#I set up my light sources in the wrong places bc it looked better

[200dollarharu]

~ Final Kiss ~

[shoichee]

part 4: hcs dedicated to reactions: seirin (their precious lil manager going out with that scissor-wielding emperor bastard!?) and rakuzan (their captain was in love with that girl who cussed at him near the vending machine?!? ITS SO FUNNY) ++ angst where akashi gets jealous of readers teammates (IZUKI kuroko kagami furi... but mostly izuki bc point guards with eye powers) because he still feels bad about what happened and thinks he doesnt deserve her -- teiko anon

OUR LEGENDARY TEIKO ANON HAS SPOKEN OF AN EPILOGUE, alright y’all the finale FINALE 🧘🏻‍♀️ OKAY, i don’t think I hammered too hard on the angst, but enjoy the fluff and subtle crack😌

OOH, looks like another anon wants a pt. 4! :0 Since it is primarily the Teiko anon’s request, I will be prioritizing the first request, but I will combine a few aspects of this request to make a fuller headcanon epilogue! Hope everyone enjoys this! part 1 here // part 2 here // part 3 here

Akashi x Reader

Part 4: Epilogue

[Teiko!manager Headcanons]

in the aftermath of the Winter Cup, your relationship with Akashi has certainly gotten much better, and dare you say, more intimate and romantic; though you were still healing a bit from the emotional scars from Teiko, they seemed to be going away faster than you realized, especially when everyone gathers for Kuroko’s birthday party

you were with Seirin, helping with the decorations and setting up the plates before Kuroko comes in the evening, but what no one expected was for him to bring in the GoMs

YOU’RE SHOOK AND YOU’RE BASHFUL SEEING AKASHI IN HIS WINTER ATTIRE, you’re getting MAD butterflies, but no one seems to notice because everyone’s attention is on the GoMs and Kuroko

of course Akashi was scanning the room for you first, and you immediately look away from his affectionate stare because you were still not used to the old Akashi, let alone his sweeter side for only you

Izuki notices how quiet you got and nudged your ribs with his elbow before telling a stupid pun… the thing is, you were one of the few people who genuinely found his jokes funny LOL

Akashi widens his eyes, staring at you laughing so unabashedly, and he feels really, really bad that he never got that level of a reaction from you whenever you were with him even despite knowing you for longer

now as the party goes on, Akashi is seeing your dynamics with Seirin for the first time and he’s just really grateful that you found an amazing support group during your low times; he’s not particularly someone to get jealous, but he’s getting a BAD case of FOMO because he’s thinking of all the “what-if’s” and all the times he could’ve made you happy and stress-free

“Akashi-kun?”

“Ah… yes?” Akashi snaps out of his daze to see a mild smirk coming from Kuroko on his right side, and Kuroko was about to ask a question about who he was looking at before a shout of “Watch out!” and a ceramic plate came FLYING across the table to hit the Rakuzan captain square on his face

CUE SCREAMS OF PANIC AS MOMOI PUNCHES AOMINE ON THE HEAD AND RIKO JUMPS TO STRANGLE KAGAMI, AND YOU LITERALLY ZOOMED TO HIS SIDE TO CHECK ON ANY INJURIES

see, he could’ve easily dodged it, and he supposed that it’s his fault for not paying attention and dodging on time

thankfully, the plate didn’t break because Kuroko caught the plate before it reached the floor and placed it back on the table

Akashi still has a bruise or two on his face though… and ngl, everyone gulped when they saw him checking out the injuries with a handheld mirror, ready to get their ankles broken

you were so worried over his safety, he finds it really endearing… but he wants to elicit an expression other than looks of worry or tears or anger (flashback to when you cussed him out)

“Wait, but (y/n)...” Koganei said. “Since when were you so close to Akashi that you didn’t hesitate to touch his face?”

a few moments of silence for everyone to register his words

“EHHHH?????!!!!”

everyone is throwing QUESTION after QUESTION at the two of you, and Akashi just has a neutral face with his mouth parted while you were so embarrassed LMAO

Kise being a real best friend, tells them:

“Alright, alright, everyone! Let’s not forget about the birthday boy! Kurokocchi should be the center of our attention today!”

“Kise, that’s…”

“Anywho! Let’s light up the cake and find those party poppers…”

after the party though, when you all return to school, Seirin was READY to jump on you for interrogation, and you do reluctantly tell them that you and Akashi are a tentative couple

Riko: “SERIOUSLY? I mean… that’s kinda cute though…”

Hyuuga: “I mean… yeah, as long as you’re happy, it’s none of my business.”

