, and the air already had a festive spirit to it. As you glanced up and down the lanes of vehicles halting at the red light, your eye caught a figure to your left, among the crowds.

Waving his hand, his eyes alight, his smile as bright as it was during those first few days that leaves fell from trees, there was Seungcheol, wearing his huge coat, holding his briefcase and waiting, as he had always done, for you.

Smiling jubilantly, you ran to him, pushing against crowds of people, eager to become enveloped into his safe, warm embrace.

You were tired. It had been a very busy day: meetings, songwriting sessions, planning music video sets with other staff, and doing final checks on a concert stage took up most of your energy. But in Seungcheol’s arms, the fatigue you felt slowly washed away. 

"Baby," you whispered, closing your eyes as you leaned against his chest. You felt his kisses on your hair and you smiled. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but does that smile mean that you helped save the world today?"

At your words, you felt Seungcheol drew in a sharp breath. You felt his teeth sink into your shoulder playfully as his body reverberated with giggles.

"Please stop making me blush in public, babe!"

The forecast had said that temperatures would be at its lowest yet, but as you kept making jokes while basking in the music of Seungcheol’s laughter, you never felt the cold during that last sunset of autumn.

3 | winter, by the hearth

“And everything in time and under heaven finally falls asleep // Wrapped in blankets white, all creation shivers underneath.”

Like magic, the words you sang out perfectly described the hushed, dreamy landscape that unfurled before Seungcheol's eyes. Snowflakes in their different designs fell softly on the ground and on your nose as you walked, hand in hand, wrapped in your warmest, heaviest winter clothing. You were walking towards the huge family house that belonged to your maternal grandparents, and you were both enchanted by the frozen beauty of the vast garden you were walking through. And as if the sight of imposing life-sized statues and the creaking, barren trees lining the footpath wasn't enough, the series of mountains to the left of the property also peeked out from the stone walls, revealing their snow-covered peaks and adding a magical feeling to the scenery.

It was the first time that you would bring Seungcheol to a dinner with all of your extended family, and Seungcheol knew from the way that you smiled at him a lot that you were excited.

Excited, and something else. 

Despite the mixed expressions on your face that he could not quickly decipher to get a clear understanding of, Seungcheol returned your smiles. “How long has it been since you came here?” he asked, stepping over a mound of ice and snow that had formed along the pavement.

“Years." You looked up at him again, and you smiled wider. "It shows on my face that much, huh? How thrilled I am at having my whole family meet you?"

Seungcheol smirked. "I don't know how to get my family together like this. Do your grandparents hold gatherings like this often?"

"Not really. But they've been missing their children and us grandchildren, so…" you cleared your throat and paused. "Baby, do I look like Christmas lights are strung up on my face? Because my cousins tease me about my smile whenever I get excited.”

The brightness in your voice had dropped a notch, and Seungcheol examined your face again. “Well you do look excited, but I wouldn't worry about your face. You always look beautiful…"

You probably did not hear him, because you had let go of his hand to run ahead, towards the widespread arms of a very handsome old man who seemed to have the same light like yours in his eyes and the same humor on his smile like yours. 

Seungcheol hurried towards you and your grandfather, and he bowed respectfully. 

"So this is the lucky man," your grandfather commented humorously, shaking Seungcheol's hand heartily. "Come in, come in! Best to get out of the cold." Your grandfather shivered animatedly, and you laughed, leaning against him as you walked in. 

You seemed fine. Seungcheol smiled and entered the double doors after you.

The house was spacious and welcoming, designed with warm wood tones and bursting to life with patches of greenery here and there. The wooden beams and pillars that supported doorways were intricately carved with floral swirls and patterns, and the furniture style accentuated the vibrant yet homey tones. The smell of food and wine and the sound of logs being thrown into a fireplace filled Seungcheol's senses. Holiday music played in the background, and soft laughter from one of the rooms to the far right of the hall made Seungcheol guess that some family members have already arrived before you did. 

As he walked on, straightening his clothes, he ran smack-dab into a woman who looked a lot like you but was very much unlike you either. Seungcheol would never see you wearing a power suit in bold colors like this woman. The man behind her smiled at Seungcheol and offered a hand.

"Oooh, so this is my cousin Y/N's boyfriend!" The woman grinned. She held out a well-manicured hand. "I'm Sana, and this is my husband, Minhyuk. You’re Seungcheol, right?"

"Yes. Very nice to meet you," Seungcheol answered, his face lighting up when he saw you with a smile on your face, walking towards Sana. Sana is one of my favorite cousins, you had told him earlier. She's the loudest among all of us, but she's a really good person who took care of me a lot when I was younger.

Sana leaned close to Seungcheol, and he was once again struck by how her brown eyes looked a lot like yours. But hers, he observed, had a mischievous glint, while yours always had a gentle light in them. 

"You'd better be prepared for this family dinner," Sana whispered conspiratorially, "and don't let your guard down. Watch your manners--"

"--oh, come on, Sana," you groaned, pulling Seungcheol away, laughter in your voice. "It won't be that bad!"

"Don't say I didn't warn you! And sit beside me during dinner!" Sana's red-lipped smile made Seungcheol suddenly wonder what you both were talking about. You were both inside the parlor now, where drinks were being served and the people inside were more formal: quieter and older members of the family were either seated or standing around, wine glasses in their hands, conversing as they studied the portraits that hung around the room. A young man sat by one of the massive floor-to-ceiling windows of the parlor, his fingers flying across the ivory keys of the grand piano. The fire crackled as a man added more logs. Your grandfather was nowhere in sight.

Seungcheol wondered why your smile did not reach your eyes once these people started to come and greet you with their hugs and kisses. He wanted to ask if you were okay because you had grown quieter. Occasionally glancing at you as he introduced himself to members of the family, he noticed that your whole countenance had changed. 

The smiles and the laughter coming from you still rang true in his ears, but as your hands clasped before you as you engaged in conversation with an aunt of yours, you showed him a side of you that he had never seen before: very composed, very somber, very careful. The only relief that seemed to show on your face was when your parents finally came in, and Seungcheol was glad for the respite from your strained expressions and gestures. Your smile at them as they embraced you warmly was the only smile that reached your eyes throughout the whole introductory phase of the gathering.

"I'm so glad you're here, Seungcheol!" your mother said cheerfully, adding a warmth that Seungcheol hadn't felt in the room since you had both walked in. In fact, of all the people he had greeted today, nobody he'd met in this side of your family eased the tension he had been feeling since your voice changed on the way in. "My family has been waiting to see you for ages!"

Seungcheol kissed your mother's cheek and shook your father's hand, engaging in pleasant small talk with them. He had spent a lot of holidays and vacations with your parents, and they had been very enjoyable ones. In this fifth year of your relationship, though, you had quietly asked him if he wanted to go see your grandparents with you. He had known from the expression on your face that seeing your grandparents was an important family affair; and he knew now, too, why you had looked so anxious. 

Everyone walked into the dining room once the clock in the parlor struck six o'clock. A long table heaped with food and beverages on glassware greeted all of you. Seating yourselves, Seungcheol held your hand underneath the table, squeezing it reassuringly. You squeezed his back.

Seungcheol's eyes caught Sana's on the far side of the room. She was sitting on the opposite end of the table with Minhyuk, and she cocked her head to the side, mouthing words that looked like, "Sit here, you two!", gesturing at a couple of seats beside them that soon got taken by another cousin and his parents. Sana made a face, and Seungcheol grinned. You were busy talking with another cousin, Samuel, who had also brought his partner with him. Seated at the far end of the table, near the empty seat of your grandfather, Seungcheol waited for dinner to begin.

Clinks of glasses and forks and knives slicing through meat and spoons ladling soup were the background music to the words that this huge family exchanged. Laughter rippled through the room, and slowly, the tension and formality that shaped conversations a while ago stopped.

"Is that Counselor Choi from the City Prosecutor’s Office?"

The matronly voice made everyone's heads turn, and all laughter died down.

Seungcheol saw your grandmother for the first time. 

Dinner had long since started, but the way she gracefully sat down and the way her shoulders were set back made everyone excuse her for being late. Your grandfather silently took his place beside you, and you exchanged sweet smiles with him. Seungcheol watched as your grandfather leaned towards you, and he heard words like, “…talk to her…” come from his lips. Nervous energy engulfed the dinner table, and Seungcheol's ears must have been fooling him, because every clink and scrape of knives, and even the music, seemed to stop. 

Your grandmother, beautiful despite her age, laid her eyes upon Seungcheol. Her eyes were neither kind nor cruel. The aloofness there could have thrown any stranger off, but the spark of interest that lit up her eyes compelled Seungcheol to return her gaze and to answer.

"Yes, ma'am." He could have called her something else, but this aura she exuded seemed to ask for something that formal. "Thank you for inviting me."

When she smiled, her expression was guarded as well. "My granddaughter is very fortunate to have met you. And you're welcome. Please, eat."

After greeting the other girlfriends, boyfriends, husbands and wives seated around, the rest of the conversation was directed at other members of the family. Seungcheol learned that this side of your family was involved in medical and tourism careers. You were the only one he knew that had a different path from the rest of them. This hadn’t been obvious when he spent time with your parents, but on this table, careers and what you are doing to succeed in that career seemed to be very important. Careers steered the conversation.

"Ahyoung is planning on setting up a pediatric practice, Mother,” one aunt said as she set down her spoon. “She wasn't able to come because she had to tie up some loose ends with the clinic renovation."

"Working through the holidays? Ahyoung must be wanting to surpass my record as a workaholic." Chuckles around the table could be heard at this amusing remark from Grandmother. "The president of the hospital in that town is a friend of mine who could help her establish her practice. Tell her to give me a call so I can help her get in touch with him. How about you, Jaemin? I saw you on TV a week ago. You announced the opening of a...what was that...a museum?"

"A shrine recreation, Grandmother. We're currently in the process of recreating an entire temple from the Silla era. My archaeology team hit a huge find down south when they found the remains of what we initially thought was a hidden metropolis in the mountains. Turns out that was this temple where priestesses tried to read the stars—”

“—if you need a priestess to make your shrine look more realistic, you can hire me." Sana broke in as she winked at Jaemin, who immediately looked flustered. Younger cousins of yours immediately began doing their best to hold back their laughter and Seungcheol felt you giggle quietly beside him, too, as you drank your glass of wine. 

"Sana, instead of ridiculing your older brother, why don't you tell us about the latest findings of your research? And congratulations, darling. My former colleagues in Gynecology have been telling me that your research will be of a huge benefit to their practice.”

"Well, we are still working on developing this fertility treatment, as you know already, and we have the goal of obtaining a much higher success rate than in vitro fertilization. So, for example, if the success rate of a thirty-five-year-old woman is only at thirty-nine-point-five per cent, we would try to raise that bar by giving her a fifty per cent threshold of success. It’s still at a very experimental stage at this point, Grandmother, but the labs have been working on it incessantly...” 

Seungcheol stopped listening at that point. He focused on his food and on not letting go of your hand. Their topics were interesting and he would occasionally get roped into the conversation, but Seungcheol couldn't help but despair about the fact that there wasn’t talk about anything else except work and their different professions and future plans for their businesses or companies. It was the holidays, for goodness’ sake. There weren't many other stories shared aside from work life. Everyone seemed to be comfortable with that kind of setting, but it cut through Seungcheol deeply. Especially when he noticed that the questions didn’t get to you. 

The dinner passed like that.

Grandmother rose from her seat, her height, willowy frame and white dress making her look even more imposing. Silence once again reigned, and she spoke.

“Y/N, may I speak to you in private for a moment?” It wasn’t a question. She spun on her heel and left.

Seungcheol knew that she expected you to follow. And you did, whispering, “I’ll be back” before rushing out of the dining room. When his eyes roamed around the table, he saw that everyone was looking at him, and he put his fork down. He didn’t know what to think of what just happened. Your mother followed you out soon after.

"Don't worry," Samuel said reassuringly. "Grandmother may look like a very hard woman, but she's actually soft on the inside--"

"--and she has the softest spot for Y/N." Sana smiled. "She would never admit to playing favorites, but we all know in this table that she loves Y/N the most."

At a later time, while relishing dessert, your history with your grandmother began to unfold from the table, where only your closest cousins remained, and Seungcheol listened to them intently.

They told him the story about a grandmother who wanted nothing but the best of life for her family. A grandmother who had done her best to live a life that she knew would become a good example to everyone who followed her. Despite her stern appearance, she wasn’t the rich and evil grandmother who forced everyone to do things her way. Surprisingly, she was one who encouraged her family members to pursue what they loved to do.

“You see, even though most of us work in the medical field, we didn’t get these jobs because someone told us to, or because the woman we look up to in this family. We became doctors and businessmen because we wanted these jobs. Our paths turned out this way, and we’re enjoying ourselves.” Sana paused, letting her words sink first. “All our parents and our grandparents asked of us was that we pursue our dreams intending to succeed. And that was where she and Y/N took a bad turn.”

“Everyone in this family had turned out to be exactly who they wanted to be.” The unspoken words after that sentence held weight. All except one: you.

“Grandmother just couldn’t understand why Y/N did not choose to become the singer that she wanted to be. And what made her more furious was the fact that she doesn’t see how good she could be.”

Music from the piano drifted into the dining hall. Someone was singing carols, and Seungcheol was jolted from his reverie when he heard soft laughter coming from the parlor as well. It was then that he realized that most of the family had gone back to the parlor, where it was evident that they all loved to spend time together.

“Only one person plays beautifully like that,” Jaemin remarked. Seungcheol noted the ring of envy and admiration on his voice as you all listened to the strains of a piano. “You’re a very lucky man. My cousin isn’t just someone you meet out there.”

“Which is why she’s the favorite,” Hyorin, another cousin of yours, commented. “In a family of doctors and business magnates, she stands out.” Hyorin stood up, bringing her glass of wine with her. “I’m going there to listen.”

Sitting on the piano, fingers making music in a way that spoke to the soul, was you. It was one thing to just play music. It was another thing when that music communicates with its listeners, making them feel something. People were humming the carols that you played, but you didn’t pay heed to them. Seungcheol knew that once you were seated on that bench, you were in another world entirely. You smiled at your relatives as they all sang out songs and gave her requests. Music tied you all together and brought out the beauty of the human inside. Work was forgotten as you sang together. From the corner of his eye, as he joined the men in belting out “Smile Flower” by a classic boy group from more than fifty years ago, Seungcheol saw your grandmother smiling—genuinely—and nodding with your parents, who were also looking at you.

A change of key quieted the room, and everyone tried to figure out what the song you were playing. But nobody could tell what it was, only that it was in A minor. They waited for you to sing.

And when you did, a song they’ve never heard before, a song Seungcheol had never heard before from you, rose from your lips.

“Tossing out the lines that were never truly mine // Throwing to the fire what was never truly fine // I am in a place where no doubt and fears can get me // I am safe tonight with lover and family // by the firelight // by the firelight // I could be me.”

Later, when you and Seungcheol had gone home and you were both staring into the hearth which served as the only light in the living room and warmed you both from the cold of the night, Seungcheol mustered the courage to ask you what your grandmother had told you when she pulled you aside right after dinner.

You smiled and said simply, “She doesn’t want me to become an assistant producer anymore.” Your hand laced with Seungcheol’s underneath the pale blue quilt wrapped around you both. “She wants me to get my music out there to the world. She said she wanted me to stop hesitating about my future.”

“And what do you think about her advice?”

You turned to him, and your eyes were moist, your lips trembling with emotion as you smiled. “Baby,” you said gently, leaning on his shoulder, “it’s not that simple.” You sighed. “And I know I might sound like such a coward to you, but I have a reason for not pursuing a singing career. Besides, I think I’m already too old for that kind of life.”

