#sorry for all of the old art I’ve been staring at a wall daydreaming about aus

[judemathisdaily]

Day 4: old juvar doodles

[demonslayedher]

Any Kny character you've grown to love/appreciate more??

Thanks for waiting, Anon, I have been trying to really, really hard to narrow this down, but the answer remains: the vast majority of the cast. The only character I loved right away was Tanjiro and that love kept me watching, as with almost every new character I was like, "ugh, I hate this guy. Here I was, having fun being emotionally invested in a high quality anime, and this might ruin it for me." But then the instant I see a different side of their character, I'm like, "...Oh." To go into some examples...

Zenitsu: I could not stand him right away, I hate womanizers, and his conniptions would go on so long that they held up the story. But Gotouge/Ufotable strung me along perfectly, the first glimpse of Thunder Breath made me immediately pay attention and think, "oh, that was cool. I want to see more of that." Seeing him protect the box pretty firmly put him in the "I need to protect this child" box in my heart. And then the spider demon happens, and I'm sending desperate reaction messages to a friend like "NOOOOOO!!!! BABBBBBBBBBYYYYYYYY!!!!" And then he annoyed me all over again at the start of Functional Recovery, ahaha. It's hard to remember how annoyed I was because I'm such a Zen Stan now, and he was a very firm favorite of mine by the time I finished binging the anime up to the last couple episodes, which I waited for as they came out. Inosuke: He was one of the reasons I was curious about the series, I saw some promotional art and was super curious about Nezuko's muzzle (I was one of the people who thought it was some ancient scroll or something, haha) and the kid with the boar mask. The art I saw showed his face, and I assumed he'd be some kid with a cracking voice performed by a female seiyuu. As much as I love Matsuoka's performance now, initially, since I knew what his face looked like, I found it grossly off-putting the moment I heard it. Then every chaotic thing Inosuke did dug a deeper hole; I very quickly decided I hated him, especially when he started beating up on the kid I was starting to like. As his chaos subsided he just became a character I tolerated, and then this happened:

Images you can hear, am I right? This immediately flipped the "BABY" switch in my heart. It was also a lot of fun to understand the Inosuke memes I was seeing everywhere. So by the end of the anime, I loved, loved, loved, loved the Tanjiro/Zenitsu/Inosuke interactions and desperately wanted more (still didn't like how Zenitsu bothered Nezuko, though). I was so impatient for more, but the manga art looked disappointingly off-putting. I figured the anime was successful enough that there'd eventually be more of it, and I wanted to be patient, but then I poked around, read some spoilers, got back into Tumblr to look at fanart and memes, saw a spoiler image of Tanjiro affected by Muzan's poison and the binge-read began. (That's kind of a lie, but I'll get to that.) Let's back up a few episodes. There I was, having a great time, the guy who I forgot about from Episode 1 was back and haha, I guess everyone hates him, and the chick who I figured was going to be a medic who saves Zenitsu in the nick of time turned out to be savage, awesome. I was sending reactions to my friends who were ahead of me, and then we left off seeing the Pillars staring down Best Boy. And I...

Well. Uh. Here, I've dug up an old convo for you, my comments are in blue.

Immediately followed by a passionate vocal rant, which I have transcribed here:

“I feel like what happened was that the mangaka was sitting around with his assistants and was like, ‘welp, gotta make this whole cast of characters, they gotta be so-o-o-o many more levels of extreme than all the other characters I’ve had so far, which isn’t hard, because all of the background characters are cannon fodder and I’ve just gotta leave them all with black hair and no personality traits. So! Gotta go to the opposite of the spectrum with the BIG! POWERFUL! People so no-o-o-body can be normal.’ And so he and his assistants sat down, and they all wrote down just random words or traits, and them put ‘em all in a hat. And then for each character, they pulled out a few of them and said, ‘OK. We’re gonna put these things together, now we have a character.’ And he was probably also like, ‘Iiiiiiiiiiiii’ll flesh them out later. For now, they just need t’… be there, and make an impact. How do we make an impact? By making sure it’s super, super clear what their character traits are. Here, we’ll have this guy repeat the word //HADE//…. ////HA DEEE//// over and over and over… to show that he’s a /showy/ person. Because he /cares/ about that. And he //should// care because that is his character and that’s why he’s powerful.’ OH MY GOSH, it’s so dumb.”

......orz I feel like Genya looking back at how he acted at the end of the Final Selection. I'm sorry, Gotouge, I had not even encountered your love for these characters yet in your little alligator form. Nor had I encountered the yet unseen-sides of these traumatized dragons and tigers. ...*coughs* Um. So. I was pretty harsh.

So this was my mindset, I went into the manga not caring about most of these characters and just wanting more Kamaboko squad interactions and wanting to hurry up and catch up to the battle with Muzan. And it's worth stating that I didn't mean to read it at first. I encountered a few spoilers, and just wanted to look for the context surrounding those parts, and then hunt for the (non-existent) build-up to those parts, and so... uh.........

I read a lot of the manga out of order, and yeah, that did affect how much I cared about what was going on. I didn't actually properly process a lot of it until later re-reads. But to try to state some things simply about each Pillar:

Giyuu: He was just 'ok' to me for a long time, I could see the appeal for why people I knew were fangirling over him but he didn't do it for me. His soft spot for Tanjiro was indeed endearing, though, and I firmly liked him by the time chapter 200 came out and I was properly heartbroken on his behalf.

Shinobu: She was intriguing, and then I liked her as soon as I saw her savage side, she was one of the characters I went hunting for spoilers for.

Rengoku: That stare really put me off at first, but I fell for him over the process of Tanjiro falling for him. When I first finished the train arc I sat back and said, "wow! That's going to make for a good movie!" and then in psyching myself out for the movie several months in advance, I fell hook, line, and sinker and was totally excited for him each time I saw the trailers. And then the movie was *stunning* and I love him even more. Uzui: He was the Pillar I hated most upon first meeting them. I blame the repeated use of his catchphrase. But then when he let his hair down to sell the kiddos the change in design helped warm me up more to him, like, "oh, there was a human in there." It took a long time for him to become more interesting to me, and an uncharacteristically subtle journey to becoming a character I liked. I am currently getting more and more psyched out for him and eager to see how much more I'm going to like him with the shiny Ufotable treatment. Mitsuri: At first I didn't remember her name, I had code-named her as "Boobs." But I kinda had a feeling she was going to grow on me quickly, and I was right, she's one of my easy favorites now. Muichiro: Who? Oh yeah, that kid who always kinda fell to the wayside in my attention. I'd see a lot of Muichiro-themed blogs and hear a lot of little girls looking at merch and showing a clear favoritism of him, and I'd like always react like Muichiro and just be like, "...", and then when I read his major battles I was more emotionally invested in things going on concurrently with other characters, and I was still like, "...", and then two days ago I revisited a Muichiro scene and was suddenly like, "......OH!!! MUICHIRO!!!!!" Himejima: I never really hated Himejima, even if I found his first impression kind of wimpy (haha... oh, I was so wrong). I had a pretty easy acceptance of him too, so I would generally count him among characters I like, but if you were to ask me why, I'd draw a blank. It's kind of a weirdly mature, subdued appreciation for him rather than passionate fangirling. But weirdly when I was daydreaming the other day I found myself thinking, "if I had to marry someone in the KnY cast, it would be Himejima." So like, not a fiery romance, but I see him as my dependable, sturdy rock to grow old with??? What is up with you, sub-conscious?? Iguro: My interest in him rises and falls. Being a Mitsuri fan helped warm me up to his character in the first place, which was the emotional tie I needed since his backstory didn't grip me much (I found it a frustrating distraction while I was desperately reading weekly updates). Reading more subtle details about his character in the fanbooks has brought me around and made me more curious about him, like I'd really like to be a fly on the wall for the conversation he had with Uzui one day about their pasts.

Sanemi: Hahaha, wow. He was so unlikable in the beginning, wasn't he? His character design (yeah, the eyes) was really off-putting too. But then I got to know him and there was no going back, I got totally played. He's a character I'm pretty fond of now and one of the characters I've enjoyed delving into most in fanfic. To keep this answer from getting too long, for the vaaaaaast majority of the cast, I was initially like, "meh" or "OK" or "ew" but now am like, "EEEEEEEEE, I LOVE THIS TOTALLY RANDOM UNIMPORTANT SIDE CHARACTERRRRRRR" so you know... times change. And the more time I spend obsessed with Kimetsu no Yaiba, the more I like them all, so even the characters I'm lukewarm on will probably have their eventual days when they take over my heart and smash it.

[fizzingwizard]

Frantically playing catch up because I’m gone the rest of the weekend so here’s day 6 after all! Blatantly Takari. This one surprised me by how easy it was to write so it got a bit longer than the others. I’m sure there are many typos, please overlook. Also has two quotes, one in the text and one at the end, from my long-time favorite poet, Walt Whitman. BTW, I don’t really get everything that went down with Ordinemon, but I did my best to fit canon.

One month post-Bokura no Mirai, Takeru and Hikari go on a date and Hikari encounters something unexpected, which leads to a very overdue conversation with her brother.

Warning - there’s mention of the death of sick baby. It’s not huge but it matters to the story. I don’t want to shock anyone.

---

Tri week day 6 - Journeys - Death of a Comet

"How are you?" Takeru asked, watching her carefully.

Hikari only smiled and pretended not to notice. "I thought we'd known each other long enough to skip the niceties, Takeru-kun," she quipped. It was a far cry from her old playfulness, she knew, but she also knew he wasn't going to call her out for it it just yet.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Takeru rolled his eyes with an exaggerated, put-upon sigh. "I didn't realize relationship length was proportionate to amount of shits given."

"It is, at least when the last time we talked was an hour ago over text."

"Duly noted."

"Let's go?"

He nodded. He was wearing another hat she'd never seen before, a dark blue beret that looked about to tip off the side of his head with a light breeze. She wondered if he went out and bought a new hat each time before they went out together. Like how a girl shouldn't be caught in the same outfit twice. He probably did. That was Takashi Takeru, vain as fuck. But there was also something kind of adorable about it.

They'd "officially" been dating for a couple weeks, and Hikari wasn't sure yet how she felt about it. Of course, she'd agreed to it when he asked her. What else could she do? They'd been flirting and toying with each other off and on for years, in a childish way, but she couldn't pretend she didn't know full well what she was doing. She'd even sometimes daydreamed about what dating him would be like. Mostly she imagined it would be a lot of sitting in the bleachers at his basketball games.

She didn't consider Takeru the most mature of the boys in their year, but he wasn't as bad as some. Plus, they'd been through a lot together, so she knew what he was made of. And he really liked her. And she liked him. It seemed unavoidable. She'd said yes because she had no good reason for saying no.

It still felt a bit weird when he reached to hold her hand. Two weeks in, and they had yet to kiss. For the most part, it felt like nothing much had changed between them, except that Takeru no longer tried to hide his excitement when she was near. That was... flattering. And she had no qualms with taking it slow either.

They got on the Yurikamome train and stood together by a window, watching the Odaiba waterfront speed by as they traveled over the Rainbow Bridge. The sky was blue and cloudless. It was the kind of weather Tailmon loved, but Hikari had already talked to her about why she sometimes couldn't come along when she and Takeru went on an "outing." Tailmon had blinked lazily and said that was alright, and given her claws a long, purposeful lick. ”But if he ever hurts you, don't you dare hide it from me.”

Hikari promised, but thought the reverse scenario was far more likely.

Takeru had a more difficult time explaining it to Patamon, she'd heard. Supposedly, after Takeru had given his spiel about how growing up meant needing more time to oneself, Patamon had blurted out, "Are you going to kiss Hikari!? You've got to kiss her, Takeru!" loudly enough that some boys at school had overheard, and as a result everyone knew that they were an item before they'd even been out on a single date.

Such was life with Digimon.

"You know where it is, right?" Hikari asked as they got off the train.

"Yeah, I've come here with my mom for other exhibits," Takeru said, leading her out the exit and onto a busy street. "Mom's really into modern art. We've gone to see Kusama Yayoi's sculptures on Naoshima like four times. I'm pretty sure she goes whenever she breaks up with a boyfriend."

Hikari laughed. "Wait, really?"

"Well, she never introduces them to me, but I can tell when she's seeing someone. She touches up her roots more often."

The art exhibit they were going to see was some sort of interactive light show. Hikari had seen pictures online and thought it looked beautiful. Her father was of the opinion that they only ever put the best pictures on the website, and the rest of the exhibit was probably in some big, white-walled room that smelled like someone had microwaved fish for lunch. Her mom had been more enthusiastic, and added that, if the art did turn out to be a dud, it was as good an excuse as any to sneak off somewhere quiet with her Romeo and, you know, romance him.

Hikari was definitely not going to do that.

She'd timed things with care. Taichi had morning soccer practice until ten. After that he'd come home for lunch. The exhibit opened at eleven, but her concerns about there being a line fell on deaf ears, since Takeru claimed he knew this museum and it was never crowded. (Which didn't do much to mitigate her concerns about the exhibit being any good.) So the earliest she could convince him to catch the train was ten fifteen. So if she left right at ten and headed directly to the station, she ought to be able to miss her brother coming home completely.

It felt like fate was laughing in her face when she ran into him on her way out.

Her shock was mirrored on his face as they both stood in the doorway, staring at each other as if unable to understand why their biological sibling would be there, in their childhood home.

Taichi spoke first, if speech it could be called. "Uh," he said.

"Oniichan," she stammered back, "why - how - you got home fast."

"Yeah... Yamato was having band practice and he gave me a ride on the scooter," Taichi replied.

Hikari kept her mouth shut. Had Yamato orchestrated this? Was Takeru in on it? She knew it wasn't likely in either case, but her hackles were raised. "Oh," she said.

They continued to stand in the doorway. This was, Hikari reflected, the longest conversation they'd managed to keep going in almost a month.

"You... going somewhere?" Taichi asked after a while, tilting his head and looking up and down.

"Museum. With Takeru-kun."

"Oh. Well, have fun."

"Thanks."

As if suddenly realizing he was blocking the exit, Taichi stepped to the side, and Hikari barely restrained herself from running down the hall. The damage was done, though. The minute the elevator door closed, the tears started leaking down her face. Dammit. She'd been so careful.

She'd had to stop off at a nearby convenience store to hide in the restroom. She splashed her face and dabbed her eyes with her hand towel until they were less red, until the evidence of the havoc wreaked just by seeing her brother was hidden under a fresh layer of make-up. She never even wore make-up much before - after all, she was fourteen and blessed with good skin. Dating Takeru had been a convenient excuse to explain to her mom why she suddenly needed extra allowance for concealer, despite having no acne.

She wound up ten minutes late meeting Takeru and still, he could tell right away that something was wrong. She'd managed to deflect, but...

Hikari had never been any good at lying, even to herself. But she was surprised by her own cruelty, dating Takeru because she needed the distraction, an excuse to be anywhere but home. His feelings for her were genuine. She was a monster.

"Hikari-chan?" Takeru gave her a nudge that jolted her into the present. There was, indeed, no line to get in at the art show, and Takeru was trying to hand her a ticket. "Are you sure you're feeling okay?"

She nodded resolutely. "Yeah, of course."

"It's just, you're being kind of quiet."

"Well, sorry but I'm not a professional entertainer."

He didn't reply to that barb. Hikari felt even more miserable. If only Yamato's stupid motor scooter had broken down on the road...

They handed in their tickets and went through a pair of double doors, into a wide room lit by myriad streamers of blue and purple lights wafting on the air like strange, hypnotic jellyfish. No pictures were allowed, so Hikari kept her camera stowed, but she couldn't bring herself to regret it. Any pictures she tried to take while in such a stormy mood were bound to end up in the trash bin anyway.

They followed the path laid out through fiber-optic tallgrass in silence. Takeru was still gripping her hand, even though her own hung like a dead fish. The next section was a blacklight room with an even more obvious sci-fi vibe, bright cables painted brilliant colors in the impression of sea snakes creating circuitous archs on the walls and ceiling. The heat-sensor flooring lit under their feet as they walked.

Takeru leaned towards her, the blacklight setting his white T-shirt aglow. "This is like some disco-era alien planet," he joked, offering her the olive branch.

Well, she owed it to him not to let this date be a total disaster. "The room before reminded me of the tree in Avatar," she said.

"I bet the next one's gonna be something from Fifth Element."

"No way."

"Could be."

"Completely different aesthetic."

"It's gonna be that giant McDonald's sign made of stained glass. Wait and see."

It wasn't, of course. Takeru continued to insist they'd see the sign in the next room, and the next, until they reached the end of the exhibit, where he finally admitted defeat. At least room four had clearly been lifted from Finding Nemo, he said.

The final room was, in fact, an open space with white walls, but Hikari didn't notice any stomach-turning smells. A combination of 2- and 3D works of art were mounted around the room, and they took their time browsing, continuing to try to outwit each other with their increasingly outlandish, and even somewhat insulting, art critiques. It was a lovely show, Hikari thought. If she'd come to see it in a better frame of mind, she would be raving just now. But though she'd recovered her ability to match Takeru quip for quip, she still felt heavy with gloom. Geez, why did he want to date a rain cloud like her?

"Want to go for lunch?" Takeru asked as they took in the last piece of art, an abstract mosaic made of vibrant, blinking lights laid into a glass frame on a large tabletop. Hikari circled it slowly, watching lights ripple across the frame, stitching the full picture together bit by bit.

"Sure."

"There's a cafe my mom and I go to nearby. It does amazing pancakes."

"Sounds good," she said vaguely, her brow creasing in thought. She took a step back, gazing at the table from what she'd discovered was meant to be the foot, where you could see the picture in full if you craned your neck just so.

It wasn't abstract art. It was Ordinemon.

Her whole body stiffened.

"The orange marmalade pancakes are my favorite - you listening?" With a confused look, Takeru glanced from her unchanging expression to the table. His eyes went wide. "... Let's leave, Hikari-chan."

He gave her arm a tug. She didn't budge.

"Hikari-chan, there's no need to stay here. Come on."

"Why," she said. It came out in a harsh whisper, like a frozen wind. "Why would someone make art of... that."

Takeru didn't answer for a minute. "Because... they saw it," he said after a while. His grip on her arm tightened, as if expecting her to try to break away. "So they want to express what they saw."

"It's an abomination," she choked out. Humiliating tears welled up in her eyes.

Takeru seemed to hesitate. Then he stepped back, and his arms circled round her shoulders, locking her in a tight hug from behind. The warmth of his body flowed into her ice cold one, solid, real. Her mind flashed to another day, with a roiling sky black as night, when she'd come to in an unfamiliar bed with Takeru at her side and known, with a rush of deadly certainty, that she'd destroyed everything she ever cared about.

Her brother. Her beloved partner. Her friends.

By her own will.

She didn't know what she'd done. Or how. That almost made it worse, the not knowing. Her heart broke, watching her brother disappear in the earthquake. That was all. Her heart broke and she... stopped. And when she started again -

It was too late.

Tailmon had told her she didn't regret the fusion with Meicrackmon, that she'd been able to hold poor Meicoomon together, just a little longer. There was nothing for Hikari to regret, she said. Powers beyond her control. Yggrasil and Homeostasis felt they could wage their little war and pick their champions, and dispose of them when they felt like it. No sooner had she shaken off Homeostasis's hold over her that Ordinemon happened.

Hikari hated that once upon a time, she'd believed Homeostasis was a benevolent presence. That she'd willingly let her into her mind.

Now she didn't know what to believe.

Rage flared, hot as ice. Her whole world, none of it made sense anymore. She was adrift, she was unmoored, there was no safe harbor, not even in the brother who she loved like no one else. He could make a choice like that, to kill Meicoomon, to kill their friend's irreplaceable partner. The one person who deserved the most to be saved. And she'd helped, because that was what you did, on a team, at least, if you couldn't come up with a better plan yourself.

She realized she was shaking. Takeru only held her tighter, his nose buried in the crook of her neck.

"Hikari-chan," he said, and he sounded - terrified. "What if - what if it's not, though. What if it's not an abomination. What if..."

"How can you say that," she hissed frostily.

"I mean - I'm not saying it was good. I'm not saying I don't wish none of this had happened. But - I think - Ordinemon, she was created from despair, yours and Meicoomon's. She was used, and it tortured her. We freed her from that. She would have destroyed everything, even though it's not what she wanted, and she was in so much pain -"

"Stop!" Hikari yelled, pushing away from him. There was enough strength behind her need to get away and he was not expecting it, so he toppled to the floor while she raced out the exit. She kept running, hardly aware of dodging people on the sidewalk, and ran until she found herself in a small park with nothing but a two-seater swing set and metal slide. She sank into one of the swings and dropped her head in her arms. And cried.

Cried for Meiko, for Meicoomon. Cried for the future they would never have.

Cried for her brother, who had changed, and she understood why, but she still missed the way he used to be. Her guiding star.

Cried for herself, a lost comet streaking through an unfamiliar galaxy, wondering if she would vaporize shooting too close to an alien sun, or if she'd putter out slowly until she was nothing but lifeless, crumbling stone.

Her phone buzzed in her purse - Takeru, surely, trying to find her. On top of everything else, she'd ditched the boy she was stringing along, who cared about her, and who had tried so hard to let her know she wasn't alone. She didn't deserve Takeru. She would break up with him - she had to. He should be with someone stronger than her, who wasn't going to fall apart at the seams just from a silly piece of art at a museum gallery.

After a while the sobs let up enough that she could see without tears clouding her vision, and she figured she should at least let him know she was okay. She pulled out her phone and scrolled through her messages.

12:35: Takaishi Takeru: i'm so sorry. i didn't mean to upset you.

12:35: Takaishi Takeru: where did you go? someone said you ran past the 7-11 but I have no idea where you went from there

12:37: Takaishi Takeru: please tell me where you are. If you don't want me to come, I won't. I can call someone if you want.

12:38: Takaishi Takeru: I just want to know you're okay

12:40: Takaishi Takeru: hikari-chan PLEASE respond

12:45: Takaishi Takeru: I asked at the 7-11 but they said they didn't see you. am walking around aimlessly now. no idea where to look.

12:48: Takaishi Takeru: hikari-chan if you don't reply soon I'm gonna have to call Taichi-san

12:52: Takaishi Takeru: wound up back at the train station, if you want to meet me here.

12:55: Takaishi Takeru: if you don't respond in five minutes I'm calling Taichi-san, I mean it.

12:58: Takaishi Takeru: I love you, by the way. think I always have. thought you might want to know

Fresh tears pricked her eyes. Leave it to Takeru. How could he pick now to spring that on her?

She should be happy. She wanted to be happy.

13:02: Me: I'm okay. I'm sorry. Go home. I'll talk to you soon.

Her finger hovered uncertainly over the keypad. She typed:

The real abomination is me.

Then she deleted it, and pressed Send.

---

Little though she wanted to go home, Hikari didn't have an excuse for staying out past dinner. She stayed in the little park until it started to get chilly. A couple times, the occasional grandma stopped to ask if she was alright, but she smiled and waved away their concerns. Finally, when twilight fell over the park in a gossamer curtain, she stood and stretched out the kinks in her back before heading back to the station. It felt like she'd been out much longer than a few hours. She thought briefly of asking a friend if she could spend the night, but didn't like the idea of needing to pretend to be peppy and cheerful.

On the ride back, she did a search on the artist who'd made the Ordinemon mosaic. Why, she had no idea. Some self-hating side that wanted her to hurt, she guessed.

The artist's name was Matsuyama Risa, a Tokyo-based sculptor, whose partnership with Fujii Fiber-optics had given birth to the displays they'd seen today. Hikari let her eyes skim the article, categorically uninterested in the number of lights used or how they were installed. What she wanted to know appeared like magic, tacked on at the very end of the article.

Art of Nippon Now: The last room in the showcase features a magical light-up mosaic of a subject that could be disconcerting for some viewers. What led you to recreate the monster that much of Tokyo watched terrorize the sky last month?

Matsuyama: I put that piece together in a feverish rush. Most of these installations took weeks to install, but I insisted on this one, even though it was such short notice. I had to have it. I heard that many people never saw more of her than her massive wings, but I happened to have a very clear view at the time. It made a huge impression on me.

ANN: You said her?

Matsuyama: It was a she. Or, perhaps it's better to say she might not have a gender,  but she deserves better than the pronouns we use for inanimate objects, things without personality.

ANN: Are you saying this monster was a person?

Matsuyama: I don't know if you heard her cries, but they were deafening. They reminded me of how my son wailed in the night when he was first born. We didn't know why he was so colicky. Nothing we did calmed him. I was so afraid that he wasn't getting enough sleep. It turned out he was very sick and we just didn't know. The illness was hidden. We spent many nights in the ICU, holding out hope that he would be alright. I remember thinking, if he wasn't, it would destroy our marriage.

ANN: That sounds like a terrible experience.

Matsuyama: When our son died, it was terrible, but it also came as a relief. At least we knew he was no longer suffering. I was depressed for months. I couldn't make any art. Every day I expected my husband to leave me. The first day I pulled myself together enough to sketch something, he said I should sketch our son sometime.

ANN: So your husband didn't leave?

Matsuyama: No. He stayed by my side. When I cried that he deserved a woman who could make him happy, who would give him healthy babies, he told me I was the strongest woman he knew, and that I'd given him the best son in the world.

ANN: Wow - would that we all meet men like that.

Matsuyama: And women. That's why, although the creature that appeared over Tokyo was very frightening to look at, when I heard her cries all I heard was suffering. I thought, that is a real creature, who wants her pain to be understood. She represents something. Perhaps she was sent to show us the harm we do when we choose not to act to help others. She shouldn't be forgotten.

ANN: So you memorialized her in this mosaic?

Matsuyama: Yes. It was the right moment, even though I had no time. I wanted to recreate her likeness using lights. I set her into a table, because I felt that putting her on a wall would be too imposing, and viewers would only remember the fear she engendered. Lying down, it would seem as if she were in a coffin, finally laid to rest. But she's lit from within, and it's the light of life, desperately clinging on till the final moment, the same as any being with a soul.

ANN: Did you ever complete the sketch of your late son?

Matsuyama: No. I never did. But I think I will soon. I want to lay him to rest in my heart.

ANN: It's interesting that when you say 'lay to rest,' you seem to mean we should remember them.

Matsuyama: Our memories make us who we are. The past is always with us. My son, that creature, they are both part of my journey, as an artist of course, but also as a person in the world. You could say my son is the light of the world and that creature is the darkness, but I hold both light and dark in me, just by existing and being human.

ANN: You added a quote to the piece that said something of that nature.

Matsuyama: Yes, from a Walt Whitman poem, 'Song of Myself.' The quote reads: "I am not the poet of goodness only, I do not decline to be the poet of wickedness also."

ANN: Maybe Whitman never expected his poem to be used in this way.

Matsuyama: That's the nature of art. It is a journey in and of itself. It fluctuates and changes to nourish the times. I hope everyone who sees my art understands that they are on a journey as well, and everything they do creates the work of art called "the future."

ANN: Thank you for your time, Matsuyama-sensei.

---

Her brother was home, but her parents were not. The arrangement of shoes in the entryway said as much. Taichi was seated at the kitchen counter, eating a bowl of noodles and reading something. He looked up when the door opened and pushed his seat back.

"Hikari - you okay?" He peered at her, concerned. "Takeru didn't do something stupid, did he?"

So Takeru hadn't told her brother that she'd run off. Gratitude flooded through her. "No, of course not."

"Good." Taichi's hand rifled through his hair, the other planted on his hip, and he looked perplexed. "Then why do you look like you've been crying all day?"

Hikari walked inside and sank down on the couch. "Because I have been crying all day."

She could feel his hesitance as he wavered in the hall, trying to decide if he should press her for more. If that was still something he was allowed to do. She knew he would try. He wouldn't be Taichi if he didn't.

"You want to talk about it?" he asked, moving to sit on the arm of the couch, but he didn't relax, as if expecting her to tell him to leave her alone.

"No," she replied.

He nodded. "Okay." There was a pause. "You're sure Takeru didn't -"

"No, Oniichan."

"Okay, okay."

She sat there for a few minutes, staring blankly at the black TV screen. Soon Taichi slid off the arm into the seat beside her, allowing several inches of space between them. He didn't try to talk anymore. Didn't even get up to bring his bowl of noodles over, even though it was going to get cold.

Hikari tilted her head ever so slightly to peer at him. Dark circles ringed his eyes. She knew he hadn't been sleeping well. Something about his face looked more defined, less roundness to his jaw, starker cheekbones. Hadn't been eating much either, she guessed. It gave him an oddly grown up look. She would have to call him on losing weight from not taking care of himself, but that could wait for later. She was struck by how little he looked like their father. Everyone always said Hikari was the spitting image of her mom, so it seemed natural that Taichi should take after their dad, but though she searched she couldn't find many similarities. Taichi was just Taichi.

He gave a start when she leaned toward him and settled her head on his shoulder, but didn't say anything.

Hikari thought about many things.

How unbearable it was to feel helpless. How much she wanted everyone who cared about each other to be together, and for no one to suffer who didn't deserve it.  How deeply she loved her friends. How easy it was fall apart.