Teppei: “I hope he treats you well, (y/n)-san.” and of course he gives you his signature head pats

Furihata, Tsuchida, Kawahara: “??????????????????? But why?”

Koganei: “Huh, guess that explains a lot.”

Kagami: “???????????? pt. 2 LMAO” and also “What do you even see in him?” in genuine curiosity

Izuki: “ I guess you two dove into this relationship without hesitation, eh? Get it, get it? Because doves are a symbol of lo—”

“Izuki, shut the fuck up.”

“It means that you love (Ai)kashi—” [Ai means love]

“IZUKI.”

Kuroko simply pretends that this is the first time he’s heard of you dating Akashi, and he gives you his heartfelt congratulations, and as long as Kuroko approves of it, you feel like you’re on the right track (he’s such a good judge of character!)

you and Akashi actually live VERY far apart, considering that your schools are equally just as far in distance, but that being said, for our rich boy Akashi, distance isn’t much of a problem when he can easily find ways to come visit any time

he can also pay for your transportation to visit Rakuzan if you ever felt like visiting him too (although, you insist to pay for your own things, but he’s not having it because he says it’s a treat for him to see you too)

whenever Akashi stops by the Seirin campus to visit, he’s just kind of awkward standing there like the prince that he is, waiting for the perfect opportunity to walk in, but every time, he’d ALWAYS notice how you’re so happy being with everyone here, especially with Izuki, and his guilt just comes back full force again

he wonders if this was right of him to date you when there’s so much people who can easily do a better job in getting you to smile and be completely yourself, especially since he’s been the source of your anguish for all these months (maybe even a year or two if he was counting the duration of your entire crush on him that you assumed to be unrequited)

“Seijurō!” your voice rang out, beckoning him to walk towards you and the group

all of the Seirin teammates are so wary of him, and are all hyper aware of his movements LOL, and Kuroko is just like “hi, you’re back” very casually

Kagami uses this as a chance to challenge a one-on-one on Akashi

Kagami gets destroyed in a few minutes flat

the whole time you’re just watching Akashi with heart eyes, unbeknownst to him while he was focused on Kagami

after the interrogation and Akashi passing the “first stage” of acceptance, you and him find time to have a cute date at a local shopping district to walk around and sightsee

Akashi finds it fun, he really did, but there’s a part of him that thinks you’d have more fun with people who know you better… a.k.a. Izuki, or legit any other Seirin member

he’s visibly distracted by his own thoughts, and you wave a hand to his face, asking if this was too boring for him

“No, no, of course I’m enjoying this with you,” he muses, putting a gentle kiss to your temple. “Shall we get moving?”

“Something’s bothering you isn’t it.”

“No,” he chuckles, giving a gentle smile, but you only frown at him… once again he sees that you weren’t smiling at him

“I’m serious Sei, I want to get to know the real you,” you softly chastise, pinching his cheek. “So I also want you to speak your mind around me.”

“Oh ho… I see that your boldness is still very present here,” he says in referring to your touch.

“Oh my god, can you drop it already? That’s so embarrassing—I cussed you out one time… hey don’t change the subject!”

“Hmm…” he hums for a bit before he comes clean. “I’m afraid that I might not be the right person to be worthy by your side after hurting you for so long.”

“... What makes you think that?” He hesitates, for the first time, not being so sure of himself and his emotions; he immediately thinks of Izuki and your good chemistry with him but dismisses the thought

“... I just do not think I’m capable enough to make you happy.”

“But you are. I’m very giddy to be with you right now.”

“Even happier than when you are with… your teammates?”

“Huh?”

“I apologize,” he hurriedly says. “They are your friends. I was out of line to question them.”

“No, no, it’s okay. Talk it out to me.” He’s uncharacteristically quiet as you both continue to walk and browse through the shops, and you carefully watch Akashi while he’s examining a few souvenirs on the display, patient for him to continue talking

“... the point guard.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Seirin’s point guard.”

“Izuki-kun? What about him?”

“While I’m aware that you only spend your time with him as a good friend… I want to spend just as much of a koala-ty time with you whenever we have the chance.”

he... says this with the straightest face, and you’re utterly confused before you saw some animal plushies on the store window, and the the koala plush, and then the cogs started turning in your head

“... Did you just say a pun?”