“Yeah,” Seungcheol playfully acknowledged, “twenty-seven is too old for that kind of life.”

You laughed, but your eyes remained sad. “Consider that a sub-reason as to why I don’t want to be a singer. I know that I’m breaking my family’s heart by choosing not to become one because they want to see me actually doing something that I love. But you see, I’m not really in that bad a position. I’m doing something close to what I truly love. And for me, that is enough.”

Seungcheol held you closer with his one arm. “But what is the reason why you don’t want to be a singer? I’ve always wondered why, too. I didn’t ask you before about this because I didn’t want you—”

“—I don’t want a life where my most beautiful escape—my music—will most likely end up being my darkest prison.” You weren’t looking at him, but Seungcheol knew from your voice that you meant your words, and you wanted him to understand. “I’ve seen it happen. Every day, I work with talented people who were brave enough to let the world see their lives and listen to their music. I help them shine like the stars they are, but I always witness them burn too brightly and die out too fast in the end. And I don’t want that kind of life for myself. I want my music to be mine alone and to whoever I want to give it to. I don’t want my art to be pressured by people’s expectations and desires. I don’t want that kind of life.”

“Tossing out the lines that were never truly mine,” he sang. “Throwing to the fire what was never truly fine. I am in a place where no doubt and fears can get me. I am safe tonight with lover and family. By the firelight, I could be me.” Seungcheol looked at you. “Is that why you sang this to your family? So that they won’t worry about you being miserable because you haven’t fulfilled your ultimate dream?”

You looked at him humorously. “My ultimate dream is to be your wife and the mother of your children, dummy.”

“Oh.” Seungcheol blushed. “I forgot about that part.”

You let out a huge breath. “But you’re right. I just wanted them to know that I’m okay with my life. At the same time, though, I can’t stop wondering if I am missing out on something that I know I want to try deep in my heart.”

“So try doing it.”

It was when you hesitated when he said those words that Seungcheol knew.

He kissed your temple gently. “Baby, I think you should at least try.” Seungcheol stared at you as you pondered what he said in your mind. He knew that a million thoughts, pros and cons and other factors were probably racing around in your head at this point, and he didn’t want you to do that. “Come on. On the count of three, answer my question: do you want to sing your songs out there in the world or not? One.” You didn’t budge. “Two.” You gripped his hand tighter. “Thr—”

“—yes.” You wrapped your arms around his neck and you looked at him, staring deeply into his eyes. “But I’m afraid of the cost it would ask of me.”

“The greater the risk, the greater the joy,” Seungcheol commented casually as he laid you down on the couch, smiling as he kissed you. “Try it.”

“Don’t you think I’m too old? Or that I look too—”

“—This is not about what I want. This is about what you want. Your life. Your future. Your dreams.” He gazed at you again, and he felt the same flush that had crept on his face when he first heard you sing, up in the mountains, in an orphanage. So many things had happened since then. And he pictured you in his head, living your dream, casting the same spell that you had enchanted him with on thousands of people.

A performer, not a producer. That’s who my granddaughter is. Your grandmother’s last words before you both went home lingered on his head as he kissed you. Making music and performing that music is what she does best, and what she has always wanted. Help her get to her dreams. Don’t let her give in to her fears.

By the hearth, as he made love to you—his hands planted on your hips, his painfully delicious rhythm bringing tears to your eyes—he could not get over the truth that, with or without the spotlight on you, you were an amazing woman already. And he knew that he would continue seeing you grow into someone he will always be proud to love and to be with. But in his mind, he could not shake off the image he saw of you, of who you could be if you just became brave enough to.

“What does your heart say?” he asked you, his hand running up and down your bare skin, your limbs tangled together. The fire in the hearth had gone down into sizzling embers and the quilt barely covered you both, but your skin pressed against each other was warm with the afterglow of your lovemaking. “What do you truly want to do?”

You looked up at him with no hesitation, his heart stopped to beat for a moment that felt like forever: because there, in the sparks of light that burst to life in your eyes, he could see the woman you are, and the woman you could be, evolving into one.

“Baby, I want to try.”                

 4 | spring, and through the seasons after

The train of your dress fanned around you in its lacy magnificence, and the sun could not help itself but touch the beautiful, delicate material with its glorious beams. The soft grass underneath your feet sighed as you passed, and bursts of color from the petals strewn by your nieces gave a beautiful contrast to the peaceful green of the grass and the muted white tones of your dress. You hear people’s voices as you pass them by, their whispers of congratulations and the flashes of cameras. You looked to the horizon, on the sleeping waters of the early morning ocean, which reflected the rosy blush of the first dawn of spring.

You heard the piano start its music, and you hear the viola and the cello in their sweet duet. You smiled at your friends and your family as you passed them by. The crown of flowers in your hair rustled as the wind blew, and your veil flowed along with your hair as that touch of breeze passed.

One more step until you reach him.

When your eyes locked with the man that you will vow to love and to cherish and to be with forevermore, flashes of seasons past appeared in your mind: summers where drops of sun would scorch your skin, and where the smell of petrichor would linger after brief showers of rain; the crunch of leaves beneath your boots, and the colder winds that you would brace against during autumn; the calming hush when everything falls asleep and shivers under blankets of ice and snow; and the first days of spring, like this one, wherein what was frozen through would turn back to healthy shades of green, awakening with a new purpose.

As more memories came to your mind, a song formed in your heart and became written on your mind as you took in Seungcheol’s smiling eyes, brimming with tears as your hand touched his.

“Hold me close, darling // never let go // make this feeling last forever and a day // let’s stay.” These words, for that one summer night, in an old town, where you slow-danced to guitar and dulcimer strings as lanterns swayed with the wind. “Run your fingers through my hair // say you won’t care // if this feeling lasts forever and a day // let’s stay...”

“I love you so much // that I couldn’t keep it in anymore. // I need you so // like the air I breathe to live one more day, so stay…” These words, for that time when you remembered yourself frantically running across sidewalks as the golden glow of streetlights blended with the colors of an autumn dusk, and crashing into the safe, strong arms that will continue to hold you for as long as this life lasts and after.

“You keep setting my soul on fire // you make everything worthwhile…” These words, for that winter night when you felt the blazing sparks of the fire by the hearth of your house, where you decided to take the risk of burning brightly like the stars with your music. “You’re the sun that made me shine like this, // you’re the love that I just can’t resist, so please stay…” These words, for all the moments that you had doubted and he had believed in you as you made your dreams come true. These words, because from the privacy of the firelight by the hearth to the adulation of thousands as you stood beneath spotlights, he had been there.

“Love, let’s stay…Stay this way.”

Each memory and each turn of the seasons that passed through your mind evoked a variety of emotions within you. And you know in your heart that the reason why you could recall them so vividly and feel them so profoundly is that you did not create them alone.

Your eyes take in the man whose companionship had completed the scenes in your head. Through the seasons, he had been with you. He had laughed with you. He had cried with you. He had grown with you. And unlike the seasons which come and go, he stayed.

And he never left.

As you said your vows and exchanged rings and as you sealed the promises made with a kiss, you knew: through the seasons, he had truly, and sincerely, loved you.

- Super-Late Leanne.  ⏰

#seventeen #svtcreations #caratwritersclub #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #svt fluff #svt angst #seventeen choi seungcheol #svt choi seungcheol #svt scoups #seventeen scoups #cheol #seventeen hong jisoo #seventeen yoon jeonghan #HAPPY BIRTHDAY BABY!!!

[keyheartsia-dorm]

*Sighs*

I’m bored let’s do a lore dump

It’s a Map~

Oh Yeah I mentioned a Sprinkle of Final Fantasy and KH but I haven’t talked about that Aspect of my Canon At all have I? Well truth be told it’s cause I’m focusing on getting the more Basic Aspects of my Oc’s Before I get into that but Guess who made this Baby on a Whim!

So this is the Map of the Isle of Light well the Main Island at least there are other Littler Bits of land Yet to surface I̶t̶’̶s̶ ̶t̶o̶t̶a̶l̶l̶y̶ ̶n̶o̶t̶ ̶s̶o̶ ̶I̶ ̶c̶a̶n̶ ̶A̶d̶d̶ ̶o̶n̶t̶o̶ ̶t̶h̶i̶s̶ ̶L̶a̶t̶e̶r̶ ̶h̶a̶h̶a̶ oh yeah did I mention it’s a FLOATING ISLAND!! Yeah P Sick right? Okay so I’ll go into the Island’s History and it’s Area’s but it may have some Spoilers I guess you could say but honestly I wouldn’t wait on me making a full fledged...Anything outta the Story I’ve made like I’ll sum it up (not here but like in general) but comics are hard Videos are hard Fics are hard maybe not individually but this is more of a Anime Series then an Anime movie if you feel me without further ado...Stuff

Oh god this was longer then expected

Some General Background

So The Isle of Light was Originally the Black Forest A Place of Freedom and Expression for all who lead lives who Needed to hide Such and Some Such was The Coven of the Black Forest made up of 3 sisters (not biologically also there was a 4th) they all found comfort and love with each other one being the Princess of the Kingdom nearby (The 4th and Littlest one) She had a fiancé who was Mad with a Lust for power and Control over things he Didn’t need power and control over He Treated the Littlest one Cruelly when the other 3 Decided enough was enough when he did...SOMETHING to Part of the Forest so Horrible it turned Dead and Cruel (Subtle Subtle Hint Hint Wink) When all 3 Of them saw the Ruin They went so mad they turned to Darkness and fought him and all his Manmade monstrosities there when the Princess Arrived there was so much Dark energy everywhere it was Bad like Real Bad So with her friends now monsters she Fought them with a heavy heart her heart broke so much she fell afterwards immediately Unintentionally Sending her Kingdom to somewhere nobody knows where she is though...That’s an even bigger question BUT the story would live on as a Weilder of the key blade who slayed 3 evil witches...(Oh yeah did I mention Crowley knows And that’s Why He Let the Girls Attend because he thought they might be the Black Forest Coven Reincarnated And the Prophecy that when they Awakened the “Keys to their Hearts once more” They’d Free The Princess From her Mirror Prison Oh Yeah also the princess DID Die But her Reincarnation Goes inside a Mirror and is trapped there when she turns 17 and Doesn’t leave until she dIES ALSO ITS HIS OLDEST DAUGHTER THIS TIME ALSO YES HE HAS 2 DAUGHTERS...Okay lemme just calm down..Also yeah she thought of the Princess System) but After a Wish got safe haven for all Keyblade Weilders (I have KH Oc’s other then these don’t ask Longer story they live and basically founded Fortana Haven) I guess the Isle of Light Rose from the Shadow Realm to be just that oh yeah also the Isle of light is literally that kingdom if ya didn’t know

Fortana Haven

(Some Love Nikki BGs for Visualization if I’m Wrong about this from being from Love Nikki Correct me pls and if this is your art sorry and I’ll take it down)

Okay this Place Basically a Modern Fairytale Everything is so Rustic~ but they Have Cafe’s and Stuff~ They’re still very much in Development as a City..or town..or whatever Boss of everything Locket Clover (An OG KH OC) Runs Everything Wonderfully she welcomes everything with open arms and If you wanna run a shop or want a Building for a particular Thing or Activity she’s Pretty open to the idea unless it’s Incredibly Dumb But she will make you get The Wood and Supplies and The Bricks and the Brick Stick Sauce or whatever it’s called she might get give you help constructing but dang is she a firm believer in “DIY” but I like how she’s Determined to Have a Good Balance between Industrial and Rural In fact there is a Mall (God knows how it got there) And that’s pretty much all there is for your Juicy Capitalism Fix She Runs “Hope Stir” Workshop according to Her boyfriend Ephmer It was always Called a workshop but for the longest time she did EVERYTHING Subtle Farmwork And Animal Husbandry ACTUAL Workshop things all cause she wanted to help every Weilder she knew out and made sure they had a place for food and such She is a bit of a Moneyholic but when you’ve been doing what she’s been doing I bet you’d be too overall While it doesn’t have much History yet Fortana Haven (4-Tana is how you say it btw) Is truly well a Haven

The Crowned Castle

(More Pics for Visuals I don’t think this is from love Nikki but if this is your artwork same applies I’m not gonna be the guy who Claims just cause it’s on google it belongs to everybody or something even though yeah I did find it on google)

The...Crown of the Isle of Light Before We came to the Isle for the first time Apparently Everyone In Fortana thought it was Haunted! Which..Fair enough Before we Placed the Princess Medals (Okay QUICK SUMMARY OF THIS BIT Okay so in the KH Mobile game there’s Medals and I wanted them to be in my story basically They’re Memories formed into powers when all my Oc’s Met the Princess’s Of Heart They Each got a Medal Representing them and then the Medals Restored the Castle I left out some details but basically that’s it) This Castle is the BOMB There’s Cool Pretty Princess Room’s And a Bedroom JUST FOR SLUMBER PARTIES!! And it’s just a good Place to Vibe and Hang out with your friends (I’m sorry I’m about to Lore Dumb all over this place) The Princess’s Fiancé Made a Crown for her before she could put it on he put some of his Subconscious in it poor Eden When she wanted to get stronger for Malleus (Malleus is her adoptive big brother and she was upset cause she felt she wasn’t good enough ran away to get power and found the crown) It really did almost completely overtake her I shudder thinking about it “Kachow”...Ew (The fiancé said that a lot ok) a lotta bad stuff happened here but as selfish as this may sound I feel like I earned my spot here and I wanna keep sharing it with my friends

The Matteria Deadland

(Also Imagine some Pointy Mountains and some Lite Mech debris)

Man What to say... So Much Happened here as well probably Tragedy I can’t comprehend there is a few good places about this place though Diane likes to Scavange around Here for Interesting Debris Eden doesn’t like the Air around here but she says she finds Interesting Jewels here and Latte says the same thing so there is good to be found here We all come here every so often to try to help..Anything grow but they don’t call this deadland for nothing but still ya can’t give up hope! I wanna grow some beautiful Lillies here one day! Also hey! Also pretty cool name (Matter-RI-a is how you say it btw) All the sadness that happened here it actually did make the land rich in Metal if nothing else there’s even a whole Cavern we found in the mountains...it almost killed us but we found it

Opal Cove

(also these are Gacha Backgrounds)

Is this Place an Actual Cove? Idk

Is this Place super cool and pretty? Yeah

Is this one of my favorite places in this whole Isle? FRICK YEAH

okay I love a lot about this Isle but Opal Cove!!

Our mermaid friend Mitella I guess “Runs” the Place Our KINDA merman Friend Skye also spends a whole lotta time here Basically it’s a Giant Pool and rumor has it...It’s endless Water...CAUSE IT IS SOMEHOW CAUSE I KNOW weird thing is the Sand it’s at the end of the Isle so there’s not really a beach just...Sand Near Water Odd The Coral Near the Bottom or well “Bottom” Is SO PRETTY it’s like Crystals in the morning the light shines its SO DANG PRETTY I’m glad Mitella is a Sea Witch Or else we couldn’t go so deep underwater it’s SOOO worth it!! She does NOT let a lotta people at once though Heck she doesn’t like Skye that much from what I can tell but she makes an Exception for ~friends~ So...BE NICE TO OUR CUTE MITELLA I’m glad we have a Convient Place for Blitzball practice and also Swimming around with pretty Mermaid Tails (New Nix Mermaid Action Fashion Doll only 25.99! Get it for your Child or they’ll cry!! Also a 5 dollar Boy doll take his Shirt off! That’s it!) Hyde Mi And Skye are kinda an Iconic Trio Mi Also Teaches how to swim with a mermaid tail better for the Weilders who wanna go to Atlantica Hey Mermaids gotta eat so get a Swim Lesson! (And also a transforming Mermaid Doll!)