Maybe all that meant was her worldview had been too delicate to begin with. A painting on a porcelain vase wouldn't stand the test of time unless handled with the best of care. The real world was too chaotic, too disordered. She could wrap her dream in newspaper, cover it in packing peanuts, tape it into a box marked "Fragile," and it would still end up in shards. She would try to put it together again, but the pieces were sharp, and she kept cutting herself on them.

She still wanted it. So, so much.

"You stay that way. You can hate me if you want," her brother had told her. Trying to put everything on his own shoulders, as usual.

"I will probably never forgive you," she'd said, and wouldn't let him. "But that's why I'll fight with you."

"Oniichan," She slipped off his shoulder, buried her face in his chest. She didn't know how she could still have more tears, but they darkened her brother's shirt as her hands hugged him tight. "I'll always fight with you."

Surprised, he didn't move for a moment, but then his arms wrapped around her the same way they always had, ever since she was small. His grip was sure, but not out of naivety. Yes, he'd lost his innocence. It wasn't coming back. But what grew in his place, she realized, was his choice. And she got the feeling he'd already decided.

"That's good to know," he murmured softly, lashes brushing her cheek, and she thought they might be wet as well. "Because I'm never going to stop fighting for you."

They held each other for a long time.

---

The next day, Hikari showed up at Takeru's door with flowers and a box of chocolates. He made a funny face, looking her over.

"Flowers and chocolates? Shouldn't this be reversed?"

"Didn't know you were such a traditionalist," she joked. "But I'll eat these myself if they hurt your manly pride."

A hesitant grin spread over his face. "To hell with convention. Those are my chocolates, keep your paws off them."

It was silly, and cliche, but this was her life. She could be as silly and cliche as she wanted. She pulled his shoulders down and kissed him. It was light and quick, but he still looked flustered when they parted.

"My mom's home," he said with an unmistakable note of regret.

Hikari only nodded. "Figured. Video games and chocolates?"

The grin unfurled for real. "Yeah, that would be great."

Nothing had ended. She hadn't gotten over anything. But she felt, for the first time, that now she could accept it. It was a piece of who she was, and it would be a piece of who she became. But just who that person would be, she intended to decide for herself. Even if her path got buried under mountains of broken shards of glass, that was just a part of being Yagami Hikari.

"Do I contradict myself? Very well, then I contradict myself, (I am large, I contain multitudes)."

[wastelandlovingscenarios]

Hey! I am really excited for seeing your blog grow and I wish you the best of luck!💛💛💛 I'm bad at requesting, so if you don't feel like doing this one - that's fine~ How would all companions (inc. X6, Preston & Codsworth) react to a Sole being a handywoman on Liziqi level and finding out she spent her childhood in a village after she casually explains to some settlers how to make booze from fruit or how to butcher and smoke brahmin?

i saw her channel and i was like :0 the whole time. i have no time or patience for that kinda stuff, haha. that girl got mad skills. ill make them react to the food she prepares, if it’s okay!

i’ll do this as regular companions and kept it short and simple!

anyways, i hope you enjoy! ❤️

-

he leaned on the wall, watching as sole grabbed a basket of mutfruit from under the table/dragged a brahmin corpse on a rug. he wondered why the people of sanctuary gathered around sole and was interested himself. he decided to observe from afar to avoid interrupting whatever she was doing, she seemed to have a passionate look on her face after all. he pondered on whether sole could cook or not, seeing that all the items near her were food related. his ears perked up, hearing her voice ring throughout the crowd, “okay guys! i’m gonna teach you some stuff i learned when i was a child back at my village. i’m sure this will be useful to you all and sanctuary itself so be sure to carefully look!”

sole grew up from a village? he had no knowledge of that for sure but made a mental note to ask her after her demonstration. sole looked at the settlers happily and demonstrated how to make wine from mutfruit/butcher and smoke brahmin meat. the crowd became invested in her displays, amazed sounds escaping their mouths as sole went through the process step by step in detail. it was beyond unique and something that many people don’t see often in the commonwealth; an art of the prewar times, truly.

Danse:

he would think soles skills were definitely astonishing, seeing that he’s never seen anyone do something like that before. danse would be incredibly impressed and would even jot down those notes mentally to maybe learn it himself one day. as much as he wanted to try and attempt to replicate her skills, he knew he would never be able to but on the other hand, he was way too awkward to ask sole to teach him. lost in his thoughts over soles amazing abilities, danse wouldn’t notice her striding up to him with a smile on her face. “what’s with the look, paladin?” he would jolt on surprise, a small blush spreading across his face as soles eyes traveled to lock with his. it would take him a few seconds to muster a reply. “uh- i apologize if i’ve offended you.” he cleared his throat, adjusting himself so he could stand straight, “it wasn’t my intentions. it’s just.. your skills are certainly impeccable soldier, i’m sure the brotherhood could use your abilities back at the prydwen. they seem to be proven useful.” he then look away elsewhere, hoping his voice didn’t falter in the process. “it would be much appreciated, if you don’t mind.” much to danses content, sole immediately agreed without a second thought. he would then bombard sole with questions about her life while living in a village.

Deacon:

he would be immensely amazed by soles skills and would definitely be gawking at her presentation. how she gained the skills or who she gained it from would be a mystery to him but that was the least of his worries. his priority was to ask sole to teach him how to do something as complicated as that. as sole began putting away her finished products, he walked towards her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. sole looked at him with a raised brow and rolled her eyes at the smirk present on his face. “what is it this time, deeks?” deacon would use his free hand to make over dramatic gestures as he replied, “you gotta teach me that some day, charmer. who knows, maybe one of these days we’ll open up a restaurant named-“ deacon blabbered on for minutes, making sole chuckle occasionally at his silliness. she turned to face him, resting her hand on her hip. “fine deeks. i’ll teach you on one condition.” he would let out a small, ‘hm?’ as sole continued. “i can name the restaurant if we open it one day-“ sole shushed him as he opened his mouth to retaliate, “- and no. we are not naming the restaurant any of those names that just came out of your mouth.” deacon would throw his arms in the air dramatically but send sole a small smile, “fine, fine, you win..! but you still gotta teach me.” he was totally gonna name their restaurant one day with or without her knowledge.

Maccready:

he’s a child about it. it’s clear that there’s a flabbergasted look in his eyes and mac lets himself become completely submerged in it. he was so excited to see new and foreign ways food could be executed, especially since he’s been living off sugar bombs, nuka cola, and cram his whole life. maccready knew from his core that he could not cook for the life of him and could only go as far as preparing a box of blanco mac and cheese at somewhat decent standards, so something like this easily drew him in. god, he wondered how hard sole worked at her village when she was younger. after all, he didn’t really do anything as a kid and didn’t teach himself many skills that would benefit him in the long run. soon enough, the sound of soles voice dragged maccready out of his daydream. she signaled him to come over to where she was at and grinned as he approached almost shyly. he’d try to act all maintained and calm but sole already saw the excitement he showed during her demonstration. “yeah? she grabbed a bag of already cooked and sliced brahmin meat from the box near the table and opened it. he would feel himself grow hungry at the smell of the smoked brahmin meat. sole popped a piece in her mouth and hummed contently, nudging the bag towards maccreadys direction. “it’s so good, you should try it!” hesitantly, but surely, maccready grabbed a piece and slightly bit it, only to find himself eating the whole thing within seconds. it was amazing! how did sole manage to keep their talent away from him for months?! with a full mouth, macready excitedly sputtered out words that sole couldn’t quite comprehend. she sent mac a confused look, and he blushed in response, rubbing the nape of his neck timidly. “sorry- uh, it was just really good.” sole would shove the bag at him gently, a small smirk playing on her face, “would you like more, mac?” silence filled their air for only a mere second- “yes, please.”

Hancock:

as the applause ended with the crowd, there was only one left that continued to clap loudly, attracting soles attention. she would wave at hancock who looked at her with an entertained and impressed expression on his face. “and just when i thought i knew everything about ya.” sole would giggle girlishly and walk up to hancock, wiping her stained hands with her jacket. “i’m full of surprises, hancock. you’re gonna have to dig harder if you want to know everything about me,” hancocks grin would grow wider as sole bantered on with a cheeky smile, “being over 200 years old makes me far more interesting than many people.” a laughter was shared between the two for a moment. “guess you’re right, sister. i’m guessing you hold a lot more secrets than i expect.” sole would fold her arms sassily and stare up at him with a sly look in her eyes, “you are absolutely correct, mayor hancock.” hancock would immediately detect the friskiness in her voice. “i have no choice but to earn it then, huh?” he said in a joking tone. sole would feel his arm wrap around her shoulder casually, “how’s about we go back to goodneighbor and take a sip of that wine you made? i want to know about your days at the village anyway. sounded interesting.” sole would return his friendly affection, draping on arm on the backside of his torso as she hummed. “that sounds great.”

Nick Valentine:

he was ecstatic to see that sole still attained some of their prewar skills, it was definitely a rarity nowadays in the commonwealth. it’s been a while since he’s tasted some authentic wine, the last time being with jenny, but even so, that was the old nick and not the one that existed right then and there. he was thrilled to learn more about his partner who often kept her life to herself - it was a nice change for once. nick himself has seen people work in villages back in his day, so he had an idea of what skills she could’ve picked up while living in one. sole caught him walking to her with a smile on his face and she decided to meet with him halfway. “what did you think, nick? i know my skills were probably a little rusty here and there.” nick shot sole a warm smile, noticing the small, shy flush on her cheeks. “rusty? i found it quite flawless,” sole felt her face redden more as nick continued, “for a 200 year old popsicle, you’ve done pretty good, kid. i bet no one could replicate what you just executed.” she chortled at his silly remark, feeling more confident in her own expertise. “i’m glad i was able to impress you. now let’s hope it’ll taste as good as it looks.” nicked grinned, perking up at her comment, “i don’t mind being the judge of that, if that’s what you’re implying.” she smiled softly; it was exactly what she had in mind.

Codsworth:

he already knew of soles upbringing and the impressive skill set she had. codsworth remembered almost everything she had told her husband about her times at the village and was always drawn into her interesting stories. despite that, she’d always use these skills during her times with nate, and codsworth often observed her from afar during prewar times. he’d remember the excitement in her eyes when she used to execute this hobby and had still caught the same passionate glint as she confidently demonstrated to the crowd. as the settlers departed with happy and content comments, codsworth made their way to them with a jovial tone in his voice. “it’s lovely to see that your skills are definitely top notch just like the old days, mum!” sole would grin at codsworth, a happy expression on her face. “thank you, codsworth! it means a lot coming from you.” codsworth would help sole clean up the aftermath of the presentation, rushing to do most of the work so she could rest, “anytime, mum!”

Preston:

he’d be almost speechless at soles talents, nothing more than a soft yet interested, ‘damn,’ escaping his mouth. though he knew sole was a hardworking, humble, and honest person, he was happy to learn that she did reside in a village at one point of her life. it could only mean that she had a vast amount of experience that many people nowadays aspire to have - farming, cooking in unique ways, etc. most people just knew how to use a gun and make money for a living during these hard times. seeing sole smoke a brahmin would definitely leave him awestruck, considering that he’s never seen anyone do that before. ”wow! that’s so cool, ms. sole! i hope to be like you someday.” sole shyly grinned at the child that beamed at her, opening her mouth to respond until prestons sounded throughout the crowd. “that’s the general for you. we couldn’t have found someone better.” sole chuckled nervously as everyone continued to throw strings of compliments at her. “yeah, for sure!” “we have the best leader in the commonwealth!” she would meet his gaze, embarrassed by all the attention she was receiving. preston would tip his hat as sole mouthed a timid, “thank you.” as the crowd cheered on. he would definitely have to try her smoked brahmin after her exhibition.

X6:

though a stoic expression would remain on his face, he would feel a sense of awe as sole calmly explained to the residents how to smoke brahmin meat. for sure, x6 has seen many displays of how to prepare food in the most exotic and unique ways in the institute but would be interested finding out that she had presented a new method of execution he hadn’t encountered during his lifetime. with his eyes fixated on soles hand movements and the materials on the table, he jotted down every action that she made with every second that ticked. his stillness and intimidating presence would creep everyone out and they would feel uncomfortable with x6 just blankly staring at whatever. regardless, the crowd seemed to enjoy the show despite the discomfort. after what seemed like eternity, sole finally concluded her demo and thanked the crowd for giving her their attention. the settlers applauded sole, giving her their final compliments and comments before dispersing. she smiled, proud of what she accomplished and decided to pack everything up before hitting the hay. “ma’am.” she jumped up, getting frightened by the sudden voice that rung behind her. looking over her shoulder slowly, she caught x6 staring at her with a blank expression. she glared at him. “next time, give me a warning, will ya? you almost gave me a heart attack.” x6 simply nodded before continuing on with his statement, “i believe your skills will be convenient to the institute. it’s almost remarkable to discover that you retain something from your prewar days.” soles eyes widened in surprise for a mere moment but collected herself, a small smile growing on her face. “thanks x6.” silence followed after, but x6s compliment was enough to tell her that he appreciated her talent.

[managedmischiefs]

north//chapter five

new chapter time!! let me know if you want to be added onto the taglist. enjoy and don’t forget to leave your feedback!

also this chapter is dedicated to @babybobbybones​ because Ruby is always so supportive of my writing and they are always willing to give me honest opinions on my writing and my moodboards so thank u sm!!!!! love u fishy!! dis is for u!

genre: fluff

pairing: season nine spencer x female oc

warnings: none

word count: 5.6k

AMELIA

I fall onto the floor of my studio, leaning my head against the wall and staring up at the easel, a half-painted canvas propped up on it. I scrunch up my nose, tilting my head back and forth to try and find the beauty in the ugly flowers I’ve just painted. I sit up on my knees and reach my brush forward, adding just a few more strokes to the canvas, but my brush happens to be too saturated with water and the paint just drips down to the bottom of the canvas, ruining the entire painting. Whatever, I didn’t like it anyway.

I throw my brush into the water and sit back down against the wall, letting my eyes wander out the window to my left. My eyes dart between the window and the canvas and I wonder whether I should start over on a new canvas or throw in the towel for the day. Before I can either stand to get my keys and leave or stand to retrieve a new canvas, my phone starts ringing beside me. The name Mike flashes across my screen, so I lunge to answer.

"Hi, there!” I quip, and before Mike can even speak, I hear squeaks and screams of children in the background. The sound makes me grin. 

"Hey, Lia. How's it going over in Virginia?" He nearly has to shout over the kids around him.

"It's-" my eyes wander back out the window and to the Starbucks across the street. A couple walks out the door just at that moment, clutching cups of steaming liquid and giggling with each other. My smile only grows and my mind wanders off to Spencer and what he might be doing right now while I’m trying to work, "it's pretty amazing, actually. I'm, um, yeah, it's great, Mike,"

"That's,” he pauses, “great, but there’s something else in your voice. What's happening in Virginia? Anything I need to know about?" Mike's voice is teasing, as he always is.

"Maybe," I respond in the same mischievous tone he gives me, my cheeks turning pink. I don’t give Mike another chance to question what is going so well in Virginia, and I just keep talking about the guy that has been on my mind every second since I first laid my eyes on him. "I've, um, I met a guy and I really like him and-"

"Whoa, whoa, you've got a boyfriend? Have we entered a parallel universe? Is this even you on the phone? Whoever is talking to me on the phone- who are you and what have you done with Amelia Stark?”

"I know, I know," I giggle, and I start to kick my feet like an excited child. "I met him at this cafe, and I swear, Mike, you'd love him. He's insanely smart and he's so sweet and he's such a gentleman. And get this, if you're not convinced then this will convince you- he’s an FBI agent."

"Amelia Stark. You're dating an FBI agent?"

"More specifically, he works for the BAU," Again, I let out a dramatic sigh and fall onto my back on the floor, letting myself be pulled into another lovesick daydream. I let my mind wander off to Spencer’s smile and his laugh and his warm touch and how utterly beautiful he makes me feel whenever we are together. "I just- I know I don't really date but-"

"Telling me you don't date is the understatement of the century. You’re not a commitment girl, and you’re a one night stand girl. You've never answered my calls and told me that things in Virginia are amazing and great and you've definitely never told me that you have a boyfriend, much less a boyfriend that works for the BAU,"

"There's just something about him! He's so different from any guy I've ever met before. I never wanted him to just be a one night stand or some guy that I hang out with for a few weeks and then forget about. Spencer is just amazing- he's so gentle with me, and he indulges in the things I like instead of always forcing the things he likes on me, and he always makes an effort to see me even though he's insanely busy,"

"Wow," Mike scoffs out a laugh. "I don't even know what to say. I'm glad you found someone who you like this much. I'm not even gonna bring up the capital L word because I know you're scared of it, but I have a nasty feeling that you might be bringing up the scary L word soon. And I'm even more glad that you've found an FBI agent with a gun who can protect you,"

"Oh my gosh," I shake my head at him, rolling my eyes into the back of my head. "I've never seen his gun, actually,"

"Good. You tell him to keep his gun away from you for quite a while, especially since you’re telling me he won’t be one of your one night stands. Both of his guns, if you know what I mean,"

My jaw nearly hits the floor at Mike’s remark, and before I can even respond, he bursts into a fit of laughter. "I- oh my god, you did not just say that,” 

He chokes on his laughs as he keeps talking. "I'm only messing with you, but not really. Form emotional connections before you jump into bed. That’s what I did with Wendy and look at how long we’ve been together,”

I wrack my brain for any kind of number, but I come up empty. “How long have you guys been together?”

“Too long,” he deadpans.

“Hey! I hope Wendy isn’t home right now because she would have your head on a stake if she heard you say that,”

“She’s at work right now but she left me alone with all the little monsters. Listen, just make sure you use-"

"A condom! I got it, Mikey. I’m a responsible adult, contrary to popular belief. Can we stop talking about this? Let me talk to the kids! I’ll tell them to stop screaming,” I sit up again and my grimace from the slightly NSFW conversation turns into a wide smile, the giddiness bubbling in my stomach.

"Hey, kiddos! Gather around! Your favorite grown-up person is on the phone!" Mike shouts over the hoard of children in his house, and their shouts get closer and closer to his phone until their voices are blaring through the speaker of my phone.

"Amelia! Amelia! Amelia!"

"Hi, my loves!" I exclaim, "how's everything with Mike and Wendy?"

"Come home, Lia! We miss you!" Reese cries out, stumbling over her words in a way that makes my heart swell.

"You didn't come home for Christmas and we missed you so much!" Tyler squeaky voice adds.

"I know, I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to come home for Christmas, and I missed you guys so much too. But I’m sure Mike and Wendy made Christmas really special for everyone, didn’t they? I'm gonna try to come home soon but I can't promise anything. I have lots of pictures of you all and I think about you every day. I'll draw and I'll paint lots of new things and I'll send them home to you. Does that sound good?" They all shout confirmations back at me, and I manage to pick out a few requests for things like dogs and cats and flowers, and that request makes me remember the failed painting right in front of me. "Great. I'm sitting in my studio right now so I'll get working on those. If y’all have any more requests then tell Mike and he’ll tell me. I love you all, okay? I miss you guys so much,"

The kids all shout goodbyes at me before there's rustling on the other line. "Alright, it's just me now," Mike says. 

"I actually plan on sending you guys art, partly because I want to and partly as an apology for not coming home for the holidays. Let me know if you need anything new for the walls, whether it’s at home or at the police station. Need a new piece for your office, Sheriff?" I tease, pushing myself off the floor for the first time in almost two hours, grabbing a stack of new canvases.

"We could always use more of your artwork, sweetheart, you know that. Call more, okay? I know it's hard, but we clearly all love hearing from you. And I wanna hear more about this profiling boyfriend of yours. Maybe I'll look up his file in the FBI database,"

"You don't have access to that database, you’re not a federal agent. Just google his name. I gotta get started on these paintings. I’ll call soon.”

“Wait! I only know his first name! What’s his-”

“Oops, that sucks. Tough luck. Gotta go,” I finally get the chance to throw his teasing right back in his face, a grin coming to my face as he groans dramatically. “Love you, Mikey!”

"Love you, kid. Stay safe,"

"You too. Don't get shot,"

"I won't."

///

SPENCER

///

My fingers drum against the book on my lap as I listen to dial tones over and over, waiting anxiously for an answer. Maybe today is a bad day and we don’t get to talk today, and that’s okay. There’s always tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that. But I was just hoping for a nice conversation today, and every time another dial tone rings in my ear, it’s like another stab to the chest.

“Spencer?”

I perk up at the answer, grinning and setting my book onto the coffee table in front of me."Hi, Mom,"

"Spencer, I've been waiting for you to call me for weeks! You can’t ignore me for that long! You can’t leave your poor, old mother in the wind like that!”

I chuckle at her, happy that today seems to be a good day and she’s even capable of joking around. "Sorry, Mom. I've been really busy with work lately, but I wasn’t ignoring you. How was Christmas? I'm sorry I couldn't make it out,"

"It was good, Spencer. I would've preferred to spend it with you, but I enjoyed it," Mom tells me. "We watched movies and made gingerbread houses and some of the nurses got us gifts,"

"That sounds wonderful,"

"So tell me how you've been, honey. You know I hate talking about me and this dreadful place. I'd much rather hear about you,"

My eyes wander over to the coffee table in front of me, or more specifically the scarf that Amelia had left here when stayed over. It must have slipped off of her head when we were sleeping and fell under the couch, and when she rushed out so I could get going, she didn’t realize she wasn’t wearing it anymore. I hadn't gotten a chance to return it because I got whisked away on a case and I haven't been able to see Amelia yet. I reach for it, feeling the soft silk between my fingers. "Um, it's- huh, it's actually pretty great over here,"

"That's wonderful to hear! What's so great about it?" Mom doesn't get much entertainment in her facility and her main contact comes through me. I'm always open to telling her everything and I try to write her at least one letter every day so she can have something to read if I can’t call her, but I was so hell-bent on keeping Amelia a secret. I thought that maybe if I kept her a secret from everyone, then I'd be taking one more precaution at shielding her from my world, but I know that's useless. It's not worth it to keep Amelia a secret and to lie about the source of my happiness, at least not from my mother.

"Well," I look down at the scarf and picture the way Amelia uses the square of fabric to tie back her unruly curls and the way she always seems to look like an angel, "I've met a girl,"

"I’m sure you meet many girls, Spencer. You’re going to have to be a little more specific than that.” 

"Her name is Amelia and she's an artist and I swear, Mom, she's the most beautiful girl I've ever seen in my life. We met at the cafe where I get coffee before work and we got coffee together every day that I was home from a case for two months and we spent Christmas together. I just,” I fully expect my mom to cut me off and start rambling about Amelia and how I should pursue a relationship with her if she is making me this happy, but she doesn’t say anything and it forces me to have to finish a sentence I don’t want to say, “she's the first girl I've liked this much since, you know, since Maeve, and I knew I liked her right away and that’s just- it’s really scary,"

"Spencer, it sounds to me like you might even love her," Mom's voice softens. "I'm not going to try and tell you what you’re feeling, but like I always tell you, a mother knows. I'm happy for you, I really am. You deserve to be happy and have someone in your life to look after you and make sure you're healthy and take care of you. Did you ask her to be your girlfriend?"

"Yeah, last week. But we've known each other for almost three months and every time I look at her, I just feel so, I don’t really know. Whenever I get to see her, I never want to leave when I have to and-" I lay down on the couch and throw my head onto a pillow, the scarf resting right in front of my face. "Maybe I do love her. That's so scary though. I haven't known her for long at all. Can you fall in love with someone after three months?"

"When you first meet someone, you get a first impression, right? Sometimes you can be put off, or you can be instantly intimated by someone, or be intrigued, and so on. Love is a feeling, right? It’s a feeling in the same way that fear and intrigue are. Who’s to say you can’t feel love when you first meet someone? Who's to say you can't fall in love with someone in that same amount of time that someone can scare you? Love is complex and, yes, it’s scary and you've been scorned by it in the past, but don't let that get in the way of this good thing you've got with this Amelia girl,"

"I've never thought of love like that before."

Mom laughs gently. "Like I said. A mother knows," she pauses. "Oh, Spencer, I've gotta go. The nurses need me."

"That's fine," I breathe out a sigh, pushing myself up to a sitting position and pulling the scarf into my lap again. "Thanks for the talk. It was really helpful. I love you, Mom,"

"I love you too, Spencer," Mom says before hanging up, leaving me alone yet again in my apartment.

I push myself to my feet, leaving the scarf on the coffee table, making my way into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee for myself. I lean over the counter and check my watch, counting down the seconds until Amelia is set to show up at my door. And as if the universe is answering my silent prayer, there's a soft knock on the door just a millisecond later. I leave my coffee on the counter and rush to let her in, throwing the door open. 

Amelia is standing there, looking as beautiful as ever, wearing a white dress and her black peacoat, camera hanging around her neck and one strap from her backpack draped over her shoulder. She’s beaming at me, almost emitting rays of sunshine from her body, shuffling her way through the door and throwing her arms around my neck in a tight hug. It nearly takes me by surprise, but if I’ve learned anything about Amelia by now, it’s that she’s affectionate and she loves to hug, and I can’t seem to find a single fault in that. I whisper a greeting in her ear, reaching around Amelia’s waist to shut the door, keeping out the cold air that blows inside from the hallway.

"Hi, dove," she chirps, sinking down on her heels when we pull away from the hug.

I cock my head to the side like a puppy, trying to hide my confusion but I’m positive it’s evident on my face. "Dove?"

"It’s just a pet name. Do you not like it? I could call you something else, or I could just stick to your name if that’s-”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Amelia unravels her arms from around my neck and shrugs off her backpack, hanging it right beside my jacket, then crouches down to take off her shoes. “I like it, actually.” 

“Noted,” Amelia jumps back up to her feet, now noticeably shorter without her heels, and gives me a cheesy smile. She opens her mouth to say something else but her mouth snaps shut when her eyes travel downwards just a bit. “Spencer, you’re still in your work clothes.” 

“Oh,” I follow her line of sight and look down at my trousers, button-up, cardigan, and tie, my gun holster on my hip (but my gun is locked away in a hidden place) and my credentials in my pocket, “yeah, sorry about that. After I got home, I was on the phone with my mom for a bit and I just didn’t get a chance to change yet.”

Amelia’s lips settle into a pout as she follows into the kitchen. “I hope I didn’t interrupt your phone call.”

“You didn’t, don’t worry. Do you want a cup of tea? Anything to drink or eat or-”

“I do but why don’t you go change? I can handle a cup of tea by myself. Put on something other than a dress shirt and a tie. Be comfortable,” she breezes right past me and reaches into the cupboard for a mug, already grabbing the kettle and filling it with water. I just watch her for a moment, slowly unclipping my watch from my wrist and watching the way her white dress slides across her legs with every tiny movement. But she doesn’t turn around again to check on my location and just looks between the box of Earl Grey tea and camomile tea, mulling over which to indulge in tonight. So I leave Amelia to her seemingly challenging decision and hurry off to my bedroom, ridding myself of the work clothes I’ve been wearing for almost thirty hours. I change into plaid pajama pants and a sweatshirt, only glancing in the mirror for a split second to check if my hair is an absolute mess before returning to Amelia.

She’s leaning against the counter with her mug in one hand and her camera in the other, and when I re-enter the room, she looks up at me and grins at the sight of my more relaxed state. “You look cozy. Guess I should have worn my pajamas today.”

I go and lean against the counter beside her, picking up my cup of coffee and looking over her shoulder at the pictures she is flipping through on her camera. At first, most of the pictures are of a redhead I’ve never seen before, posed in a park and modeling for the camera. Then the pictures turn to the sights I see every day and I conclude they must be pictures that Amelia took this morning or on her way here. “These are really good.” 

“Oh, thanks,” Amelia’s cheeks turn pink at the compliment as she tosses the camera aside, clutching her cup of tea instead. 

“I’d love to see more of your art sometime. I haven’t seen that much but the things that I have seen, I really loved.”

“Maybe one day, when you’re available, you can come to my studio. It’s just a couple of blocks away. I’d love for you to come and see some of what I do when you’re gone,” her head falls onto my shoulder and she scoots closer to me, her arm slowly moving around my waist, pulling me even closer to her. “It’s what I did all day. But speaking of all day, how was your day? How was the case?”

We move into the living room and get under a blanket as I give Amelia vague details about the case we solved this past week. She sits just as close to me as she was in the kitchen and tucks her feet under my legs to warm herself up, and once I’ve decided I’ve told her enough about the serial killer that we captured last night, she starts telling me about her last few days and how she went out to see a bad movie with her group of friends. She keeps moving closer and closer as the sun gets lower and lower and soon enough, Amelia is laying over my lap and my hands are in her hair, brushing the strands out of her face. I can confidently say that it’s the most relaxed and the most comfortable I’ve been this past week, and maybe even in the last few months. Every time Amelia is around and we get to just sit and talk, it’s a breath of fresh air. I don’t get to do this enough. I look up at the clock after being on the couch for a long time, seeing that it’s almost midnight. Thank god I don’t have to work tomorrow.