“Was it not sufficient?”

a few moments of silence pass and Akashi thinks he did something wrong because he wanted to make you smile (HELP poor captain), before you break into hysterics

between your fits of broken laughs and wheezes, you managed to ask if he was jealous of Izuki, to which he wholeheartedly kept denying until you wouldn’t stop being persistent

you reassure him over and over that he doesn’t need to act like Izuki to make you happy, but it was a pleasant surprise to see Akashi crack a “joke” nonetheless

he’s a bit new to the concept of dating and is still quite unsure of how to navigate this PLEASE GIVE HIM TIME

the date that day was a success (some of the Seirin teammates TOTALLY weren’t spying on you mid-date or anything…)

while Seirin is okay with you dating, visiting Rakuzan ALONE with the scary-ass captain and his “CROONIES” (hint: the rest of the team LMAOO) IS AN ENTIRELY DIFFERENT STORY

RIKO AND HYUUGA are just like:

“What’s wrong with him coming here to visit you? Why do you gotta do the effort to visit him?”

“Uh… because I want to…”

“Yes, but who would you call to help over if something wrong happens? You’d be too far!”

“Uh, Akashi can help me if something happens.”

“With what, his scissors?” Kagami gives a deadpan look, and everyone turns to look at him in utter confusion LMAOOO like what does this redhead mean by SCISSORS???

Kuroko immediately jabs Kagami’s sides to silence him and smoothly changes the conversation before anyone asks any more questions about the “scissors” and potentially make them more reluctant to let you go

oh Kuroko, being the mediator and negotiator as always, trying to set some safety protocols for you to follow before everyone finally agrees to let you go see the infamous team alone

you know, Teppei is honestly just like, “Just go! Don’t worry about our (y/n) too much!”

Furihata is so concerned for your safety for valid reasons, but you reassure him that you won’t “die from the trip,” and no, this wouldn’t “be the last time” they’d see you before you leave

so when you stopped by Rakuzan’s gym after school after looking at the online maps, Hayama lets out a screech of terror before he starts pointing at you and calling you the “crazy ass chick” who tried to have a first-row seat ticket to death LOL

Hayama’s commotion brought everyone else’s attention to you, and Akashi was very surprised to see you all the way here

but he’s just standing at the back to watch how his teammates are reacting to you

Reo is the guy who would welcome you very warmly and would introduce you to the other team members who aren’t the starters, and he would actually ask if you were okay from last time

Nebuya is very laid back and throws a few muscle jokes much to Reo’s dismay, and he makes a comment about not you possibly not eating enough because at the time, he saw you almost tripping up your feet after you cussed out Akashi… he offers you his extra bowls if you ever feel hungry VERY SWEET GUY

Mayuzumi thinks you have balls, like who the fuck would come out alive after cussing out his captain but then COME BACK to said school of the captain… like why would you willingly walk back into the lion’s den??? so he thinks you’re dumb, but he has a shred of respect for you

Akashi is so amused at the spectacle and finally walks over to you after you noticed him

and he gives you an embrace and a chaste forehead kiss, and the entire gym goes silent

“Sei! I wanted to drop by as a surprise! Did you expect me?”

“Hm, I may have expected you to come sooner or later, but definitely not this quickly. Were transportation fees too much of a hassle?”

“Nope! I got everything covered! Do you want me to give you any chiropractic massages if you and your teammates need it?”

“You don’t need to do that, (y/n). You came here as a guest, not as a manager.”

“But…”

“Shhh, as soon as practice is done, I’ll take you anywhere you want in Kyotō. How does that sound?”

“Er… captain?” Reo holds up a hesitant finger to interrupt the two of you, while everyone else looks horrified at the sight of their captain looking serene

“Get a room, will you?” Mayuzumi only tuts in irritation while turning away to grab a nearby water bottle to down in one go

Nebuya merely stares in astonishment at the two of you, and his mind is thinking how the hell did you reel in this guy?

nah man, Hayama is GONE at this point: his brain has stopped functioning a while ago, and he’s standing there as stiff as a statue, scratching his head like a lost monkey // like he’s thinking how the fuck did this shit add up?? in his mind, he’s taking 2 plus 2 but it somehow ends up 94… that’s how he’s processing what he’s witnessing

the rest of the benchers and lower-string players are confused? who ARE you anyways?? Akashi?? dating??? that’s Rakuzan gossip of the century