Bianco Nero Forest

Well tbh I have the least to say because it’s Appeal is simple ADVENTURE AND MYSTERY! Lots can happen in Bianco Nero it’s Basically the Base foundation of the whole Isle! Presumably cause it’s the Black Forest or was at least though it can be dangerous it’s the only place heartless are know to appear in the whole isle (So where you’ll grind In the Video Game that’ll definitely happen :Says the girl who can’t commit to a single comic) They drop all sortsa cool stuff! Heck you can FIND Cool stuff just...Around so..Yeah!!

It’s 2 am maybe I’ll edit this later thanks for reading sorry I got obviously tired by the end goodbye my dearests~ (Seriously y’all deserve like a reward for reading this dumpster fire) I was inspired by those maps in those scholastic books like the Rainbow Fairies I think it was called (Anyone remember those?) that had lil maps in the beginning and also the map’s stickers all on PicsArt

#twisted wonderland #disney twst #gacha life #keyheartsia #oc #gacha club #twisted wonderland dorm #twisted wonderland oc #twisted wonderland oc dorm #anime #oc lore #kingdom hearts Oc #oh my god did you read this? thank you I worked so hard just read it pls #twst oc #twst oc dorm #Oc lore dump

[stevetonygames]

Spotlight Post: Canon Soulmate Bonds

Yooo, this is a blog takeover, Mizzy here, ready to champion one of my favourite fictional causes: canonical soulbonds in the Marvel universe.

We all love a good soulbond fic. Words on your body, names on your wrist, red string of fate...so many glorious versions, and all of them *completely awesome*. The problem sometimes with starting a soulbond fic, though, can be all the worldbuilding required to make it work. But what if I was to tell you that no worldbuilding was necessary? That you could technically write a soulbond fic without having to set it in an Alternate Universe? What if you could set your soulbond fic *directly in main canon?*

Marvel 616 delivers you a canonical soulbond mechanic… not once… but at least *twice*. There could be more. There’s a lot of comics to go through and I’m only smol. But here’s the two I know about and I’m here to introduce you to today. :)

The was a ripple of mild confusion around fandom when Kevin Feige announced that the Eternals were getting a title movie in the next phase of the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Created by Jack Kirby in the 1970s, in a wild combination of mythological fascination and spite at DC comics for not letting him finish his New Gods saga, the Eternals were an offshoot of humanity, created by the Celestials for humanity’s protection; this reason for their existence would lead them into their ongoing conflict against the deadly Deviants. There have been a few Eternals runs (notably one run by Neil Gaiman, which did not serve to bring the Eternals the commercial success Marvel was searching for with the title, that nevertheless remains the most fun and accessible Eternals volume), but they’ve not yet really reached wide-reaching traction among even the most die-hard comic fans. The MCU might change that, and here’s hoping, because I love these nearly-immortal idiots, and I’m hoping not to be alone in that for much longer. :D

But even my Eternals-happy soul has to admit, Eternals canon for the most part is dense and can be convoluted, and the spellings—both of their character names and one of the main fun parts of their existence, the Mahd W’yry—are enough to give one a headache. The idea of the Eternals is that they’re long-lived and have interacted with human history over the years in various impactful ways. You might think at first glance that you’ve never heard of the Eternals Sersi, Ikaris, Makkari, but I think you wouldn’t find Circe, Icarus, or Mercury unfamiliar names.

The Mahd W’yry is a symptom of the Eternals being so long-living. In order to stop them going insane, the Eternals have to bond into something known as the Uni-Mind, which basically squishes all their consciousnesses together into one, where they can share memories and blend temporarily into one mind. Regularly bonding into the Uni-Mind allows them to stave off the Mahd W’yry. (Yep, that’s just a headache-inducing spelling of ‘mad worry’, we know.)

Anyway, did you need to know all this? Eh, maybe, a little bit of canned backstory is always handy for you to briefly glance over and promptly forget. Because along with some dense mythological adventures, some glorious angsting across beautiful landscapes, and that ability to turn into a big massive floating brain, the Eternals also gave us a beautiful gift:

The Gann Josin.

In Avengers #361, Ikaris comes down to Earth and decides that Sersi needs to be bonded to Dane Whitman, an Avenger who canonically didn’t have any powers, he was just a *really good guy*, destined for tragedy. Honestly. That’s his bio. Really good guy. Destined for tragedy. The character creation in the 90s was peak talent. Dane, sadly, was in love with another woman, but did this matter to Ikaris? No. Apparently the Eternals don’t know about the dangers of letting himbos like Ikaris have life-changing powers, like the ability to create the Uni-Mind. 

Because the power to control the Uni-Mind also gives an Eternal the power to form a Gann Josin bond. And that’s what Ikaris does in Avengers #361—he forces a Gann Josin bond on Eternal Sersi and tragic human Avenger Dane Whitman.

Gann Josin (sometimes Gan-Josin because what is spelling continuity in Marvel comics) is both the name of the bond, and the title given to an Eternal and their chosen life-mate. It has a bunch of cool side effects. Both Gann Josins get glowing full-red eyes. It’s a really intimate tiny form of the Uni-Mind (without the part where you become a big floating brain), and creates a small scale mental union. The Gann Josin bond makes the Eternal and their partner lifelong soulmates. As the bond progresses, it creates a telepathic/empathic bond that strengthens in time. According to the Eternal Sprite, humans are rarely chosen by Eternals for the Gann Josin.

Now, Dane Whitman does manage to break the Gann Josin several issues later. But… it’s not easy. It’s rare. When Dane manages it, it is called an “astounding act.” It’s pretty dang hard, in other words. There’s every chance your chosen Gann Josins won’t have the mental fortitude of Dane Whitman to break it. (Although, we’re talking about Steve and Tony, and are there any bigger stubborn idiots in the universe? Probably not.)

But Mizzy, I hear you saying. I don’t want to write about Ikaris, even if he is a party king and that sounds pretty nifty. I don’t know anything about the Eternals and I don’t want to go down that gnarly rabbit hole.

That’s totes fine, my friend. I am here to save you. Because in very recent canon, during Jason Aaron’s turn at the helm, the Eternals are all dead. Very dead. That whole Mahd W’yry thing got ‘em, it got ‘em good. But before Ikaris died, he granted his Uni-Mind power to someone we all know and love.

Yep. Tony Stark. Tony Stark currently has the power of the Uni-Mind.

Which means that Tony Stark can now Gann Josin people.

In Avengers #361, Ikaris performs the Gann Josin by basically just pointing his hands at Sersi and Dane and some light goes WHEEEEEEE!! in their direction, and bam, this rare and special bond is done. And Tony Stark can do that now. To anyone! Unfortunately Ikaris is dead and didn’t leave Tony with an instruction manual. But the point is, he *can*. You can make up all sorts of fun things with this canonical fact (or write your own version because lbr Canon Is Dead; Long Live Canon.)

There are so many possibilities. Does Tony deliberately learn how to use it so he can bond himself to Steve? Does Tony *need* to be able to hear Steve’s thoughts (to thwart some bad guys) and thus end up soulbonded forever to Steve in result? Is Tony’s power activating at random because he can’t control it, and he ends up soulbonding everyone around him? Does he just subconsciously bond himself to Steve without consciously meaning to? Do Tony or Steve want to try it for science?

Gosh, I love comics.

But WAIT. There’s MORE.

It’s not just 1990s comics going ham on the soulbond idea. No, we got some *this year*. Canonical soulbonding? TWICE? In one universe? Two different kinds??

And this time, it’s not in a D-list Marvel title. We’re up the ranks to the big leagues this time, folx, with a brief trek to the world of the Fantastic Four.

In Fantastic Four (Vol. 6) #15, we’re introduced to a Spyre citizen called Sky, a winged team member of the Unparalleled (more cosmic-powered superheroes), who work under The Overseer. (The Overseer, in a burst of beautiful retcon in the way Marvel comics keeps doing to us, is apparently the entity who is responsible for giving the F4 their powers. Huh. The more you know.)

On the planet Spyre, all children are brought before something called The Great Eye. This measures them against the radiation signature of everyone on the planet, divining who their perfect match is. 

Sky looked into The Great Eye, only to find out her match was Johnny Storm, who was 44 light-years away at the time. Long-distance relationships can be tough. Anyway, plot happens, the F4 get stuck on Spyre, get told they can’t leave, and Sky tells Johnny Storm that she is his soulmate. Oh, and she attached a soul binding onto him while he slept. Neat, huh, all the bodily autonomy people get in this universe before being force soulbond to people? So neat, much consent, wow.

Johnny feels a connection to Sky, which is supposed to let us know this lack of choice is a good thing I guess. The Overseer wants Sky to renounce Johnny and crush the F4 which obv doesn’t happen, so of course she leaves The Unparalleled and skips off to Earth to be with Johnny. 

Who knows how this relationship is gonna last. I mean, you can look at the rest of Johnny’s relationship history and have a good guess. Who knows. Anyway, Reed and Sue are each other's soulmate, and also share a “Soul Binding”, so there’s some canonical proof right there that maybe this system has some validity going for it.

The soulbond for this form takes the form of a golden bracelet worn on the upper arm, that Sky explains her people call a “Soul Binding”; it represents them as being soul-mates. This bracelet can only be removed by your soulmate. This soulbond doesn’t seem to come with any extra powers, it’s just to show that The Great Eye has measured their radiation signature and declared them a match that is supposed to mean they’re perfectly compatible in every way: spiritually, mentally, and physically.

I don’t know about you, but I have a pretty good feeling that Steve and Tony might just have matching radiation signatures… Or what if Steve and Tony have perfect matching signatures….with other people? (Someone else on Spyre believes Sky is *their* perfect match, after all!) What if Steve has feelings for Iron Man, but he’s a perfect match with Tony Stark? I feel faint already just thinking about it.

So here you go. Two canonical types of soulbonds for your fannish consideration. Feel free to ask me questions! You can find me on tumblr (@mizzy2k) or on discord (addy#0908).

#stevetonygames #mod post #spotlight post #soulmates

[thnxforknowingme]

Jenna my beloved <3

how are you? how's everything going?

if glee was to have a crossover with any other piece of media how would you do it?

(there are no rules to this, if you want to make the characters interact of just use the world, it's up to you)

okay this has been sitting in my inbox for ages and I can't come up with a perfect answer but you did say there were no rules, so I'm going to use this as an opportunity to gush about a crossover/AU fic that I desperately want to write if I ever have the time and inspiration to plot the whole thing out, which is:

A Glee Mediator!AU.

The Mediator is a series of YA books written by Meg Cabot (of Princess Diaries fame) about Suze Simon, a teenage girl who can talk to ghosts. I have loved these books since I was a young teen, and I have a lot of thoughts about how I'd write a Glee fic based off their plot. Here we go.

So the initial premise of the books is that Suze's mom gets remarried to a guy who lives in California, so Suze has to move from her home in Brooklyn to live with her new stepdad and stepbrothers. When she arrives in her new house, she discovers that her bedroom is being haunted by the very handsome ghost of a rancher's son from the 1850's named Jesse. She deals with various supernatural problems, bringing peace to lost souls (and occasionally kicking some spectral ass), all the while falling in love with her long-dead unasked-for roommate. It's fantastic.

In this crossover, Kurt Hummel would be moving from Ohio to California when his dad gets remarried, reluctantly moving in with his stepmother Carole and stepbrother Finn, only to find that his new bedroom is occupied by the spirit of Blaine Anderson (who I'm thinking would have died in the 1910s - and I have some ideas about the circumstances of his death but it isn't totally hammered out, I'm not sure if it would involve other canon characters or OCs).

Kurt would start attending school and befriend fellow outsiders Mike and Tina. He'd discover that the school has just experienced a tragedy - former student Santana Lopez has just died in a car crash. But Santana's soul is restless and angry, and she's hanging around causing trouble, so Kurt's going to have to do something about that.

We'd also have the appearance of Sebastian (he'd take on the role of Paul in the books, who's a very cocky, smooth-talking self-serving guy who just so happens to also be able to talk to ghosts. He shows up around book 3 and starts vying for Suze's affection) who would be drawn to Kurt not just as a potential romantic conquest, but also as a fellow mediator. The two of them would have very different philosophies when it came to ghost mediation, though.

So overall I have like, maybe a third of the plot thought out, and still a lot of characters to slot in and stuff to figure out. But Suze is snarky and sarcastic, she's necessarily isolated due to her abilities, and she's very fashion-obsessed, so I think putting Kurt in her place would be so fun to write. We'd have slow burn endgame Klaine with some really fun Kurtbastian tension in the midgame. I've had this idea since 2012 and I hope I actually get around to writing it soon!

#thank you for the ask! i did not expect i'd have this much to say lol #awkwardcaterpillar #mediator au #fic ideas

[dyke-remy]

Live And Let Die, part 1

Part 2    Part 3    Part 4   Part 5   Part 6 

Description: Agent 008 and Agent 009, professional spies for the MI6 with liscense to kill. Partners in both work and love. After an agent goes missing the partners have to once more go out into the field. (It’s a James Bond AU)

You don’t need to know anything about James Bond to be able to read this fic, trust me

Words: 3516

It was 7 am when the alarm clock went off. It's loud blaring filled the room that had been peaceful a few seconds ago. Remus let out a grunt. Without opening his eyes he took out a knife from under his pillow and threw it at the clock. The noise disappeared.

"You can't keep doing that" Remy muttered, half yawning it out "Q is like running out of clocks"

"If he could make that morning star that also worked as a disco ball for my birthday he can make some new clocks" He replied.

The room (and the entire apartement) was of average size with just enough space for everything necessary. Which made sense, they didn't spend much time in there anyway. Soft morning light was shimmering in through the window.

The blanket had been wrinkled since Remy was laying over it with their head on the pillow. Remus had his arms wrapped around their waist. They were so close their hair twined together on the pillows. He leaned closer and gave his spouse a good morning kiss.

Their slow awakening was interrupted by someone knocking on the door. They glanced at one another as their expressions turned serious. Remus quietly got up and grabbed the gun laying on the nearest drawer. Butt naked as he was he sneaked over to the door and slowly opened it and at the same time held the gun out.

"Good morn- AAAHHHH!" Patton Moneypenny screamed when he saw the gun peeking out at him. He had on a dark blue knitted suit jacket with stylish bows instead of buttons. With it he had on wide blue matching suit pants.

Remus' posture relaxed when he saw who it was. He fully opened the door "Hiya Moneypenny. You should yell it's you next time or else your brain might paint the walls.....That would look kinda nice tho"

"You should take something on" Patton suggested with a cheerful smile while his cheeks went bright red.

"He should" Remy who had come up behind their husband agreed "One day someone will shoot your dick off"

"Naaaahhhh. They will be too surprised by seeing my massive cock to think about attacking me and then it'll be too late. Boom bang dead! It's a genius tactic!!"

Remy rolled their eyes. They sent Patton a warm smile before pulling him into a hug "Hiya PatPat! Wanna come in?"

"Yeah" As he looked around the room which he'd been in many times he continued with "M wants to meet you in 15 min"

M was the leader of the MI6, the organisation they all worked for. Patton had been his secretary for as long as anyone could remember. It would be weird to imagine M's office without Pat working tiredlesly on his desk right outside.

"15? Girl a lady needs time to get ready, what the fuck" Remy opened a drawer and pulled out the black suit pants, white shirt, black tie and black blazer that acted as their dress code.

"15? Oh! Too little time to spend with my Favorite person in the whole MI6!" Remus exclaimed. He still didn't have anything on.

He took Patton's hand and moved the other to lay on his waist. He spun him around in some sort of dance which made the shorter man giggle and blush harder. He tried not to look down at Remus'....