“Hey,” Amelia hums and looks up at me, her head in my lap and the blanket wrapped mostly around her, “it’s late. Do you want anything to eat?”

She hums once more, sitting up and keeping the blanket pulled up to her chest, her eyelids fluttering like a child fighting off sleep. “Yeah. I could really go for some ice cream. Do you have any?”

“I do, actually. But just chocolate, I think,” I stand from the couch and hold my hands out to Amelia, lugging her off the couch when she puts her hands in mine. She follows me one more time into the kitchen and pulls out bowls and spoons while I grab the gallon of ice cream from the freezer. 

“So,” Amelia draws the word out, bumping her hip with mine when she reaches over me for a bowl, “will you tell me about your BAU team? I know their names, but they’re your best friends and basically your second family so I wanna know about them.”

“Oh, really? What do you wanna know?” She grins as I slide the chocolate syrup over to her and she quickly steals it to drizzle it all over her bowl of ice cream. 

“Mm,” she hums, far too concentrated on her ice cream at first to give me a proper answer. But when she finishes with the syrup and hands it back to me, she hastily grabs spoons from the drawer and returns her full attention to the conversation, “just about your history with them. I’m not sure, whatever you wanna tell. Whatever’s important.”

We retake our seats on the couch, both of us now evenly draped in the blanket with our ice cream bowls in our hands. Amelia slings her legs over my lap and scoots as close to me as she can get, pressing her cheek to my shoulder. Despite wearing pajama pants, I can feel Amelia’s thighs, exposed by her dress, pressed against mine and it takes my breath away for a moment. I have to shift my position in the slightest so Amelia isn’t too on top of me, and once I’ve moved and I’m more comfortable, I start to let my mind race over what I could tell her. 

“Well, Morgan is one of my best friends and he was one of the first people I met when I started working at the BAU. He’s loud sometimes and a little overwhelming but he’s always there for me. For example, during a case, I got anthrax poisoning and-”

Amelia nearly drops her bowl at this revelation and she reaches for my arm, squeezing tighter than ever before. “I’m sorry, what? Did I hear you correctly? Anthrax poisoning? And you’re still alive?” She practically throws her bowl onto the coffee table, quicking whipping around and grabbing my cheeks, pulling my face closer to hers until our noses are touching. “Am I speaking to a robot right now?”

My eyes practically roll into the back of my head. “A robot? Amelia, I can’t even use my DVD player. What makes you think I’m a robot, which is essentially a being made completely of technology?”

Amelia narrows her eyes at me, dragging her thumbs down to my jawline. She looks away for just a moment to eye the DVD player and then returns to me, just as close as she was two seconds ago. “Why do you have that thing if you don’t know how to use it?”

“It was a gift from JJ,” my lips brush against Amelia’s as I speak and even though we’ve kissed a million times by now, the feeling of our lips touching still makes the butterflies in my stomach act up. But her lips taste like chocolate and I can’t help it when I pull her closer and into a kiss. Now, it’s almost like it’s second nature to want to be constantly touching Amelia and kissing Amelia and just being around Amelia all the time.

Amelia abruptly pulls away from our kiss and lets out a loud yawn, her hand flying up to cover her mouth. “Sorry, sorry. It’s impossible to hold back a yawn while kissing.”

“It’s okay, it’s fine,” I wave my hand at her casually, and when she rubs her hands over her eyes and then pushes her hair back, my heart seems to pound just a little bit faster. She’s a little bit bleary as she inhales sharply, falling forward and pressing her temple against my shoulder. “Hey, it’s really late. I can tell you about my coworkers another day. Do you wanna get to sleep?”

“No,” she shakes her head but her body language strongly contrasts her words as she lets herself melt further into my embrace, “I don’t wanna leave you. I missed you a lot today.”

Okay, Spencer. Being bold with Amelia has yet to fail me so why should it now? Just ask her if she wants to spend the night for the first time. It’s with innocent intentions, anyway. No funny business. Just a couple sleeping in the same bed- what’s wrong with that? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. So just ask. Ask! It’s one night and I’ve recently cleaned my bedroom and washed the sheets so everything should be fine for a girl to sleep over. Sleep over? You’re not a ten year old, Spencer. Don’t ask her if she wants to sleep over like you’re a group of girls planning on eating candy and watching movies until three in the morning on the living room floor. Is that what girls do at sleepovers? I don’t even know. Nope, don’t get sidetracked. Just ask. 

“Lia?” She hums in response, not even lifting her head from its spot on my shoulder. I’m used to her being boisterous and loud and positive when I’m anxious so I guess I’ll have to muster up enough courage to ask without her encouragement. “It’s really late already and, well, I don’t know what you’re doing tomorrow but would you wanna stay the night? It’s just- it’s past midnight and, you know, 40% of all fatal car accidents happen at night. 60% of adults have driven while drowsy and 37% of adults have fallen asleep at the wheel. I-“ I let out a breath, my chest deflating at her overall silence. “You don’t have to stay over and I could drive you home so you don’t have to drive but, you know, I would just like to know you’re safe.” 

I pause once more and wait for some confirmation or rejection from Amelia, but all I’m met with is quiet breaths across my chest. I duck my head down and find Amelia fast asleep on my shoulder and one of the straps of her dress falling down her arm from the odd angle she’s laying at. Of course, what else would happen? I go on a nervous rant and Amelia sleeps through it. 

“Hey, hey, Amelia?” I card my fingers through her hair and luckily, it’s enough to rouse her from her quick nap, and she lifts her head from my shoulder, eyes half-lidded. “Did you hear what I said?”

“No, I’m sorry, I didn’t. I’m really tired.”

“Yeah, that’s what I was talking about. Do you want to stay the night? I gave you a bunch of statistics on car accidents at night but I’m sure you’ll fall asleep again if I repeat them.”

Amelia lets out a small laugh, pushing herself to a sitting position and rubbing her eyes yet again. “Could you lend me some clothes? Sleeping in a dress is not really my vibe.”

“Sure, I can give you some clothes. But let’s go to bed before you fall asleep again,” I grab onto Amelia’s hands and pull her off the couch, leading my half-asleep girlfriend to my bedroom. She waits patiently as I open my closet and reach for a pair of sweats, handing her sweatpants and a hoodie from Caltech. “Here. I’m gonna go clean up the ice cream while you change.”

“Thank you,” Amelia lays a kiss on my cheek before I can leave, and the tingling on my skin persists even when I get into the living room and clean up our ice cream bowls, putting them into the dishwasher. 

I suppose that after tonight, there will be plenty of nights spent together. I won’t lie and say that sleeping in the same bed as Amelia isn’t a bit scary. I don’t know what kind of sleeper I am. Will I steal all the blankets and leave her freezing all night? Will I kick her relentlessly and leave dark bruises all over her pale skin? Will she just plainly hate sleeping with me and thus would begin the end of our relationship? 

“Spencer,” Amelia’s voice rips me out of my anxious spiral, and when I turn to look at her, my breath is knocked completely out of my chest. Amelia wearing my clothes is quite a gorgeous sight, even if they’re hanging off her body and pooling around her feet. Her hair is up and her face is washed of any makeup and she just looks wildly beautiful. She pops her head into the kitchen and gives me a tired smile, maybe the millionth of the night. “Do you need help with anything?”

I shove my bowl into the dishwasher and then slam it closed, shaking my head at her. “No, I’m good. Let’s just go to bed.” I shut off the kitchen light and swing my arm around Amelia’s waist, bringing her back towards my bedroom and shutting the door behind us. 

I watch with wide eyes and a stupid smile as Amelia crawls onto the bed, but right when she gets onto her knees, she pauses and looks over her shoulder at me. “Is there a side of the bed that you prefer?”

My eyes dart between Amelia and the pillows on the bed. Is there a side I prefer? I wouldn’t know. “I don’t think so. I mean, honestly, I’ve never slept in the same bed as anyone before,”

“Me either,” Amelia pouts, her eyes locked on mine as she debates which side to choose. “Well, we’re technically already on different sides of the bed.” She gestures to her place on the right side and me on the left side. I just shrug in response to her suggestion. It’s not a big deal to me whatsoever, just as long as Amelia is comfortable and she doesn’t wind up hating me after tonight. 

Amelia, completely exhausted, flops onto her stomach on top of the duvet, wiggling up just a little bit further until she can rest her head on the pillow. I shut off the lights and then crawl into the bed, on my predetermined side, tugging the duvet from under Amelia so she can join me under it. And as soon as she’s under the duvet, Amelia rolls over and curls up beside me, laying her head on my chest and slinging her arm over my stomach. “Thank you for letting me stay over,” she whispers, craning her head to kiss my cheek. “Goodnight.”

The feeling of laying in a bed with another person, especially a person who I feel so strongly about, is such a warm feeling. I’m sure I’ll literally be warm soon, what with Amelia on top of me and a duvet covering my legs. But my chest feels tight and I can’t wipe off the smile on my face, no matter how hard I try. I just beam, knowing that Amelia will be beside me all night. 

So I sink further into the duvet and tug Amelia as close as I possibly can, receiving a small snicker from her. But she doesn’t seem to mind the closeness since she curls into me even more and then presses another kiss to the center of my chest. Maybe she can feel my pounding heart under her lips. Her affection comforts me enough to allow me to close my eyes and force out a goodnight, drifting off to sleep with Amelia in my arms.

TAGLIST

@babybobbybones​ @thematthewgraygube​ @anepiphany​ @goldenalvez​ @reidscardigan​ @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto​ @stxrryspencer​ @rxseinbloom​ @penelopecult​ @nastyhar @whollytaciturn​ @thegingerfairchild​ @matthewreid​ @shrimpyblog​ @garcias-batcave​ @anamelessfacelessnerd​ @gublergirls​ @wonderlandhatter​ @matthewgublerswife​ 

(I’m pretty sure I messed up this taglist so if you weren’t tagged and you should be OR you’re tagged and you don’t want to be, then lmk and I’ll make the appropriate change)

[worldserasingandcreatinginmymind]

The Intern | Part Two

Summary: You move to New York to focus on your art but end up working as an intern at Stark Enterprises

Chapter Summary: you get an surprise visit on your day off

Pairing: Tony Stark x Reader

Word Count: 1600 and something (kinda short but i’m already half way through writing part three)

A/N: for the purposes of this story Stark Enterprise is set out like an office building in New York and the story does not follow the same timeline as the movies. Reader does not know Peter is SpiderMan. Also, spelling and grammar is not my strongest skill so please be kind :)

Masterlist   Part One

- - - - -

It had been a week since your meeting with Tony and since then the two of you had become quite good friends. Tony would make sure he came to the desk everyday or found you at lunch with Peter to catch up with you both.  

Today was your first day off in a while and it was much needed. You’d spent the day in your loungewear, doing some painting and listening to old 80’s rock music. In the evening you decided to order pizza, and do some baking while you wait for it to be delivered. You were just getting the ingredients ready when someone knocked at the door. ‘Pizza is early’ you thought as you put down the flour and headed to answer the door. 

“Wow that was quick- oh” you said opening the door surprised to see Tony on the other side. 

“Sorry were you expecting someone?” He asked.

“No no, just thought you were the pizza guy” you laugh awkwardly. 

“No pizza here I’m afraid. Just me. Wanted to check in, see if you’re okay? Didn’t see you in work today”

“It’s was my day off. I’m back in tomorrow”

“Ah right. Good. Well, that’s great then” he turns and goes to leave. 

“Would you like to come in for a drink, and maybe some pizza? Seeing as you came all this way.” You ask, surprising yourself with your sudden confidence. 

“I don't want to intrude..”

“you wouldn’t be. Ive been on my own all day, it would actually be nice to have some company.”

“Thanks” he smiles and walks past you. You shut the door, silently cursing yourself as you realise that your boss, THE Tony Stark, has now seen you in your paint stained loungewear. You follow him into the open plan kitchen/living room of your apartment and wish you’d cleaned up first. Your paints, brushes and sketchbook still all over the coffee table from earlier and the kitchen messy with baking stuff. 

“Sorry about the mess” you apologise, fiddling with the messy bun you’d thrown your hair into this morning, attempting to tidy it up a bit. 

“Don’t worry about it. It’s not that bad”

You raise your eyebrow at him.

“no really, I’ve seen rooms in much worse states than this after some of the parties I used to have back in the day”

You both laugh and Tony walks over to look at one of the paintings hanging on your wall “this is nice” he says pointing at it and you walk over to stand next to him. The painting is of a beach with the sun setting over the ocean, the orange glow reflecting off the waves and ripples in the water. 

“its the beach I used to visit every summer when I was a kid. Some of my favourite memories happened there” you stare at the painting daydreaming about the past. Picnics with your parents, playing fetch with your childhood dog, swimming on really hot days. Tony watches you out the corner of his eye, smiling when he notices the content smile that has appeared on your face. When you suddenly take a breath and snap back into the present he turns his attention back to the painting. 

“this is actually one of the first paintings I ever did-“

“you painted this?” Tony interrupts, turning to look at you and you give him a shy nod. “wow, you have a real talent. When you said before that ‘painting didn’t pay the bills’, I presumed that just meant you weren’t very good”

You burst out laughing his blunt honestly which takes Tony by surprise. 

“no, no what I meant was, the art world is a hard one to get into as an unknown artist. I couldn’t risk waiting around for that big break.”

Tony nods, looking at you thoughtfully.

“can I see some more of your work?” He asks.

“yeah sure, I’ve got some stuff in a folder in my room” you say as you run off toward your bedroom. When you come back out carrying the folder of paintings you notice Tony sitting on the sofa looking through the sketchbook you’d left on your coffee table. 

“these are really good y/n, really I mean that.” He says, turning the pages and you take a seat next to him “you’ll have to paint something for me to hang in my office, that place needs brightening up a bit-“ he stops when he reaches a pencil sketch of Steve Rogers and you feel your whole body cringe. “this guy? really, you drew this guy?”

“what, I, uh..” You stutter “..he’s got a good jaw line. It’s very satisfying to draw” you shrink down into the sofa wishing it would swallow you whole, then theres a knock at the door.

“ah that will be the real pizza guy” you say jumping up to walk to the door but Tony stands in your way.

“no let me get it. You get us some drinks. I’ve been here a full five minutes and you’ve still not got me one” he winks at you and you roll your eyes playfully.

As you get glasses out the cupboard and put them on the counter you notice Tony is acting suspiciously. He walks slowly and carefully toward the door, and takes a long look through the peephole before finally opening the door. You presume he’s just always on high alert because of who he is. Being a high profile business man and one of the best known superheroes must mean he’s used to having dangerous people lurking around every corner. 

After pouring two drinks you move over to the sofa and place the glasses down on the coffee table and hiding your sketchbook under the sofa. Tony appears with the pizza and you quickly move your paints off the table to make space for him to put the box down. 

“thanks for grabbing the pizza, you’ve saved me the embarrassment of anyone else seeing the state of me right now” you say gesturing to your clothes, as he takes a seat next to you and you hand him his drink.

He looks you up and down, shrugs and says “I’ve seen worse” and winks at you. He holds his glass up for you to toast and you hold your glass up too.

“to you, and your weird fascination with Captain America’s chin” he teases you and you shake your head at him.

“I am not toasting to that” you laugh

- - - - -    

An hour later you’d both got through the whole pizza and almost a whole bottle of wine, talking and laughing the whole time as Tony told you about some of the things he used to get up to pre Iron Man. You get up to carry the empty pizza box over to the bin in your kitchen and refill both your glasses. 

“hey what’s for dessert” Tony shouts over to you.

“well I was just about to start making brownies before you arrived”

“I was only kidding about dessert but actually I would kinda love some brownies right now” Tony says, getting up and walking over to join you in the kitchen.

“well I guess we could bake some?” you say half joking but Tony grabs your apron off the hook on the wall and ties it around his waist which makes you laugh.

“what are you laughing at, I'm ready to learn”

“wait, you’ve never made brownies before? Not even as a kid?” You ask in disbelief and Tony shakes his head.

“my family weren’t really into that sort of thing” he shrugged. 

“well then Mr Stark, I am about to change your life” you say, handing him a wooden spoon and he smiles at you. 

Tony mixed together the melted chocolate and butter with the eggs and sugar while you measure out the flour into a bowl. You handed him the flour to add into the mixture but as he poured it in he dropped some of the flour onto the arm of his suit and you laughed covering your mouth with your hand. 

“oh you think thats funny do you?” He says and he takes a hand a handful of flour and chucks it at you, laughing. You gasp and wipe some of the flour off yourself before grabbing a handful and throwing it back at him. He grabs your hand mid air and pulls you slightly but you trip over your own feet and stumble into him. He catches you and the laughter dies down as you both look into each others eyes, faces dangerously close to each other. His eyes flicker down to your lips and he moves in slightly. But then he stops, and lets you go. Clearing his throat and taking a step back. You take a deep breath and brush some flour off yourself. 

“well, uh, this was fun” he says, slightly awkward “but, I should probably be going now”

“yeah, yeah..” you agree walking him to the door “it’s getting late”

He stops at the door and turns around to smile at you.

“thanks for the pizza, and for the baking lesson”

“no problem” you smile “i’ll bring some of the brownies in to work tomorrow” 

“Good night y/n” he says walking out the door

“Good night” 

You close the door behind him and press your forehead against it, replaying what just happened in your head. Did you really just almost kiss your boss? And did he almost kiss you back? Did you overstep your boundaries even inviting him in tonight? Would things be awkward tomorrow? 

You let out a frustrated sigh and go back to the kitchen to finish baking and tidy up the mess from your flour fight. You know there’s no point thinking about it tonight but you also know that you won’t be able to think of anything else. 

Part Three

Taglist: @brownbuble​ 

[agirlwithadreamandapen]

a summer spent apart (jo march x reader)

—2272 words 

Setting off for the March house was usually filled with joy and happiness. This particular journey was drenched in sadness. You were going to tell Jo you weren't going to be spending the summer in Concord. Your mother thought it was a wondrous idea to tell your great aunt that you would spend the summer with her. She also thought it was a great idea to tell you a mere week before you have to leave. 

When your mother told you the news, you nearly lost your mind. Jo and you had so much planned. Picnics in the park, trips to the markets, days at the beach, everything you could possibly dream off. Jo has been talking this summer up so much. She was determined to make this summer the best one you two have spent together yet. Now, all your plans were ruined.

The thought of spending the whole summer with your great aunt was already causing a headache to form. Your mother believed that it would brighten up the old lady's life, and give her something to do. She lives in a huge house down south with no one to fill up the bedrooms besides herself and the occasional guest. You did feel sorry for her in a way but not sorry enough to give up a summer with Jo for a summer with her.

There was no backing out of it now. Your mom signed, sealed, and delivered the letter before ever asking your opinion on the whole matter. That stupid letter is what put you in this dreadful positon, walking over to your loves house to break to news.

----------------------------------------------

Sitting with Jo in the attic for the past 2 hours has been amazing but you knew you needed to break the news at some point. Putting it off any longer was only going to pain you and her more. You set down the book you were reading and gather as much strength as you possibly can. You clear your throat, causing Jo to look up from her writings.

“Jo, can we talk about something?” Jo sets down her pen, “Of course, anything specific on your mind?” she huffs, pushing herself out of the wooden chair making her way over to the bed. She plops down next to you and grabs your hand.

“I have been trying to find the courage to tell you this but it seems like I just haven't been able to muster up enough.” you squeeze her hand. “Before I say anything else I just want to say, please don't be mad at me. This choice was not my own, and if I could I would reverse it.”

Jo lifts her eyebrow, confusion fills her face. She grabs your other hand, resting them in your lap. “If I’m being honest, you're starting to worry me with all this seemingly sad talk. Hopefully this isn't a breakup speech.”

A smile breaks out across your lips and you shake your head fiercely, “No, no nothing of that sort. I guess I should just come out and say it, I am making it seem pretty dreadful aren't I?” you squeeze her hand again to reassure yourself. “It is a dreadful situation don’t get me wrong but… jeez okay I’m just going to say it. Jo, I can't spend the summer with you.” you look away, not wanting to see her face.

“What? What do you mean you can't spend the summer with me, you live not even a 10 minute walk away.”

“I know, I know. My mother, god you know she can be so infuriating. My mother wrote to my great aunt to inform her I will be spending the summer with her. She didn't even ask me, she just wrote to her without even questioning my opinion on the whole situation.”

“Oh.” Jo lets go of your hands and slowly stands up from the bed. You look up as she begins to walk towards the window, stopping right in front of it. She stares out, one hand on her hip, the other resting on her chin. You rise from your spot and stand still, not sure what to do.

“I’m truly sorry Jo. If I could, you know I would spend the summer here with you. I've already argued with my mom over this all night and into this morning. She's stubborn and won't budge. I have to go, I don't want to but I have to. Please don’t be mad,” you start to make your way over to her. “I know how excited you were for this summer.” you say wrapping your arms around her waist, resting your face against her back. You take in her perfume, it's the one you bought her for her birthday last year. God, you're going to miss this woman.

Jo gently rests her hand on top of yours, “I know. I know you can't do anything about it. I've met your mother, she's a strong headed woman, I admire her for it yet I resent her for it in situations like this. I was just really looking forward to spending time with you.” she turns around and rests her hands on your cheeks. You smile sadly, wrapping your arms around her waist once more.

“I’m going to miss you so much Jo.” tears start to form in your eyes.

“I’m going to miss you too darling.” she whispers before softly pressing your lips together.

-----------------------------------------

The last two months have gone by surprisingly fast. You were not expecting to have this much fun at your aunts. She shockingly has been quite the partner in crime. You also have gotten extremely close with the neighbors daughter, Eleanor. She was just a year older than you and had so many common interests. You both loved painting, you both adored fashion, and you both hated parties. Although your aunt and her parents did force you two to go to a couple. You won't publicly admit it but you did enjoy them. The only bad thing was not spending your time with Jo.

You found yourself dozing off during the day, dreaming of laying in the meadow with her. You tried not to think of her too much as it saddened you but it was hard not too. You both wrote each other letters everyday, although it wasn't the same as seeing her in person, it was better than nothing at all.

My dear Jo,

Oh how I’ve missed you. I know I tell you this in every letter but my feelings never change. I wish you were here with me and that I could hold you in my arms. I miss the scent of your hair and your beautiful smile. I long to kiss your lips and caress your skin. I keep reminding myself, “Three more weeks and I will be in Jo’s arms.” Nothing eventful has happened since our last correspondence. Eleanor and I spent the day together again. This morning she came over for breakfast, then we gathered our art gear and walked to the park. It's nice having someone to paint with. She understands the struggle of being an artist. I got to paint a lovely lake scene today, my favorite thing to portray. Eleanor actually painted me. It was interesting. It took her a little while to convince me but I finally caved. I wish you could see her paintings, she is quite talented. I admire her a lot. Anyways, I hope you are doing well my love. Hopefully these weeks fly by fast and I can hold you in my arms again soon.

Yours truly,

Y/n

To my darling Y/n,

I have missed you too my love. Do not worry, it’s nice to be reassured you miss me too. I am praying these three weeks speed by quickly. Holding and kissing you is the only thing on my mind these days. I’m glad to hear you are doing well. It's interesting how you spend all your time with this Eleanor. You two seem to be growing quite close. She might understand the struggle of being an artist but you know I can in a way too. You forget artists and writers are not too different. I wish I could see this painting she painted of you. I'm sure you look lovely. Don’t flatter her, she is definitely not as talented as you. I don't even have to see her work to know that. I am doing as well as I can without you. I will be better once you're here again. I love you. Say hi to your great aunt for me.

Eternally yours,

Jo March

-------------------------------------------

Finally, the summer ended and you are on your way home. The summer flew by faster than expected but you're glad you finally get to go home. And most of all, you're glad you get to see Jo. She promised she would meet you at the train station, as you both are eager to see one another. You try to pass the time by reading but you find yourself too distracted. You end up staring out the window most of the train ride, daydreaming about the weeks to come with Jo.

It feels like an eternity passes before your train finally pulls into the Concord station. You gather your things, pick up your trunk, and head toward the train door. Stepping on to the platform, you begin to set your belongings down. You packed way too many things to begin with and your aunt insisted on sending you home with many new trinkets. You begin to look around, trying to find Jo’s face amongst the crowd. As you’re scanning the area, you feel a pair of arms forcibly wrap themselves around your waist. Jo crashes into you screaming with joy. You manage to turn around and you embrace each other for what feels like hours. She finally pulls away and you get a good look at her. You smile stepping back a bit, not wanting to look suspicious and gather stares.

Jo finally speaks up, “I feel like I have so much to say, but I’m currently speechless. Oh, how I’ve missed you.” She steps forwards and embraces you again. You laugh squeezing her tight once more.

“I’ve missed you too, Jo. I have a lot to tell you too.” you step back again and go to grab your things, signaling that it's time to leave. Jo immediately grabs your trunk and insists on carrying it back to your house. As you're walking home, Jo and you talk about your days so far. She explains how hectic her day has been already. Telling you that Meg’s children painted all over the living room wall and how she had spent all morning covering it.

You finally come upon your house, Jo insists on helping you carry all your things to your room. You stop and briefly greet your parents, explaining in short your time with your great aunt. You convince them to let you spend the rest of the day with Jo.

Jo and you head to the meadow, your favorite spot to sit and talk. Jo practically sits on top of you. She’s barely able to keep her hands off of you. “You know, I haven't asked you much about your summer, I've been rambling on about my day.” Jo says, rubbing your back.

You giggle, “It’s fine, I enjoy hearing you talk.” you squeeze her leg. “I don’t think there is much for me to talk about. I've basically told you everything in my letters.”

“I know but It would be nice to hear you talk about them in person. How about you tell me about that girl you were always hanging out with.” a hint of callousness in her voice.

“Eleanor? She was amazing. We got on well right from the start, and you know how hard that is for me, being shy and all. She's just a really sweet person, very selfless, you know? I promised her I would write to her as often as I can.”

Jo pulls back from you, “Wow, she seems great. I’m glad you got to spend the summer with her.”

You look at her, confused on why she's being so curt. “Is something wrong? Did I say something?”

“Nothing’s wrong. I'm just saying I'm glad you had a good summer with this girl. She sounds like a lot of fun.” Jo remarks.

Realization falls over you, you wrap your leg over her and hoist yourself over her body so you're now straddling her.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Jo struggles underneath you.

You lean in close to her face, “I think someone is jealous.”

Jo acts shocked, “I'm not jealous. I just find it odd the way you speak about her. You're always talking about how amazing she is and how much you admire her.”

“Oh, so you're definitely jealous.” you begin to laugh.

She huffs, rolling you guys over so she's now on top, “For the last time, I’m not jealous. I was just stating my opinion.” she declares.

“Whatever you say.” you giggle. “I mean she was kinda hot.” a smirk escapes your lips.

“Oh shut up!” Jo smacks your chest. “You're just being unfair now.”

“I was just playing, calm down my darling. I could never think of anyone in that way, besides you.”

Jo smiles, “Oh, well I know that. I wouldn't let you leave me for anyone even if you tried.” She leans down and gently places a kiss on your lips. “You're all mine, Y/F/N.”

“And you're all mine, Josephine March.”

[cabotinageking]

(this is entirely @killingsim ‘s fault. i’m going to have to redo my verses just to add this.  the context is- remnant verse? remnant au. this is so cursed and feral im so sorry)

Footsteps echoed across cold concrete. The whirr of machines could be heard under the pulse of pop music. If you listened closely, beyond that, you might hear a giggle echo through the grimy air, light feet dancing over the rooftops, the pop of anything from soda bottles to explosives. 

It meant one thing, and that one thing was good for absolutely nobody. 

DICE were out.

A series of city maps and pipelines were spread over a desk in the center of an empty restaurant- a building that was bustling during the day, during the evening, but in the dead of night was empty- except for the overly dramatic candlelight flickering over the plans made inside, for the clowns crawling over it like trussed-up gargoyles. A spread of delicate desserts laid out on a nearby table, decorated with confectionery glitter. The leader of the group grabbed a strawberry puff and stuffed it in his mouth as he surveyed the maps again, ignoring the muffled noises coming from behind him. 

“You said he took the bait, right?”

A girl who was by no means old enough to be out this late, let alone in the sort of company she was keeping, nodded once, an almost dreamy smile settling on her face. “We probably have a few hours,” she said softly, flicking a curled ponytail over her shoulder- pink butterfly hairclips contrasting with the blood soaked into her straightjacket uniform.

What sort of monster would drag children into a mess like this? 

Kokichi leaned over absent-mindedly to ruffle her hair, a gesture that might have been sweet in any other context- but this was no kindly older brother, just a leader and his adoring followers, crowding closer, eager for approval. “Excellent,” he said, withdrawing his hand to clap, to spin around with a twirl of his cloak that threatened to blow out the elegant candles. “Well, knowing my beloved Saihara-chan, anything could happen! So, group A- positions, now. Waiting at the ready.” Chin tipped to the side, for just a moment, that childish smile flickered into something darker. “You won’t let me down, will you?”