TLDR; your first trip to Rakuzan may be awkward because the two of you stick out like a sore thumb, but eventually after multiple trips, the team slowly begins to consider you as one of their own

as per Akashi’s “suggestion” (hint: not a suggestion, but a strong recommendation), you were to be retreated with respect and kindness

why? Because Akashi never wants a repeat of the situation at Teiko ever again :(

as long as he is captain, and as long as he has the power and authority, he will do everything he can to make you happy and comfortable

don’t worry though, the Rakuzan starters are more than willing to punt any kid who talks shit about you

surprisingly, once Hayama comes around and accepts the fact that you were dating the captain, he’d be the most adamant and vocal protector, and he’s the one who shares the “inside tips and tricks” about the captain EEEE it’s so wholesome !!

the Rakuzan team is your certified bodyguard group, no debate

Reo might be the nosy mom who asks about who confessed first and the like…

the END, and I DO MEAN THE END THIS TIME

[celosiaa]

I dont know if you're taking prompts at the moment but when you have time if the idea interests you what about martin greying after their time in the apocalypse and growing a beard and being distressed because he looks like his father. jon comforts him and helps him feel better about his appearance. maybe some soft domestic comfort where jon helps martin dye his hair and shave the beard away to look like himself again.

hi friend!!! thank you for this prompt, it’s probably not perfect bc I wrote it really fast!! But I hope you like it anyway :)

CW panic attack

When Jon wakes, head still spinning in the light of the sun, Martin is once again gone. And Jon is so, so very tired.

Tired of the weariness, the deep ache that has settled so heavily in his bones he is unsure if he will ever truly shake it. Tired of the sapping away of his strength, as he attempts to rebuild, day by day by day even after a year has gone by since the end of all things.

Tired of waking up alone.

It’s a wonderful thing, in a way, to know that something is wrong with Martin rather than Knowing it—the realization that he is, in fact, able to discern when something is bothering the love of his life is a rather comforting fact, after everything. Even so, he finds himself frustrated. Frustrated with the fact that he cannot intuit the source of his husband’s distress, much less pull anything out of him.

Martin is shutting down. Plain as day. And it terrifies him.

Running a hand briefly over the Martin-shaped imprint beside him, long gone cold, Jon props himself up on too-slender arms, waiting a moment for the spots to clear from his vision, and standing on too-slender legs. At once, he reaches for his cane at the bedside, finding his injury sitting heavy in his hip this day—and heads quietly out of the room and into the hall.

If Jon had not known better, he would never have guessed that Martin were there at all. For the entirety of their normally-cozy, tiny little flat seems nothing but desolate and dustladen and darkening, ever darkening. Something Lonely creeping through every window sill, beneath the outside door, through the vents—

Streaming from the open bathroom door.

Of course, Jon had seen it coming for days, had tried to warn Martin of the fog carried on each of the few words he has spoken over the past few days. But it did not matter—Martin has often explained how muffled everything becomes while he finds himself once again in this place. Muffled and meaningless and fading, fading. Buried under guilt and fear and apologies, so many apologies that Jon could drown in them.

And now, perhaps—just perhaps, he might let him in. If the open door of the bathroom is a sign to be taken as hopeful.

“Martin,” he calls as he approaches the doorframe. “Habibi, are you alright?”

Upon looking in, he finds Martin leaning over the sink—staring with empty eyes back into the emptiness of his reflection in the mirror, fog swirling so thick beneath his glasses it’s a wonder he can see at all. The word that comes first to Jon’s mind is frozen—and he cannot help but hurt over just how long he has stood here, alone and in his private grief, limbs shaking ever so slightly in their static hold.

“Habibi,” he starts again—quieter this time, stepping a bit closer. “Look at me. I’m right here.”

He follows these words with resting a hand against his forearm—ever so gentle and cautious, yet Martin jumps bodily all the same.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Jon continues, without moving his hand away.

“…what?” is the eventual reply, so dim and far away it echoes, swirling around Jon’s head dizzyingly.

“Look at me, Martin. Can you look at me?” he pleads, beginning to rub his hand up and down his forearm now, anything to create some warmth over his ice-cold skin.

“Jon.”

“Yes. Right here, please look at me.”

At last, at long last—Martin turns his face away from the mirror, the fog beginning to dissipate from his eyes as soon as he meets Jon’s. The ache of it all sends something twisting in his stomach, over the fact that this still happens so regularly, that Martin still struggles to be open, even with him, even after all this time.