"Oh Mr. Moneypenny! Rotten apple of my eye! Every mission is spent missing you!" he continued to dramatically lament. He dipped Patton and playfully moved in for a kiss.

Patton let out a chuckle while leaning his head away. "I'm married"

"Ah yes! The greatest tragedy of my life!" Remus held his hand over his heart and all.

"Tragedy indeed" Remy commented before flicking their finger to the back of their husband's head. They dumped his clothes onto his head too "C'mon gal the sooner you get done the sooner you can go out and play fisticuffs with someone"

"Fantastic point dear!"

After gettin dressed Remus jumped up on the bed and pressed a specific spot on the painting on the wall. It turned around to reveal a collection of guns, knives and various other weapons hidden behind it. He patted his morning star and throwing stars goodmorning, fully knowing that M nor Q would allow him to bring them on a mission. Instead he took a gun and carefully cleaned it as if he was cleaning a marble vase.

"I hate these fucking suits. They're so boring. No style. No style at all!!" Remy groaned out while tying their husband's tie because he'd been a spy for 7 years now and he still couldn't tie a tie.

Patton nodded along in sympathy "Very gay of you to think that" The duke chuckled.

They fixed his shirt which had been buttoned wrong "I don't think about fashion because I am gay as fuck! I think about it 'cause I've tots been the most fantastic disguiser here for years and fashion is like integral to a good disguise!! Besides my mothers are fashion legends and I gotta represent y'know"

"I know"

He handed over a gun (Handler ppk) and a few different knives to his spouse who swiftly hid it in different places on their suit. He himself preffered a bit more heavy handed attilery even when it came to handguns.

The couple followed Moneypenny out of their apartement. They lived in a normal looking apartement complex, a little bit fancier than a normal one. They went into a cleaning scrub.

Patton grabbed a mop standing in the corner. He pulled off the top of the handle revealing a scanner underneath. He pressed his thumb against it. A panel of numbers appeared on the wall. He quickly pressed in a code which finally made the inner wall open up, revealing an elevator.

They stepped inside and chit chatted about the weather and what they'd done on the weekend as the elevator went down.

The elevator opened with a satisfying ding. They were many many levels underground now. Long grey hallways stretched forward. It could be a maze for someone new to the place. Patton walked in front of the other two, he knew it like his backpocket.

After 5 or so minutes of walking he stopped by his secretary desk and sat down. There were stacks of paper work on his desk and cute animal posters hanging on the wall beside him.

Remus leaned over the desk and moved a piece of Patton's hair behind his ear "One day I'll get you on a date my dear Moneypenny"

"Sure you will mr. Octopussy. For now I think you will have to stay satisfied with taking whatever mission M gives you"

Remy took Remus' hand and dragged him with them into M's office. He was able to blow a kiss to Patton on his way in. Pat simple chuckled and rolled his eyes. They both knew neither of them were serious.

The office was an old fashioned one with walls and furniture of dark wood. Purple satin clad the windows. Plants and terrariums littered the room and all kinds of snakes slittered about.

Though the biggest snake of them all sat in the chair behind the desk. M. Most people called him Deceit. He had a menacing smile, ebony skin and dark hair pulled back into a braid that reached his shoulder. On his shoulder laid one of his most dearest and most deadliest pets.

"Look who finally decided to join us" M greeted as they came in.

"Aww you missed us so much didn't you??" Remus replied while sitting down on one of the chairs in a way no normal person should "It's okay Deecy. We can invite you to our next movie night"

"Yeah" Remy sat down on the desk and leaned close to Deceit "We're gonna watch Saw 4 and legally blond"

"I can think of much better ways to waste my time thank you. So onto ghe case. It's about-"

M stopped talking because the agents were obviously too busy flirting with each other to listen. It was nothing compared to how they used to spend entire briefings making out right when they'd started dating.

"Please if I wanted to get ignored I would go home to my children which honestly I wish I could" M muttered.

He gave one of his snakes a pat on the head before sending it to twist around Remus' neck which made them both shut up very quickly.

"So about the case. Agent 0012-"

"Like Emile Picani 0012?" Remy interrupted.

"No agent 0012 the giant whale. Yes Picani"

"Oh he's a great kisser! Babe y'know how I like worked in the Q department a bit before becoming a full fletched agent. Yeah I was Pic's quartermaster. We would stay together during missions sometimes. We made out lots and he showed me a bunch of like cartoons"

Deceit put on a more serious expression "He's gone off the radar. He was sent on a mission to Latvia together with 005. Agent 005 has been confirmed dead. Right now we're suspecting that Picani is the killer"

"He wouldn't!" Remy objected.

"We can never be sure. He could have gone rough or been paid to turn sides. Or he's being tortured right at this moment. Anything could have happened"

"I wish I was being tortured right at this moment" Remus who had completely zoned out until now added.

"Well you can gladly take his place if you found him then. He and 005 were supposed to attend a poker night. I suggest you two attend it in case he is there. Disguised of course. If he's gone rough we can't have him be hostile towards you if he recognises you.

"Non suspicious straight couple?" Remus asked while looking over at Remy.

"Non suspicious straight couple!" They replied while high fiveing him.

--

A bit over a day later later Remus was driving a silver aston martin. They were on their way to the casino which was placed away from any nearby town. Among the snowy hills the ice casino stood tall.

"Girl these shoes hurt worse than the time I got shot" Remy groaned while fixing their high heels.

"You can just change shoes y'know" Remus replied.

They looked at him as if he'd just spit in their food "No??? It's part of the character girl!! Like you can't do a great disguise if you don't dress like the character would"

"Which characters are we tonight?"

Remy shone up into a smile "Glad you asked! You are Louis Roy. French guy who inheritated his dad's company. Total asshole. Straight cis you know the type. You're 36-"

"Is that why you put all that make up on me? To make me look old?"

"Yep. And your mustache tots helped. I'm Chelsea Roy. 24. Model. Married you for the money. Housewife. I'm cheating on you with your dad"

Remus let out a fake audible gasp "In return I only married you because I liked your feet model work"

"Touche"

The car stopped in the parking lot of the casino. Remus leaned back in his seat and checked his gun. He glanced over at his spouse who was strapping a blade to their thigh.

"What?" They asked when they caught him looking.

"Nothing" There was a soft smile on his lips "I just love you. Like a giant elephants heart ripped out and bleeding on the ground love y'know"

"I know"

Remy unbuttoned the top button on Remus' tuxedo shirt. They pressed a kiss right below his shoulder, leaving a red lipstick mark, before buttoning it again so it was hidden.

"Just as a reminder" They explained with a cheeky smile.

Remy leanded against Remus' shoulder to fully look like arm candy as they entered the casino. A worker took their coats by the door. Uphead was a luxurious bar made of ice and a large area with tables here and there to mingle. To the left was the casino area. It was the only place where nothing was made out of ice. Instead glistening lights shone on red slot machines and people in expensive clothing were gathered around large poker tables. To the right was the entrance to the casino's hotel and the desk to get keys.

The couple casully went around the mingle area while looking for Picani in the crowd of hundreds of people.

"People are looking at you" Remus mumbled to them after at least 2 guys has been too busy looking at his spouse to not walk into walls.

"Who can blame them" Remy shrugged.

They had on a dark blue satin dress with an open back and a slit on the front so they could move easier. Their wavy light brown hair was pressed down under a blond wig and they had a fake sapphire necklace around their neck. Their dark eyeliner stood out against their pale skin. Remus had on a black tuxedo with a matching bowtie. His dark brown, nearly black hair had been slicked back. His olive toned bordering on brown skin honestly looked amazing in the lighting of the casino.

"Q said Picani was supposed to stay in room 235 so I'll like go and get the key while you like mingle or something I dunno. Kay?" Remy more commanded then asked.

"Yes dear! " He did a mini salute while sticking his tounge out before walking away.

All the keys to the rooms were hanging on the wall behind the desk. Remy took off their necklace while walking up to it. They fixed their posture and took a deep breathe to get ready to make their voice as high as possible.

"Exscuse me sir!" They put on a panicked tone as they walked behind the desk.

The man who presumebly worked at the hotel glanced at them before doing a double take and full on looking at them with heart eyes. "Something wrong?"

They put on a bright smile and twirled the end of their hair between their fingers "Yeah I uh just kinda dropped my necklace and it's like suuuper hard to put on by my own so could you like put it on for me? Pleease?"

"Of course!"

Remy handee him the necklace and turned towards the wall. While he was busy putting it on they took the keys to room 235 without making a single sound. In one smooth motion they stuck it to where the blade was already strapped to their thigh.

"Done!" He said.

They sent him another smile "Do I look good?"

"You look amazing!!"

"Aww thanks sweetie"

They sauntered of without another word. They took a glass of champange from a server they passed to look more casual. They inspected the key while looking for Remus. When they stuck their nails down into it a mark was left if only for a moment. It was a fake.

Remus was sitting by the poker table, loudly boosting about a made up story while betting way more money than he should. He shone up into a grin when he saw Remy. They leaned on his chair and moved one hand to comb through his hair. He moved an arm around their waist to pull them closer knowing fully well that his spouse was distracting everyone else in the poker game.

"Got the key?" He whispered.

"Got the key. It's a replica. I can see it"

"Okay so Picani has the other one. Makes sense. Now we know he's alright"

"Nah girl" Remy glanced around at the other players "Trick them into shoving their keys. Trust me"

"I always do" Remus put on a cocky smirk and leaned his elbows onto the table "Isn't this game becoming a bit boring? How about this: we all bet the amount of money our hotel rooms cost. Including the ones just for the ladies if you get me hurr hurr" He took out the key to his room he'd gotten from Q and laid it on the table "Just as a showing"

Most of the people had been drinking so they all threw up their keys without much thought. Remy subtly moved around the table and glanced at the keys while Remus continued with the game.

Remy stopped midstepped and quickly walked back to him. They made it look like they were kissing his cheek when they were actually whispering

"The mistah on the other side of the table was the one who threw the second 235 key. You know his name or do I have to like pretend flirt the ugly bastard?"

"Ron Stewart. Was real quick to introduce himself just to brag about his money"

"Good. Q can deal with like finding info about him. We gotta find Picani"

They grabbed him by his arm and dragged him up from the table. Remus made some comment about women always hurrying to the other people around the table while quickly throwing his cards away.

He took their hand in his and intertwined their fingers as they entered the hotel part. Ice chandelierd hung in the hallways and deep crimson mattresses where laid over the icy floor. He held his other hand close to where his gun holster was hidden under his jacket.

The door up to the second floor was locked. The two of them glanced at each other. Now they relly knew something was off. Remy took out 2 hairpins from their wig and unlocked the door in under 3 minutes.

The hallways were eerie and quiet. The lights were low and the sounds from the casino were now only dull faraway whispers.

Sudden footsteps were heard. Remy pressed their back against the wall and pulled Remus by his collar into a deep kiss. Out of the corner of their eye they saw a guard walk into the hallway. It was clear there was a gun hidden in a holster connected to his belt. The enby hoped he would just leave them alone if they made out hard enough. It usually worked.

When he saw them his already grumpy expression turned into a grimace. He grabbed onto Remus' shoulder and forced him out of the kiss.

"Visitors aren't allowed on the second floof" He said in a gruff voice.

"Oh come on. Whats a guy gotta do to get some privacy" Remus replied while keeping his arm around Remy's shoulder. They nodded along while blinking innocently and swaying back and forth.

The guard seemed to think for a moment. He took a step back before in a split second pulling out his gun and pointing it at them.

Remus went on instinct as he moved forward and forced the gun out of his hand. He stood like a shield in front of Remy in case it shot. The guard stumbled back as the gun was dragged out of his hands.

Remy shot forward. They dug their nails down into the guard's wrist and kicked his knee to get him off his balance. With a huff they turned around and with the motion swung him over their shoulder and down on the ground. Before he even had time to regain his breathe they kicked their foot onto his neck, knocking him out instantly.

"Should keep him out for long enough" They commented while leaning down to feel his pulse.

"I love it when you do that sudden kissy thing. I wish murderous people would walk in on us more so you'd do it more often" Remus replied.

"Babe you can literally ask me to kiss you whenever"

"It's not the same if the threat of death isn't looming over us!!" Remus did an overexagarated pout.

Remy stood up and moved the blade on their thigh to their hand "Leave that to when we've found Picani" They said while continuing into the next hallway.

Remus quickly followed them, even walking a bit before them so if another guard showed up they would shoot at him first. "So eager to see him huh?"

"Duh. He was like the closest thing I had to a boyfriend before I met you. Like sure we were never official but we kissed and did all that sorta couplesy stuff. I haven't seen him like years! I wanna catch up y'know"

"Do I have to be afraid of being replaced" Remus joked.

They bumped against his shoulder "Babe neva!"

He was about to reply with something lovey dovey but the conversation immediatly stopped as they both saw it. Room 235. The door stood slightly open.

They moved silently, weapons in hand. Remy was the first in. They looked around with urgency in their eyes. They searched through the entrance before going into the bedroom. Remus checked the bathroom but there wasn't a trace of him. No traces of other people either.

A sudden choked back sob came from the bedroom. Remus ran to it while holding back the urge to yell out his lover's name.

Remy stood with shaking shoulders by the door. On the floor with his back leaned against the bed sat Emile Picani. Dead.

#not countdown #live and let die #reblogs over likes #(but likes are still very appreciated) #sanders sides #thomas sanders #remy sanders #remus sanders #ts remy #ts remus #janus sanders #ts janus #ts patton #patton sanders #resleep #remsleep #intrusleep #rem^2 #if this flops I will jump off a bridge #/j

[anxiouslynumbme]

Best Prepare To Grieve

7x10, Daisy dealing with Jiaying's death.

Hello! So this is late and slightly more unedited than usual, 'cause I kinda had to post it before tonight's episode, so fair warning and all. Also this is heavily focused on Daisy and May, with a little Daisy/sousa. The higher dosage of Daisy and Sousa will be posted to my other fic (Tell me it's okay.)

Title inspiration: Hayley Williams - Leave It Alone. If you don't know it, go check it out. Actually, listen to her entire album. It's such a wonderful piece of art. Also the song ‘Simmer’ works for both Jiaying and Daisy. But especially Jiaying: If my child needed protection From a fucker like that man I'd sooner gut him 'Cause nothing cuts like a mother

Okay, I'm gonna stop now before I start rambling about the genius of Hayley Williams.

Ao3.

If you know love You best prepare to grieve Let it enter your open heart and Then prepare to let it leave

**************************************

Daisy didn't expect it to be easier, but with the number of people she had lost, and the amount of deaths and loss she had experienced; she wanted to believe it wouldn't hurt as much. But it hurt the same. Always.

Daisy had noticed a change in the way she handled tragedy over the years. How she used to deal with sadness as a kid, crying and daydreaming of a better future. As a teenager, she was the typical angsty, cynical soul who hated the world. A rebellious determination hit in her 20s, she found solace in conspiracy theories and exposing the truths.

And then Coulson had found her, and she'd latched onto the opportunity behind the man, desperately trying to find her parents, to know who she was. But Coulson had given her much more than what she had been looking for. And at first, the loneliness and pain had lessened with the team. She was happy. She belonged.

But as much as S.H.I.E.L.D. had given her; it had taken just as much. And it had taught her to deal with afflictions by avoidance, isolation, and a whole lot of anger.

And Daisy wished so much that was the case by seeing her mother's death again, Daisy wished she could sweep it under the rug and carry on. Just put under it there, with the recent death of Enoch. But she couldn't.

Daisy felt like a little kid again. She just wanted to cry and never stop, her heart was squeezing itself so tightly in its cage, her ears ringing with its heavy pounding. She couldn't breathe.