Hastily tripping over themselves to comply, the group scattered over the building; some slipping through windows to climb onto the roof, some darting through the roofbeams, some tucking themselves into nooks and crannies or hanging from the outside walls. DICE was made up of kids and runaways, people easy to induct and difficult to protect- but Kokichi wasn’t just any leader of strays. Once upon a time, he used to run from the police, escape by the skin of his teeth, struggle to keep ten teenagers housed and fed and happy. He used to set up city-wide pranks, guerilla performances, art projects that were still standing even now.

He thought a little bigger, these days.

“Group B, collect the machines. I want the explosives set up with time to spare. Get to it!” He clapped his hands twice, cheery and sweet, and watched the rest of them scurry off to get to business. Left on his own, he paced through the center of the restaurant, humming along to the music he was playing, picking strawberries from a glass bowl and sipping champagne mixed with cheap soft drinks. They don’t tell you this, but supervillains end up with a lot of downtime on their hands when it comes to waiting for their pin-striped heroes to show up. Kokichi usually used this time to plot ahead for future events- Saihara-chan was just so picky about chasing him, so Kokichi liked to give him several leads a day- even if he usually only ended following a few throughout the week, when Kokichi directly interfered in his cases. He complained about the inconvenience a lot, but how else was Kokichi supposed to get his attention when he was always ignoring his other invitations?

Trailing his fingers through the mix of berries, Kokichi finally glanced up when the muffled sounds started to rise above the music. He raised an eyebrow, swinging away from the table to bend at the waist and stare at his guest with all the cheerful invitation he could muster. 

Center-stage, middle of the restaurant, the trapped man seemed to have woken up enough to start to struggle, trying to raise his voice above the tape on his mouth, pull away from the ticking devices strapped to his limbs. Kokichi gave him one of his brightest smiles, tucking his arms behind his back. “Look’s like sleeping beauty’s up and present with us,” he called to the others, walking over to stop right in front of the man. Leaning down, he flicked him on the forehead, letting out a little laugh. “Bet you’re pretty confused, huh? Well, I have good news and bad news.”

Raising a finger, he tilted his head to the side. “The good news is that I’m not your original kidnapper- or even associated with her. In fact, depending on what my beloved detective is currently up to, she might not be a problem for you anymore.” 

The smile on his face sharped, darkness crossing over his eyes. “The bad news is that I’m much, much scarier.”

Immediately, the man began struggling again, tugging at his restraints, trying to make guttural noises in the back of his throat. Kokichi sighed and turned away, his voice similar to a disappointed child’s. “If he doesn’t shut up, someone cut out his tongue,” he complained, twirling a finger through his hair. “He’s ruining the atmosphere.” Sure, he was usually in the mood for screams that died into pathetic whimpering, for the look in someone’s eyes as blood dripped from their ears, for the ways they tried to bargain with him as he played games to win their fingers. But tonight was supposed to be special- he was in such a nice restaurant, and he’d got a really good game planned, and he was hoping it would all be- dare he say- romantic. Just him, and his detective, one of them holding a knife, dancing over a chessboard- maybe if he was lucky, Saihara would win the game and decide to linger anyway…. Maybe he’d make an attempt on Kokichi’s life just for him to slip away at the last moment…. It was going to be perfect. 

Unfortunately, someone trying to whine past their duct-tape gag was going to ruin that atmosphere. Kokichi wanted this hostage to stay delicate and fragile in the center of the room, like a good damsel in distress. If he had to sedate him, that was fine, but he’d prefer he were conscious to watch the dance between villain and hero, to desperately cheer on his perceived savior, before Saihara crossed over to collect him… Hey, there was a reason Kokichi liked him so much.

“Boss?”

Stirring from his daydream, Kokichi reached for a knife and flipped it from hand to hand. “Mm? What is it? A message from my beloved?” He batted his eyelashes.

“It’s from… the Warriors of Hope, boss.” The boy fidgeted in some kind of eager anxiety- he must have been about the same age as Kokichi, but had at least a foot of height on him, which was probably why his posture was so bowed.

Kokichi waved a hand carelessly, turning away to pick at the bowl of strawberries again. “I said I would visit them this weekend. I’ve got important business tonight.” And he did- it was so tricky to get to Saihara’s cases before the detective himself did. Having a live victim here was a rare opportunity, and Kokichi was excited to see what the detective would do for the right to reclaim the man. 

He couldn’t see the boy’s face anymore, too busy gazing dreamily at the berry juice staining his fingers. 

“Monaca specifically requested you tonight.”

The smile slid off his face like butter. Red dripped from his hand. 

“She said you could send some of us, instead, if you wanted.”

Kokichi raised his hand to his mouth and sucked the juice off thoughtfully. It tasted oddly metallic. 

“I guess I miss those little scamps, too. Tell everyone to get back to the base,” he sighed. “It’s no fun if I can’t watch. Just blow the place in the next hour and run some of the videos for Saihara.” He considered his options as he bit at his own skin. Rearranging his face into another signature smile, he twirled around once more and walked over to pat the boy on the shoulder condescendingly. 

“Make sure you stay in touch with me, okay? Just leave everything as it is and go home. But let me know if anything weird happens- who knows if Saihara-chan might finally snap and decide he wants me dead for real.” Kokichi swooned, holding a hand to his forehead and dramatically falling back, forcing the poor boy to lunge forward and catch him before he hit the ground. “I’ll have to come back immediately if he tries anything…. I can’t risk missing my chance for him to finally catch me!” 

The boy stuttered fevered agreements as he set Kokichi back on his feet and fixed his cloak, looking away from him in nervous adoration. That was fine. It gave Kokichi a moment to think ahead.

It wasn’t Saihara he was worried about.

[lovehugsandcandy]

First Snow (Colt x MC)

A/N: Thanks for hosting the @choicesdecemberchallenge, @choicesbyjade and @cora-nova! This is for day 8 and the prompt is presents. (@client-327 inspired this with this piece of art. Also, thanks @client-327 and @brightpinkpeppercorn for the analysis of RoD coffee orders. Very verrry helpful, thank you so so much.)  

Pairing: Colt x MC, RoD

Length: ~3900 words 

Rating: PG-13 (Swearing. Kissing.)

Summary: Ellie has always wanted to see the snow. She just didn’t know she had to live through so much snark to get there.

“You look like a Muppet.”

“Excuse me?” Ellie looked down at her vest and snarled, more bark than bite. “This is very in right now, I will have you know. And just because LA is hot doesn’t mean I can’t try for some Christmas spirit.”

Colt stood from where he had been crouched next to his bike. “And that means you need to don some giant bright monstrosity that makes it look like you scalped a Wookie and dyed it green?”

“Well…you wear red pants.”

“I don’t shed.”

She groaned and looked down. She was leaving a conspicuous trail of forest green fuzz across the concrete floor.

“It’s also LA,” Colt continued. “I don’t think you need a vest.”

“It’s December. That means it’s almost Christmas! I love Christmas.” Ellie had always adored the holiday, though the sunshine and endless beaches of her hometown made the Christmas spirit seem contrived. 

“Wow. You are all about the holidays, aren’t you?”

Ellie crossed her arms over her chest, but her defensive stance soon faded as a dreamy look crossed her face. “Yeah? My mom used to love it. She let out a wistful smile and looked down. “I’ve never seen the snow. We always dreamed of taking a winter holiday, playing in the snow or something, but...”

“…Sorry.” He ducked his head, eyes softening. Colt may be prickly about almost everything, but he understood family. 

“Every year, I tell myself I am gonna see the snow and it never happens.”

“It’s 70 degrees right now.”

“I know but not everywhere. It snowed two feet in Tahoe yesterday!” She sighed. “Next year. I’ll see it next year. At Langston. I can just picture me gazing out at the snow while studying.“ Ellie chuckled without warmth as she lost herself in the daydream. “I’d have a mug full of hot cocoa and a full set of highlighters and-”

“Highlighters?”

“Are you seriously interrupting my fantasy right now?”

His smirk was wicked. “That’s your fantasy?” He stepped closer, sliding into her space. “I can think of some better fantasies than that.”

She rolled her eyes but she felt herself being drawn in, butterflies in her stomach, electric pulses across her skin, inches away from Colt and his eyes crinkling at the corners and his lips right there. “Seriously?” Her eyes darted to the curve of his smirk.

“I have much better fantasies, I can promise you.” He moved to close the distance when a shout from behind made her jump.

“Ellie!” Logan walked through the door and Colt stepped back; if they hadn’t been so infinitesimally close, Ellie never would have heard the soft groan of a curse from deep in his throat. “There you are. Did you need a ride home?”

She flushed, sneaking a quick peek at Colt before nodding.

She had just turned away when she felt a hand circle her wrist. The touch should have been innocent, just a light touch of his fingertips, but the way his thumb stroked her pulse point made heat flash up her veins. “Hey, Ellie?”

“Yeah?”

“Tragic holiday backstory aside...” He looked serious, contemplating her.

“Yeah?” 

“You still look like a Muppet.”

She couldn’t stop the snort that escaped her and it looked like he couldn’t stop the grin spreading across his face either.

~~~~~

"What are you doing?!?" She stopped short as she walked through the front door. Usually, the desk was empty and customers would just duck their head in and scream until someone helped them. Occasionally, Kaneko would sit at the front, giving her a short nod as she slipped by to head into the garage. And she had seen Toby there a couple times, devouring comic books and bobbing to the music blaring from the tinny computer speakers.

But she had never seen this.

"What do you think I'm doing?"

"You look like you're working the front desk."

"Wow. You are every bit as smart as everyone says. I'm really glad the California Educational System is truly equipping the minds of our youth with such fantastic observational skills," Colt deadpanned and turned back to the monitor in front of him.

"But..."

"Yes, I'm working the front desk, Ellie. Jesus."

"Why?"

"A job?"

"But..." She looked around and dropped her voice. "You're a car thief. Why in the world...?"

"My dad said ‘front desk only, Colt’." He mocked and rolled his eyes. "Until I can prove myself, I'm on lame ass front desk duty."

“But...you never used to work the front desk. You just used to bum around and make snide comments!”

“Oh, I’ll still do that, don’t worry. But now I can get paid.”

"What do you need to get paid for?"

"I dunno. Maybe Christmas presents, Ellie,” he scoffed. “Duh. You're the one who likes the holidays. Shouldn't it be obvious?"

“But…”

“But?”

“But your dad,” she dropped her voice before continuing. “Your dad legit steals million dollar cars. Why do you need a job for money?”

He shook his head. “Just because he gets paid doesn’t mean I do.”

"Ok. But...but...since when do you listen to your dad?"

"Since he's my boss?"

As if on cue, Kaneko walked out, clutching a paper and sliding it across the desk before pulling a wrinkled list and credit card from his pocket. "Coffee, please."

Colt raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms over his chest. “I will not be the coffee bitch.”

Kaneko seemed nonplussed, small smile gracing his lips. "Do you work here or not?" He was obviously having fun with this.

“I work the front desk, I’m not your fucking errand-”

“I’ll go.” Ellie shrugged, swiping the credit card and coffee order. “It’d be nice to take a walk for a few.”

Kaneko just shook his head at his son and turned his back, walking back into the depths of the shop. She was about to head out but froze when Colt hopped out of the desk chair.

“I’ll go with you.”

“What?” She blinked, staring at him. “I thought you didn’t want to be coffee bit-”

“Shut up. Are we going or what?” He knocked his shoulder into hers to interrupt her tease. 

She smiled, a soft secret one designed to be seen by him and him alone. “Ok. Let’s go.”  

She was amazed when they made it three blocks, an eternity of LA pavement, where her eyes kept finding their way to his no matter how hard she tried to focus on the sidewalk. But right when they pulled the left on Manchester, strong arms pushed her against the brick wall of a pawn shop and, finally, insistent lips found hers. She melted into the kiss, pulling him close by the lapels of his jacket, cool leather a direct contrast to the heat flaming her cheeks, her lips, licking down her spine.

"Ah." She was being held up by the wall behind her and his hands on her hips. Absent those, she was certain she would collapse into a boneless puddle, a stain on the concrete where a girl had been kissed and kissed well. "Is this the reason you wanted to come? It wasn't to help me carry all the coffee?"

"You got me," he huffed low into her ear. "Ulterior motives. I'm actually not helping you at all; I'll just wait here until you pick up the order and then, when you come back, I'll kiss you again."

"Greedy. "

"Hey, I've been trying to get you to myself all week."

She bit her lip and looked up, all coy eyes and sneaky smile. "Well, you definitely don't want to waste this time now, do you?"

And when they finally continued on their way, after two pedestrians made snooty references to getting a room, well, Ellie felt very well-kissed when she got to the counter of the Starbucks.

"Ok. We have a big order, sorry." Ellie peered at the crumpled list, struggling with the variety of unintelligible handwriting. "Toby wants a venti iced frappuccino with a double shot-"

"What? No!" Colt ripped the paper from her hand. "Toby cannot have caffeine."

"Ok…"

"No. I don't think you understand." He grabbed her shoulders so he could look her dead in the eyes. "Toby cannot have caffeine. He once tried an espresso and then decided he wanted to try jogging; Pop had to pick him up in Pasadena when he got tired. Another time, he only had one cup but still was up for 36 hours straight convinced that he was destined to be a world-famous DJ; I had to kick him out when he was trying to make his own dubstep remix on the shop speakers. And then, another time, after having a fucking tea, he tried to redecorate the loft and I had to repaint the entire thing because he designed some half-assed mural of Big Bird eating tacos."

“Big Bird?”

Colt shrugged. 

“Ok, ok, jeez.” She grimaced and turned back to the counter. "Can you make it decaf? And just maybe...not write decaf on the cup so he doesn't know?"

The girl behind the counter did not look amused but still nodded, tapping in the order.

"Ok.” Ellie sighed. “What else do we need?"

Colt peered at the paper in his hand. "A cappuccino with turmeric and honey."

"For Ximena?"

"You got it. Mona wants a venti dark roast, black like her soul."

"Colt, come on..."

"What? That is literally what it says."

She shook her head. "Did Logan want a latte or a mocha?" 

"Latte. A vanilla latte." He focused on the sheet in his hand, scrunching his nose. "And my old man wants tea. Black tea. Black. No soul."

"Did he write that as well?"

"No, that was all me."

"Urgh. Ok, what do you want?"

"Flat white." He inclined his head at Ellie. "And I bet you want a hot chocolate.” 

She looked at him in surprise.

“What? That's what you want, right?”

She blinked at him.

“What?” He was looking at her like she was insane. “You always get that.”

"You know what I get?"

He rolled his eyes. "Oh my God, don't make a big deal of it." She beamed at him. "Stop it. Or I'll make you carry it all back by yourself."

"Ok, fine."

She couldn’t have carried it all back anyways. It was seven drinks, two trays, four hands full with beverages; however, even laden with drinks, Colt still took every opportunity to lean in and capture her lips, ending with an especially long kiss hidden to the side of the bay doors. She had to blink away the sparks from her eyes as she walked in. But, even as she gave out drinks to outstretched hands, the butterflies still remained.

She was savoring the first taste of hot cocoa, sweet and smooth and still warm on her tongue, when Logan took a sip from his cup and shuddered, lips pursing into a grimace. "Hey. I wanted a mocha! What is this?"

Ellie turned to glare at Colt but he was already walking back to the front desk, shoulders shaking in silent laughter and an extra bounce in his step.

~~~~~

"You're on front desk duty, again?"

Colt smirked at her, thumbing through an old magazine. “I’m starting to feel like you’re my boss.”

“Ha. If I were your boss, then you would definitely be disciplined for insubordination.”

He looked at her through eyes half-mast and she immediately realized her mistake. “I don’t know where I should start with that. The idea of you bossing me around or the idea of you punishing me.” He laughed as she flushed scarlet. 

“How do you always make everything so inappropriate?”

“It’s a talent.” He looked past her at the sound of footsteps on concrete and scowled.

She turned and grinned, fully aware of the different reactions Logan inspired. “Hey, you!”

“Hey, Troublemaker.” He slid next to her at the counter, copying her lean so their shoulders brushed, nudging her gently before turning to Colt. “You still on desk duty?”

Colt glowered at him before turning a page so hard she could hear the magazine tear. “Better than pain in the ass duty.”

Ellie rolled her eyes as Logan turned to her, ignoring the jab. “So, Troublemaker, I heard you were quite the fan of the holidays?”

She grinned, barely noticing Colt’s head shoot up in her periphery. “Maybe...why?”

“Well, what do you want for a present?” Logan’s smile was hopeful, disarming as always.

“Oh, stop, nothing.”

“I’m still gonna get you something.” He winked and Ellie could hear paper crinkling in clenched fists. 

“You don’t have to, really.” She tilted her head at him.

“What, my presence is present enough?”

She smirked as Colt gagged behind the desk. “Exactly. That, and you let me drive your car.”

“Free driver’s ed?” Logan put his hand over his heart. “Is that all I am to you?”

“You caught me. It’s like driving school and the opportunity to jump through the window of a sports car, all in one.”

“You wound me.” He rubbed her shoulder. “Ok, I gotta get back to work. Ride home later?”

“Definitely!” 

“What do you want for Christmas, Ellie?” Colt’s sing-song mocked Logan, precisely, an eerily good rendition that made her narrow her eyes at him. At least he had waited until they were alone, until it was only Ellie there to hear him at full brat.

“I want you to be touched by the magic of Christmas, Colt, and stop being such a-"

"If I were you, I'd think of a backup gift."

"Fine." She crossed her arms over her chest. "You know what I want? Snow.”

“You want someone to buy the weather?” Colt leaned back in his chair, throwing his feet up onto the conspicuously bare front desk.

She rolled her eyes at him and leaned over the desk. "You asked what I wanted. I told you. Snow."

"Good luck with that one. It's 75 degrees today."

“Well, you asked…”

“I don’t have snow but…” He fished around in the pockets of his jacket, grinning triumphantly as he opened his clenched fist. “There you go. Twenty-seven cents, a receipt from Kelso’s, and some dirt.”

“Why in the world do you even have coins?”

“To give to you, obviously.” He dropped them with a flourish on the counter. “Merry Christmas.”

~~~~~

"What? Why are you staring at me like that?"

"This is the third time you've been at the desk this week.” She leaned over the desk. “What in the world are you saving up for?"

“I told you. Christmas presents."

"For who?"

"Maybe you, Ellie." The glint in his eye was back, the one that reminded her that poking fun of her was Colt’s favorite pastime.

"Yeah, right. You know what I'm gonna get you?"

"I feel like you're about to tell me."

"Coal."

"Hmm..." he leaned closer. "Is that 'cuz I've been naughty?"

Ellie choked.

He only edged closer and kept going. "I have been bad but I'd be so fucking good for you, El-." He bit his lip and Ellie couldn’t pull her eyes from the way a blindingly white tooth made indents in the tender skin. "I'd do good things for you, do good things to you."

"Jesus." The flush traveled through her body like lightning, heat everywhere. He was so close. She slid a touch closer, just enough to brush her lips against his, but then-

"Colt!" The voice calling his name commanded attention, by tone alone.

She pulled away with a frown and she watched a similar frown grace Colt's face as he replied, "Yeah, Pop?"

“Do you have that paperwork on the Martinez car?”

She was close enough to hear him drop his voice as he opened up a desk drawer. “It’s up your ass.”

“Colt!”

“What?” He flashed her a guilty smile, pulling the papers out of a folder and holding them up. “Here you go, boss.”

~~~~~

Ellie furrowed her brow, confused. She had been looking for Colt but he wasn’t milling around the shop, wasn’t sulking at the front desk, wasn’t anywhere. She bit her lips, nervously. It was Christmas Eve, for chrissake- she wanted to give him her present.

Finally, when she had almost given up, her laps around the shop not going unnoticed by the others, he emerged from downstairs. She made a beeline over but wasn’t able to say a word before she saw his eyes narrow as he looked at the present adorning her neck.

“The hell’s that?”

She toyed with the delicate chain around her neck. “My new necklace. Logan got it. He said that he wanted to get something nicer than a spark plug for me.”

“Pssht.” He rolled his eyes and muttered to himself, “Run a few jobs and all of a sudden you think you’re the Monopoly guy.”

“What was that?”

“I said...it looks nice on you.”

“Liar.” She took a deep breath and reached into her pocket, tightly squeezing the metal ring into the palm of her fist. “I got something for you.” He watched her curiously as she pulled it out and handing it over.  “I didn’t wrap it, sorry.”

“What is it?”

“A keychain. It’s for your keys.”

“No shit, Sherlock. But what is...:”

“Oh, that.” She grinned brightly. “Coal. That’s coal on the end. Seemed appropriate.”

He smirked and opened his mouth before shaking his head and closing it again, obviously thinking better of whatever snide suggestive remark had been on the tip of his tongue. “Thanks, Ellie. Come here.” She followed him to the front desk, where he ducked down into a drawer to emerge with a box, a wrapped present, white ribbon stark around red paper. “Here. This is for you.”

“Wow.” She flushed and took it, gingerly, paper crinkling underneath her fingers. “You wrapped it and everything, this is so nice!”

“Ximena did it for me.” He rocked back on his heels and shoved his hands in his pockets. “You gonna open it?”

She hadn’t been expecting anything from him; other than stolen kisses that made her heart race, they had never really talked about presents or labels or whether he felt any of the same pull she did when their eyes met. She grinned at him beneath slow lashes and slid her index finger under the tape, slowly opening one seal and then, all at once, ripping the paper apart. “Oh my God, you got me hot cocoa!” She clutched the cardboard to her chest. “Dork. Thank you!”

“Yeah, it’s-” he stopped, biting his lip, suddenly shy. “It’s...you should-”

“Hey, Trouble? You ready to go home?” She turned as Logan walked in from the break room, tossing his keys from one hand to the other. “I’ll let you drive if you want!”

“Ok, yeah.” She looked at Colt, who was standing stock-still in front of her, odd look on his face. However, when she raised her eyebrows at him to silently communicate her confusion, he only shrugged. “I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah.” He shot one last, dark look at Logan before walking away, throwing a quick “Merry Christmas” over her shoulder.

As she took the keys from Logan and adjusted the seat, she couldn’t help but wonder. What was that all about? And, while she totally appreciated the present, what had Colt been saving up for?

~~~~~

She still couldn’t figure it out sitting on her bed, idly playing with her new necklace, sliding the diamond up and down her fingers. Why in the world had Colt been working the desk?

She got up with a frown, grabbing the box of hot cocoa and heading downstairs. At least it was a very sweet gesture. Her house was quiet, dark, her dad out on night shift and, with school on break, there was nothing and no one to distract her.

She pulled a mug off a shelf and paused, looking down. The box was open. She didn’t…

Carefully, she slid her thumb underneath the cardboard tab and pulled, peering inside. There was cocoa in here, two packets. But there was also a parcel, wrapped in tissue paper. She opened it up and laughed. Highlighters. Of course. Asshole.

And some papers, wedged inside. It wasn’t a card, just a piece of white printer paper folded to house a few more sheets of paper. She smoothed them out on the counter and gasped. Two tickets to Tahoe. A hotel reservation. And, in Colt’s careful scrawl: to see the snow.

She blinked. Gasped. And blinked again.

Her hands were shaking as she threw everything back in the box, a trick of packaging if she ever saw one. She ran upstairs to get her phone, her wallet, moving so fast she tripped on the way up and had to peel herself off the carpet. She ordered the Dryve while rushing downstairs, almost falling again, and waited by the front door, toe tapping an anxious song on the hardwood as she clutched the cocoa box.

The car came quick, the ride was quick, but she was impatient. Thankfully, when she opened the back door to the shop, it was still, quiet. No one was there to stop her as she ran downstairs, making her way to the door of Colt’s makeshift room.

She could hear him moving around, the slamming of a drawer and subsequent muttered curse, so she knocked. Loudly. And waited.

His eyes widened when he opened the door and saw her standing there. His eyes narrowed in understanding when he spotted the box in her hand.

“Hi.” Her fingers dug into the box, denting the cardboard. “I opened your present.”

“Good.”

“You didn’t need to-”

“I know.”

She took a breath. “No, you really didn’t need to do-”

“I know.” He shrugged. “But you wanted the snow for Christmas.”

“And it’s my trip.”

“Yeah.”

“Are you coming with me?”

He shook his head, laughing. “You can go with whoever you want, the ticket’s transferable. Right now they’re both in your name.”

“I know.”

“You can take Logan and then the both of you will be outta my hair. Might be nice to get some peace and quiet around here.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Do you really want that? Logan and I going together on this trip you got me?”

He opened his mouth and closed it again.

“Who should I go with, Colt?” She waited, staring expectantly, eyeing him for so long she had to consciously stop the nervous twitch in her thighs.

Finally, finally, finally, after so long she started to reconsider all her life choices, finally he rocked back on his heels and spoke. “Me. I wanna go with you.”

She smiled and launched into his arms, laughing against his lips. And when she came up for air, he was actually beaming, too.

~~~~~

"You are not wearing that vest."

"Oh, I am. There's finally snow, I hafta wear it!"

"I swear to God, I don't know why I'm here."

"Cuz you like me."

"I like the snow."

"Lie. You hate the snow. You'd rather sit inside and glower at the fireplace."

"..."

"You like me."

"I don't like anyone."

"No, you like me."

"Fine. I like you."

"See, Colt? Was that so hard? And it's not so cold if we cuddle up, right? ….hey. Hey, wait a minute. What are you…? Don't you dare-"

"Haha."

"Did you just put snow down my vest?!?"

"...Whoops."

"You are a dead man!"

"Bring it, muppet."

"Dead, Kaneko. Dead!"

And as she tackled him to the ground, she realized the snow was everything she had ever dreamed it was. And then some.

.

Tags:

Perma

@desiree-0816 @leelee10898 @emichelle @client-327 @choicesgremlin @brightpinkpeppercorn

ROD

@omgjasminesimone @mskaneko

Colt

@deimosensblog @alegria1580  @choicesarehard @thefarrari @moonlit-girl-wonder @going-down-downtown@soniadotalves@jolietmaraud @flowerpowell@poeticscolt @zaira-oh-zaira @umiumichan @akrenich @sibella-plays-choices  @maxwellsquidsuit  @liamzigmichael4ever @octobereighth @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction

[marshunter06]

Sad Bitch- Łaszewo (Trentney)

A/N: Sorry I’ve been absent, but my brain has been a bitch lately... I never imagined I would be writing a fic like this, but I had to get it out. The reason why I do have such a soft spot for Trentney is because I have a Trent in my life to keep me grounded and I’m so grateful for him

To be a good artist means one must be burdened with great suffering especially at the hands of oneself. This may not apply to all the arts and typically not with singers, but Courtney understood this more than anyone in the industry. It was never her intention to be this way, dissociating while her manager tried to plan her next move, but the weight of her own thoughts were just too much to carry. Back when Total Drama was still a thing, she hid her depression well, she often exploded into anger to keep people out. No one would dare befriend a fiery volcano just waiting to erupt, no one besides him at least. With a touch of his hand, she was brought back to reality to listen to the meeting with their label. His smile and bright green eyes soothed her dark thoughts away briefly, enough to put on her persona as a successful pop princess. His hand stayed put, right next to hers barely touching. It brings a warm feeling into her heart and soon she’s lost in a daydream with him as the focus. Still the sadness starts to ease into her thoughts making doubts plague her mind. Was she foolish with possibly falling for her best friend? Was it smart to trust Trent with her heart so soon after her final breakup with Duncan? Would it even be the final breakup? Duncan, the name still leaves a bitter taste in her mouth. She still remembers everything about their failed relationship, every callous word thrown at each other without regard for the other’s feelings. A primes example of two toxic people made for each other. Their love always sizzled out leading to another prison both were too familiar to let go of. What happened to the young her who welcomed every change with a light in her eyes? Courtney doesn’t know when her old self died only to be reborn into a shell of who she was before, but when she finally realized what happened, it was too late.

“Court, you’re home.”

She blinks once then twice wondering when she got into his car. Her scenery magically changed from a corporate office to her newly purchased home.

“Here, I’ll walk you inside. I think I forgot my guitar pick anyways.”

“The silver one?”

“Yeah, did you find it?”

“No, I’ve been busy, sorry. It should be in the studio though.”

He simply smiles as he walks around to open her door; he doesn’t call her out on her obvious lie. She wasn’t busy, he’s been there with her as her demons pull her away from the real world, she just stares into nothingness. He tries to pull her out of it when possible, usually a nudge will do it, but sometimes the demons are too powerful to keep at bay for long. Lately it’s been worse. They’ve had to reschedule the label meeting several times already. He knows she’s heading down a dark path, it’s why he’s been making excuses to stay over despite him living an hour plus away due to LA traffic.

“Found it, you were right, it was on top of the piano.”

“Oh? Glad it’s not missing anymore, thanks for bringing me back by the way.”

“‘Course, can’t leave my fav girl stranded.”

“I would’ve been fine, really. You can go home. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Is that a promise?”

“I never break my promises.”

He only hesitated slightly then nodded bidding her goodnight. It was already late, the moon high above the sky with stars twinkling around the crescent shaped light. He was almost out the door when he turned back to tell her to look outside.

“The moon is beautiful tonight.”

“You tell me this every night.”