And buries it.

“There you are,” he soothes as he slips a hand up and into his hair, beginning to stroke through it as Martin starts to come back to himself. “You with me?”

He blinks a few more times, slowly, strangely—before tensing suddenly beneath Jon’s hands, eyes blown wide as he gasps in a breath.

“J-Jon—”

“Easy. Easy, now,” he murmurs easily, grasping at his arm once again. “Just sit down. You’re alright.”

“Jon—”

“Sit down, my love.”

Back to the wall, Martin slides down to sitting braced against it—bowing his head between his knees at once, one hand against his throat as he gasps for something beyond the fog to fill his lungs. Jon steps over his feet—coming to rest on the side of the tub, leaning forward to keep a gentle pressure moving across his shoulders as he works through the panic. All too common panic, unfortunately.

“I’m here. I’m right here.”

As always, Jon feels so helpless here. He knows there is very little to be done but to sit and wait, talk if it helps, stop if it doesn’t, always keeping that contact to ground Martin in warmth. Every time his heart breaks—and every time he swallows the lump in his throat, no matter how thick with fog it may be.

“I’m right here.”

Several minutes pass this way, rapid breaths fading into rhythm, color returning back to Martin’s skin, the fog at at last dissipating into the floor beneath them. And finally—finally—Martin looks up, eyes just barely meeting Jon’s for a moment before he covers them in shame.

“God, I’m so sorry, Jon,” he croaks, scrubbing over his eyes as he speaks. “Happened again.”

“No need, habibi,” Jon replies, as always. “No need.”

And still the silence remains for a while, Jon’s hand never leaving Martin’s back, Martin’s hand never falling away from his eyes in his misery. It is in this moment, feeling his husband shaking beneath him for the third morning in a row, and the fourth this week, that Jon makes a decision.

“Martin,” he begins, pausing to worry at his lower lip for a moment. “Martin, please…please tell me why this is happening.”

“You don’t need to worry about it,” comes the terrible reply, the one that tells Jon there is so much hurt still left to heal in his soul.

“I am worried. And will continue to worry, because I love you.”

A small huff of laughter behind a ghost of a smile.

“I love you too,” he replies, as if still shocked he is allowed to say it.

“Then please—talk to me.”

“It’s silly—it’s nothing, I dunno why it’s bothering me so much,” he continues, at last letting the hand covering his eyes fall and rest atop his knee. “And—and I’m sorry it’s—it’s worrying you. But I’m alright.”

Yet another small and fragile thing shatters in Jon’s chest over this—this utter falsehood, that he would ever see Martin drowning in the Lonely and think only of himself. That he would ever think that way.

“I-I wouldn’t—this isn’t about me, Martin,” he assures, refusing to bely the hurt pushing against the steadiness of his voice. “I know that you are hurting. Please—please tell me why, and I will help.”

“Jon—”

“That’s all I want. Is to help.”

A moment—a long, terrible moment in which Jon cannot be sure he is trusted, cannot be sure he is ready to talk. That he will have to accept whatever the next breath brings, even if it hurts. Even if it hurts.

Please please please

“I—like I said, it’s silly, right?” Martin begins to choke out, tears rising immediately as he begins to speak. “I-I know it is. And I’m just going to sit here and blubber about it like a fool.”

“It’s not silly if it hurts you.”

“I—well, just—just wait till you hear it,” he says tremulously, letting out a terribly damp little laugh at the end, swiping at his eyes yet again. “It’s just that—with the, the grey, and the—beard, I—god—I look just like my dad.”

And there it is at last, the aching truth of it all. The trauma Martin would rather call silliness. The panic he would rather call a terrible display of dramatics. The tears he will apologize for in three, two—

“God, I’m so sorry,” he bursts through gritted teeth, trying desperately to make a noise sounding something like laughter.

“Martin—”

“It’s so silly, I—”

“Stop, stop.”

Catching both of Martin’s hands in his own, Jon grips them tightly, tilting his head in a gesture that begs Martin to look, please look at me. And when he does, eyes still brimming and barely holding together—it’s nearly enough to do Jon in altogether.

“It is not silly,” he begins forcefully, gently. “You have every right to feel upset by this. This—this pain makes sense—and it is real, and it is justified. Alright?”

The damp smile Jon receives in return is enough to tell him that Martin does not really believe him, perhaps he never will—but that his words are appreciated all the same.