Daisy's breathing was short and shallow, her heart rate dimming in the engulfing anguish and shock, her chest constricting with the unbearable weight of loss. Daisy was frigid with the retching grief swirling through her veins. How was it that she never knew her mother and it hurt as though she did. Everytime. She had always been an orphan; she never had a mother, this should've been easier. Daisy wanted it to be. Desperately. Daisy was deprived of a mother's love since she was born; she was used to this. And yet, if felt like she was being drained of her blood by Nathaniel all over again. He should've had finished the job.

What Daisy resented the most was the brief, naive sliver of hope that was momentarily lit within her heart. A hope she had learned time and time again to crush, to never let it simmer too long or too bright. Daisy had learned not to hope a long time ago.

But seeing her mother again had weakened her resolve; it melted that icy wall she'd built around her for so long. Because the Jiaying that had stood in front of her was so unlike the traumatic memories Daisy had tried to block out. And for a split second, Daisy let her mind wander: it wandered so stupidly, with an innocence she shouldn't have, gullibility that should had been long gone.

Jiaying's presence enfeebled her state of mind and her guarded heart. Because after all those years, Daisy still hoped. What if Jiaying could stay? What if bad luck decided to let her have this one? What if she could get to keep this untainted and healthy version of her mother? What if they saved her sister and managed to find some way to stay together? It was so brief, a nano-second of hopeful naivety.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. And now you're breaking down all over again.

No, she wasn't breaking down again. Because as much as pain and sadness were familiar. Anger was too. And Daisy could easily channel this darkness that was threatening to swallow her, into fury. A familiar and safe territory.

It had been a while since Daisy had felt this kind of rage. She hated it. It was so easy to lose herself in that bottomless pit of hatred and self-pity. Daisy didn't want to give herself in it again; she'd almost lost the people she loved the last time she had went down an emotional spiral.

But it didn't matter, because Daisy wasn't going to let this go, her blood was boiling beneath the surface of her skin, her nerves prickled and itched with the fury that kept building up by each passing second. Quake was unraveling inside her, her powers thrumming with the need to be let out, it hummed and hammered, silently begging to be unleashed.

"Daisy."

May's wary voice traveled to her ears, but refused to reach the rest of her senses. A numbness began to settle over her as she quietly wiped away her muted tears.

May placed a hand on her shoulder and Daisy's eyes closed at the contact. Daisy couldn't handle comfort right now.

"Where is he?" her voice came out distant and cold.

"Daisy."

"How did he escape, May?"

"Garrett, I'm sure. He has Simmons."

Daisy's heart lurched in silent panic. Of course. Of course, he has her best friend. Daisy pulled away from May, standing up briskly.

“Deke is there too. He was already on the Zephyr.”

"Do you have any idea why he wants Simmons?"

"Daisy, you should take a breath," May said, putting a hand on her own chest.

"I'm fine, we have to act quickly and find her. Malick is unhinged; we don't know what he'll do," Daisy said monotonously, vaguely pointing at Jiaying's corpse. "We should move her first."

"I got it."

Sousa's voice was jarring, to say the least. Daisy was unaware of his presence in the hallway, and she didn't why, but she couldn't look at him.

"Thanks," she told him, marching forward and leaving Jiaying behind, not really caring where her legs were taking her.

"Daisy, where are you going?" May's word fell on deaf ears, Daisy needed to get out, it felt as though her lungs were collapsing in her chest.

Daisy almost sprinted outside. Her steps carrying her forward until she was stood in front of the water falling down harshly at the center of the Lighthouse. A scenery that used to bring her comfort; it was a place she sought out in her time of need, need of serenity and quiet. But her safe haven didn't provide much safety or peace, nothing could change the scene playing over and over in her mind.

Jiaying's face, the cracking sound of her neck breaking. The thudding finality of her lifeless body hitting the floor.

The air started to crackle around Daisy, her powers causing shudders to glide through her bones. Daisy was aware of the ground shaking beneath her, cargo and boxes of contents unknown to her, started to jolt and oscillate uncontrollably.

"Daisy!" It seemed May had followed her.

"Don't worry, May. I'm in control."

"Are you?"

"Yes!"

With a deep breath, Daisy focused all of her energy on one specific container, finally letting the infuriated vibrations out. Releasing her powers directly towards a few useless objects. One after the other, they exploded, and with each one Daisy felt her raging insides slightly subdue. But it wasn't enough. It wasn't Nathaniel.

"Daisy, talk to me." May came to stand next to her.

Daisy breathed in sharply. "What's the plan? Do we know - "

"Daisy, stop avoiding this."

"I'm not avoiding anything, May. Simmons was kidnapped, again! And I'm guessing Malick is not taking her to Hawaii, so..."

"I know that," May gritted out.

"Good. So he probably took her because it has something to do with Fitz, which is just great because we have zero informa -"

"Daisy, I can feel it!" May's voice almost came out in a yell.

"I'm sorry?" Daisy asked uselessly.

"Daisy," May said. "You are in pain. And you are so angry. Please talk to me."

Daisy nodded her head in annoyance, her hands darting to her waist. "Okay, then, why didn't you shoot to kill, May?"

"What?"

"Why didn't you kill him?" Daisy snapped. "Why didn't you let me - ?"

"Your anger was too much, you would've put everyone in danger!"

"No, I wouldn't have! I know exactly what I'm doing."

May paused, taking a step closer to her. "Daisy - "

"What, you wanna talk about something else? Like the fact that apparently I don’t exist now, or the fact that I had to watch my mother die again. Killed by the hands of someone who was abusing my powers! He used my powers to kill her, May!"

"I know," May said softly, striding even closer to Daisy. The consoling noise of the water around them grounding Daisy.

"Honestly, what Did I expect?" she snickered. "She dies later anyway. . .might as well, right? At least now I won't be alive, I guess - I honestly don't how this works anymore."

"Daisy, don't do this. Don't shut down."

"Wow, that's rich coming from you," Daisy bit out, her frustration flowing freely.

May was quiet, which irritated Daisy even more. She simply stood there, staring at her, but not with pity. It was pain. May was hurting too.

Daisy rolled her eyes. "Right, your ambiguous powers are making you extra sensitive, huh? Sorry about that."

"I don't need powers to feel your pain, Daisy."

Daisy stiffened, her feet instinctively taking a step back. "Well, sorry about that too."

"Daisy," May followed her, a palm trying to reach for her arm again. Daisy let her. "I can tell. Always. And that's why I know you will be okay."

"Will I?" Daisy wondered, her tone small and broken. "you know sometimes, I have these moments where I look around, surrounded by you guys, and I feel safe. Content. But then this dread always hits, hard. And I'm just. . .constantly afraid of losing you. Death just follows me, wherever I go."

May blenched, her frown deepening as her hand squeezed Daisy almost sternly. "Don't. Don't say that."

"No, no, it's always been like this," Daisy continued loudly, her hands flailing in front of her restlessly. "it's the same thing, always. Anyone I ever dared to care about goes away. God, even the idea of my parents I couldn't have. Just the mere damn idea of them. And the universe is twisted enough to keep dangling her, dangling that hope in my face!

"I've imagined meeting my mother over and over again, and not once did I - " Daisy's voice broke off, a hollowing ache in her chest. "She's unreachable. There is no world where I could have her. I don't even know why I keep - why I even thought - "

Daisy was cut off by May's arms enveloping her. Her grip strong and kind and steady. Safe, so safe. Daisy gasped roughly, her body sagging against May, finally inhaling oxygen just a bit easier again.

Daisy's legs gave out from under her, May immediately lowering both of them to the ground. May's arms closed her in, almost caging her from the cruel world around her. Like a mother would. And suddenly Daisy was assaulted by the memory of almost losing the woman who was currently keeping her from completely shutting down . May had almost died; Daisy had believed she died. And all of a sudden, that same wave of stifling pain crashed over her again, and Daisy clutched May to her, gripping her tightly.

"You almost died too," Daisy wept, not fully aware that her mouth was freely voicing her turmoil. "You almost me left me, too."

"Shh, I'm right here."

But Daisy was unable to hear anything but her racing, terrified thoughts.

"It won't stop. Ever since Trip, I keep losing. I lost the one person who understood me," Daisy's breath caught in her throat as she thought of her first, lost love. "I lost my - "

Her father? Because he was. In every way but blood, Phil Coulson was her father. And he was gone. And Daisy knew she might never completely move past his death; she might never be whole again. There really was nothing without him.

"It's okay, Daisy."

"He's gone, May. Coulson is gone," Daisy sobbed. "It's not him. He will never be him."

"I know, Daisy, I know." May held her harder. Solid against her.

"Please don't leave, May," Daisy grasped May's waist, her head pressing further in her chest. "Don't leave me."

"I'm not going anywhere," May rasped, her words firm and full of conviction. "I'm right here, okay? I'm always with you, Daisy."

But she wouldn't be. There was no way to ever ensure that, to ensure her loved ones’ safety, her family's survival. Daisy was going to lose them, or they were going to lose her. Death was inevitable, loss was too, and it didn't help that the odds were always stacked against them.

Enoch was right.

But Daisy didn't say anything, and decided to let May's words seep into her anyway, because Daisy was on the verge of a panic attack and she couldn't afford the loss of control right now. So for this moment, Daisy decided to believe May.

******

Daisy's eyes snapped open, her groggy mind trying to comprehend her surroundings. She had fallen asleep, slowly Daisy lifted her head up and away from May's chest to look into her wide awake eyes. Glancing around, Daisy realized May had moved them to a wall near by.

"How the hell did I fall asleep?" her voice was scratchy and low. "Did I, like, pass out or something?"

May grinned. "Honestly, I think you might have."

"Oh, how long?"

"Not long enough."

Daisy exhaled slowly. "Well, I'm sorry."

"It's all right. You needed it."

Daisy gazed at May's warm smile and noticed her eyes were a little red, realizing that May might've been crying with her. Gratitude and affection rushed through her. They had often joked about it, how Coulson and May were like her parents, but deep down, Daisy had always been speaking from the heart. They were.

Daisy caught May's hand in hers, "Thank you. I don't say it enough,"

May's brows knitted. "For what?"

"For taking care of me, for showing me how to survive and basically teaching me everything I know. For saving my life."

"You never need to thank me for any of that.”

S.H.I.E.L.D. did take a lot of from her. But it had also gifted her with something so rare, so utterly precious. Irreplaceable. It was tangible and real and hers. Daisy would take all the pain in the world if it meant having them. Having this family, keeping it.

"Er, hey."

This time, his voice wasn't as jarring, in fact, somehow Daisy was waiting for it, her ears welcoming its irresistible warmth as her eyes finally met his.

"Hi."

"We should start working out a plan and figuring out exactly where they are," May said, her body suddenly rising up to its full height, Daisy following right after. "I'll see you back inside in a few minutes,."

With one last gentle smile, May was walking away from them.

"Are you okay, sounds very pointless right now. So I'm gonna ask if there's anything you need from me."

Daisy's lips instantly quirked to the side. "Not right now, no. But thanks."

She wanted to ask him how he moved Jiaying, where exactly did he put her. Daisy wanted to see her, but her heart seemed to whimper in fear at the thought. Would she be able to do it? Daisy needed to focus on the mission, and maybe later, if she actually survived, there would be time to say proper goodbye to her mother.

"For now, all we need to focus on is getting Simmons and Deke back," she told him as they both started walking back.

Sousa sighed, eyes flitting away from hers. "I know. It all happened so fast. I couldn't stop him."

"You were with her?"

"Yeah, and I didn't have time t - "

Daisy stopped in her tracks. "Hey, it wasn't your fault. There was nothing you could've done."

Even though Sousa knew she was right, she could still sense some lingering guilt in his eyes. But Daisy could more than understand why he felt that way. Because how many times could she have killed Nathaniel? How many ways? Instead, she did nothing but watch. Helpless to stop any of it.

"What happened wasn't your fault either," Sousa said softly.

A part of Daisy didn't like the fact that he seemed to be able to read her so easily after knowing her for such little time. But the other, much bigger part of her, was just so grateful for him. Grateful that she didn't have to talk much for him to understand. So grateful that he was here.

Yeah, we'll see how long that lasts. 

Daisy peered at Sousa."Well, I guess it doesn't matter if it is or not. Guilt sticks with you anyway it can."

Sousa nodded. "Sometimes, it can be an irrational feeling."

"But in this case, it's justified. He didn't even want Jiaying. If she hadn't been here at all, then she would've - "

"No, you can't think like that," Sousa interjected quickly. "it'll drive you crazy. There was no way for you to know that. It was out of your control, Daisy."

Daisy could feel her insides recoil at the incessant image that wouldn't leave her mind. "He'd told her. Before he killed her. She - she knew who I was. She was trying to protect me."

Sousa stepped up to her, his palm kindly touching her arm. And Daisy didn't flinch away from him.

"She had died honorably. I know things were bad in the future with her. But this was your mother, Daisy. And she had done what she was always supposed to do."

The silent tears slipped before she could stop them, Sousa's hand rubbing her arm soothingly. 

"You know, I'm really glad you kinda pushed me into talking with her."

Sousa smiled warmly. "Really? 'Cause it didn't look like it."

Daisy snorted. "Well, I wasn't at the time. But now I realize I needed the push. . . So thank you."

"Anytime, Daisy."

The way he'd said it, as if he were cementing the idea that he was going to be there for her, anytime. And Daisy wanted to believe him so badly. But she couldn't let herself hope right now, not so soon after. Everything got taken away from her, and Sousa was no exception. Sooner or later.

Daisy sent him a simple nod in response, their legs moving forward again. Daisy didn't want to go inside; the air was probably still thick and heavy with the recent calamity, the devastation. Devastation she was still feeling.

But Daisy didn't have the luxury of mourning right now. Her friends were in trouble, which of course meant the world was in trouble. She needed to push through, as always.

She could let herself think that seeing her mother again brought her nothing but this suffocating sorrow. But Daisy was choosing to view it differently. She was glad that she was lucky enough to have seen Jiaying like this. To hear her say, my daughter, one last time. Daisy was glad she had the chance to look at her mother's beautiful face, and not see years of torment and hate clouding her eyes. Daisy was never even supposed to see her again; she was lucky in that sense.

Or at least that was how Daisy needed to look at it, in order to be able to move on. Because thinking of it any other way could so easily crush her.

Daisy got to see her again and that was enough. Because maybe asking for anything else was too much.

It always was.

#prepare to let it leave #agents of shield #daisy johnson #melinda may #sousy #daisysous #daniel sousa #may and daisy #dousy #agents of s.h.i.e.l.d. #aos

[kendrixtermina]

Further reactions to "The book of lost tales":

I appreciate that Idril canonically wears armor and does swordfighting.

I feel like I can actually imagine adult!Idril much better now like in armor and with open hair, distraught but ready to fight while babby Earendil does not yet realize the danger...

My first thought is that Earendil was probably cute in that baby chainmail. My second thought is OUCH, Idril and Tuor always made sure their growing baby had fitting chainmail cause they felt the apocalypse might get them at any moment. Imagine that, imagine them having the baby armor fitted every year or so :(

Its fun how much of the basic structure already exists but most of what you'd consider the main characters doesn't exist or is scattered across various minor roles The only Prince anywhere in sight is Turgon - Except for Team Doriath, theyre all accounted for. I suppose Maeglin is kinda there in name only with vaguely the same role & motivation, but looks personality and background all did a 180 since. Luthien is still pretty much "princesd classic" at this point, not quite the fearless go-getter from the final version - markedly this version tells Beren that she doesnt want to wander in the wilderness with him whereas the final one says she doesnt care and its Beren still wants to get the shiny so as not to ask this of her and also for his honor.

I mean in the finished version Id consider the 3rd and 4th gen royals to be the main characters (well, alobgside Team Doriath and the varioud human heroes) and theyre hardly here. Imagine the silm with no Finrod!