“And I mean it everytime.”

“We couldn’t even see it a few nights ago.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s not still beautiful.”

“Trent, I think you’ve been awake for too long. Get some sleep tonight.”

“You too. I’ll call when I get home, so you don’t worry.”

“You can just text me, I’ll still be up.”

“It’s better to hear your voice.”

“You hear it all the time, you should be sick of it.”

“You’re kidding right? I get the honor of listening to the greatest singer of our generation, how could I ever pass that opportunity up?”

“Are you talking about yourself again?”

This gets both of them to smile, he knows he’s succeeded in pushing away her sorrow for a moment. It won’t last long though, they both knew this. She can only hope she doesn’t call him crying again tonight. He’s been losing sleep because of her, still he never complains.

After he leaves, she tries her best to get ready for bed. She gets distracted a few times, just managing to slip under her covers by the time Trent calls her letting her know he made it home safely. She keeps the conversation short telling him she’s tired, he wishes her sweet dreams as she tells him good night. She lays in bed tossing and turning until she’s on her side facing her window with the just a glow of the moonlight seeping into her dark room. She closes her eyes willing sleep to take over, but her brain runs wild bringing her further into its abyss.

You’re going to be sad and alone forever.

Trent doesn’t love you, no one does, you couldn’t even keep Duncan.

Your parents are ashamed of you, you’re the reason they divorced.

Cate’s won’t talk to you because you’re too much to handle, your own sister hates you.

You’re only famous because no one’s caught on that you’re talentless yet, the whole world will shun you soon.

The only reason you have hits is because Trent’s the one writing the songs, when he leaves you’ll be nothing.

What’s it like being a hurtful bitch getting karma like you deserve?

Honestly Courtney, you’re pathetic, why do you even try? No one likes a sad bitch.

Everyone’s tired of how whiny you are, just stop with your lame excuses, who cares if you didn’t get sleep?

The self hatred goes on and on until she’s drowning in negative energy. She’s suffocating and breathing isn’t helping, she can’t take in air fast enough, the room feels too confined. She needs to get up and get out, but she can’t, she’s trapped. Tears stream out of her eyes as her body continues to be paralyzed, her heart is erratic and she can barely breathe. It’s too much, the walls are caving in and she can’t do anything to stop it. She closes her eyes again trying to fight back with happy thoughts, but she fails again and again as her mind continues to tell her how useless she is. She’s losing the battle, she just wants it to be quiet, but her thoughts ring loud and clear with every word cutting into her soul. Pain, so much pain leaving invisible scars all over her. If she waits long enough she’ll blackout from the pressure, she just has to focus on her breathing. In then out, in then out, she can do this, she promised she could…

Her eyes snap open and she’s able to move once more. Her first thought is to call him, she should’ve just asked him to stay. She’s always felt better in his arms, his regular heartbeat bringing her back to earth. Why didn’t he fight harder to stay this time? Was he really sick of her too? He’s just like the others, he can’t handle her. The kindest person she’s ever met and even he’s exhausted being near her. The misery takes over and all she wants is to drown herself in alcohol and cigarettes. All bad habits she learned from her ex, though to be fair, she didn’t take much persuading. She’s always known she has an addicting personality, it’s why she tried to stay sober, but she needed an escape. A bottle or two of wine wouldn’t be too bad. It was with this thought in mind that she decided to go into the living room for her secret stash of sherry’s. She rounds the corner heading to her hidden cabinet when she spots it: a silver guitar pick on the coffee table. She stops dead in her tracks.

“Trent.”

She sits on the ground as she cradles the pick rubbing over the letter “T” confirming it was his. She feels restless as she continues to stare at the precious item left behind for her sake. He knew. He must have. Why else would he leave the pick again? She closes her palm and holds it close to her chest, she has an overwhelming urge to do something. She wants to go to him, so she does, she doesn’t bother with a jacket, she simply follows her heart running out in the dead of night. She’s out the door in a flash clearly not thinking as she leaves her car behind and doesn’t lock her door. All she knows to do is keep moving forward as she jogs into a sprint. The cold air hits her bare arms and legs, but she isn’t bothered.

She makes it a block before her brain catches up telling her this is a bad idea; she starts to spiral down in her thoughts again. Do you even know where you’re going Courtney? You’re such an idiot, you just moved. How do you know the way to his house already? He obviously doesn’t want you to disturb him, he’s never invited you over since you moved. Stop with your delusions, Trent doesn’t like you, he only puts up with you because you work together. What are you going to do now? You’re lost. You’re going to lose him just like how you lost everyone else in your life. Face it Courtney, you’re just a loser. All you do is waste time.

She collapses on the hard concrete scraping her knee in the process. She nearly drops the pick in her hands as she hides her face with tears streaming down her cheeks. She doesn’t know what to do and now she’s blinded by a bright light. She drops her hands, it wasn’t the moonlight nor the streetlight, so it must be a headlight. It’s the middle of the night, no one should be out driving in this neighborhood. She should get up and go back home, but she’s lost the strength. She’s not even slightly afraid as the car approaches closer. It slows to a stop right next to her as she continues to stare forward. She doesn’t hear him when he calls out to her. She’s tired and cold, all she wants to do is close her eyes. She opens her eyes when she feels a warm jacket draped over her engulfing her in a familiar scent.

“Sorry I’m late, didn’t realize you wanted to go jogging.”

“Trent?”

“Hey Court.”

He says her name with a smile, he doesn’t question her on why she was out in her pajamas at nearly three in the morning sitting on the ground. He helps her up and into the passenger seat as he drives them back to her place. He doesn’t yell at her, his voice is calm and gentle when he tells her she’s home. She removes her seatbelt and that’s when she notices the duffel bag in the back seat. He catches her gaze explaining immediately even though he would never ask her to tell him what went wrong.

“It’s just some spare clothes. I was going to leave it in the car. I figure I might be here a while since we’re going to start on the new album tomorrow… or today rather.”

“You can bring it inside. I don’t mind.”

“You sure?”

She nods. He smiles at her again as he grabs the duffle in one hand with the other holding hers as they walk back inside her place. He doesn’t scold her on leaving her door ajar and unlocked. Once inside is when he notices the scrape on her knee. He immediately heads to the bathroom to grab the medical kit to help clean her wound. When she’s all patched up, he places a kiss on her bandaid as if it was the most natural thing to do. He notices her surprise.

“Sorry, Mom always did that for me whenever I got hurt. It took the pain away.”

She doesn’t say anything, she just opens her left hand where the pick had been the entire time. He takes it from her understanding that she was okay for now. When he looks at her again she’s overcome with another intense feeling, one that she never thought she would feel again so quickly. Panic starts to rise within as her brain feeds her false information. He pulls her out of the darkness as he wraps his arms around her keeping her safe and secure. The intruding fear leaves as she calms down. She pushes him away when his embrace becomes too much, he scoots over to give her more space.

“Are you ready to go to sleep Court?”

“Almost. I know it’s late, but I want to write for a bit. You can go to sleep first.”

“Inspiration strikes at any time. I’ll stay up with you.”

She pulls out her notebook armed with purple ink as it spills out on the page. He doesn’t interrupt, as she continues to put words on paper. It’s not often that she gets to write herself. She writes down all her haunting thoughts and with each line she feels a bit more healed. It’s therapeutic in a way, she wonders why she never did this in the first place, it would’ve saved her a lot more heartache. She passes him the notebook when she’s finished, he scans through the words until he reaches the end. He looks back up at her with a smile and a promise.

We've all been hurt before

If all's fair in love and war

What are we fighting for?

Baby, had the good intentions

Couldn't face another change of direction

Tell me what's the method to your madness

I'm just a fucking sad bitch, show me you can handle it

Save me from my own reflection

I can't take this tight rope tension

Tell me what's the method to your madness

I'm just a fucking sad bitch, show me you can handle it

A/N: This is only a glimpse of how I feel, I didn’t want to make the fic more dark, but it did to write it out. If anyone else is in the same boat know you’re not alone and that you can beat this. I’m still here and you here too.

[honeymoonjin]

A/N - It’s been such a long wait, I’m so sorry! For a while I really lost motivation with this fic, but I went back and re-read it and checked out the planning stuff and decided to forge ahead! I can’t guarantee regular upload times like Sovereign but I’m going to try my best to give you guys a new chapter each week. Thank you all for your support xx

LOST IN TRANSLATION

↳What do you do when you have no qualifications but want to see the world? You help teach English in a Korean primary school, apparently. ↳Principal!Jin, math teacher!Yoongi, PE teacher!Hoseok, English teacher!Namjoon, school nurse!Jimin, art teacher!Taehyung, and science teacher!Jungkook.

CHAPTER SEVEN ↳Your school trip ends in a rather peculiar fashion, but your homestay is there to cheer you up.

You tilt your head to the side with a slight frown on your face as you consult the sculpture in front of you. It looks like it’s made from concrete or some type of stone, but it’s carved in a strange web of lumps and bumps, like a piece of ultra-modern kids’ playground equipment. The tiny placard on the floor in front gives you no more information than the name of the author and the piece, the date, and its materials, which you don’t recognize the characters.

“What do you think?”

You jump violently at the sudden presence of a deep baritone behind you and whirl around. Your heart races at the right and Art Kim’s soft eyes observing you with a endearing smile doesn’t help it slow down at all. “Uh,” you break off and glance at the piece again, “it’s very interesting.”

He wrinkles his nose, but his demeanor remains playful. “Interesting how terrible it is? I know I shouldn’t judge other people’s art, but-” he peers at the name on the placard, pushing his glasses further up his nose when they slip, “Mister Lee here could probably get some use out of an actual art class.”

You snort, and one elderly patron on the opposite side glares at the two of you. You smirk at the young man beside you. “Are you thinking your class is the one Mister Lee is needing?”

He bumps your shoulder with his. “Have you seen some of the stuff my students come up with? They deserve a place in this gallery more than half the artists in here.”

Your face drops. “Oh, yes, also! Where are the students? We are not looking them?”

“Not looking after them, you mean? Don’t worry, they’re in the cafeteria. The gallery staff are giving them a talk right now. We get a break.”

“Ah.” You smile warmly at him. “You know, I was thinking…” you trail off as you try and find the right words for your next sentence.

Art Kim laughs. “I’m glad to hear it.”

Before considering the forwardness of the action, you hit him on the shoulder playfully. “No! I have more… I was thinking, if school needs money, maybe you sell paintings? You are good painter, yes?”

He laughs and shuffles a little closer to you, burying a hand in his hair shyly, tugging at the long ends at the back. “That’s a good idea. I’ll need you to be my model, though.” You stare at him blankly, not familiar with the word he used to refer to you. “I’ll draw you,” he clarifies.

You glance down hastily, hiding the rampant flush that heats up your cheeks. “Oh, no,” you say in what you hope is a casual tone, “you have to paint sunrise, or nice outside, or maybe some water. Something pretty.”

You wish you’d looked up, because you miss the look on his face when he leans in even closer, letting his voice lower so only you can hear it. “Maybe you’re my something pretty.”

Your breath catches, and you glance up, only to be taken aback by his proximity. As you lifted your head, your nose brushed against his chin and now your lips are centimeters away. You’re close enough to feel his breath warm up your skin in little intimate intervals. “Teacher Kim,” you say unsurely, voice dropping automatically to a whisper to match his.

He shakes his head slightly. “How old are you?” You tell him, confused as to the strange turn this conversation has taken. His eyes drop to your lips. “Then you should call me oppa.”

“Oppa,” you start off experimentally, only to be cut off by a soft pressure against your lips. Your eyes flutter shut, and your hands slide up between you two to grab handfuls of the cable knit sweater he was wearing today. You forget about the museum, the fact that you were in public, your job, and your mind is filled with him.

The way his chest trembles beneath your hands, the light, almost ticklish touch of his fingertips against your racing pulse as he gently holds onto your wrists. The kiss is barely there, like he’s unsure whether he can deepen it, and, muffled between you, you can hear delicate gasps. When he pulls away, your body feels cold, and your eyes are slow to open again.

He blinks at you in a daze, still with a gentle grasp on your wrists, which are yet to let go of him. “I… Maybe I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry, but I couldn’t… I couldn’t help myself.”

Reluctantly, you detach your fingers from his sweater, patting down the wrinkles in the knit you had created. “Don’t apologize,” you insist, “it was good. Very good.”

He laughs shakily. “I thought so too. But we probably shouldn’t do this again. It isn’t appropriate.”

Your heart sinks slowly, but you nod nonetheless. “Okay.”

He fixes you with a soft smile, clearing his throat and raising his voice back to a normal speaking volume. “Alright, then, let’s go get these kids!”

You let him lead the way and hang around for a moment longer to create some distance. Your gaze falls back over to the strangely-shaped sculpture beside you. Was there always something so melancholic about the gaps between the vaguely humanoid bulges throughout the concrete network, or was that just you projecting?

You scoff miserably. “You win this round, Mister Lee.”

--

“Jet lag? Homesickness?”

“Hm?” You break out of your daydreaming and glance over to Jimin. “Sorry, what was that?”

He adjusts the white collar of his uniform and gives you a soft smile. “You look sad.”

Automatically, you shake your head. “I’m just thinking. Sorry.”

He frowns, sooting over a little closer to the little examination bench you’re perched on. “You can be honest, Y/n. It’s okay to be a little sad. This has probably been a very tiring two days.”

Your eyes prickle at the thought, and you blink harshly. God, it’s only been two days. “I’m fine,” you insist, but neither you nor Jimin are convinced.

“Here,” he rolls his chair over to the little cabinet below his desk and pulls out a glass jar. “If patients are good, I’ll give them a lollipop. Don’t you want something sweet in your mouth to turn that frown upside down?”

You scoff playfully, appreciating his attempts to cheer you up, but the thought of something sweet to wash away the taste of him sounds pretty nice right about now. You lean forward to grab a stick, but he pulls the jar away from you at the last minute, causing you to glare at him reproachfully.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he scolds, “I said good patients get candy. You aren’t being a very good patient.”

You huff and slump back against the wall. “I was a good patient with my wrist! I used ice!”

He laughs and shakes his head. “That was yesterday, this is today. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

You stare at Jimin for a few more moments, but he just raises an eyebrow. “Fine,” you acquiesce, “everything is very much. Very many emotions. Everything is new. That’s all.”

He quirks his eyebrows again at your vague answer but relinquishes the candy jar. You fiddle around and pull out a dark purple one, ripping off the plastic sleeve and shoving it in your mouth. “Happy now?” he asks. You nod triumphantly, enjoying the way the sweet syrup lines your tongue. The young nurse sighs and puts the jar away. “But really, Y/n, if this is all too much for you, I understand. We all understand. I mean, it would be a lot to handle if everything was sunshine and rainbows, so I know this whole budget cut thing must make it so much harder. But please; just tell us when you need a little break, okay? A day off from work, an early night, whatever. I can get Jungkook to come over one night and we can laugh at him getting scared during Kung Fu Panda. How about tonight, yeah? I’ll get us some takeaways and we can have a movie night.”

It sounds nice, but a former obligation calls for you to decline. “I can’t do, I said Teacher Min that I help out for math tonight. But good idea! Other time, we can do this. Thank you, Jimin.”

He seems taken aback at the news. “Oh. Do you need a ride there or a ride home afterwards?”

“I am thinking Teacher Min is driving. But thank you.”

He slaps a hand on your knee genially. “Alright, then, I’ll pack up and take you to his office. Can I at least have a hug before you go? I’m sure one of my famous Nurse Park hugs will cheer you right up.”

You laugh but let him pull you into a hug anyway. He’s right; the secure embrace does lift your mood. “Thank you, Jimin.”

“Don’t mention it, girly. I’ve got you.”

TAGLIST Message me or send an ask if you wish to be notified every time I post a new chapter of Lost in Translation.

@xkookie-monsterrx | @xxsophie-raabxx | @xxqueenwxtchxx | @smartasserydotcom | @http-lostforever | @sunnysideupsmile | @berrytan | @sugamonster22 | @sweetlittleviper | @hoodiebangtan | @sushibunn | @sugarrimajins | @one-and-only-yoongi | @koishiteruyoongi |

For some reason I can’t tag some people, I’m so sorry if the tag isn’t working!

[itsachels]

Italy; pt. 2

Venice, Florence, & Rome

I have to open my heart up a bit before I post. Midway through writing this, I got hit with the most overwhelming feeling of “Who on earth wants to read all of this?” That’s part of the struggle with writing. I know travel stories are usually a lot more fun for the traveler to tell than it is for the audience to listen to. That’s why it’s so fun for me to write this, because I don’t do much “story telling” after trips for fear of boring people. I can see it on their faces and it’s a little hurtful but that’s okay. I’ve been in their place enough times to not take it personally. So anyways, this is my first opportunity to tell about Italy from front to back. To be frank, no one has to read this. A big part of keeping confidence with this blog is reminding myself that this is all for me, not to please an “audience”. But it’s hard, you know? I always want some kind of approval, even if it’s never spoken…it hurts more than it should, to think someone might read my stuff and think it’s “stupid” or “pointless”. It’s all very dear to my heart so I just want others to appreciate it the way I do. If you do choose to read this…thank you! You are so appreciated, and I hope it inspires you!

Venezia

It has been so hard getting around to typing this story out. My baby is at such a clingy stage right now, which makes it hard to sit down and do this. Normally during his naps, I get housework done, but today I’m just going to ignore the mountain of dirty dishes so I can finally write. If you haven’t read Part 1, you can find it here.

On our last day in the Puglia region of Italy, we meant to go to Alberobello, but there was major confusion with the buses. Sometimes transportation was tricky, since it was all so unfamiliar. At home, if I want to go somewhere, I just jump in my car. I don’t have to worry about reading bus schedules, let alone reading them in a different language. So that left us stranded in Bari with nothing to do. We eventually ended up on a bench outside of McDonald’s, playing Sudoku and listening to music.

When it was finally time to hop on the train to Venice, we had a 7-hour train ride ahead of us. We didn’t get to there until 10 pm, so finding our air b&b was tricky. We eventually found it down a creepy dark alley (my mom’s heart rate probably just quickened). It was a studio apartment with barely any room to walk, incredibly low ceilings, and a broken shower. But it had windows that opened up to the canal and that was honestly all I wanted. We paid $88 a night which is dirt cheap to stay on the canal in Venice. It’s senseless to splurge on hotel rooms, in my opinion, when you’re only sleeping there. The more you spend, the more pressure you feel to stay and get your money’s worth rather than going out to explore the city.

We had one of our few “American” breakfasts the next morning. I say that because breakfast in Italy usually means a pastry with a cappuccino or juice. It’s hard to find places that’ll serve you much more than that. It was delicious, and this cute little café is where I had my first real Italian espresso experience. And you can bet it was my last.

We found our way to St. Mark’s square and basilica and I couldn’t stare at that church long enough! The exterior was amazing. We opted out of Doges Palace because it was expensive. I think its important to be able to let yourself miss out on things…just because it’s on most people’s itinerary, doesn’t mean it has to be on yours. Save the time and money for things you just can’t leave without experiencing. We spent our extra time that day sitting on the edge of a canal, watching gondolas pass by and soaking in the sunshine.

We stumbled into the Galleria dell’ Accademia. It wasn’t originally part of our itinerary (we barely had one to begin with), but we saw a sign saying Leonardo DaVinci’s art was on display, including “Vitruvian Man”. Alex was so excited to see it, which made me enjoy it even more.

One regret I have is not noting the names of some restaurants we liked. Like, I still daydream about the paninis and peach bellini we had that day. Anyways, around that area we saw the Bridge of Sighs. In case you don’t know the backstory, it was the bridge prisoners were led across on the way towards their execution. The little gated windows gifted them with one last view of Venice.

After some souvenir shopping on the Rialto bridge, we napped back at the room. Not to be dramatic, but I almost couldn’t walk anymore. That was followed up with dinner at a cute little restaurant that reminded me of the Lady & the Tramp’s spaghetti & meatballs scene. We pigeon-watched in a small plaza afterwards, listening to the water flow down the canal and talking until sundown. It was pretty romantic, if I do say so myself. If I had to describe Venice in one word, it’d be that: romantic.

Thus, ended our one day there. I wish we had more time. We ate cereal and yogurt in our room the next morning, dropped the key in the box, and rode the vaporetto back to the train station. By afternoon, we would be in Alex’s #1 bucket list city: Florence.

Firenze

When I look back on Florence I mainly think of gelato, drizzling rain, ceilings covered in intricate and vivid paintings, and of course the Renaissance architecture (I’m looking at you, Maria del Fiore).

Our hotel (Hotel Lorena) in Florence was so sweet. It was basically a hole in the wall; we almost didn’t see the entrance when we were walking past. It was owned by the nicest man with the strongest Italian accent I’ve ever heard. His mother was his assistant🥺, and she while she showed me to our room she asked about my pregnancy and said a baby boy is one of the greatest gifts I will ever receive. I wish I could tell her how right she was!

Okay. I have to talk about the Medici Chapelle Ristorante. I will never forget that meal, in all my days. The best part was the cocoli…fried dough drizzled in honey…a Tuscan beignet. That one in a lifetime meal was followed by gelato, on the steps of the Medici chapel, before turning in for the night.

The next day was big because we were setting out for the Duomo. It was only a couple of blocks away from Hotel Lorena; we had a view of it from our bedroom window. It rained a good bit but we still had fun seeing the incredible exterior of the church and the inside, which was also beautiful. We were blessed to be able to attend mass there. Did you know that in 1601, lightning struck the copper sphere on top of the cathedral, and it smashed into the ground? You can not appreciate how far that ball fell until you’re standing in the building’s shadow. There’s a marble circle marking the spot where it landed.

The bell tower had an unforgettable view of the city and goes higher than the church’s dome, which is what people normally choose as their viewpoint. The stairway was so narrow, there were times I seriously wasn’t sure the crowd could get through. At least all the work was well worth the view.I am not ashamed of what we spent as Ditti Artigeniale the next morning because we were desperate for one of those “American” breakfasts I was talking about. It gave us plenty of energy for exploring Pitti Palace and all of its beautiful painted ceilings. Why don’t we decorate like that anymore???? In the backyard were the Boboli gardens, which were by far one of the prettiest sights I saw on our trip. A garden on a hill, in full bloom, with the Tuscan countryside for a backdrop? Yes, please.

No, we didn’t see the statue of David. Remember our conversation about where to put your money? We didn’t want to put it there. I just really didn’t want to spend $50 to see a statue I wasn’t very excited about. We settled for a free viewing of its replica, which happened to be near the Fountain of Neptune. If you stare at any chunk of concrete in Florence, let this fountain be it. It was breathtaking. I feel like this whole paragraph could be very offensive to an art connoisseur. Sorry!!! I’m sure David is very handsome and I am not comparing the fountain to a chunk of concrete.

Florence was a lot like Polignano a mare in the fact that we spent so much time walking around, stumbling into churches and shops and just trying to figure out where to eat next. We had a very slow pace on this trip and didn’t hesitate to stop by our hotel for a nap when we felt a yawn coming on. A nap in Italy is better than a nap at home! Our days were really simple and easy. No pressure, no running to “fit it all in”. It was unhurried strolling, easy conversation, and letting the day unravel however it wanted to.

Rome

A harsh contrast from that last paragraph: Rome was intense. My legs were bruised from all the walking. One evening I tried to wipe off what I though was bluish dirt (?) on my thighs, and when it wouldn’t give, I realized they were bruises! Not from bumping into anything but just from the stress of carrying a baby all over the city. And our b&b was just weird. People didn’t seem to understand “modesty” when walking out of the bathroom, our host was kind of a stick in the mud, and it was down a sketchy/dirty street. I know it sounds like I’m complaining, but I’m not. It was so cheap and steps away from the metro. It was also above a corner shop that sold delicious cappuccinos and pastries for only 2 euros, so that supplied our breakfast every day. We didn’t mind all the little annoyances and it just made for more memories. Believe me, Rome was beyond worth it.

We started with a free walking tour guided by a local college student. He did amazing; these tours are a good way to get your feet wet in a new city. It gives you a feel for the layout and your guide can share little things that you wouldn’t know otherwise. For example, in the Piazza del Popolo, we had sat under a big statue playing i-spy. We just thought it was a nice place to people-watch. As it turns out, we were sitting in the shadow of a 4000+ year old Egyptian obelisk. We never would’ve known! Our guide also took us to the Pantheon; Alex was so cute with how excited he was.

Before the tour, when we saw the Spanish steps (so beautiful in person), we went to the church at the very top. If you paid a euro or two, you could light a prayer candle. We lit one for Noah. It’s really special to me that he was on that trip with us, even though he was obviously still in the womb. Because we want to continue traveling as a family, it felt like the beginning of something exciting.

That was just day one…the rest of our Rome adventure included the Colosseum and surrounding areas, lots of people-watching in different piazzas, an interesting night in the Trastevere neighborhood, a fun little trip to the countryside to tour the Catacombs, and aaaall the glory of the Vatican. Rome deserves a longer piece, but I feel like I’ve exhausted myself sharing what I have so far. I’ll save it for a rainy day. Even then, though, I simply cannot tell all about Rome without writing a whole book. I wish I could share every funny story and mishap and surprise. You just have to see it for yourself.

And that is my story of Italy. If you’re debating a trip, go. It’s a gem you get to carry in your heart for a lifetime after. I hope reading this inspires some ideas!

[imaginedisish]

Heroes (Stefan Butler x Reader) (Bandersnatch)

A/N: Alrighty...here it is...the long awaited Stefan x Reader fic...the last imagine of the weekend! I LOVE DAVID BOWIE SO AN ANON REQUESTED THIS AND I ACTUALLY SCREAMED NGL. Also, I just wanted to thank everyone for the love so far. I’ve written fanfics before, but never like this. I don’t feel forced to put out things…and I feel much better getting requests as opposed to having to think of everything on my own. Tumblr has a much different vibe than fanfic.net and wattpad, and I love it sooooo much. Stefan x Reader was heavily requested so I figured I needed to feed da people. While I’m super into writing for Bandersnatch, and love writing for Bandersnatch the most, my next two fics will most likely be two anon requests: one  about Donnie Darko, and another about Alex Turner. (DON’T WORRY MY FELLOW BANDERSNATCH LOVERS, I’LL WRITE HEAD CANONS TO KEEP YOU ALIVE…and i have an idea for my first multi-part Bandersnatch fic sooo…get ready for a “BIZARRE LOVE TRIANGE”….) For now…enjoy this Stefan x Reader imagine, guys…

Summary: Your an art student, and you have chosen to paint a portrait of Bowie for your final project. However, things go horribly wrong…that is until Stefan is there to help :)

Warnings: Panic attacks, minimal to medium angst, lots of language, fluff!

Word Count: 1,688 

Your brush dances ever so carefully across the bright, white canvas. David Bowie’s “Heroes” blasts throughout your flat. 

Outside your window, the rest of South London decided it was time to turn in for the night. You imagine small children crawling into bed, begging their mothers or fathers for one more story…just one more. 

But not you, you wouldn’t be sleeping tonight. Your eyes struggled to stay open as you began to add more shading to your portrait of David Bowie.

You fell in love with Bowie’s music and his entirely fantastical persona at a young age. Maybe it was his voice, or his lyrics, or perhaps his message of artistic integrity and being yourself regardless of what others say that made you so obsessed with the Starman. 

Regardless of what exactly made you love Bowie, he was the reason you had the confidence to make your move to the UK. He was the reason you decided to apply to art school in the first place. 

So, when your professor announced that your final project of the year would be a portrait of someone that has impacted your life greatly, Bowie instantly came to mind. 

Without Bowie, where the hell would you be? You most likely would be back in the States, going to a university you had no interest in, pursuing a major you hated, in a relationship with a boy you could never love as much as you love…him. 

Oh yes, him. Stefan Butler. Without Bowie, you couldn’t have ever met Stefan. He was your Moonage Daydream, your Modern Love, he was yours. He was so kind and soft and caring. 

When Stefan needs you, you’re there in an instant. He needs you quite often, to be completely honest, but you never mind. You understand that his past traumas plague him, and you want to help him more than anything else in the world. And, naturally, without Bowie, you would never be able to do so. You owed so much to that magnificently talented man. 

And yet this painting of him was slowly becoming a pain in the ass. 

I need to get this done, You remind yourself. Tomorrow is just hours away. 

Unfortunately, you feel as though your hours of painting have led to absolutely nothing. You step back from the painting in an attempt to see it better. However, the more you step back, the more wrong things seem to be. 

“This…this just isn’t right,” you mutter under you breath. A feeling of distress creeps under your skin and eventually pushes itself into every part of your body. You reach for the grey paint, and apply it forcefully to where you think you need it. 

You don’t realize it isn’t actually grey paint until you remove the brush from the canvas. 

“What the fuck?” Now you’re fuming with anger. “This can’t be happening…no no no no no!” You fall to the ground sobbing, your head smashing into your hands. 

A large, vibrant, pink slash of paint displays itself in the middle of your grey, “Heroes” album cover painting. 

This isn’t how it’s supposed to go, and you know that. You simply sob on the floor of your flat, as the creativity you had earlier in the day leaves, and replaces itself with total and utter sadness and disappointment. 