“Now listen. There are some things we could do that might help, alright?” he continues, starting to massage Martin’s hands gently as the tears begin to fall in earnest, trying to keep his shoulders from shaking. “I could—I could help you dye it. Any color at all. And—only if you want—I can help you shave. If you think it might help.”

A laugh—a real, if still damp, laugh comes from him then—cast in the glow of a genuine smile. As it always has and always will—it sets Jon’s heart fluttering with love for this man, for his anchor—for his love. For his always.

“Yeah, I—heh—” he begins, swiping away the remaining wetness with another laugh. “Early thirties is a bit young to go grey, I reckon.”

“Is it now?” Jon teases at once, a grin spreading wide across his face, tossing his own greying hair over one shoulder. “Is that young to go grey?”

“Oh come off it,” Martin says, rolling his eyes, bumping a shoulder against Jon’s leg. “You know what I meant.”

[unsaidholland]

vintage, but feels brand new

reposted this bc the tags weren’t working!

i am finally getting this out omg! this is inspired by the bridge in come back home by arkells (great song, one of my favourites!)

warnings: the use of no-no words

being married to your best friend was one of the greatest things that you’ve ever experienced. after only being married for two and a half years, you had a little girl named bryana astrid holland. she had your complexion, eyes, and nose, but harry’s hair and lips. she was the most adorable curly, copper headed baby to ever grace your life, harry of course was a close second. now, at three years old she was one of the biggest blessings in yours and harry’s life.

the honeymoon phase never really ended completely for the two of you, but it was slowly dying out. the buzz of being newlyweds had ended, but the love you had for each other never ended. how could it? he was everything you could’ve ever dreamt of in a husband. he also was amazing with your daughter, which you loved about him. the soft harry that came out around bry was one of your favourites, sarcastic harry was a close second. you often found the two of them cuddled up on the couch together when it was nap time, and when you guys went out, her favourite place was on top of harry’s shoulders. he would do anything for his girls, and that’s one of the things you discovered about him after you guys got married. you always knew he was selfless and extremely dedicated to everything, but it took a different form when it came to your family.

as you were in the kitchen preparing dinner for the three of you, the tv was playing a show that bry loved. the sound of her giggles and her singing along with the songs filled the room. a smile appeared on your face as you continued to saute the vegetables.

harry said he would be home in time for dinner, but he had been filming his newest short film and you had a bit of a hunch that he wouldn’t be home for dinner. recently there weren’t family dinners. just you, bry, and an empty spot where harry should have been. it hurt, but you knew he was working hard. the perfectionist in him always made filming meticulous, but it was his passion. everyone understood that whenever harry was working, nothing was ever short of perfect. however, it was starting to take a toll on you.

you missed going to bed with him, not him crawling into bed when you’re already half asleep. you missed having dinner with him, not watching him have dinner when you were winding down for the night. you missed him being around to play with bry, not her asking when he was going to come home. you just missed him being there.

as you were about to finish cooking, your phone went off.

hi love, sorry i can’t make it for dinner. we’re redoing a few shots, they didn’t turn out the way they should have the first few times around. i’ll try not to be home late, i love you!

you were excited that he was supposed to be home for dinner, but a part of you knew that this text was going to come sometime later in the night. you texted back a simple, okay h, we’ll see you when you get home :) don’t overwork yourself, i love you. you wanted him to be home, but you couldn’t change his work, so you decided to push the sadness aside and enjoy the time you were going to spend with your daughter.

“bry! time for dinner bubba,” you called out into the living room. you put the food out on the table after setting it for the two of you. the sounds of her small, chubby feet hitting the hardwood floors was enough to make you feel better in an instant, but you knew that it would only be a temporary fix.

“where’s daddy? he workin’?” bry asked as she entered the room. your face softened at the slight disappointment on her face.

“it’s just you and me for dinner tonight bubba, i’m sorry.” bry’s face fell. she missed harry, you knew that, but there wasn’t anything you could do to make him come home instantly. “come on, let’s eat, yeah?” she nodded in agreement, climbing into her chair. you felt terrible for her being so let down that harry wasn’t at dinner, but you tried your best to make it up to her. “how about this, let’s eat dinner in the living room and watch a movie. what do you wanna watch?” her face lit up at the sudden change in dinner plans. for the past few days, dinners have been spent at the table with just the two of you, but the introduction of a movie and the subtraction of the kitchen somehow made it more exciting for the curly haired girl.