Feanor had no affiliation with the royal family whatsoever, and is also generally less super. He's just the guy who won the jewelsmithing competition, not the inventor of the whole discipline. Still seems to have been envisionad as a respected member of the community who gets called to the palace for crisis meetings and is listened to when he stsrts giving speeches. From the first he already has the backstory of going off the deep end (or at least growing disillusioned with Valinor) after a family member is killed by Melkor and theyre still the first to die, but its just some other rando unrelated to the royals

The situation regarding the humans is different - instead of Melkor leaking their existence, its Manwe who explains that the other continents were supposed to be for them eventually. So Feanor goes off on a tirade about weak puny mortals comes off as a more of a jerk unlike in the final version where Melkor barely knew about the humans and described them to the Noldor as a threat. On the other hand in this one, also very much unlike in the finished product, Melkor dupes even Manwe into being unfair to the elves as a whole. In this the final version is a definite improvement, both Feanor and the Valar come off as a lot more sympathetic and though still deceived he's partially right in some things at least, so you have more of a genuine tragedy rather than a simple feud

There is something to the idea of Commoner!Feanor tho. I guess some of this survived in his nomadic explorer lifestyle and how both his wife and mother (who arent mentioned here) eventually were the ones to get that background of being not especially pretty ladies who are not from the nobility but got renown, respect and acclaim for their unique talent and contribution to society, with each having invented things and Nerdanel also being renowed for her wisdom. Hes sort of an odysseus-like Figure in that sense. I suppose later developements necesitated that Maedhros & co. have an army not just a band of thieves, which means they needed to be nobles/lords. That said this being a society where artisans are very respected and half the lords have scholarly/artistic pursuits going, the gap was probably not as big to begin with as it might have been in say, medieval England. Esoecially since Nerdanel's father had been given special honor by one of the local deities and that the social order might have been a very recent thing in Miriel's time. One might speculate that the first generation of Lords started out as warriors during the great journey, or perhaps just Finwe's friend group.

Also found that bit intetesting where the Valar have to deal with the remaining political tensions and effects of Melkor's lies on the remaining population in Valinor... - i guess with the change of framing device it was less likely for news of something like this to reach Beleriand. That, or the existence of Finarfin and his repentance made this go smoother this over in later cannon

Turgon's go-down-with-the-ship moment reaaly got to me. Im half tempted to write a fic where his wife, siblings and dad glomp him on arrival in Mandos. I dont care that none of them exists yet in this continuity i want Turgon to get hugs

I love all the additional Detail that got compressed out in the shift from fairytale-ish to pseudohistoric style especially all the various Valinor magic insofofar as it is compatible with the final version - particularly love the idea of the connection between the lamps and the trees that is now integrated into my headcanon forever

Its actually explained what the doors of night are

If I had not already read unfinished tales or volumes X to XII where this is also apparent, this is where I would say: Ah so the Valar were supposed to be flawed characters. Manwe has an actual arc; by the time he sends Gandalf he finally "got" it. I think in the published silm the little arcs of Ulmo and Manwe are mostly just lost in compression/ less apparent when only some of the relevant scenes got in but not all

It occurred to me way too late that the "BG" chars are the most consistent because theyre at the start and most stories are written from beginning to end. Finwe doesnt get a dedicated paragraph of explicit description until HoME X but my takeaway was that he's described pretty much like I always imagined him anyways/ same vibe I always got from him... charismatic, thoughtful, enthusiastic, sanguine temperament, brave in a pinch but at times lets his judgement be clouded by personal sentiment (though that last bit is more apparent/salient as a character flaw once he became the father of a certain Problem Child) ...i guess this would be a result of jrrt having had a consistent idea of him in his head for a long time.

This means Finwe's still alive at the time of the exodus which is just fun to see/interesting to know... Interestingly he sort of gets what later would be Finarfin's part of ineffectually telling everxone to please chill and think it over first while Feanor simply shouts louder (which is consistent with his actions before the sword incident in later canon where he initially spoke out against the suspiciozs regarding the Valar) - but its not exactly the same, he's more active than Finarfin later in that when "chillax" availed nothing he said that then at least they should talk with the other Kings and Manwe to leave with their blessing and get help leaving (This seems like it would have been the clusterfuck preventing million dollar suggestion in the universe where Feanor is related to him and values him) but when even that falls on death ears he decides that he "would not be parted from his people" and went to run the preparations. I find it interesting that the motivation is sentiment/attachment (even phrased as "he would not be parted from [his people]" same words/ expression as is later used for the formenos situation), not explicitly obligation as it later is for Fingolfin (who had promised to follow Feanor and didnt want to leave his subjects at the mercy of Feanor's recklessness )

Speaking of problem children. It seems the sons of Feanor were the Kaworu Nagisa of the Silmarillion in that originally all they do is show up at some point and kill Dior as an episodic villain-of-the-week. And then, it seems their role got bigger in each continuity/rewrite... probably has something to do with the Silmarils ending up in the title later making it in the sense their story that ends and begins with them. They have zero characterization beyond "fierce and wild" at this point, though in what teetsy bits there is we already have the idea that Maedhros is the leader and Curufin is the smart one/shemer/sweet-talker, though not the bit where Maedhros (or Maglor, or anyone really) is "the nice one". Which I guess explains why "Maglor" sounds like such a stereotypical villain name.

"The Ruin of Doriath" was purportedly the patchworkiest bit of the finished product, but I never noticed and it actually left quite an impression of me upon first reading, the visual of Melian sitting there with Thingol's corpse in her arms contemplating everything thinking back to how they met... she had the knowledge to warn him not to doom himself but couldnt get him to understand it because he doesnt see the world as she does.... After reading this though I wish there was a 'dynamic' rendition that combined all the best bits like, youd have to adapt it to the later canon's rendition of the dwarves, have Nargothrond exist etc. But i mean that just makes Finrod another dead/doomed relative of Thingol's whom bling cannot truly replace, like Luthien and Turin. In the Silmarillion you could easily read it as just an "honoured guest treatment" but here and in unfinished tales I get the impression that Thingol actually did see Turin as a son.

Already you see the idea of trying to make the stories all interconnected but there is less than there will be (the human heroes aren't related yet and there is basically no Nargothrond, which is later a common thread for many of the stories - a prototype shows up in the 'Tale of Turambar' tho complete with half baked prototypes of Orodreth and Finduillas

O boi im not even through yet

#silmarillion #the book of lost tales #history of middle earth #baby reads HoMe

[kae-karo]

hotwings!!

hi hi hi did u mean one of my favorite ships?????? - send me a bnha character or ship and i’ll give u my thots (x)! check out what i’ve already done (x)

look dabi and hawks have so much potential as a ship like the angst, the drama, there’s just so so much to potentially talk about (i should know i have two unposted 20k dabihawks fics that exist in similar aus of each other and 2 more i wanna write as companions to those, plus a couple lil one-shots, not to mention the entire dabihawks playlist (x) that i keep saying i wanna write a fic for every song)

ahem. anyway.

hawks will always be the one who’s like i have to focus on the mission but [squidward voice] oh god he’s hot while dabi is like the externally cool as a cucumber attempting to be suave guy who’s actually losing his fucking mind on the inside like they’re both a hot mess but they’re also both trying to keep it together like ‘i’m not flirting unless ur flirting in which case i totally am but like only if u are hahaaaaaaa’

i love the idea of them both getting so wrapped up in trying to figure the other out that they forget what exactly they’re supposed to be doing in the league like between dabi feeling obligated to make hawks prove he’s as evil as he claims and hawks trying to dig into dabi’s past they both forget that like. they’ve got like real actual things to be doing outside of obsessing over each other????

okay not to be serious on main but they also both were like. so immensely failed on the affection front in their current lives. like at best dabi had his siblings to hang out with growing up and his mom probably tried (oh yeah i fully subscribe to the dabi=touya ““theory”” - is it a theory if its true? - sorry if that wasn’t obvious by now lmao) and hawks was taken as a child to train at the commission and u bet ur ass they weren’t big on hugs there

so you have two touch-starved idiots who somehow perform intricate rituals that allow them to touch each other u know the meme i’m talking about lmao. the point being that they’re both dumb and constantly making excuses to brush against each other or sit next to each other or *ahem* dabi’s arm around hawks’ shoulder???? and they’re also both so deep in denial that the other might. actually like them cause god if that happened,,,,,,,,,the tragedy. the star-crossed lover drama of it all

uh yeah but give me ch 191 again where horikoshi isn’t a coward and we get a sexual-tension-filled meeting with hawks agitated and threatening dabi and dabi’s playing it way too cool and it ends with them nose to nose, hawks’ feather blade at dabi’s throat and dabi just grinning like a madman and oh. oh. oh. they both have that moment of ‘fuck fuck fuck fuck no i can’t be like. actually. falling for him’ 

and then we get the kiss horikoshi deprived us of (cause we all know that’s what should’ve happened - side note can u tell i’m a sucker for the ‘sexually-tense fighting that leads to a makeout session’ trope?????)

after that they start hooking up and hawks u know is like hurr durr gotta keep a professional appearance but he’s also like so fucking weak for dabi like dabi texts him that he’s bored? hawks suddenly finds an excuse to be over at the league hideout. total coincidence tho, total coincidence

dabi is a desperate lil hoe for hawks’ attention but he tries to hide it behind his whole ‘i don’t care about anything’ facade even when they’re together????? until he snaps over smth - an endeavor thing, a shouto/family thing, a league thing, doesn’t really matter but he fuckin snaps and hawks lets him take it out on him bc he knew there had to be more depth to dabi and y’know ya boi has a lot of trauma to work through and if dabi was taught that fighting was a coping mechanism then sure hawks will fight (bc he knows he’ll win i’m sorry but hawks is op at this point ya boi trained hard to have such a badass quirk)

and the one (1) time dabi actually manages to singe him with a bit of fire, he completely loses it, like genuine breakdown. he never wanted to hurt hawks. never wanted to hurt anyone. but he did, and he kept hurting people and he couldn’t stop bc it felt like something and something was better than nothing and how the fuck did he get here and hawks listens through the whole thing and just holds him and lets him talk and get it all out and ahem i may also be a sucker for the ‘villain never really wanted to be a villain but it felt like the only choice until the hero shows them they can still be good’ trope

#bnha #dabihawks #hotwings #dabi #hawks #ship thots #i really should get around to posting those other dabihawks fics #probably need another edit #but i gotta finish the unlost xmas 'chapter' first lmao #i keep procrastinating rip #anon #ask #kt

[leanarg]

Practice Challenge II

((Hi again! So, these are 3 fics in one post! Including my first two rps with @ladyreggiewright​ (our very first one after ages not doing this so asdfghk) and with @wylan-caldwell​ I had so much fun doing both, so thank you, guys! <3 Thanks for reading too, hope you enjoy them as much as I stuggled writing them ;P  Google Docs link: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1ARTjqveFJ1njDc2LL0PU4C0ShN2jlO9JC1Imt9MDTh8/edit?usp=sharing ))

A CHANGE OF LUCK

“Alright, y’all ready?” Rita said with a loud voice vibrating with nervousness. “The speeches are over. In the next block, Prince Arin will be picking the names.” That was her fifth lap around the entertainment office floor and she just couldn’t stop repeating what Vandy Post had already announced before each round of commercials. I knew she was trying to act authoritative, but seeing her in this state was always amusing.

It wasn’t unusual that the building was bursting with energy this late at night. The pre-press team always stayed working on putting together the bulldog broadsheets content and adding the last details, then sent the whole thing before the deadline to the press team operating on the last floor, where they were all in charge of the printing process. I would dare to say there was activity in this place 24/7. But this particular night, we were focused on The Report. The streets looked almost empty from up here, everyone was at home in front of their TV waiting for the names of the lucky girls randomly picked by a drawing of names out of different crystal boxes. 35 provinces, 35 boxes, 35 names. 

My attention had been focused on Arin’s stern expression. His life was about to be decided by fate, or as many people want to call it, destiny. I wonder what was he thinking, standing there expressionless, willing to uphold his duty. 

Is he excited? Is he nervous? Is he wishing he could run away from that room and leave all this tradition behind?

My name was inside of one of the boxes, so I should had been even more anxious and edgy than Rita herself, but, after the PET Gala fiasco, where: I hadn’t gotten the clues I was so close to getting, I hadn’t finished the job I was supposed to be doing and my one month salary had been reduced to half; I was certain that whoever was in charge of my luck was not very fond of me. 

“They are back!” Rita shouted as soon as Arin’s face reappeared. Everyone in the room fell silent. I scoffed a laugh when I noticed them unconsciously leaning slightly towards the big tv, but I ended up doing the same after adjusting my glasses. One by one the basic information of the selected were being transcribed from the screen to our devices as Arin picked out their papers. 

<< “From Allens, Idalia Moretti, from Angeles, Emily Rose White,... from Honduragua, Callia Adair…” >>

My fingers were moving fast across my cellphone’s keyboard. These were the girls we would be hearing a lot about  from now on and I needed to know everything about them.

<< “From Labrador, Lea…” >>

I froze. My head felt dizzy trying to take in what I had just heard. For the shortest of seconds, everyone’s eyes were on me. I could hear Rita’s voice instructing them to get back to work and maybe someone else was now in charge of The Globe’s blog but at that moment I couldn’t care less about that.

It’s really happening... I made it to the selection!

Finally, I could stand up. I was feeling so much energy inside me that I wanted to run. Suddenly, the lift made a sound and my dad came quickly out of it and … wait, my mom is here? She was carrying my sleepy little brother, Dean. 

I could read the shock on my parents’ faces.“I’m in!!” I said a little too loud but since Mr. Grant was there no one dared to complain. My dad let out a short laugh before extending his arms for an embrace. “Congratulations, Rosie, I knew it would happen, didn’t I tell you V?” He said to my mom. “Grants always get what they want.” 

Ugh, I wish. But I wasn’t going to argue with him right now, so I just offered him a wink.

As soon as my father let go, my mom surrounded me with her free arm. “So how does it feel to be a lady, huh? We have to celebrate this!”

“Well, do ladies feel hungry this late? Cause I wasn’t feeling it a moment ago.” “Yes, let’s leave these guys to work in peace.” my dad said suddenly remembering where we were. After clearing his throat as if that simple gesture was a switch between the dad and the boss, he talked with Rita to make sure someone had replaced me updating the blog, then he congratulated everyone for their dedication and finally wished them good night. “I just hope you are paying me the full day,” I said to my dad as we all headed outside.

“I mean, are you working right now?” He raised an eyebrow, mockingly.

I sighed “I guess Grants can’t always get what they want after all.”  And I meant it in more than one way. 

The next week ran fast. My father and I agreed that I had to keep going to the office as usual, but it wasn’t easy to balance my work and my phone ringing every 5 minutes. More than once I had to ride home in the middle of the day because someone was waiting for me at home. 

First, a man with a very peculiar face came to do some kind of interrogation, which was understandable until we got to the most uncomfortable, personal ones. I almost spit my coffee laughing until I realized he had no intention to leave until he got every answer to each one of the questions on his list. 

Like him, I received a tailor and a doctor; but it wasn’t until the press started to ask for interviews when I realized my life had made a turn of 360 degrees. 

The thing I lamented the most about this odd schedule was that I couldn’t travel to the provinces to interview some of the selected as we had planned, but I did take advantage of every opportunity I had to do deep research about them. 

Some of the names or last names could be found on old newspaper editions, there were tragedies, accomplishments, unfortunate events… I smiled to myself, while I made annotations on my journal, fascinated by all the different interesting lives that were about to gather under the same roof. And I guess somehow that included mine.