Then, for some reason, you decide to look over to the alarm clock next to your brass, queen bed.

2:00 am

“Oh no, god no!” You shout, expecting your neighbors to be at your door any second now to complain about all the noise. 

Your throat quickly begins to close up, and your heart beats out of your chest. You haven’t had a panic attack since you left the States, but the feeling was familiar nonetheless. You try to scream, but you just can’t. 

A million thoughts race around your mind at once. Every bad experience, relationship, argument, and situation you’ve ever gone been in or gone through resurface in your mind. You simply don’t know how much you can endure before you fall apart, or worse…

“No, no I can’t think like that, I just can’t,” you whisper to yourself.

Before your old, depressive thoughts begin to come back to haunt you, you reach for your phone, and dial the number you know will fix everything.

“(Y/N)? It’s two in the morning, is everything all right?” Stefan’s voice is hurried and panicked. He knows something is wrong. 

“I fucked up, Stefan, so terribly terribly bad,” You’re voice is unsteady and hoarse. You struggle to get your words out as you sob to Stefan.

“(Y/N) tell me what happened.” Stefan was beyond worried now. 

“It-it’s my p-painting. I-,” you take a deep breath before continuing, “I n-need you, n-now.” You sniffle audibly. 

“H-hold tight, k-keep breathing. I’m on m-my way.” Stefan hangs up. You try to do as he says, but it’s no use. You feel your depressive, almost suicidal thoughts begin to push through the barriers you worked so hard to put up. 

No, stopping thinking like that! You think to yourself, squeezing your eyes shut in attempt to free yourself from your intrusive thoughts. You throw your head back into your hands. 

Less than five minutes pass by, when a soft knock echoes through your studio flat. 

“C-come i-in,” you croak. Stefan slowly pushes the door open. His fluffy brown hair is a mess, and his dark circles highlight the emerald-ness of his wide, puppy dog eyes. He’s wearing black shorts and a baggy black sweatshirt. His long, bright yellow socks pop out against his black converse. 

You obviously woke him up, and now you felt like you were being a bothersome girlfriend. You are the one who is supposed to help him. It isn’t supposed to be the other way around. Guilt begins to fill your stomach. 

“(Y/N), m-my god,” he paused, looking at your beet red face and puffy eyes, tears streaming down your cheeks. He rushes over to you, and holds you tightly in his arms. “I’m here now, let it out, it-it’s okay.” 

You sob violently into his chest. You don’t know what else to do. In fact, you realize there is literally nothing else you can do. 

You separate from him for a moment, and nod towards your now adulterated painting. 

“L-look at it. I’m going to fail, Stefan. It’s due tomorrow. It’s worth 70% of my final grade and I’m going to fail,” You say in a soft, factual whisper. He shakes his head. 

“I see nothing but amazing artwork, (Y/N),” Stefan replies. You grow angry again. 

He’s just lying to you, you think to yourself. It’s absolute shit! Anyone could see that. Yell at him, scream!

“Bullshit!” You cry out in a rage, scooting away from him and getting up. You want to punch something, a wall maybe. 

“(Y/N), s-stop,” Stefan pleads softly, getting up from the floor as well. You ignore him, and start to pace the floor. You can’t stand yourself now. Your hands begin to shake. You wish everything would just disappear. 

“Fucking hell I hate thi-,”

“I said STOP!” Stefan screams this time, cutting you off. Stefan was usually so soft, so timid. In this moment, he was the opposite. 

You stare at him with wide eyes. He nervously reaches up to pull on his ear lobe. His emerald eyes become glossy. 

“I-I’m sorry I-I didn’t m-mean t-to-,” Stefan starts to apologize, but you quickly cut him off. 

“No, n-no I am. You were just trying to help and I screamed at you. I’m just so sor-,” the second half of your “sorry” is muffled into Stefan’s chest as he rushes towards you and captures you in his arms.

He smells like peppermint and roses. His scent relaxes you and you practically fall limp in his embrace. He kisses your forehead lightly, and rubs your back gently. You stay that way for what feels like hours, even though it was most likely only a few minutes. 

“We can figure this out, things are going to be fine, I’m going to help you,” Stefan coos in your ear. You melt to the sound his voice. 

Feeling much more calm now, you and Stefan separate. Stefan makes his way over to the painting staring at it for a few seconds. 

“Aladdin Sane,” is all that comes out of Stefan’s mouth. 

“Hmm? What about it?” You weren’t sure what he meant. 

“The pink streak it reminds me of ‘Aladdin Sane' record cover,” Stefan states rather factually. 

Then, it hits you. 

“Stefan, you’re a genius! An absolute genius!” You scream, but happily this time. You run over to him, cupping his cheeks and pulling him into a kiss.

“I should be a genius more often then,” Stefan says smiling widely, blushing intensely. 

Stefan stays with you as you continue your painting, watching you, making sure you don’t overwork yourself. He checks in with you every now and again to see if everything is okay. Of course, now that he was with you, everything was completely fine. Your confidence and inspiration was back. 

Around four in the morning, the painting is finally complete. You step back and smile as Stefan joins you by your side. He wraps his arm around your shoulder. 

“Its absolutely, stunning, (Y/N),” Stefan says, his eyes twinkling even in the low, poor lighting of your flat. 

The painting was a fuse of the “Aladdin Sane” and “Heroes” album covers. You felt fulfilled and happy with your work, and it was all thanks to Stefan, your hero. 

“I love you so much,” Stefan says, pulling you closer to him. 

“I love you more,” You say in return. 

Stefan simply shakes his head.

“Impossible. It would be impossible even in an alternate timeline, in-, in an alternate universe, (Y/N). That is infinitely and eternally impossible.”

[mimiplaysgames]

Strength to Protect the Things That Matter (Ch. 21)

Pairing: Terra/Aqua Rating: T Other characters: Garnet, Aqua, Hope, Rydia, Noctis, Riku, Kefka Word Count: 7,113

Summary: Terra has prayed for years. He wanted relief from having no one to talk to in the dark, except with the monster of a man who stole his life. One day, when two boys get a lead, he gets his chance - less than a week - to set things right before he loses everything again.

AO3       FF.net

A/N: I’m so damn excited to finally get to this! The flashback scene was inspired by @holyteapotofrussell ‘s absolutely adorable art that features Terra and Aqua as children.  They also wrote an equally adorable fic that fits their headcanons for this art piece. Please check out their work and send love! Thank you so much for allowing me to use this piece as inspiration. It’s been MONTHS since I have asked you for this, and I have been so blessed to get to you know you since. <3

I have been asked by a Tumblr reader to include pictures/video of Final Fantasy characters that have never appeared on Kingdom Hearts before. I included those links at the end of this chapter.

Clowning

The windows on the second floor of the hotel have large enough window sills that Terra can sit on one and stare away at the clock tower. Hope has given him an herbal drink brewed with acacia for strength and alertness. Everyone who volunteers to fight Kefka will drink this ahead of the battle. For now, all he can do is wait for orders. 

But it isn’t the fight with Kefka that occupies his mind. He holds his Wayfinder in his hand, stroking it as he daydreams about meeting her again.

Being that Aqua has been surviving in the Realm of Darkness for a little more than twelve years, Terra builds an image of her in his mind. She is about thirty years old now. The baby fat will subside, leaving hollower cheeks and stronger cheekbones. She will probably be curvier than before, in all the right places. If she smiles at all, the lines of her eyes will grace them. Her hair may have grown out, and it’s a wonder how long it is now. Maybe it already is showing sneaky strands of gray. Her eyes will be the same. Either way, she would still be pretty.

The sound of shaky wheels creep up behind him. Garnet is pushing a cart filled with bandages, multi-colored potions, and a large pitcher of water, approaching a door. He gets up and holds it open for her so she can slip through. The lights in the room are dimly lit in a warm glow, almost as if to be relaxing... but it’s a different story altogether. Inside are two rows of small beds, each with a person either sleeping, coughing, or dealing with pain. There are more people, as well - some with arm slings, others who do not have any visible injuries but are perhaps suffering nonetheless. Some of them approach her when she enters.

“Terra,” she calls as she is surrounded, “would you be a dear and fetch me those cups?”

She points to a number of cups that are placed high on a shelf - clearly too high for her unless she used a ladder. Terra states that he will help her, and follows her around as he pours each person in the room a cup of water. She speaks quietly to every single person in the room. He overhears her asking much of the same questions: if they have any pain, if they are thirsty, when was their last meal, if they are calm and comfortable.

For those in pain or who have open wounds, she uses her magic to heal them, holding her hands up close to the physical source, a bright light mesmerizing out of them as she works. It is not the same as the green healing aura that emits out of a Cure spell that all Keyblade wielders know (or from any other magic casters he’s seen). The color is nearly white instead.

And she does it effortlessly, almost like a thought, without having to pray for it or summon it vocally. Each time she does it, the dimness of the room brightens up just a little. It’s truly a special gift.

When she’s done, they head for the room directly next door: a small storage room with no windows, a row of cupboards, and a sink. Garnet drags a tall stool across to climb it, in order to store some things away.

Terra leans against the wall. “You are amazing with magic. It’s unique, where did you learn it from?”

Garnet stands straight as an arrow as she balances on the stool, almost as if she is aware that she may fall. She beckons Terra to hand her empty bottles. 

“My professor.” She smiles as her eyes travel into memory. “I’ve spent all of my youth in his library, with not much to do except to indulge myself in his works. He gifted me the use of magic... Of course, he was also good on his promise that I was to be presentable as a lady.”

He holds his hand out to help her balance. She hops off the stool.

“I was also in a library practically my whole life,” he says. “My Master ran an academy for Keyblade wielders.”

“And what did your mother think of this?” She reaches for a clipboard and writes in it, checking off an inventory list.

“My Master adopted me.” Terra chuckles, his cheeks warm. It’s one of the best memories of his life. “What about you? Did you have a mother?”

“No, I sprouted off some hole in the ground,” she says dryly, continuing her list as though she isn’t fazed by the question.

A nervous crackle - he didn’t realize it was such a poorly worded question. “I- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

Garnet stops writing and dramatically turns to him with a grin on her face, touching the crystal that hangs off her neck. “This is my inheritance, from my mother.” She places the clipboard on the sink counter. “I do wonder about your own knowledge of magic. I know all Keyblade wielders can cast spells.”

“Yeah, and we’re each unique in how we mold it. But I’m not that good at traditional spells.”

“Yet you do know how to recognize skill with it. I beg to ask for the story behind that.”

He finds a chair and sits, rubbing his chin as a tight smile forms on his face.

“My best friend, Aqua.” It doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue like it used to. He wonders if she’s really a best friend anymore, in the case that he ruined everything about the two of them. He forces this thought out of his mind. For now, it’s better to pretend that nothing’s changed. “She’s really spectacular with it.”

The day was cloudy and breezy - but not the kind that left the sky dark. When the sun wasn’t beating down on the mountains so harshly, he could see the coloring of the trees and the rivers far away even better in weather like this. They were taking a walk on some short ledges, where the terrain was particularly rocky. As long as they promised not to go too far (and as long as Terra promised to hold her hand so they wouldn’t separate), they could venture much farther than the gardens within the castle perimeters.

Aqua had been with them for a year now, and had just turned nine. For her last birthday, Eraqus gave her a pointy hat adorned with stars and moons (much like an old friend of his, he said at the time). A wizard’s hat, because she had expressed so much interest in learning magic. She wasn’t wearing it now. It instead rested on top of a giant book of basic spells that she wanted to drag around with her.

Right now, she was practicing cartwheels and backflips. She was slow to start them as she braced herself before the execution, but she gracefully landed each one with perfection. Or at least she made it look that way. Her long pigtails flicked before landing on her shoulders again with each presentation of athletic ability.

But that was the thing with her. Perfection. Always trying to get Eraqus to notice it. Always trying to make sure she got it right each and every time. It made him look bad. It was annoying.

Terra was ten years old. Two digits, that was. He was supposed to be proud, and he was supposed to be better naturally because he was older. “I can do that, too,” he scoffed.

“I never saw you do it well,” she retorted with a smirk.

Eraqus had tried to get him to understand that he really was much better than her at most things - fighting, memorizing what was in the books, doing chores, being adept in the outdoors. He had tried to tell Terra to allow her to be proud of her flexibility and mastery of her own body.

But that still made him lesser. Worse still, she admired Eraqus for being a Master. And he wanted her to admire him as well, because he worked hard for it. “You’ll eat your words.”

His cartwheel, according to her, looked like a frog trying to hop with its stubby forelegs. What followed was an attempt at throwing himself even harder so his legs would straighten out. He could already do handstands - cartwheels were different.

What came next was a flop onto the ground, a tumble off a rock, down one of those tiny ledges, and a roll against rough terrain. His reward was several scrapes all over his arms, and a horrible throbbing sting on his knee.

“You ok?” she called to him, and he held his knee as he grimaced and squirmed a bit, shaking his head. She ran down to him, one hand holding the hat on her head and the other arm draped over the book, which was as large as her torso.

“Can you stand?” she asked as she sat beside him.

“No.” His voice was meek and he sniffed. The scrape on his knee was large and bloody, and tiny rocks wedged into it that made it hurt more. He told himself to keep it together. He had fallen way too many times to count that normally it wasn’t a big deal.

But when he got really hurt, the worst that came was the lecture the Master would give him.

“Let me help.” She said that too excitedly, and she brushed her pigtails and straightened the hat. She laid the book on the ground and flipped through it until she got to a page displaying calligraphy. The chapter was titled ‘Basic Healing Spells.’ She whispered what she was reading to herself, before facing him. “How does it feel?”

“It burns and it stings.” He slowly rubbed the dirt off the scrape.

She continued to read off the book, but waiting for her did not help the pain go away.

“Can you hurry it up?” He held his hands tightly on each side of the knee, hoping that the pressure would ease it.

She put her hands on her hips. “Shush!”

He leaned on his hands while she continued reading, sighing. From the corner of his eye, he could see that she held a finger to her chin. It looked as though, just for a second, she was ready to cast the spell because she started to face him... only to go back to sticking her nose into the book.

The stinging was coming in waves, and he leaned forward a little. “Before I die, Aqua?”

She gave him a quick, severe glare. She hated that word. ‘Die.’

“Sorry,” he said. He tried to breathe deeply while she continued to read.

Then she was ready. He held his knee while she waved her hand over it. She called out “Cure!” but what came was a horrendous burn instead. The kind of burn that would bite when touching something icy.

She had cast Blizzard by accident. He screamed as the ice dug itself into his knee. She yelled her apologies multiple times as he whimpered in pain, until she held her hands to her eyes and cried.

This sight made him uncomfortable, but he couldn’t understand why. “Don’t cry,” he said shakily. “I’m fine, really.” He grunted and breathed sharply. It hurt really badly, but the crying was what he will remember. It just made him sad.

“Can I try again? Please?” She wiped the tears flowing from her face, sniffling.

He hesitated first before agreeing, this time dealing with the sharpness of what felt like a knife rubbing itself while giving her all the time she needed.

She hesitated to cast again. She closed her eyes, telling herself audibly to just relax, and then called for a Cure spell again. It felt soothing, and it was like the pain was just lifted off the knee by some angelic force.

Relief. His arms went loose as he dropped onto his back, relaxing into the grass, gazing up at the clouds.

“I did it!” She laid on the ground next to him. She flashed a huge toothy smile, her face marked by dry tear streaks.

Garnet holds her hand to her mouth, almost in a way that gives him the impression that laughing as hard as she is would be considered unladylike. “She sounds brilliant,” she says.

“She is,” he says softly, his heart pumping as these words leave his mouth.

“Describe her to me.”

He gives her a wide-eyed stare, not knowing how to interpret such a request. “Um, well she has blue hair and blue eyes.”

Garnet, once sporting a smile, straightened her mouth into a line as she rolls her lips inward. “I was hoping for a more dramatized, romantic kind of description.” When he looks at her confused, she continues. “Much like what you would hear at a theater.”

He chuckles sharply. It isn’t exactly pleasant to have everyone around him read his feelings so easily, especially when he isn’t trying to be so blatant about them.

He considers a daydream of Aqua standing next to him. He would hold her close and kiss her in all the ways he was terrified to do before, because it kills him to wait longer. Because he should muster up the courage that he struggled with all these years, since she is still the one person who frightens him the most.

And yet, either way, he isn’t a romantic. “I don’t think I can do that.”

“You can start by comparing her to a symbol of your choice.” Garnet’s smile widens, her voice warm and encouraging. Hoping for entertainment.

At first he thinks about the unique way Aqua fights. It’s always mesmerizing to watch. “She dances when she fights. She... sometimes she’ll jump in the air and hit her enemies with a lot of...” What kind of person dances in the air? “It’s like looking at a ma-rio-nette.” The last word comes out rigid, as though he has tried to stop himself in the middle of it but he was too far into the word to be successful. Stupid.

Garnet’s brows furrow and her eyes narrow. “That was dreadful.”

“Can I try again?”

She holds up one finger, and he takes his time to think about it, going through several comparisons in his mind. His heart flutters, and finds himself wanting to get it right this time. He begins slowly, “Her eyes are like shallow ocean water, on a bright sunny day.”

Garnet claps her hands together. “That was so lovely.”

He laughs nervously as he runs his fingers through his hair. Not knowing what to say, he sits silently as she continues to gush about his words.

The clock strikes ten. Garnet’s laughter turns off, and she holds one hand to her heart, as if she’s monitoring how hard it’s beating.

When the clock is finished, a loud siren goes off. It blares loudly until it fades, only for it sway into a high-pitched scream again. Repeat. Garnet closes her eyes as it continues to weave back and forth into their consciousness, whispering to Terra that it’s a signal for a strict curfew - though most know to be in their homes by now.

When it’s over, she slowly opens her eyes, forcing a smile. “Come along, Terra. We mustn’t fear the reaper.”

The streets are completely empty except for the volunteers making their way into the third district, which is located several blocks from the hotel. It’s an incredibly modern area, where electric lights and fountains are fully utilized in its architecture. Riku tells Terra that this area has been recently quarantined. Normally, they choose territories farther away, but the more people go missing, the more Heartless will stick around in those previous battlegrounds. The numbers prove too much during an intense ten-minute fight. All the residents previously living in the third district have been evacuated.

In the corners of the block that will be the battle site, there are stacked cartridges, filled with ammunition for energy guns, offensive potions, first aid supplies, healing potions and smoke bombs. There are also small electric bombs placed high on a few of the buildings, and Terra is told to keep his distance from them.

Some people are even tasked with battering rams. Overall, it seems like the scientific team in Radiant Garden has spent a number of hours supplying the faction here with weapons. But what is most surprising of all is that there seems to be about forty people there, just to fight one Heartless.

They approach one of the hubs where some cartridges are stacked, where Hope is doing a final check-up.

“What are you doing here?” Terra asks him, surprised that they allow someone so young in such a dangerous arena.

“I’m a mage,” Hope says in a matter-of-fact way. He sounds nervous, but not enough to be intimated by the question. Almost as if he knows he has to be there. “I’m nowhere near as good as the others.” He gestures towards Noctis, Garnet, and Rydia, who are standing together in the middle of block, deep into a conversation that is impossible to eavesdrop from where they stand. Hope then turns quickly to Terra in an attempt to justify his words. “B-but I heal really well.”

Doesn’t this mean that he would be a target for Kefka? “Aren’t you scared?”

“Of course, we all are.” Hope scatters his sight on the clipboard in his hands. “This isn’t my first fight. I have survived the others, so I can survive this one.” He nods. These words are more for his own sake than for comforting Terra’s worry.

Hope then invites Terra to walk with him, and they approach Rydia, who is gazing into the electric lights as if she is studying them. She is holding her biceps like she is giving herself a hug, her long sleeves barely touching the ground. She gives them a tense smile, and reaches her arm out to embrace Hope.

“You ready for this?” she asks the boy.

“You ask me that every time.” He accepts the hug, and seems to relax when she places her hand on his head.

“And like every time, it won’t be an easy night.” She smiles widely at Terra. “But we have Terra for now. Maybe we’ll have it luckier.”

It’s such a warming thought that Terra feels his stomach swell. “That’s what I’m here for. We’ll both look out for you.” He ruffles through Hope’s hair, and it makes the boy smile.

Hope then hands Noctis his clipboard, which the latter places on top of several others. There are so many burning questions about what’s going on that Terra can’t help but speak out about them - against Garnet’s warning not to.

“I notice that the streets are empty. It seems like everyone else is hiding in their homes. Why face Kefka if you can just hide out?” Terra asks, trying his best to sound respectful, certain that they’ve all tried different scenarios in dealing with this situation.

Noctis’ jaw tenses before he speaks. “If no one’s outside to greet it, it will just destroy random buildings and crush everyone inside.” His tone is incredibly serious and raw. When he sees how shocked Terra is, he continues. “It’s a clown. It wants an audience.”

There is such contempt and anger in his tone that it’s undeniable. Regardless, Cid, who is passing by as this is said, loudly clears his throat and barked a “That’s highly inappropriate.” Noctis returns the statement with a glare so severe that if it had powers, it would have killed him.

Terra doesn’t know what to say in return, and a part of him wishes he never asked. How often did they experiment to learn something like that? Something on his face must have given his guilt away, because Noctis continues after a moment of silence.

“Those were some painful experiences. I remember being so scared every other night.” He flips a page on the clipboard. “The surprises always hit us the hardest, and when we lost the most.” He’s been at the same page for so long that it’s possible he stopped reading. “We’ve been fighting it for so long now that it seems like we know everything there is to know. And yet, sometimes, I still ask myself the same question: what if tonight is one where we will learn something new about it, and we aren’t prepared?”

Terra has been holding his fist, not realizing that he’s doing so. It’s not an easy subject to reply to. “I’m sure if you know everything about it, then tonight should go smoothly.” Is that an insensitive statement?

Noctis scoffs. “As smoothly as it could ever be.”

“Oy, we need to take the picture!” Garnet calls out to the two of them, and Noctis promptly agrees. He does it so quickly it’s as if the photograph is the most important event of the night.

Hope is setting up a camera that stands on a tripod, and Rydia makes a motion where she holds one open palm up and brushes it with her fingers. “This thing is amazing. It can create little paintings that have no brush strokes,” she says to Terra. The joy she is emanating is sincere, a rare source of light in such a tense night.

Rydia then calls out to other members that Terra has met, ordering him to stand in the middle since he’s the tallest. She tells Garnet and Hope specifically to stand in front of him (Hope replies that he’s still preparing the camera). Rydia stands to Terra’s right and rests her hand on his shoulder. Riku is beside her. Noctis stands to Terra’s left, with Cid by his side.

Noctis briefly pats Terra’s shoulder and says, “Welcome to the fam.”

Garnet turns, holding her fingers to her chin and pronouncing out a ‘Fam?’

Hope says that the camera is ready and rushes to his position while Garnet briskly faces the camera again and prepares her posture. Terra makes it a point to hold both of their shoulders, and gives a smile as the camera flashes.

As soon as it’s over, Hope scurries to pick up the tripod and runs to put it away. The group huddles around in a circle, waiting for him to come back. Garnet holds out her hand toward the center of the circle. Rydia places her hand on top, followed by Cid and Riku, and lastly by Hope. Noctis nods to Terra as if to invite him in, and he only rests his own when Terra complies.

“We’re here for another night,” Noctis says, his voice cracking. “And the only reason why I’m still whole, and why you’re all here, is because of all the friends we’ve lost. We’ll give them the remembrance they deserve. We’ll fight this thing, and tonight will be the one where we can finally breathe because it will be all over. I’m immensely proud to fight alongside all of you.” Even through a glove, Terra can feel the young leader’s hand tremble. 

Hope hesitates to speak, but does so anyway. “Here’s to many more nights where we can be together.”

Noctis chuckles. “That’s something Sora would say.”

Riku nods in agreement. “We should call him our mascot next time he’s here.”

Hope laughs at the suggestion, his eyes beaming. In some ways, imitating Sora seems to bring out the best in him.

Noctis takes a breath. “Be safe, everyone.” And he lets go. Everyone else situates into some pre-determined position, and Riku leads Terra to stand out in the open, behind the leader of the group. Garnet stands staggered behind them.

“You, me, and Noct will be the heavy hitters,” Riku says. “The others will support us from behind. You should know that Kefka carries six swords on its back. They are all deadly poisonous.”

“Lovely.”

“It will also freeze at some point and blow out a toxic gas - also fatal.”

Terra breathes out quickly. “Anything else I should know?”

“When it eventually materializes, cover your ears. Once the clock’s done chiming, it’s showtime.”

Riku leaves his side to find a position with some distance between them, and summons his Keyblade. Garnet holds a shortstaff in both her hands, and brings up the orb that sits on the tip of it to her forehead while whispering a spell. It glows, and a spinning crystal covers every individual on that block before completely disappearing. If Terra focuses on the space in front of him, he can see tiny sparkling particles.

The protection spell.

Hope brings out a large boomerang and holds his stance directly behind Terra, standing the farthest behind. Rydia pulls out a whip and waits by a manhole that is releasing a misty cloud. Cid readies a spear, and holds his place by the volunteers, his job to order them during the fight. The rest of the volunteers are ready with their energy guns, and explosive potions. The battering rams are set. Noctis stands the farthest forward as the leader, not holding any weapon but looking up, as if he is expecting someone tall.

The clock strikes eleven. No words are uttered. Terra summons his Keyblade and holds it close. Everyone around him keeps a lookout.

Eleven.

The bubbling sound that signals the appearance of a Heartless is deep this time, and a large black mass immediately forms right after the last chime. A tall, colorful, humanoid stomps onto the ground, and the entire area shakes.

It laughs. A mechanical laugh that sounds like it’s coming from a speaker, but it is so high-pitched that it feels as though Terra’s head is being crushed inside a metal crusher. He holds his head and yells out loud, hearing everyone else yell out as well.

Then it starts. Kefka is nine feet tall at least. Its joints are bolted, its limbs thin. It wears a ridiculous clown costume, with the black and red insignia that signifies its existence as a Heartless large on its chest. The colors on the costume are a sickly combustion of yellows, purples, greens, and reds, with a bright white ruffle collar that is pointed at the ends. Its shoes are mismatched.

It’s especially ugly in the face - it dons a white mask with red painted lines that mark its mouth and eyes, screwed onto the face. The teeth that are drilled into a permanent smile are sharp. The skin right around its bright yellow eyes are charcoal black. It is topped off with a garish feather sticking out of its hair. There are six swords, three behind each shoulder, which are as thin as needles.

Noctis summons a broadsword the first moment he gets and throws it at Kefka. He disappears. The sword flies into the air, and right before Kefka can block it, Noctis re-appears in the air and reclaims his weapon. He warps from various spots in the air as he strikes Kefka’s arms, which are up in defense. He strikes, then warps. Repeat. This process keeps him the air and makes him a difficult target for Kefka to grab.

The other volunteers start to open fire, aiming at its face. At first glance, the battle doesn’t seem too bad. Kefka seems slow to react, casting its gaze around as if dazed by all the violence directed at it. Then it sweeps an arm - a movement so quick that it can’t be predicted considering how long it takes for the clown to think. A group of men are thrown back. An explosion. It then tries to blast Noctis, who throws his sword onto the roof of a faraway building and warps there.

Garnet juggles between following Noctis in order to stay close to him and casting her white healing spells toward the people just injured. Rydia holds her hands ahead of her, chanting as the mist from the manhole solidifies.

Out from the mist flies a silver dragon. Riku jumps onto it, taking a ride across the sky. Cid yells some orders and runs around the clown while Terra follows.

At this point, Kefka is skipping around the block, its hands behind its back. Any time a person throws an explosive or shoots at it, its retaliation is tremendous and widespread. It stops. It dances, waving its arms. Explosions appear at random. There are plenty of sporadic cries, and men barking more orders. Hope makes laps as he he tries to heal anyone caught in the foray.

The dragon spreads a thick fog to hide some of the straggling volunteers as they carry out the injured from the immediate battlefield. Riku takes the right moment to jump off of it, striking Kefka from the top. Terra runs in an attempt to strike its legs - this is the perfect opportunity to trip it, considering that it is striding so casually in one direction.

Kefka shudders a moment. It makes an about-face and runs the opposite way, and Terra misses it.

The Heartless drags Riku its in hand before slamming him into the ground. The six swords float outward and Kefka makes a sweeping motion to strike Riku in a rush. He uses his Keyblade to block each one. The Heartless then waves in the opposite direction, the swords following suit. Noctis warps behind the clown’s head and makes several strikes. Rydia casts bombardments of fireballs and icebergs to push it back and away from the teenage Keyblade wielder. Her dragon comes and picks Riku from the ground, taking him to Garnet for healing.

The Heartless freezes for a moment, slowly turning to face Noctis. There is a widening of its eyes, as if Noctis’ strike is the most offensive out of everything else that is happening.

It doesn’t like its face or its head being touched.