“mmmm, i wanna watch toothless!” the disappointment left her voice as she thought of the night fury.

“okay bubba! let’s get our food first, and then we can put on the movie, okay?” she carefully grabbed her plate from the table, and waddled over to the living room, putting her plate down on the coffee table and sitting down on the rug that lay below it. you followed in her steps, putting how to train your dragon on the tv, and sitting down beside her. “can i have a hug baby?” she gave you a hug, and you said a quiet “i love you” to her, one she didn’t hear over her own excitement.

as the movie finished, bry was already asleep, so you carried her to her room, laying her down in her bed. you placed a soft kiss on her forehead after tucking her in, closing the door behind you as you left the room. you went back to the living room to clean up the dishes the two of you left behind, and to pack up the leftover food that was sitting on the dining table.

the time your phone screen read 9:23 pm,  dinner was about three hours ago and harry still wasn’t home. you decided to begin unwinding for the night, heading to your bathroom to begin your skincare routine, then heading to your bedroom to put on a pair of shorts and one of harry’s t-shirts. a part of you wanted to lay in bed and put on a show before going to bed, but another part of you wanted to wait in the living room for harry to come home. deciding on the latter, you walked into the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water, then heading into the living room. you decided to watch the good place while waiting for your husband to get home from work. even though the show was on, your mind couldn’t help but focus on where he was.

•••

harry walked into the house quietly. it was 11:13 pm, but he didn’t intentionally come home that late. they just needed to get the perfect shot. he swore it was only going to take another hour or so, not five. he saw you sleeping on the couch, the glow of the tv being the main source of light filling the room. he walked over to you, squatted down, and placed a kiss on your forehead, causing you to stir. he waited for you to go back to sleep, but that never came. you opened your eyes  and groggily you said, “harry?”

“i’m here now love, i’m sorry i’m late,” harry’s apologetic tone was obvious, but it didn’t make up for the fact that his daughter was extremely let down that he didn’t go through with dinner plans that you both had made. you were upset, truthfully you were beyond upset, but you knew you were only upset because you missed him. you sat up, letting him sit on the couch beside you. you were turned so you were facing him. his jacket still on, but unzipped, hat abandoned somewhere.

“did you get the shot you wanted?” your five years of marriage plus the three and a half years of dating prior to getting married made you able to read him like a book. he wanted to tell you about work today and pretend everything was okay, but you weren’t okay. harry, too blinded by his own excitement, proceeded to tell you about the shot and how perfect it had turned out. he went on about how nathan his cameraman kept messing up and going too fast at times and too slow at others. he talked about how the actors’ chemistry was too much at times, which wouldn’t make sense when you watched it back given the storyline. he talked about everything that happened that day. you watched as his eyes lit up, and how his body language immediately changed.

he realized near the end of his story that something was wrong. you weren’t as excited as you usually were. “darling, what’s on your mind?” he asked. he searched your eyes for an answer, but they were filled with an odd mix of pride, anger, and disappointment.

“you weren’t at dinner tonight.” the single statement was enough for him to start piecing everything together, but before he could open his mouth to let an apology roll out, you continued. “bry was really disappointed you know. she really misses having you around. i know that this is your job and your passion, but h we’re your family. we need to spend time with you too.” you looked down at your hands and started fiddling with the wedding ring that sat on your ring finger. “i really, really miss you h.”

“is that what this is about? that i wasn’t at dinner?” he asks. when you look up at him, all you see is his face twisted in confusion. “don’t you want me to work?” you scoff. he’s clearly not getting it, you think. as your eyes roll in annoyance, harry begins to see red. “what now, i don’t fucking get it.”

“yeah, clearly.” the sarcastic remark burned on your tongue as you spit it out. having enough of this, you get up and walk to your shared room but not before saying, “your dinners on the island, just reheat it.”

soon enough you found yourself alone in the king-sized bed. the white duvet was pulled up over your legs, the end of it sitting above your waistline. your laptop sat on top of your thighs as you aimlessly scrolled through pinterest. your mind wasn’t focused on the aesthetically pleasing photos, but rather on how harry couldn’t understand that his family missed and needed him. as what felt like hours passed, harry finally entered your room. he closed the door behind him and went straight to his closet to grab a pair of sweatpants for him to sleep in. as he was getting undressed, the silence filled the room, being louder than it should have been.  

harry sat on his side of the bed, pulling the covers up and over his legs, then beginning to read a book that was left on his nightstand. his brown eyes gazed over the pages. like you, his mind wasn’t focused on the words that were on the page, but rather the ones that left your lips. how could she say something like that? she knows my work is important to me, he thought.