The farewell party organized by Labrador’s Mayor seemed more like a political campaign than a real party. I might have fallen asleep during his speech if I hadn’t been texting Harris for the 40th time that week.

The last time I knew something about him was the night of the announcement when he sent me a simple “Congratulations, Lady Lea.” Then as the photographer, he had to go with Rea to the half-tour over the country to cover the selected interviews. 

“How dare you not be here when you are needed,... you lucky mooncalf.”

I looked up to see the crowd from my place on the big platform set in the middle of the Amberly park. It hadn’t been a very good idea, because there were grey clouds gathering over us and the sun was partially covered by them already. 

Someone forgot to check the weather section today.

But the trees surrounding us were decorated with purple and green metallic balloons -the colors of our province- and there were several signs with good wishes so I appreciated the effort. 

Everyone was here; The Globe employees that didn’t like me at all, my family on the first row, my college best friend, Liv had made space on her busy schedule  to come to the event, even my grandmother had sent his chauffeur with presents. That was her way to show support and I honestly didn’t have any complaints.  After the Mayor’s speech, the great boss Maxwell Loyd took the microphone to speak, I rolled my eyes, not caring about the people in front of me. He didn’t waste this opportunity to promote himself and flatter me. I mean, if he really had thought all that about me I would have had a promotion and a raise already, instead I just got ridiculous instructions and a handshake. 

When they both finally finished, the rain had started to pour, plus it was almost time for me to leave for the airport. I buttoned my coat before taking my place behind the microphone to start talking, but the eyes of the lady in charge of my schedule forced me to skip until the end of the speech I had prepared the night before. Every time I was going to make it sound deep and sentimental she made a sign for me to hurry.

“I appreciate your support… I will do my best… thank you for coming.”  

Were the only complete sentences I managed to say under such pressure. There was clapping and cheering afterwards, but there was after the previous boring speeches as well, so I didn’t get too excited about that. 

“Have a good time, my Lea.” My mother said after kissing my brow. I could smell her sweet perfume that I was going to miss. “I will, mom. Take care, I’m only leaving cause I know you are going to be in charge.” I side eyed the two men of the house. Then I kissed my little brother and messed his blond hair. “Bye bye little toad.” He just babbled something and waved his little hand. 

“So, Lady Grant. What do you expect from Prince Arin? Do you secretly plan to drink all the coffee from the Angele’s Palace? Rumor has it your father won’t let you marry until you turn 48 years old do you think Your Highness would wait for you that long?” “Wow, Mr. Grant you ask pretty basic questions, I have been asked the same ones all week.” He gave me a big tight hug and I ignored the wool of his coat feeling  itchy on my cheek. “I’m very proud of you Leana, and of course I’m not talking about this selection situation… I’m sorry about-” I stopped him not wanting to have our little disagreements as today’s last memory. And I also hoped I could change his mind by the time I returned home. “We can talk about that when I come back, dad.” He nodded. “I’m starting to feel bad for our dear Prince Arin.” I scoffed a laugh.

“Lady Grant, we are past the established hours already.” I heard a lady behind me. 

I turned to my friend Liv with an apologetic expression but she just smiled and waved. “I will text you… Bye! The rain started to fall harder but I had read the weather section on the paper this morning so I was properly dressed with boots and a coat over my white shirt and black pants. 

I walked towards a guard who was holding an opened umbrella to cover us with it. He opened the door of the car.  Then he offered to take my bag for me, but I had packed some of my old journals in there among my personal things. “Thank you… What’s your name?” “Finn Ray, my lady.” He answered confused. “I will keep this here with me, Finn.” I said in what I hoped was a reassuring tone before entering the car. I guessed he was new at guarding selected, because I noticed him turning to look at the woman in charge of the schedule. She nodded once at him and joined me inside the limousine. 

By the time we got to the airport I had learned that our chauffeur was called Alan Cobb, he had been working for the palace for 3 years on special occasions. He had three kids and his wife was expecting a baby girl. 

The strict lady was Miss Ramirez, she was happily single, obviously tardiness was her biggest pet peeve and she had worked there for 6 years already, but she enjoyed her job and had never thought of doing anything else, although I didn’t quite understand exactly which was her role in the royal offices of Labrador.

She left me at the boarding door after wishing me luck.

The flight to Angeles was long. I shared a plane with 3 others selected, that seemed pretty decent at first sight. 

We had a polite introduction conversation before we took off, but then everyone focused on her own thing; Jen Li, -the Yale law student from Waverly- took advantage of the 8 hours flight to sleep. Alana Hansen looked out from the window almost the whole time lost in her thoughts, and based on the green tone on Regina Wright’s face I guessed she was a risky company for the moment. 

I remembered I had read about her parents' unfortunate plane accident in an old newspaper, they used to be famous politicians and she was an apple that had fallen close to the tree. Hopefully not too close.

So, considering my options I prefer to write in my journals during the whole trip.

As soon as we arrived we were hurried to a room for makeovers. For me it felt more like a day in the salon, nothing drastic was made, just a few lights on my hair, perfect makeup and a stunning blue dress with matching elegant pump heels shoes. 

They did insisted on giving me contact lenses, since I had forgotten to pack mine, so after a long argument with the stylist, Mariel, I decided to wear the contacts and let him enjoy “his creation”. 

In the end, despite the little changes, when he showed me my reflection in the mirror, I had to recognize I was content with the  upgraded version of me.

                                       ESSENTIAL RESEARCH

The tour around the palace was quite short considering its size. I was almost sure that it was bigger on the inside than it looked on the outside, but the curiosity to see my new room, made me settle with the basic information,

I took a glance down at the little map on my hand. Eloise Hall room 28, second floor. As I headed to the stairs, the decorations and fancy details surrounding me were impossible to ignore. With every step you could find paintings by famous old artists -my mother admired- hanging on the walls, expensive vases and beautiful furniture. 

Looking around I spotted one of the selected quickly scribbling some notes in a notebook. As I got closer I noticed she was my plane mate, Regina Wright. Her green tone had disappeared or maybe covered with makeup and she looked much more secure now that we were down here on earth soil. 

I laughed a little bit inside walking by her side “Hope whatever you are writing is worth a bump on your head.”  

“I hope so too” She said absentmindedly, not looking up from her notebook. After some seconds she took a short look at me, flipped through her notebook and quickly closed it before I could react and lean discreetly to read what she was working on. 

Okay, now I’m curious.

“Excuse me, hi. Leana is it?” She gave me a polite smile. 

“Yes, feeling better... Regina..? I asked faking ignorance. 

She looked at me as she didn’t know why I was asking her that but then just answered, “Splendid. But please, call me Reggie.”

We continue walking up the stairs towards the second floor, while we shook hands, 

“I'm Leana Grant but you can call me Lea or Lee” I said touching the arc of my glasses I had put back on as soon as I left the makeover room.

She nodded. “Alright, Lea. Journalist, correct?” She made her pen click as if she was going to start writing again. I frowned, puzzled. “You too?” 

She chuckled at the question as if I should already know who she was. And the truth was, I did. 

“No,” she finally said, opening her notebook again, adding something, then she continued. “So, what brings you here?”

I was sure Reggie had many qualities but subtlety wasn’t one of them. 

I pressed my lips together, thinking about my motives, which one of them should I tell her? I’m here as an inside informant for The Globe; or, I’m here to live and learn about this whole selection phenomenon… I didn’t even know which one was the right answer.  “... just figured I couldn't miss this whole thing, you know.” 

Half- truths are always safe.  

“Are you here for politics?” I added before she could even think about my answer. 

She looked pleasantly surprised by my question, clearing her throat. “Yes, that is one of the reasons.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “You did your research.” 

I guess it was my turn to feel recognized, but unlike her I didn’t want to be so obvious, so I shrugged. “Your name rang a bell.” 

She looked at me suspiciously, lifting her chin, a slight movement I didn’t quite understand. “Is that so? That's good, I suppose. Best to be prepared.”

“Maybe you are right, I guess you actually did your research. What do you have about me?” I asked directly now, pointing at her notebook casually.

She remained serious. “Oh, just the usual. Occupation, caste, age.  Name, obviously.  There's 35 of us after all. Would be a shame to get anyone mixed up.”

“Well, now most of us are threes and the twos are pretty well known.”

“Yes well, obviously. Was to be expected. It's still an appropriate mix.”

Her statement made me remember her parents somehow, obviously she had their school but I wonder how much she agreed with them. “That’s... a word to describe it, yes.” I answered incredulous, “So where are you staying?” I asked, as I noticed I have already found my room.

We discovered we were room neighbors which I decided was very convenient for me. I liked people who have answers to my questions. 

She was concerned about my acoustic guitar hobby and I assured her I hadn’t brought mine with me. “The music room will do.”  And she assured me her studying was going to be silent. 

The conversation continued but my curiosity was already unbearable, so I opened the door of my room to check it out. I didn’t want to be rude so I invited Reggie inside as we talked.

“What are you working on?” I stepped inside

She followed. “Political Science Major.”

I gave her a glance to let her know that was not the answer I was looking for. 

She blinked with realization. “Oh, I see I misunderstood. Well, actually I was just writing a paper on the pros and cons of capitalism and if our country should focus more on it like we did when we were still called the 'United States'” She air quoted the name.

I looked around my room considering her answer. Suddenly my eyes met with three maids standing in line in the middle of the room. When they saw us they made a courtesy and I nodded at them as a greeting, hoping we can have proper introductions later.

“Hmm the lesser of evils... but the United States not exactly an example to be followed.” I said to Reggie. 

“Exactly.” She said. I noticed her writing a mark in her notebook.  

“A-are you like grading me?” I dared to ask what I had suspected since the beginning, but I didn’t want to believe. It was shocking at first but after the third mark it became amusing.

“Who else do you have in there?” I asked curiously before running next to her to peek at her notebook.  She closed it again. When I looked at her she smiled at me awkwardly “No, of course not. Just remembered something.” Her notebook was behind her back, now out of my reach. She straightened her shoulders before adding, “Well, thank you kindly for your invitation, glad to have met you…”

I stayed there confused, Had I gotten it wrong? Or was I right and she didn’t want me to know? Anyway, I should have said nothing.  “Alright ... glad to meet you too, see you around.” I said worried that she might be uncomfortable now. 

She nodded as she headed to the door. One of the maids hurried to hold the door for her. 

I frowned concerned, I couldn’t just lose a source like her. “Wait for me tomorrow, I think we can walk to the dining room together.”

She turned to give me a frown, seemingly confused by my suggestion. “But I already know where it-” then she smiled. “I will.”

As soon as Reggie left I took out the journal from the pocket of my dress and tossed on the pretty desk by a large window where I peered at the view of the Angeles city.

                                                                                       FOR THE RECORD.

After introductions my maids brought me dinner up to my room. So while I was eating the best creamy mustard chicken I ever had, we had a little chat. 

Among other things we talked about I expressed my surprise when I didn’t see any Royals when we arrived. Liberty, Camila and confirmed the Schreaves didn’t plan to meet any selected tonight, we would have to wait until morning. Queen Anjeli and Princess Ayesha had to leave the palace to attend important matters and Wylan Caldwell in spite of not being a selected was currently living in the Palace. Back in Labrador, I managed between college, work and extra work to fill my schedule, my mother never liked me being out of the house so late at night or sometimes not being able to have a complete breakfast in the morning, I enjoyed being busy and drive my Vespa from one place to another, but it was hard for me to admit that one of the reasons I liked my life that way was that besides when I was concentrated writing notes on my iTypewriter; I was not good at being alone with my thoughts. That’s why when I was a child my mother bought me a ukulele to play when I was feeling anxious, which gave excellent results. Later when I entered college I took a short guitar course with the same purpose. 

Therefore, later that afternoon, when my maids went back to their chores, leaving me alone I decided to leave my room to check out the music room, as I promised Reggie I would do. 

It took me some minutes to find the right door downstairs but my memory had never failed me and it wasn’t going to start now. 

I opened the third door in the west hall and peeked inside. I felt relieved when I saw the big piano in the last corner and dared to walk inside. Besides the piano, there were several instruments resting on their stands spread around the room, most of them to play classical music, but luckily, an acoustic guitar was among them. I was going to pick it up to test it when I spotted shelves full of old vinyl records. 

I walked towards the vinyl record player, it had a beautiful vintage look, it’s big horn imitated the ancient gramophones used during the Victorian years, but I suspected to be a more recent model. 

I noticed someone had left a classic record on, I wonder which one of the Royals had been listening to it as I moved the tonearm onto the outer edge of the disk, the little diamond tip to touch the groove. 

I guess I still remember how to use one of this. 

I stretched my arm and pulled one of the discs from the upper shelf, the others came down with it and  << "KNEEE-KNEEE!!" >>

The blaring sound of violins vibrated around the room making me wince for the annoying sound filling my ears.

“Damn!” I covered my ears while trying to find a way to turn the bloody record player off before my head exploded. Overwhelmed by the sound I went on my knees and stretched my hand behind the furniture looking desperately for the plug, but before I could find any the music stopped. 

I stood up still touching my ears 

Have I gone deaf? 

“I take you didn’t mean to do that.” I heard someone say behind me. 

Okay, I haven’t 

I turned around to find a guy eyeing me warily, from the corner of my eye I noticed a laptop and a couple of heavy leather books that weren't on the table before. 

“I was considering turning it on but it made the decision for me,” I said without explaining. 

At that moment, a couple of guards came into the room alarmed. They scanned the room quickly before looking at us puzzled. 

Wylan followed my gaze and turned to them, slightly. “Just a mishap. We’re fine.” He acknowledged with a wave of his hand. I let out a sigh of relief as they left the room to return to their posts.

“First time using a record player?” He asked to continue teasing

I gave him a deadpan look. “Ha-ha I take that the last person who played it had some hearing problems.” Before I crouched to pick up the rest of the vinyl records still scattered on the carpeted floor, I noticed a smile tugging at his lips that didn’t last.

In a minute he was bending in front of me to help. “You picked some good ones.”

Suddenly we looked at each other for a second, I narrowed my eyes suspiciously at his for a second trying to figure any sign of sarcasm in them, and he just had the word “awkward” written all over his face. Obviously I was making him feel uncomfortable. 

I would have laughed if I hadn’t been so busy trying to read him. 

“I like classics- acoustic to be precise.” I finally said with a shrug. “Do you own any of these?”

“This John Mayer one is mine. I have some other ones too. They’re over there.” He gestured to the rack behind me, then stood up with the vinyls he helped pick up.

I raised my eyebrow and nodded approvingly. “You have some taste, I will give you that.” I looked up at him, waiting for him to offer his hand for me to help me stand, but apparently living in a castle was no guarantee of anything, so I just stood up slowly, brushing my dress. 

“Some were gifts I grew to love.” He acknowledged, holding the vinyls out for me. “I’d recommend keeping the volume down before you turn it on next time.”

I took the discs to put them back in its place on the shelves “Well, you should put a sign somewhere,” I joked, a bit annoyed by his recommendation. 

I adjusted my glasses and stayed standing there, admiring the vinyl records once more. My curious mind wondered about the Prince. “Which ones are Arin’s?”

“I’m not sure. He might not own any.” I caught him glancing at his things he had left on the table before back to me. “Might be a good question to ask him yourself.”

Or you’re just evading the question. But fortunately, one of the things my job had teached me was to have thick skin so I wasn’t going to let him get away so easily. 

“You really don’t know or you don’t want to tell me?” I asked with an amusing tone.

He let out a small sigh, relenting a bit. “He likes The Killers. There’s probably a vinyl or two of those in here if you really need a good conversation starter.”

I faked a grimace “ugh! that piece of information should’ve hurt…” I said mockingly before adding. “I guess some advice for tomorrow’s interview is completely out of the table.” 