“Let’s get him at the ankles!” Terra calls out to Cid, with the latter aiming to throw his spear. Terra strikes the ground, shattering the concrete and tripping Kefka some before it could attack Noctis. It doesn’t come down to its knees, but it eyes Terra. It stares as him as he sends shockwaves of light to attack it, its smile plastered.

It grabs Terra, too quick for him to dodge. It squeezes, and purple strikes of electricity engulf him, making the protection crystal around him visible as he screams from the pain.

Then it throws him before sending a dark blast of its own against him, shooting out from its palm. He hears what sounds like glass shattering as he lands onto the ground.

Terra can’t hear anything. Any voices are muffled and indecipherable. His vision is blurred, and he feels dizzy enough that he can’t feel anything. No pain. No fear. He just needs to stand up. But what for? He forgets where he is, and just wants to move. Just to figure out where he is so he can decide what to do. Just move, dammit.

His vision clears a bit. His face feels wind on it, his hair blowing. Right in front of him, rocks are floating. Gently spinning in the air. He’s like a feather, levitating above the ground as well.

He should have been face down on the ground.

When he realizes this, he falls flat onto himself, the rocks falling alongside him. There is pain in every muscle, and he’s twitching.

There are glows of green, literally pulling some of the pain out of him, and leaving behind a comforting warmth.

“You ok?” Hope calls out. The healer runs up to Terra, and helps him up. He continues to heal the Keyblade Wielder by gesticulating wide circles, so that Terra can start to be fixed all over. He mumbles to Hope that he’s fine, although he’s still dizzy. He isn’t sure what he just saw.

Some of the buildings have been destroyed and are up in flames. More bodies, uncertain if dead or alive, are being carried out of the area. Kefka is jumping around and twirling, making it difficult for Noctis to land a hit. Some of the volunteers wait until their opportunity, and run the battering ram right into the clown. They push it against a building, and a bomb goes off, knocking it forward onto the ground.

Terra hears a voice: “Darkness!”

Riku, covered in a purple aura, charges ahead to pick a sword fight with the fallen clown. The power gives him an edge in speed. He attempts to strike it in the face - the one place Kefka is most protective of. Riku hits furiously, following each with another. Kefka bellows a tremendous screech, which sounds like gears rubbing against each other in super speed.

It’s loud and worse than a nail scratch. Everyone close to the clown, including Riku, run as fast as they can away from it. Hope grabs Terra by the wrist and tries to get him as far back as possible.

From its neck and its joints a purple gas blows out, which flies far out and floats into the sky. No one is near it when this happens, and all wait until it dissipates before approaching again, giving the clown plenty of time to pick itself up and skip around. Another dance, another set of random explosions.

Terra, breathing heavily, readies his stance for when Kefka passes by him - although it’s difficult to do so. The pain may have been healed, but he is still unable to lift his heavy Ends of the Earth with confidence. He curses at himself for being weak. Hope stands by him, bracing for whatever Terra is silently planning in his mind. Maybe to heal him again. I can do this. I’ll trip him when he comes...

Should I use darkness this time? What if I turn against the others?

A sword is thrown up against Kefka’s cheek. It doesn’t even scar or leave a mark, but Noctis appears anyway, aiming just for the face. Kefka laughs, and it hurts every ounce of Terra’s head. It’s the worst headache he’s ever had.

When he comes to, Noctis is struggling to stand up, collapsed against a wall. Kefka prepares an energy blast in its palm. Garnet rushes and slides onto her knees, putting herself between Noctis and Kefka. She holds her shortstaff, the orb glowing. An intense pillar of light shoots upward from the ground, making everything shake. It sends a loud swoop before it swallows itself, and the light is gone.

It is enough to send the clown backward.

With his arm around Garnet, Noctis throws his sword towards the entrance of the third district, where all the injured are gathered. He dissipates, and she is carried through the air before being dropped behind the cartridges. She holds her sides, as if tired and in pain, unable to stand straight without leaning on someone else.

Rydia throws more fireballs, each one larger than the previous one. She engulfs Riku’s Keyblade in flames, and he rides her dragon again in another attempt to hit Kefka where it hurts. It blocks his attempts, and it ravages the dragon with a dark forcewave, throwing it aside along with its rider. Kefka rules its swords as they twirl around it, aiming it to make sweeping motions against the female mage. A boomerang hits the clown on the back of the head.

The clown hits Hope directly with a dark blast from its palm. The crystal around the boy becomes visible and shatters. He slumps on the ground.

Kefka laughs and everyone screams. It skips away.

Terra scuffles to Hope, who is still breathing. He cradles him in his arms. “You’re going to be okay,” he says. “I know a little bit of healing magic.” (It is true, but he’s not in the position to heal such a terrible injury.)

Hope writhes in pain, his eyes darting in every direction. He grabs Terra by the arm, and nearly scratches him because the grip is so desperate. “Don’t let me go to sleep,” he begs, a tear falling.

His breathing is sporadic, but it slows to a restful state. His eyes close. A warm pink-orange glow shines from out of his chest. 

Eraqus has always told them that touching a heart is forbidden, for it can cause irreversible harm. There is Hope’s heart, floating in the air. It looks bright, and Terra aims to grab it with both his hands but stops himself. It turns dark before disappearing, Hope’s body evaporating along with it. In his mind, it happens so slowly, cursing himself because he lost the chance to grab the heart and put it back. Even though it occurred over seconds.

“He’s too young,” he says softly. No one is close enough to hear him. He stares at his lap, where Hope was just laying. 

Ahead of him is Rydia, who witnessed it. Her face contorts into fury. She casts lightning, with a power so forceful that it spreads all over the area. It chaotically flies in every direction, hitting the clown. Thunder strikes when her magic marks her target, clapping several times.

She continues to send lightning against the Heartless, making it shake. Kefka walks in resistance against her casting, taking its time with every step. It keeps getting close to her, its swords floating behind it, and she can’t hold it back anymore.

Terra, silent tears coming down his own face, grunts and summons his armor. Just let the dark heat take over. Let it bring life back into his muscles. Let it give him the strength to wield his giant Keyblade. Curse this Heartless. Curse Xehanort for making it possible for it to exist.

He sprints forward, striking an ankle so hard that the monster actually trips to its knees. Shatter the ground. Strike its swords directly, strong enough to hold back the pressure that the clown is pushing against him. Send shockwaves of black and purple to damage the Heartless.

Kefka blasts him directly. If it weren’t for the armor, he would have been suffering the same fate as Hope. He is thrown against a wall behind him. Even with the armor for protection, being thrown this hard against such metal makes him ache. He is on his knees, breathing deeply into his helmet. He needs to get up. He needs to defend himself from the next energy blast that the Heartless is preparing for him.

He hears the crack of a whip. Rydia strikes the clown in the face, although she doesn’t scar it. She whips it a second time. A third, a fourth. She mouths spells as she summons a large fireball. Kefka grabs one of its swords and prepares to brush it across her. She hits the Heartless first.

Kefka steps through her fire, and swipes the sword across her, breaking her protection.

Then stabs her with it.

She stumbles backward, holding her oblique. Unable to get up, she looks up to the clown, and relaxes. Not because she is passing out. Not because she is too weak. It is much like the exact moment where a lamb knows that it’s too late to strive for life. She closes her eyes and waits for whatever it will do next.

Terra hates the clown more. He sprints in front of her and calls for another shockwave, throwing Kefka backwards and onto its back. He stays by Rydia, but instead of waiting for the clown to retaliate, he prepares a mass of darkness. It swirls and flickers around him, and he feels his Keyblade throbbing with the power. This is the end. I will destroy you.

Kefka stands up and stares at Terra. A swirl of darkness surrounds it and it disappears.

Terra looks toward the clock tower. Ten minutes past eleven. Terra shakes hard enough that the armor makes noises. He yells, because the darkness makes his head hurt so damn much. He pulls his helmet off. It’s so hot, and he’s sweating, but the exposure to the outside air doesn’t cool his face. I have to stay in control. I need to let this darkness go.

The pain is so bad that he cries out in half-breaths. He can still see the traces of smoke emanating through the cracks of his armor. He loses all feeling in his limbs.

“Are you alright?”

He looks up to see Garnet rushing as fast she can while she stumbles. She kneels in front of him. “Where does it hurt?” she asks.

“H-headache.” It’s too difficult to talk. Am I losing control of my mouth?

She holds her hand out by his temple. A warm white light, a pure light, and the pain slowly fades away. He can lift his limbs, and he stops trembling. His breathing steadies.

Garnet gently squeezes his wrist. “I saw what happened,” she says solemnly. “I must tend to the wounded, but I’ll be sure to add him to the list.” She gets up and meets with other people, including Riku, who are down on the ground as well.

The list. A same type of list that Aerith and Tifa collect to count how many people turn into Heartless after the end of a swarm. A pile of former identities. As time passes by, it’s only faces that are lost in the throws of it. Hope’s face.

“This looks bad,” he hears Cid say behind him. Noctis cradles Rydia in his arms, who has her hands up. She’s quivering with such a force that Cid has to be the one to carry her.

“Can you get up?” Riku limps over to Terra. “We are going to have a long night. There are always Heartless that pop up everywhere when Kefka’s been around. Including the hotel.”

Terra leans on his Keyblade to stand up. Garnet will come back after taking care of more immediate injuries to heal the both of them more, so they can be in better shape for the upcoming hours.

Some people are being carried in stretchers. Others have their arms draped on those strong enough to help them walk. Some are left behind for now - the unlucky ones who haven’t escaped this specific slaughterhouse. It’s just one that exists among the thousands of stars out there, each of them marked by Xehanort as his personal experiment.

Lambs for his needs, and Keyblade wielders as his tools.

For those of you who would like some references as to who these FF characters are. I added photos first and then some videos that suits their personalities:

Noctis (x) (x) (yep I’m cheap) Garnet (x) (x) (skip ahead to 4:19 for the vid) Rydia (x) (x) (that was difficult - this game was re-made for the DS) Hope (x) (x) (hard to find one without context or melodrama) Kefka (x) (x) (had to include his classic laugh)

[athens119]

The Promise of Forgotten Days

FF.net

Day 7 of @jihyunmcweek: first love || after end

Pairing: V x MC

Word count: 3294

Summary: Their reunion was the first step of their future together. The next day, they were set to meet for their first date to an opening of a new museum. But as the unseen side of MC is revealed to him, so is the forgotten memory of the old days, and the reunion at the party was not the reunion that will set their future.

a/n: Sequel to this

“It’s been a long time, mother.”

With a gentle smile on his face, V stood in front of the tombstone engraved with the name of a woman—a woman who had loved his son, who was the reason he was still alive to this day. He put down a bouquet of flowers he had held and kneeled.

“I’m sorry for not visiting you lately. I have been… trying to fix myself. To be the Jihyun Kim you wanted me to be, to make good use of this life you saved… But I assure you, from now on, I will visit you more often, with the woman whom I come to love as much as I love myself.”

V fell silent and looked up at the clear sky. “Speaking of her…” he faced the tombstone with a smile and cheeks tinted with pink shade. “Unfortunately, there are no words to describe how beautiful, bright, and blissful her existence is to me. However, perhaps, if not through words, then I wish to capture her soul through the brush you gave me, and through the colors I’ve finally discovered thanks to her.”

V fell silent again. Though his lips were still smiling, his eyes weren’t. “Sometimes, I wish you were alive, just so you could see how similar your kindness and warmth are to her. Sometimes… I wish you were here with me. I always visualize vividly what you two would talk about, how you two would spend your time together, how the three of us would…” he lost his voice, and before he knew it, tears started rolling down his cheeks. He quickly wiped them.

“I-I’m sorry. It’s just… it would be such a bliss. But… I know I must let it go. I’ve decided to look forward for my sake, my friends’, yours, and hers. Oh, but don’t tell her I said that, okay, mother? This will be our little secret.” He chuckled.

He looked at his watch and stood up. He gave a long contented and affectionate stare at the tombstone, “The love you introduced me will surely be a guideline to her happiness and mine. Farewell for now, mother.”

The clock was ticking. He ran through the crowded street, hoping he wasn’t late. Although he had been planning to arrive half an hour early, due to being unable to sleep the night before and the sudden stop to his mother’s grave, the thirty minutes were reduced by half. He couldn’t help it; today’s date had reduced him to a daydreaming fool. He sighed in relief as he finally managed to go through the crowded street and arrived at the park. However, his smile instantly diminished as he saw MC waiting under a tree. She was wearing black semi-formal attire like him. Was she also visiting someone’s grave?

“MC!” he approached her. “Since when did you arrive?”

“Oh, just now. But, what about you? Aren’t you a little early?”

“So are you. I thought it was supposed to be two o’clock.”

“I know, but…” she averted her face. “I’ve had my fill of waiting. I… can’t wait any longer.”

Her averted face was hiding the pink shade on her cheeks. Her arms were pressed against her sides as her right hand was rubbing on her left wrist nervously. It was such a pure expression, he couldn’t help but slip out a chuckle, much to her embarrassment. “Wh-what?”

“Nothing. I was just thinking the same.” He extended his hand to her. “Let’s go, MC.”

During weekends, museum was always packed with couples, friends, and families. He didn’t mind if it was crowded, because all that mattered was having MC by his side. The opening of a new museum never had a shortage of crowds, and he wanted to share the first experience with her. Paintings and photographs were set on the wall neatly, they walked and viewed one art piece after another.

However, it was strange, he thought. Whenever MC laid her eyes on one art, she seemed to be very engrossed in it that she seemed to be in her own little world. Her gleaming yet solemn golden eyes were as if gazing into beneath the color and scribble, into the truth behind it. Her stare indicated curiosity, she was looking for something.

It suddenly came back to him. The first meeting he had with Rika. It was during an exhibition like this, only this time, it wasn’t his. She would stare at the picture of the sun with innocent and curious gleam in her eyes like MC.

“MC,” he walked over to her side. “Is something on your mind?”

“I was just thinking.” She turned to face him with a smile. “What about you? You’ve been staring at me for a while.”

“Oh, don’t mind me… I suddenly remember something.”

“Remember what?”

“Rika.” He looked up at the painting before them. “During our first date, she would look at my picture of the sun with eyes like yours just now. Shining so bright with honesty, curiosity, innocence…” silence filled the air before he snapped out of realization. “Ah… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring her up.”

“No, it’s okay. I know how impactful she was in your life.” She reassured with a smile. She really was thoughtful, he thought.

“But,” he mumbled and looked at her with a blush, “this time I’m spending with you… is indescribably more joyous. Do you mind… if I hold your hand?”

The abrupt question shocked her with embarrassment. She merely nodded while averting her blushed face and felt his big, warm hand gently grasped hers.

They walked to painting after painting, photos after photos, sculpture after sculpture with hands locked to one another. V kept telling her his depiction of every art they stopped by. She seemed to be very curious about his translation as she kept watching him talk intensely, listening word by word thoroughly.

“You have great insight, Jihyun. You’re meant to be in this world, after all.”

“Oh, no. I’m new to this art field. I’m still learning.”

“Hmm… then what about this?” she went to another painting across the room and pointed at it, “What do you think this painting mean?”

He stared at the large wide painting towering above them analyzing it. “It’s a depiction of society’s current state in the affairs of humanity, I think. It’s also an encouragement to extend your hand to those who have no one by their side to help them. It sheds its light mainly upon the nature of humankind that could have been, and it seems to be something related to the artist as it has this certain personal touch that speaks their experience.”

“I see…” she kept staring at it.

“What’s wrong?”

“What was in their mind…?” she mumbled. “Every art hides a piece of the creator’s soul. It’s a medium which one expresses their soul into. Right now, we are looking at the soul of an artist. Their exposed voice painted by the colors and shapes on this former white blank canvas.”

“MC…?”

“Have you ever wondered? The art that captures and speaks one’s soul. We are currently looking into their heads. If I were an expert in this field, maybe I would’ve dismantled it and decoded the soul hidden behind this gem. Although I think, in truth, it’s already self-explanatory enough.”

Huh? He blinked. Why did that sound familiar?

“Ah, I’m sorry.” She gave a guilty smile. “I must’ve said something weird just now. Don’t mind me, I was just… thinking.” Her voice gradually lowered as she glanced at a pair of mother and child who was across them and stared. He noticed her stare seemed to be longing, yearning, and sorrow. He looked at the pair, the mother who was introducing her child to an artwork.

The memory of going to an exhibition with his mother suddenly passed through. The memory reminded him of the longing and sorrow for her. He looked at MC upon realization. Was she perhaps feeling the same way? It felt familiar to him.

Familiar? He suddenly winced in pain over the painful sudden images flashing in his head. The memory of his high school days, the image of a brown-haired girl in a music room alone, playing a sad piece on a piano, her golden eyes staring into his soul, her words and comfort that eased his turbulent confused young self.

The top part of the painting behind them was peeling off the wall, the large frame started descending towards them, a group of people screaming “watch out!” snapped him out of it, before he knew it, the large painting was falling on her without her realizing.

The loud thud was causing panic, some people were screaming for help. MC stared at the man on top of her with shock and widened eyes. He had wrapped his body around her, and the upper part of the painting hit his shoulder. Although his head was somewhat safe, the painting buried his body. Time ceased to exist in her mind, the ruckus was silent in her ears, as the crushed shoulder and pain on his face petrified her.

He was taken to the first aid room and had his upper arm bandaged. He was told reckless for using his shoulder to withstand heavy weight, to which he scratched the back of his head sheepishly and apologized. As he was being treated, MC never let her eyes off him. Her widened eyes exhibited shock and horror, because when she saw him shielding her, she was taken back to the moment where her mother lay in a coffin.

After giving him a few suggestions and warnings, the doctor left.

“I’m sorry our date is ruined.” He held the bandaged arm, gripping it in regret.

MC didn’t respond. The atmosphere was intensified with dead silence and her solemn eyes to the ground. “…This isn’t your fault, Jihyun. The museum should’ve double-checked the screws.” Her fists clenched. “Also, why do you keep doing this? Stop throwing yourself into danger! I thought we were over this 2 years ago.”

“That’s…”

That meek look again, it felt like her chest was twisted into a knot. “…I don’t like how you’re the one injured from someone else’s mistake. Wait here. I’m going to tell off the museum manager for this.” She was about to run off, until V quickly grabbed her hand. He could tell she was acting strange. “MC… are you angry?”

She still didn’t say anything, but her trembling body was an answer enough. He stood directly behind her and enveloped her trembling fist with his. “I’m sorry for being so reckless. But, anyone will throw themselves into danger for the one they love, is that not natural? I have lost my mother. I don’t want to lose you too.”

She still didn’t speak a word. She seemed uncharacteristically angry today, he was worried. She turned around and placed her hand on his slightly injured head. There was a small bump on the back of his head. She lowered her hand and looked down.

“Anyone will not want their loved one to get hurt because of them, is that not natural?” her tone sounded sarcastic. “You’re not the only one who lost someone dear. And I almost lost you two years ago… repeatedly. When you are reminded of the things that trigger you… you’re bound to release all of those emotions… I’m not Jumin.”

“Haha, yes… my friend is quite something.” He laughed awkwardly. He noticed she gripped his shirt tremblingly. “I remember. Back in high school and during the Mint Eye incident, you were the one who comforted me, who was there when I was lost and confused.”

The girl desperately clinging to his shirt now seemed she was on the verge of that point. He didn’t want it to happen to her. He remembered now. The memories forgotten. The memories of their first encounter—the true first. “MC, did you play piano often when you were in high school?”

She looked up at him, surprised. “How did you know that?”

“You were estranged from your family, weren’t you?”

“…Yes.” She said as she looked down with a sad smile. Yes, he recognized that smile.

The silent atmosphere and topic were awkward for her. “A-anyway, I’m sorry for not wearing something cute. I was from somewhere, so—”

“It’s fine. You look very beautiful to me, MC.” His words and dazzling smile made her blush, and as she was about to say something, he said, “Just as beautiful as when I first saw you.”

“You mean… that time at the Mint Eye?”

“No.” He embraced her and whispered, “You look beautiful to me no matter what. Your soul… it’s very beautiful.”

“Jihyun…?”

MC sat on a chair in the museum cafe, her blank and shocked look was fixed on him as he told her everything. The memory of their first meeting, of their talk about arts, of the soul she shared through the music piece she had played for him, and of the time where his leaked self-doubt and fear were welcomed by her sincere and reassuring words. It seemed MC didn’t remember about their encounter either. During the two days they met, though it might not look it, MC’s mind was elsewhere. That’s why, she didn’t bother asking his name too.

“I’m sorry for not remembering.” Said her.

“No, I’m sorry too. It was supposed to be very important to me. But, after that day, I was greatly grieving for my mother, and my memory of you became hazy. I’m sorry for being such a self-centered child. Back then, I treated you with unfair judgment.”

“It’s fine. I understood that was your way of hiding and denying your fear and confusion.”

He was surprised how calm and understanding she was about it, though knowing her, it was a given. As he glanced at her sipping coffee, he smiled. Every little she did seemed to grant him fragments of happiness.

But the most happiness of all: he finally found her. After ten years.

“But you’ve changed.” He added. “It took me a while to recognize you since you used to be gloomy.”

“Well, things happened.” She looked down at her drink as she gave a guilty smile. “I’ll tell you someday. We have all the time in the world now, don’t we?”

“Yes, we do.” His wide and sincere smile portrayed nothing but pure joy and love. “This time, with nothing to hold us back, I wish to get to know you, MC. I wish to know everything about you. And…” he stood from his chair and offered his hand to her like a gentleman. “Please trust me with your heart, just as I trust you with mine.”

“Okay.” With a bright smile, she placed her hand on his palm.

***

The dawn had set, the moon reached the stage. From the window of his house, he stared at the moonlight basking his interior with its calm radiance. The sun always shone the brightest, always was the mother of life, but the moon was different. Its bright yet not blinding shine had begun to receive his appreciation, a feeling of rest and tranquility enveloped his entire being.

“Jihyun.”

Like her radiance enveloped his. He turned around to see her curious eyes gleamed at the white walls around his renovated house. She must’ve had an inkling what it was about.

“Your journey hasn’t even begun, has it?” her smile was ever so angelic, his heart skipped a beat. The room had dim light, but her smile seemed to shine the brightest even amidst the darkest of hour.

He chuckled, “No. This is merely the beginning.” His expression and hand on the wall showed proudness and contentment. “The real journey starts when you’ve become a part of my life. I want to paint the house with the color of Jihyun Kim you guided me to be, and perhaps, your color as well.”

She laid her eyes on a camera on the dining table. “Oh, that.” He held the camera. “It’s a hobby now, for capturing moments in a flash, since I can’t do it that instant with drawing. And, during my travel, I was thinking it would be wonderful to bring you along. I’ve experienced so many things, met so many people, saw so many diversity, and I wish to share such experience with you and capture those moments eternally. But,” he aimed the camera at her face. “One day, I would like to use the pictures to paint you, and our times together.”

“I’d like that. I’m glad you’re fulfilling your dream, though. There’s nothing greater than letting yourself go, isn’t it?” she walked towards him with a smile.

“Speaking of dream,” he put the camera back on the table. “what about your dream of becoming a pianist?”

“It’s a secret for now.” She put her index finger on her lips as she winked. “But someday, I will tell you.”

“Of course. By the way, would like to hear the plans for this house?”

Room after room they entered, V explained what he would like to do with it. What furniture he would like to use, what color he would like to paint on each room, which one was the room for his art stuffs, and a room where MC could perhaps do what she loved, a room where her dream could be fulfilled.

“Well, this is just a concept. But, I would like to start my life anew in this house, with you. I want to paint with you, just as I want to play music with you. I want you as my audience and muse, just as I would be yours. I want to finish blank puzzles together and color them with our favorite colors. Am I… asking too much?”

“Hmm? No, not at all. That’s the dream, isn’t it?”

“Haha, yes, indeed it is. Oh! And…” He slipped his hand into his pocket and let out a small box made of red velvet. He opened the lid to reveal two rings. “Do you remember the promise we made ten years ago?”

She nodded. “’The next time we meet, let’s exchange our thoughts again’.”

He picked up one ring and slipped in into her middle finger, “I swear upon my grave I will hold that promise forever close within my heart. I will always stay truthful to my voice and to the truths I am to bear, for the sake of my loved ones, for the sake of myself, for the sake of the woman whom I share myself with from this day on. This ring shall safeguard and prove that promise true.” He kissed the ring on her finger.

She picked up the other ring and slipped it into the same finger on his, “I swear upon my grave I will do my best to uphold that promise and keep it safe forever as well. The promise to share our thoughts and feelings, to share parts or the entirety of our soul to the person whom we made this promise for.” She kissed the ring on his finger.

Once again, he was enveloped in that same warmth and security as he had been ten years ago. Once again, he surrendered to the pleasant and peaceful relaxation her existence seemed to bring, a comfort he wished to stay as everlasting and as complementary as both the sun and moon together.

All he needed now was time. From onwards, these short-lived moments with her, he would make sure to keep it safe and eternal, until the day where he could finally say the word and fulfill his new dream of spending his old days with her. Forever until death do them apart.

[mara-lune]

Ch. 1 Welcome to Lake City

Smith walked through the crowded, noisy streets of Lake City, her hands stuffed in the pockets of her oversized gray hoodie. Her blonde hair was pulled up in a messy bun, out of her face, as it always was. Despite the smoggy, gray weather, she wore her sunglasses and a pair of large headphones. This, plus her big, black backpack was typically her outfit of choice. She didn’t like making eye contact, or even worse, having people talk to her. Most people, anyway.

It was the end of the work day, and people buzzed past her, in their own worlds that barely extended beyond their own faces. Most were eager to get home from work, others were eager to get to their vices. A wretched few of them were looking for someone to chat up, usually with a sales pitch. The downtown plaza Smith waded through was what she considered “old-modern”. Stores, businesses, and restaurants lined the street level floors of the old buildings the city was founded on. There was always something under construction, but not always in a progressive way. The trend for the past twenty years or so was to make anything new as bright and sleek as possible, giving the urban city the ‘modern’ part of the ‘old-modern’ style, even though that modern feel was already a couple of decades old.

Lake City was also noisy. And not just the noise of traffic, construction, and people. Everywhere you looked was filled with lights, advertisements, and sometimes the bizarre art installation. The city had pumped some money into trying to make the walking streets more cultured and friendly, without really doing much else to help the area. This meant that you would often see panhandlers getting ignored underneath a giant neon light installation instructing passersby to love one another.

Smith slowed down and took a long gaze up at a two story billboard screen as it switched to an ad for SugarBaby Jean Co. The model in the ad smiled brightly behind a pair of tinted glasses, and a cheesy slogan declared this “The Summer for Sugar, Baby”, even though it was already fall. After a few seconds, the ad switched to an animated image of a fantasy city in a torrential storm, promoting the latest blockbuster movie, and Smith picked up her pace again. She turned the corner and finally made her way to the only place in town she actually liked, a tea shop called Lake and Leaf. Inside was white, bright, and quaint, but still warm and friendly. She took off her backpack as she made her way to her regular spot - the last stool at the end of the long counter. She pulled her tablet out of her backpack, and hung her bag on the hook under the counter at her knees. She took off her sunglasses, but kept her eyes straight on her screen in front of her.

“Hey, Smith. Reading more police reports?” asked a friendly voice from behind the counter. It was Rolly, one of the shop owners, and a friend of hers from when they were kids. He was built like a grizzly with the temperament of a golden retriever, and the tea shop was his passion. “The usual?” he asked, knowing that she wouldn’t look up until she was satisfied with her scrolling. Smith nodded, almost imperceivably. He shuffled off to his tea tins that lined the wall and began making her the usual cup.

Smith scanned the headlines: robberies, shootings, muggings - the usual, daily crime in their metropolitan city. She switched her app to a map of the city and pinned the places of the crimes. She added notes from the reports - time of day, victims, weapons - anything she could. Then she started reading the local news sites. Some of the news reported on the crimes and offered vague details, of which she also noted. Nothing was too insignificant.

Smith finally set down her tablet and looked up. She glanced around the shop. It was slightly busy. Most people liked going to bars around this time, but Lake and Leaf had its usual crowd. She reached into her backpack and pulled out her wallet. She pulled out a five dollar bill, and then stashed her wallet away as she saw Rolly head toward her with a cup of tea.

“Earl gray with milk, and a scone. I thought I’d try something a little different for you this time. The tea has lavender in it.”

Smith pulled off her headphones and discreetly set the money under the saucer as she picked up the cup and took a sip. “Oh damn, that’s good.”

“Can I get you anything else?”

“Nah, just this. What’s new around here?”

Rolly leaned on the counter. “You’ll never guess who came in here the other day.”

“Who?”

“That model you like, Ellis Jones.”

Smith nearly spit her tea. “No fucking way! Did you talk to her? What’s she like?”

Rolly chuckled. “I didn’t see her, Nate did. He said she asked for coffee - I guess she didn’t realize we don’t serve that here.”

“So what did she do? Did she get something else?”

“I don’t know! I wasn’t here!”

“Well, why didn’t you ask Nate? Is he here? Let me talk to him.”

“No, it’s his day off.”

Smith sat back in her stool, daydreaming. “Man, she’d be perfect…”

Rolly tilted his head at Smith. “Perfect for what?”

Smith sighed. “Well… I don’t know. I haven’t really told anyone yet.”

“What?”

“Nevermind, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Smith Kelley, we’ve been best friends since we were kids! We went to the prom together! We practiced kissing on each other. Tell me, girl!” Smith reached over the counter and slapped Rolly several times on the shoulder.

“Fine! You know how I like to read police reports and stuff?”

“Nooooo.”

“Shut up. Well, I was thinking. The cops around here… could maybe use my help.”

Rolly chuckled. “Okay.”

“I just keep thinking… I could do a better job.”

Rolly scoffed. “You? You’re a shrimpy little weakling who hates running.”

“Well not me-me, but I still think I could do something about it.”

“You mean you want to be a cop? I don’t know how you’re going to do that, being… well, all those things I just said.”

“I know this city inside and out. There are patterns and certain people who keep doing things and getting away with it.” She showed Rolly her tablet with the map. “See, there was a robbery six blocks from here a month ago.”

“But you’re a shrimpy…”

She swiped to another view of the map. “And then two nights later, another one a block away from that.”

“Little weakling…”

“And it’s more than just robberies. I mean, they were both robberies, but they were in and out of there so fast.”

“Who hates running…”

Smith put down her tablet and gave Rolly a look.

“I’m sorry, babe! I just don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be chasing bad guys. The police are decent. I mean, sure, they’re not perfect, but they’re good enough.”

“They’re not good enough when there’s still so much crime in this city!”

“But really, what were you thinking of doing? And what does Ellis Jones have to do with it?”

Smith paused for a second. “Okay, can I let you in on a little secret?”

Rolly sighed. “I don’t know. Your ideas are kind of out there. A lot of people think you’re just a conspiracy theorist.”

Smith lowered her voice and leaned in. She picked up her tablet and changed some settings on the map that showed an overlay of sewers, passages, and tunnels. “Whenever I freelance for the city government, I get a lot of access that I probably shouldn’t have. I know the city’s infrastructure - it hasn’t changed in the past ten years, and any time anyone tries to change it, it takes months, if not years of government bureaucracy to actually take effect. I know how to move around quickly, without getting caught.”

“Have you ever actually seen these tunnels and passages yourself?” Rolly asked.

“No, but I’ve seen big proposals get shot down because it’d be too expensive to build around them. And they don’t want to remove them or fill them in, because that would require a lot of inspections and restructuring. Redoing the underground infrastructure under one city block would affect, like, the next dozen around it.” She pointed to a city block on the map. “Remember when the old Elysian Hotel wanted to update and basically rebuild the whole building? Lake City put it on the ballot to make it look like they were trying their best to make it happen, but even when it passed, they decided to slap a historic landmark status on it so they wouldn’t have to bother with it.”

Rolly furrowed his eyebrows with a small realization. “Is that why they did that? It is a pretty neat, old building.”

“But have you also noticed that the tallest buildings in this city are only thirty stories?”

“Yeah, they passed laws to not build any higher than that so as to not obstruct the view.”

“The view of what?”

Rolly shrugged. “You know, the city. It’s kind of nice to look at.”

“But why not improve the city with taller, more impressive buildings?” Smith stared up at Rolly with a bit of a crazy glint in her eyes.

The two froze in an awkward standoff until Rolly finally broke the silence. “Babe, what is your point?”

“My point is that I could track the criminals. They show patterns. I’m sure some of them are even using some of these passages. Just imagine beating them at their own game. Following them, or even getting ahead of them. As, like… a superhero would.”

“A superhero!” Rolly shrieked.

“Keep your voice down, butthead!”

“A superhero!” he quietly shrieked. “Smith, you’re smart, but you’re also the clumsiest person I know. There’s no way you’d ever be able to do that, much less as a superhero.”

Smith looked up at him with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Not me, but someone like Ellis Jones could. Do you see the workout routine videos she posts on her Lookit? She can move.”

“Mm-hmm, you sure do like that.”

“Shut up.” She picked up her cup and finished off the tea. The little bell above the door jungled, and they both looked over to see a couple walk in and sit down around the corner at the other end of the counter.

Rolly stood up straight. “Mkay, girl. Well, you find Ellis Jones and train her to be a superhero. Let me know how that goes.” He moved the saucer on the counter, and slid the money she placed there back to her. “You’ll need this to get your superhero project started.” He turned to the couple and made his way down the counter.

Smith placed the money back onto the saucer and set her empty cup on top. She nibbled at the scone as she opened up her tablet and buried her face in the screen again. The tea shop buzzed with light conversations, clinking dishes, and tea tins being opened and closed. Smith put her headphones back on and drowned out the world around her. She didn’t hear the shop bell jingle again, and the excitement that filled the air when Ellis Jones walked in.

The statuesque model was as exquisite as they come. She had smooth, caramel skin, and her short, fiery orange hair was perfectly coiffed. Ellis’ long, graceful figure practically floated into the shop as her delicate dress fluttered around her. A couple of teenage girls in the shop approached her and asked for a selfie, to which Ellis happily agreed. After a couple of shots with a couple of phones, the girls thanked her and excitedly went back to their table, eagerly sharing their pictures on their Lookit accounts. Ellis went to the counter and sat at the corner, directly down from a still oblivious Smith.

Rolly put on his usual, friendly customer service smile, despite the fact that in his head, he was screaming his face off. “Hi there! Welcome to Lake and Leaf. I’m Rolly. What can I get you, love?”

Ellis scanned the shelves of tea tins that lined the long, side wall. “Um, I’m not much of a tea drinker.” Down the counter, Smith absent-mindedly picked up the empty tea cup that was still in front of her. She paused when she realized there was only a small drop left, but still tipped it up as far as she could to get the last bit. Ellis pointed at her. “I’ll have that. Whatever it is, it must be good.”

Rolly winked at her. “You got it!” He turned from the model, and squealed quietly as he bounced his way back over to Smith. “Um, excuse me, dear, what was it you ordered again?” he said in a loud, obvious voice.

Smith looked up at Rolly and gave him an incredulous look. “What?”

Rolly glanced down at Ellis. “Can you tell me which tea you had?”

Smith pulled her headphones off. “What?”

Rolly sighed heavily. “Which tea was that?”

Smith glared angrily at him. “You made it!”

“But maybe you can remind me what you had. That young lady down there would like to know what tea you had.”

Smith turned her glare down the counter. She nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw one of the most famous faces in the country smiling at her.

“Um. The usual?”

“Oh my god, ” he muttered, rubbing his hand into his forehead. He picked up the cup and saucer. “Oh yeah, this was an earl grey with milk and lavender.” He winked at Ellis again. Ellis smiled back at them. Rolly stuffed the cash back into Smith’s hand while she was distracted. He took the empty dishes and walked to the back kitchen, still smiling. “I’ll get that for you right away!”

“Sounds great!” Ellis grinned at Smith. “He’s really sweet.”

Smith tried her best to regain her composure. “Yeah. He’s an old friend of mine.” She realized she was holding the money and put it in her pocket. “He doesn’t let me pay for anything here.”

“I actually came in here a few days ago and I tried to order coffee. The guy who was here at the time was not as sweet.”

“Yeah, that’s Nate. He’s pretty much the opposite of Rolly,” she chuckled, awkwardly. “So do you, um, come here often?” Smith winced as soon as the words came out of her mouth.

“No, this is just my second time. I kind of felt bad after that first encounter, so I thought I’d try something different this time.”

“Yeah! You should!”

Ellis laughed. “Yeah, I will.”

Smith cautiously got up out of her seat. “Do you, um, mind if I sit closer to you? Join you? Do you mind if I join you?”

Ellis gestured at the empty stool next to her. “Please.”

Smith started to move closer, but then quickly turned back and gathered her things. Her arms full, she sat down on the edge of the stool next to Ellis. “Hi. I’m Smith.”

“Nice to meet you, Miss Smith.”

“No, it’s just Smith. Well, Smith Kelley.”

“Oh, I’m sorry! Nice to meet you, Kelley.”

“No, Smith is my first name.”

“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry!”

“It’s okay, it happens to me all the time.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Smith. I’m Ellis.” Ellis extended her hand and Smith shook it just a little too enthusiastically, dropping her headphones on the floor.

“Yeah, I know! You’re really cool. I mean…”

Ellis laughed. “Um, thank you.”

“Sorry,” Smith groaned. She put her tablet and sunglasses on the counter and reached down for her headphones. Her stool tipped out from behind her, and clattered loudly on the floor. “Shit, sorry. I mean, shoot. I didn’t mean to say that. Sorry.”

“You apologize a lot.”

“Sorry.” Smith scrambled under the counter in search of a hook to hang her backpack on, and took a moment to silently berate herself for her awkwardness.

Ellis leaned over and looked at Smith’s tablet on the counter. It was open to the police reports. “Are you a cop?”

Smith stood up quickly, holding her headphones and the stool that had fallen, with a bit of a deer-in-the-headlights look. “No.” Ellis looked at Smith’s reddening face. “I just like to read police reports. That’s kind of weird, sorry. A lot of people think I’m crazy.”

“I don’t think you’re crazy.”

“Really?” Smith was still awkwardly standing with her hands full, and her messy bun had become even messier.

Ellis reached for the tablet. “May I?” Smith nodded. Ellis started to scroll through the police reports, her brow furrowing. “This isn’t even half of what happens in this city.”

Smith finally put down the chair and sat down next to Ellis. “I know! The police--” she lowered her voice. “The police are basically useless.” She set her headphones on the counter and reached over and swiped the tablet to the map. “I’ve been tracking the crime in this neighborhood alone, and it’s pathetic how little actual policing goes on.”

“You’re telling me. My cousin was killed a few years ago, and the police couldn’t figure it out, so they gave up the case.”

“Oh shit! I’m so sorry.”

"They said it was a random, unprovoked attack, and he was an unfortunate casualty. They won't reopen the case, and the worst part is, there’s nothing we can do about it.”

Smith hesitated as she read Ellis’ devastated face, scanning the reports.

“Um, listen,” Smith finally said, taking the tablet from Ellis. “I’m sorry that I even brought it up. You just wanted to have a nice, relaxing cup of tea, and I had to ruin your afternoon with all this talk about crime.”

“It’s okay,” Ellis said, with genuine gentleness.

“No, it’s not. I’m just Captain Bring-Down over here. I’ll let you get back to your tea,” she said, looking around for Rolly. “Which still isn’t here. Why did he even go to the back to make it? All the teas are out here.”

Just at that moment, Rolly came around from the back with a hot cup of tea with a sprig of lavender placed across the top. “Here you are! So sorry about the wait!”

Ellis smiled at Rolly. “Wow, thank you so much! It’s beautiful!”

“How come I didn’t get a flower?”

“Because I didn't want to have to go all the way upstairs to get you one,” Rolly playfully snipped back at her.

Ellis chuckled and removed the sprig from the cup and handed it to Smith. “Here you go.” Smith took the lavender and blushed. Ellis took a sip of the tea. “Hm, not bad!”

“See, who needs coffee?" Rolly beamed.

“Better than what I had last time. My assistant wanted to try this place, but I didn’t know what to get, so I just ordered the ‘Special-Tea’ that was on the menu.”

“The one that was basically all anise? Oh girl,” Rolly sucked through his teeth. “I tried that one. It was not good. My partner likes to come up with new brew combinations. Usually they're good, but that one was not. Can I get you anything else, Miss Jones?”

“No thank you, I’m fine.”

He turned to Smith. “How about you?”

Smith flushed. “No, you’ve gotten me plenty.” She looked down at the lavender in her hand. “Plenty…”

Rolly smirked. “Hm, I bet I can think of one more thing I can get you.” He turned to Ellis. “Miss Jones, my stupid friend here really likes you. Been a huge fan of yours for a long time.” Ellis chuckled and Smith turned even redder. “Of course, you are more than welcome to say ‘hell no, fuck off, creep,’ but what do you think about maybe meeting back here with Smith another time for more than just tea?”

Ellis raised her eyebrows behind her cup. “More than just tea? What else do you have back there?”

“Pastries and gayness.”

Ellis finished her tea. “Well, I’m not that big into pastries, but I like the rest of that idea.” She smiled at Smith, who had somehow gone from bright red to completely white. She turned back to Rolly and reached for her handbag. “How much do I owe you?”

“No no, let me!” Smith managed to stammer out.

“But you said you aren’t allowed to pay for anything here.”

“She’s not.” Rolly turned to Ellis. “Four eighty five, please, dear.”

Ellis reached into her handbag and pulled out her credit card. Rolly presented a card reader for her, and she settled her transaction. She turned to Smith. “I guess I’ll see you here…?”

“Tomorrow! If that’s okay with you. After work? I get off at five.” She set the lavender down on the counter and quickly gathered up her belongings and stuffed them into her backpack.

“Perfect! It was nice meeting you both.” Ellis got up from the counter and left the shop.

Rolly picked up the empty teacup from the counter. “You’re welcome,” he tossed at her over his shoulder as he headed to the back.

Smith reached deep into her backpack, pulled out a fifty dollar bill, and threw it at Rolly. She started to head out the door, but then turned back and grabbed the lavender sprig off the counter.

Smith sat on her unmade bed in her small studio apartment. She pecked away at a work project on her laptop. Normally, she would let herself get so engrossed in a project that she wouldn’t even notice the sun go down… or come up. This time, though, she eagerly watched the clock, waiting for 5:00.

The sun was starting to get low, but it was hard to tell with the usual smog that hung in the air of Lake City. The afternoon sunlight that did manage to penetrate through fell onto her bed next to her, where her tabby and white cat, Mat, lay snoozing. The sun crept along her bed until it reflected off of her laptop and into her eyes. She adjusted slightly on the bed, but couldn’t keep her attention on the computer anyway. She had spent the day working from home, as it was slightly closer to the tea shop than her current office, and she didn’t want to waste any time getting there. Of course, that also meant that all she could think about all day was five o’clock.

At 4:46, Smith got up from the bed and walked over to the mirror over her small dresser. The sprig of lavender she received the day before was taped to the mirror so it could dry out. She inspected her reflection and took the ponytail holder out of her hair. She fluffed and smoothed her hair out with her hands, and put it back up in her usual bun. She really wanted to look nice, but nothing but her typical style made her feel comfortable. The least she could do was make sure her messy bun wasn’t quite as messy. She checked her teeth, put on some deodorant, and smoothed her hair again before looking back at her computer. It was 4:47.

She flopped back down onto the bed, disturbing Matt, who let out a little ‘prrrp’.

“Sorry, Mat.” Smith leaned over and gave him a scritch and a kiss on the head. He yawned and stretched a paw out in return. She turned back to her computer and typed a few more things, unaware that she was shaking her foot like it had a flea in it. Mat stood and stretched, very much bothered by the vibrations Smith was causing, and jumped off the bed. After two more minutes dragged on, she finally shut her laptop with a deep sigh.

“You want your dinner early?” she asked Matt. “I might be out late after all.” She chuckled to herself, imagining the best case scenario of how the evening would go. Mat perked up and started rubbing along Smith’s legs at the sight of the cat food can.

Smith set Mat’s dish on the floor at his placemat and topped off his water bowl. She grabbed her gray hoodie from off the bed and put it on, and then picked up her tablet and headphones off her small kitchen table. The table had one chair at it, and was covered with junk mail, dishes, note pads, and other random odds and ends, which meant she didn’t have room for actual work there. The other chair was pulled close to her bed, where it had been serving as a makeshift table for a couple of old water glasses.

Should I take my backpack with me? She wondered to herself, as she packed up her essentials. Probably not. She reached into the backpack and pulled out her wallet, and tucked it into her hoodie pocket. She dug through her backpack again for her keys and chapstick and phone… and then put her wallet back into her backpack and slung the whole thing over her back. She slipped on her sneakers and headed out the door.

Smith hurried the five blocks from her apartment to Lake and Leaf as quickly as her little legs could take her - without running, of course. She hated that. As she stopped at a busy corner a block from her destination, she paused and admired a motorcycle parked in a lot. She had always wanted to be able to ride a motorcycle, if only she were a little taller to reach the ground. The 1200 cc sportbike was sleek, white, flashy and, in Smith’s mind, very sexy.

The traffic light changed, and Smith made her way into Lake and Leaf. As her usual habit, she started to remove her backpack once she got inside. She scanned the people seated at the counter, and started to head to her usual spot at the back of the shop, until another familiar voice caught her ear.

“No, green tea and black tea come from the same plant. They’re not different varieties. I mean, well, they are, they’re different types of tea, but it’s not like there’s a green tea plant and a black tea plant.” Nate was being his typical, know it all self. It wouldn’t be long until he would start being condescending to the poor person he was holding captive with his conversation.

“So which one is better?” Ellis asked, looking over a menu card.

Nate sighed. “Neither one is better. That’s like asking what kind of dog is better, although we all know that chihuahuas are the worst.”

“Okay, what do you recommend?”

Nate sighed again - his favorite thing to do. “I don’t know, what do you like?”

Ellis shrugged and gave him an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, I’m new to tea. But I’d like to learn.”

Smith walked up to the small table in the corner where Ellis was seated. “Black tea tends to be stronger, and sometimes bitter. It’s a pretty standard tea, like English Breakfast, or the iced tea you get at restaurants. Green tea can be kind of nutty and smooth.”

Nate’s eyes went wide as he turned to Smith. “Oh. My. God. You think you can just walk right up to Ellis Jones and Smith-splain my job to her?”

“Well, you were kind of being rude to her, and Ellis is really nice.” She sat down at the table across from Ellis and placed her backpack on the floor under her chair.

“Wooowww,” Nate taunted. “You’re just making yourself right at home. Bold.”

Smith tried her best to ignore Nate. “I’d recommend the green tea, if you want something lighter. Or if you liked the one you had yesterday, that was an Earl Gray with milk and lavender.”

Nate’s eyebrows nearly hit the ceiling.

“What are you going to have?” Ellis asked Smith.

“I think I’m just going to get an iced tea.”

“You want your scone?” Nate asked, anticipating Smith’s usual order.

“No, just the tea this time.”

Ellis turned to Nate. “I’ll have the same.” She held the menu card up to Nate, who plucked it from her hand and slowly spun around on his toes.

“Baaaasic.”

Smith gave Nate a glare as he left their table. Ellis gave Smith a wincing smile. “He’s… a lot.”

Smith waved her hand in apology. “Yeah, this place is always a little less busy when he’s here.”

“I definitely prefer Rolly.”

“Everyone prefers Rolly.” They both laughed. “Sorry I’m late, though. I tried to get here early.”

“Don’t apologize. I got out of a photoshoot early and there wasn’t much traffic at the time.”

“Oh, you were working. No wonder you look so nice.”

Ellis looked down at herself. She was wearing a black leather jacket and a loose, champagne pink top with two long, delicate, rose gold chains. “No, these aren't my work clothes. I changed before I came over.”

Oh, Smith thought to herself. Even when she’s in everyday wear, she still looks like a model.

“But thank you,” Ellis said. “You look nice, too.”

Smith scoffed. “Hardly. This is all I really feel comfortable in.”

“I think that’s what’s nice about it. You’re comfortable and effortless.”

Smith laughed nervously and clutched her hands together on the table in front of her. Her thumbs twitched together involuntarily, as she was so used to having something in her hands, which was usually her phone or tablet. “So what was the photoshoot for?”

Ellis pulled her phone out of her pocket. “Do you want to see? They let me take a couple photos with me after the shoot for my portfolio.” She swiped her phone on and handed it to Smith.

Smith’s eyes went wide. “Oh, yeah, that’s definitely not your work clothes.” In the photo, Ellis was crouched down and turned sideways, and wearing nothing but a pair of stiletto heels and some elaborate jewelry and makeup. “So it’s a shoe ad?”

“Perfume.”

“But… where’s the bottle? Are you even wearing the perfume?”

“That’s the industry.” She reached over and swiped to the next photo, a closer shot from the same session of her from the hips up. A pop of greens and yellows swept across her eyelids like comets across the sky, and her soft pink lips reflected a coppery shimmer. She was holding her right hand up, delicately framing her face, and her other arm crossed over her breasts. The heavy jewelry she wore dripped with emeralds and diamonds. Smith resisted the urge to keep swiping through her album, but instead stared intently at Ellis’ photo.

“Wow, those are great. You look ama-- you look great. Really cool.”

Nate came back up to the table behind Smith with their drinks on a tray. “Hm. I wouldn’t have gone with green. Clashes against your hair.”

Smith jumped and turned the phone over - a natural reflex whenever someone approached her while she was on her phone.

“You know, I had the same note for the stylist, but we had to go with what Josephina Bell wanted for her new fragrance label.” Ellis was starting to get the hang of handling Nate’s attitude.

Nate sat an iced tea down in front of Ellis. “Then maybe tone down the hair. Make it more golden than orangey.” He waved his finger around her hair. Ellis rolled her eyes up toward his hand.

“God damn it, Nate, keep your opinions to yourself,” Smith seethed.

Nate set the other tea down in front of Smith. “Anything else, honey?”

Smith was about to snap at Nate again, but Ellis interjected. “We’re fine, thank you.”

Nate gave them a sassy little wave. “Love you,” he beamed, before heading off again.

Smith took a long sip of tea as she thought of some sort of small talk to make. After what seemed like forever (but was really more like a few seconds), she finally spoke up. “Sorry, I don’t really go out that much. I don’t know what to talk about.”

Ellis laughed. “Well, you’re honest. But that’s okay. Tell me about what you do.”

“Oh, I do freelance stuff, programming, cybersecurity, data encryption, things like that. I get hired by the city a lot. It’s pretty boring stuff.”

“That doesn’t sound boring at all. That sounds impressive. You must be really smart.”

Smith shrugged. “I guess so.” She never knew how to take compliments, or even how to recognize them sometimes.

“But I’m guessing that’s not what you’re passionate about, right?” Smith thought for a moment. She wanted to tell her about her actual passion; she wanted to just blurt out that she wants to recruit a superhero, and she thinks it should be Ellis. But the idea sounded ridiculous. She couldn’t form the right words in her head to make it sound like it was, first of all, a feasible idea, and second, something that Ellis would even be on board with. They were virtual strangers at this point, and all they had in common so far was tea.

That, and their view on the police in Lake City.

“No, it’s not,” Smith said. “I like reading police reports.”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“Right.” Smith reached for the phone in the middle of the table, but stopped when she realized it wasn’t hers. “Oh, uh. Hang on.” She reached under her chair and grabbed her backpack. Setting the bag on her lap, she dug out her tablet and put it on the table. She opened up the police reports and scanned the day’s entries. “Here, look. A new robbery last night.” She switched to the map of the city and pinned the place of the robbery, a mom and pop restaurant. “Three nights in a row, and three robberies. They’re all along the same line, but not on the same street. They all happened around 3 am, and they were all in and out in about five minutes,” she explained, unable to hide the excitement in her voice. “And the places have nothing in common: a small restaurant, a big box chain store, and a corporate office.” She looked up at Ellis with a glint in her eyes. “Somebody is moving quickly around the city, undetected.”

Ellis drew a line with her finger along the three points. “So that means that the next place they’d hit would probably be… this hotel?”

“I don’t know. These robberies all happened late at night when the places were all closed. But hotels are usually staffed around the clock. I’d say, maybe the restaurant connected to it.”

“What could they rob from a restaurant in the middle of the night?” Ellis asked. “Most businesses deposit their cash at the end of the day.”

“They were able to take a little bit of money from the small restaurant last night, but they made off with goods from the store, and some small electronics from the corporate office. They basically just take whatever they can get their hands on in a short amount of time. And whatever they can easily carry.”

“Why, though? What would they have to gain from such small crimes?”

Smith smiled. She couldn’t believe that someone was not only listening to her crazy interests, but actually seemed to be invested as well. “I don’t know. But they’re so frequent and they follow a pattern. It has to be the same people each time, and they’re probably counting on it to pay off in the long run.”

“I can’t believe the police haven’t noticed the similarities.”

Nate came back to their table. “Oh lordy, is she going on about her crime conspiracy theories? You don’t have to get sucked into her craziness, darling.”

Ellis smiled at him. “I know, she’s completely bonkers, right?” Smith closed her apps and set down her tablet, a little dejected that she couldn’t share her excitement with her crush anymore.

“Mm-hmm. You ladies good?” he asked, placing a check down next to Smith.

“Yes, thank you.” Ellis started to reach for the check, but Smith quickly grabbed it.

“I got it.” She reached into her backpack and pulled out twelve dollars from her wallet.

“Let me guess, Rolly doesn’t let you pay, but Nate does?”

“Yes, Nate sure does,” he said, snatching the cash from Smith’s hand. He picked up their empty glasses and headed to the back.

“Well, uh, I guess we should go,” Smith hesitated, disappointed that the date was over. “Sure. I have an early morning session with my personal trainer tomorrow.”

Smith nodded, attempting to look nonchalant. “Cool. That’s cool.” She stowed her tablet into her backpack again and stood to put it on. She paused when she saw Ellis reach under her own chair and pull out a black motorcycle helmet.

“Shall we head out?” Ellis said as she stood from the table.

“Y--yeah,” Smith squeaked, still trying to retain her nonchalance.

The two left the tea shop in the same direction.

“You know that I don’t actually think you’re bonkers, right?”

Smith gazed down at her feet as they walked along, side by side. “It’s nice to hear you say that.” They walked together a little further in silence.

“This is me,” Ellis said, and they stopped at the lot next to the red sportbike Smith had admired earlier. The sun had sunk low, and the streetlamps had turned on against the dusky sky. The light right above Ellis’ bike highlighted the glittery paint job, making it sparkle like fresh snow.. She set her helmet on the seat and zipped up her jacket, transforming her cool elegance into what almost looked like a mysterious… superhero.

“I had a nice time. Thanks for indulging me, Ellis.” Smith had a hard time looking Ellis in the eye, so she just admired her motorcycle.

“I did too,” Ellis smiled back at her.

“Well… drive safe.” It was the only thing Smith could think to say.

Ellis mounted the motorcycle and put on her helmet. “Thanks, I will. Good night.” She closed the visor and started the engine. Smith gave a small wave as she stood and watched Ellis pull out of the lot and speed off down the street.

“Oh damn!” she exclaimed aloud. I didn’t think to get her number. She pulled out her phone and opened up her Lookit app. She typed in Ellis’ name in the search and started scrolling through her photos and videos. Probably for the best. Would she even want me bothering her?

Smith slowly started to shuffle back to her apartment, still scrolling through Ellis’ pictures. Her thumb hovered over the ‘add friend’ button, as she nervously contemplated the idea of reaching out to the famous model that she happened to have a short date with.

Suddenly, two men jumped out from between a couple of parked cars. One of them punched her in the back of the head, knocking her to her hands and knees. Her phone flew out of her hand and disappeared somewhere in the dark street. “Just leave it!” one of the men said. They started kicking her in the ribs. Smith fought for some air to enter her lungs so she could scream out, but all she could manage were some hoarse gasps. One of the men started to pull her backpack off of her. Instinctively, she wrapped the strap around her hand and grabbed onto it for dear life. The only thing she could think to do was scream “No!” Smith curled into a tight ball on her left side around her backpack, as the one man kept trying to pry it away from her and the other one had gotten onto the ground and was punching her anywhere he could.

Smith opened her eyes as she heard a loud engine revving, and caught a glimpse of a white rocket hurtling toward them. The men also saw it, and took off. The rocket screamed past Smith and barreled toward the men. The rider leaned hard, making sparks fly along the pavement as the sparkling sportbike fell and slid toward Smith’s attackers. The rider had managed to let go of the bike before it hit the ground, and tucked into a tight roll. The motorcycle hit one of the men hard in the leg, and he let out a yell as he fell to the ground, pinned under the bike. The other man kept running. The rider got up and sprinted toward the man trapped under the motorcycle. He struggled to get out from under it, but the rider put her foot down on the wheel, holding him in place.

Ellis glared down at him through her helmet. To him, the dark, mysterious figure looked like a spectre in the night. The man trembled. “Pl--please! Don’t hurt me! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!!”

Ellis pressed down on the wheel again, and the man screamed out in pain. “You’re pathetic.” She let the bike go. He whimpered as he struggled to wriggle out from under the wheel. “Get the fuck out of here.” The man managed to get himself free and limped off as fast as he could. Ellis watched as he slowly vanished into the darkness.

After he was gone, Ellis turned and ran toward Smith. Smith groaned in pain as she struggled to sit herself upright.

“Don’t move.” Ellis knelt down beside her and took off her helmet. She helped Smith lie back down on her back, and looked her over. Smith had a large bruise on her right cheekbone, a bloody lip, and scrapes all over. Her clothes were dirty and torn from being kicked and knocked onto the ground. “Where does it hurt?”

Smith groaned again as she tried to gesture to her ribs, but her right arm was just as bad.

Ellis unzipped her jacket pocket and pulled out her phone. “I’ll call for an ambulance.”

As she was about to dial the phone, Smith reached up with her left hand and pulled Ellis down and kissed her, grateful to her savior. And she felt Ellis kiss her back. At that moment, Smith thought that maybe her plan wasn’t so crazy after all.