“Depends on what advice you’re looking for,” he let out, surprising me. 

I started to walk around the room still looking at him, considering my answer. “I don’t know, you are his friend... knowing a little bit about his personality would help,” I said casually, as if I didn’t already have thousands of questions listed in my head. 

But somehow he knew I did. “I’ll answer one question you have. Just one.”

“So generous …” I said more to myself than to him. My hand went unconsciously inside the pocket on my dress and my fingers touched my journal inside of it, purely out of habit. Of course, I wasn’t going to take it out so I crossed my hands in front of me as I resumed my walking around the room. 

“Okay…” In my mind I was looking for a single question that could indirectly tell me things about Arins personality … and why not about Mr. Uncomfortable himself too. 

“How do you start getting along back in college, like how did you become friends?”

Suddenly he let out a laugh, startling me. I frowned at first, but then I decided it wasn’t so bad, it picked my curiousness further.

I looked at him genuinely amused and he begined, “We were both going for runs and without knowing, I drifted a little too close. I was listening to music and not paying attention. His bodyguard sort of…” He paused to bring his fist to his neck simulating a punch. “And took me down.” I could see he was amused, for real. 

I laughed picturing the scene on my mind, considering all his previous teasing and had to admit it was a little bit entertaining to do so. “Ouch! His bodyguard does look ... fierce.” I commented remembering the man’s complexion I had seen several times on TV.

I wait for him to continue before asking, “what happened next? What did Arin say?”

His smile was more like a ghost on his face now, not physically there but somehow still present. “He apologized. After that we found out we shared a couple classes together and I offered to help him study for exams.”

“That’s an epic story… I bet it left you marked for some days.” I made a grimace, touching my neck, imagining the pain.

“Swallowing hurt, to say the least,” he said, remembering. After a minute, he combed a hand through his hair. “ Did that satisfy your question?”

“Hmm yeah, it was good, for now” I answered scoffing a laugh. The truth was I didn’t expect to enjoy his story that much, but I just couldn’t settle with only one question, but it wasn’t convenient to push more questions on him now. 

Fortunately he didn’t refuse, he just rolled his eyes at me, amused. “Alright, well I have to get back to work. At least try to not deafen the entire palace again.”

“I can’t promise anything.” I let out, finally taking the acoustic guitar from its stand, while he turned to gather his things.

“Reassuring.” He gave me a side glance and started walking out the room, he offered a two fingered salute before disappearing behind the opened door. 

After a second, while looking down at the guitar already in place on my lap, I compelled,  “Wylan... thanks!”

“You're welcome.” 

I heard him say from the hallway just before I started strumming the guitar strings, hoping its sound was enough to help me survive the first night. 

#OC 6 #PC part 2 #Reggie Wright #Wylan Caldwell #((thanks again to Cassey for reading and giving me some perspective ))

[winterromanov]

hold me like a soldier - bucky x reader fic

PART TWO - JAMES

Pairing: bucky barnes x female reader

Excerpt:   “Anyway. I saw you sitting on your own, and I always sit on my own too, and I kind of hate it because this whole grad school thing has reduced my friendship circle to exactly zero, not including my new pot plant Hero, who is great but not very talkative, you know? She doesn’t have many opinions on Tolstoy’s use of the interior monologue in Anna Karenina. And also my roommate spends a lot of time examining corpses in the interest of science, so she’s not the most fun at the moment.”

Warnings: none

Taglist: @lunatictardis @cals-cigarette (reply or send me an ask to be added!)

You were under absolutely no impression that grad school was going to be easy. Yet, that being said, you’d never counted on it being this damn difficult either. Sure, the classes were more intense and more frequent, the deadlines already piling up and ready to leave you shaking like a village in a cyclone—but the classes you could deal with. You’re more than used to homework and Shakespeare is nowhere near as undecipherable as it was in high school, romance and comedy and tragedy now a wholly fluent language in your brain. No, what is difficult is how fucking lonely you are.

You’ve done the whole moving-to-college thing before, but that was back when you were eighteen and naïve and everyone in your dorm was in the same rocking boat, dropped in the middle of a city and on the hunt for (illegal) cheap beer. Now you’re older, arguably wiser and surrounded by hardworking mature students with exceptional career goals. Your roommate, Elise, is almost finished med school and has absolutely no interest in hunting down New York’s best bookstores with you. And the people on your course…they either have friends already, from their undergrad majors, or rush off the minute class is over. It leaves you aimlessly wandering the city on your own or cowered in the library, desperate for any—literally any—company other than your family, fuzzy and lagging over Skype conversations.

School is important. Probably the most important thing in your life, and you’ve worked really fucking hard to get here. But your sanity is important too. Spending another evening with a bottle of budget wine and Friends re-runs on Netflix while pretending to make notes for your medieval lit seminar is definitely not doing it any favours.

So—this is it, you decide. This is the day you bite the bullet. You will no longer be the loneliest girl in New York City, even if that means forcibly pinning someone to the wall of the literature faculty and making them get coffee with you.

(Not that you’d ever have the nerve to do that. Of course. Where does anyone even acquire that sheer level of confidence?)

Your morning starts in a building a fifteen minute walk from your apartment and the October air is unseasonably warm, sweat pooling in the small of your back where your rucksack dips. You make it to Russian lit with a few minutes to spare so you take your usual preferred seat a few rows away from the back of the hall, trailing to the middle. The faces that start to fill up the seats around you are recognisable, at least, but you know very few by name. A girl who is also in your Early Victorian Proto-Feminism class (Tessa, you think) smiles tightly at you, but decides not to sit next to you, preferring a seat nearer the front. As you get your laptop out in preparation for the lecture starting, another face catches your eye.

You don’t know his name, but you always notice him, whether it’s in class or in the library or the canteen near the activity centre. He always dresses smartly but in greys and blacks and blues, like he deliberately tries to evade attention. His dark hair is short but hangs a little in his eye-line, revealing an attractive face with a sharp jawline and sharper eyes. A ghost of facial hair shadows his chin and although you’ve never seen him smile, you can imagine it being the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen. Like the stars back home, the ones unaffected by artificial light, impossibly bright. You don’t get to see the stars like that in New York City. It’s like the skyscrapers have stolen them to burn.

He’s never acknowledged you before. Your stares go unseen, thankfully, because there’s nothing more embarrassing than trying to explain why your eyes refuse to leave somebody’s frame. This time, however—this time, his eyes flicker straight over to you. It’s unmistakable. For a couple of seconds, his blue irises settle on your own, and you snap away quickly as your cheeks flush.

Good one. Real good.

At that moment the professor turns up and starts to load up today’s presentation. When you look back, you can see the back of the guy’s head, a few rows in front of you diagonally across the hall. He’s on the shorter row by the door, only three seats either side of him, but all of them are empty. He doesn’t seem to have many friends either. It doesn’t strike you that there may be a reason for that—maybe he’s just shy, or finds it difficult to find friends, just like you.

(He seems a little older than you, too. There’s just something about his expression, aloof and quiet, that makes you think he carries more years than his face cares to admit.)

The lecture is on Tolstoy and while the professor’s theories on Anna Karenina are interesting, you keep finding yourself glancing at the guy. This is the first time you’ve realised he doesn’t have a laptop, unlike the majority of students in the hall. He’s scribbling notes fervently in a small moleskin notebook, hand covering the side of his face as he writes.

By the time the lecture finishes and you’ve typed a grand total of eight words (the presentation title, go figure) the decision is basically out of your hands. You can’t let him sidle out of the hall like every single Russian lit class before this one, especially if he insists on causing this much distraction to your studies. As the professor finishes up you quickly pack away your laptop, squeezing between the rows in an attempt to reach him before you lose him amongst crowds of other students in the quad outside.

Your gaze follows his scruffy black backpack, standing on your tiptoes as you try to see over the tops of the heads that make their way down the stairs. He presses a white earphone into his ear and between arms, you can see he owns an iPhone, just not a laptop.

For half a second, you falter. Is this weird? Walking up to someone random—well, almost random—after class and just striking up a conversation? Maybe he’s alone because he wants to be, preferring to stalk about without company other than his own. Maybe the seats are empty because he’s completely unapproachable, others before you tried and failing to break into his circle. After all, he’s hardly unattractive. You can’t be the only one feeling subconsciously drawn to him.

Oh, fuck it. Whatever happened to biting the bullet? You remember something your sister mentioned to you in one of your two-hour long Skype marathons—be brave, loser.

You follow him until you’re out of the between-class rush, jogging a little to catch up with his long strides. Taking a deep breath to psych yourself up, you stumble to a halt beside him as he stops to read a message or something on his phone.

“Hey,” you say, a little breathless from your jog, pulling your rucksack straps up your shoulder.

He blinks, a little surprised, like he hadn’t seen you. His hands tighten into fists, then relax. He recognises you. “Hey?”

You smile, hoping to appear approachable, but wondering if it actually comes across as a grimace. “I’m, uh—sorry, we just had Russian lit together?”

His face is totally unreadable, but his body looks tense, putting you on edge. Maybe this was an extremely bad idea. “Yeah. I saw you.”

“Yeah, I saw you too. Well, obviously, otherwise I wouldn’t have…” you realise you’re rambling and to your surprise, there’s a hint of amusement on the guy’s face. It seems to flicker away quickly, like he’s telling himself off for it. “Anyway. I saw you sitting on your own, and I always sit on my own too, and I kind of hate it because this whole grad school thing has reduced my friendship circle to exactly zero, not including my new pot plant Hero, who is great but not very talkative, you know? She doesn’t have many opinions on Tolstoy’s use of the interior monologue in Anna Karenina. And also my roommate spends a lot of time examining corpses in the interest of science, so she’s not the most fun at the moment.”

He listens bemusedly, his hands sinking into the pockets of his trousers. You sigh. Verbal diarrhoea.

“The point being…we could, maybe, sit together?” you offer, hoping you haven’t immediately put him off if he was ever considering what you’re proposing. “Talk about Russian books sometimes so I don’t go mad?”

His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he looks down at his shoes; they’re scuffed up red Converse sneakers, the only part of him in technicolour. You’re almost certain he’s going to turn you down, the sting of rejection premeditated in your stomach, because hell you’ve been in this position before. He’s silent, considering this simple arrangement for longer than you’d anticipated, which is somehow a good and bad sign simultaneously.

“I…” he begins, and you’ve already finished the sentence. I would rather not, thank you. His jaw flexes, hardens. “I can sit with you.”

“Oh!” you say, brightly, by surprise. Nonchalance isn’t an option. Your grin is so damn obvious and you’re not even ashamed of it. “Oh, cool!”

“But—I don’t say this to be…I’ve just got a lot of stuff going on.” He smiles sadly, painfully. This expression is definitely readable. More readable than he wants it to be, you suspect. He dips his head. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Your hand closes round his arm and you can feel it tense, rock hard, and it’s like—like he realises you aren’t a threat, so he relaxes, his expression soft but eager to get away. You smile as a peace offering. “I just thought I’d ask your name. Then I’ll leave you alone. Promise.”

He mulls the question over in his head like he’s attempting a complex math problem, not a daily occurrence. His mouth curves before deciding on his answer. “James.”

“James,” you repeat, trying it out. You give him yours in exchange and he nods once, expression returning to neutral. He turns and makes his way to his next destination, perhaps another class, and before you know it he’s swallowed by college crowds and completely gone from view.

It’s been one of your more…charged interactions on campus, but nevertheless it leaves a warm feeling in your stomach. Sitting with someone is a start. It’s sure as hell better than sitting alone.

#mcu #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #fluff #marvel fic #marvel fanfic #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #fanfic #sebastian stan

[goldinavonlea]

About your last response. YES YES YES!! I feel like the Sarbonne was suddenly pushed into his options, and therefore it doesn’t even feel like a place he’s crawling to get in. In his very essence sure he learns by reading but he’s more passionate about learning new things hands on AND that’s why when he sees how the Native Healer helps Moody his mind opens to a new possibility that actually shows him being even more excited about a world of possibilities.

So his interaction with and reaction to the Mi’kmaq medicine woman was Such a significant moment in my eyes, especially his frustration with not finding reference to any of her methods in his textbooks—like as far as we can tell the Sorbonne was, at the time, The Big Name In Medical Studies, which means several of those textbooks that piss him off have probably been written or peer reviewed by people At That University. In order to be that revered by the global medical community, sure it’s got to produce some really good research, but also by and large it has to be producing research that the majority of doctors and medics are willing to accept and get behind in a time where The Establishment At Large had some views that Gilbert definitely would not jive with.

Maybe there’s something to be said for him getting his foot in the door somewhere that prestigious and changing minds from the inside, but there’s that whole ‘a toxic work environment is far more likely to change you than you are to change it’ thing and I just... for me it would seem a real tragedy for him to ship off somewhere where he’ll be surrounded by and working with the absolute Status Quo of Rich White Guys when so much of his strength comes from his willingness to actually listen to voices which the establishment routinely and enthusiastically ignores and/or straight up steals from; and (as we saw with Anne in e7) his willingness to leverage his privillage in favour of equality and justice. When everyone wants to shut Anne down and shut her up, he says ‘No, listen to what she’s saying. Actually listen to her. She’s right. Listen.’. He doesn’t attempt to take credit for her ideas—all he does is use the privillage he has for the one thing it can be useful for, which is ensuring that a voice which knows more about the situation than he does doesn’t get silenced or sidelined.

I think the potential he has to put that to real use and help make powerful change in the medical field is huge. I think his enthusiasm for embracing non-mainstream ideas and working with people outside The Establishment, and the fact that he can and will leverage the privillage he has to Make the mainstream sit up and listen until such a time as they stop being prejudiced dicks and learn to do so without him strongarming them (not to mention the love of his life is a passionately just and fiercely outspoken journalist in the making? Academic Power Couples man, it gets me)—I feel like he almost has a responsibility to be that person because so few others are willing or able to be. But that only works if he continues to be exposed to those voices, those ideas, and to me the Sorbonne sounds like isolating himself from that in favour of aligning himself with the privillaged establishment which, so far, he has consistently and wholeheartedly rejected regardless of what inconvenience it might have caused him personally.

Like I’m going to perjur myself with this later because I talk about this in one of the many fic fragments I’m accumulating until I can finagle them into a whole story, but I just keep thinking about the fact that no doctor between Avonlea and Charlottetown would see Mary when she was sick. And it was sepsis in 1899 so there’s nothing any of them could have done anyway, but none of them wanted to try. Gilbert would have tried. That’s what I meant in that his gift, where he could shine, was in giving a shit, and it’s also precisely what Anne was getting at: there are lots of very clever people with very fancy educations who could probably do some marvellous work on antitoxins at the Sorbonne, and most of those people would probably think to give a shit about someone like Mary, or Ruth, or the Mi’kmaq medicine woman (really if anyone knows her name PLEASE tell me) precisely zero times in their careers. He cares, he cares about everyone, so he needs to be in a position to be there for people who no-one else is going to turn up for.

#anne with an e #awae spoilers #awae s3 spoilers #spoilers #gilbert blythe #awae #honestly i think where anne is hyper attuned to the systemic and social natures of injustice #gilbert’s... i think he doesn’t realise the extent to which most people don’t see others the way he does #and i think he probably assumes since the sorbonne is so well regarded that means it’s tolerant or kind or just #which i don’t know i wasn’t at the sorbonne at the turn of the century maybe it was #and it was in paris i guess which has a history of being fairly fuck off to societal dictation #but generally speaking i’m gonna be fairly sceptical of anywhere that manages to be that idolised and embraced #in a society that does not embrace a lot of people #i mean look at oxbridge to this very day look at how OVERWHELMINGLY white and privately educated their student body is #and this is 120 years later #all i’m saying is tread lightly with Pedigree Institutions