“how could i say something like that? harry, you haven’t even been home for dinner for the past week! you haven’t been here to put our child to bed, who by the way, always asks me when you’re gonna spend time with her. i know your work is important to me, and i’m not saying it shouldn’t matter, but i’m saying you need to learn how to give yourself to us and work at the same time.” you said, shutting the laptop. his thoughts weren’t supposed to leave his head, but now they were out in the open. you both were grateful that he had broken the silence, even if he didn’t realize that he had.

“are you kidding me? who the fuck do you think is putting the food on the table? you’re still on maternity leave and we know damn well that money covers all the bills so don’t even try to act like you’re doing more than me.” you were looking at him, and he was turned so he was facing you. “whenever i’m around i give all my time to you and to bry, so why are you even complaining?” he let out a scoff, one that infuriated you more than you already were. you turned so you were facing him, but moved back towards the foot of the bed so you weren’t right next to him.

“i honestly can’t believe that when i say your fucking daughter misses you all you retaliate with is how much money you make.” you got up, grabbing your phone and a book. “i’m sleeping in the guest room because you’re acting like a child right now.” harry stood up and met you as you walked around the bed towards the door.

“don’t just leave when we’re actually talking about this, what the fuck!” he exclaimed. his volume was rising unintentionally, but he was still sure to try and not wake bryana who was sleeping in her room down the hall. you tossed your stuff gently onto the bed.

“fine, you want to talk? let’s talk then. you leave every day at 8:30 am, bry wakes up at 7. you spend about an hour and a half with her, then leave and don’t even come back until it’s around eleven pm. this happens every fucking day harry. i bring her to school every morning and all she asks me is, ‘is daddy gonna be home for dinner today?’ and all i can say to her is i hope so. don’t act like we don’t appreciate what you’re doing for us.” you’re looking at him in the eyes now and all you can see is anger. harry is filled with rage, but what you don’t see is that he is determined to win this argument.

you continued anyways, “do you enjoy having dinner alone when your wife and kid are upstairs sleeping? ‘cause we sure as hell don’t like having dinner with your seat empty. and i-” harry was quick to cut you off.

“literally just shut the fuck up for thirty seconds and let me speak.” you were shocked. not once has a fight between the two of you escalated this far or gotten this heated. “i fucking work hard for our family and however many kids we’re going to have, okay? i’m sorry i’m not always around when i’m working, but you knew when you married me that i give my all to whatever project i’m working on.” he stopped to rub his face with his hand. tears were welling up in your y/e/c eyes, but that didn’t stop either of you from continuing. “i love you and i love our family, but i have a job and a career that makes me have long workdays at times and not have worked at all other days. you just have to accept that.”

harry’s tone softened when he saw you fighting back tears, though he wasn’t going to give in. but then you choked back a sob, and he immediately let his defence fall. he pulled you into his bare chest, wrapping his arms around you. as much as you wanted to refuse his touch, you couldn’t. the bedroom was only lit by the lamps that sat on each nightstand and the moonlight, and as the two of you stood there you wondered how you were so lucky to be with harry. yes, you were still technically in the middle of a fight, but somehow you both felt as if there was some common understanding that was reached as soon as the tears fell.

“you know i never meant to attack you like that?” you asked. “i just want you to spend more time with us when you can,” you said, feeling guilty about all the words you said to him. they weren’t particularly nasty perse, they just came out too hostile. “i’m really sorry baby.” you looked up into his brown eyes to see him staring back at you. the anger that once clouded them was replaced with soft love, that’s all he felt when he saw you.

“i’m sorry too bub. i swear i’ll be home for dinner tomorrow night. don’t tell bry, i wanna surprise her.” after planting a soft kiss to the top of your y/h/c hair, his hands went up under your shirt to rest on your waist, wanting to be closer to you. nothing was fully resolved just yet, but at least the two of you could go to bed that night without being angry with each other.

the next morning, you had woken up to an empty bed. the sun had already risen, and as you looked at the clock that sat on the wall opposite to your bed, you saw that it was past seven am. you had woken up late. you immediately checked your phone, already freaking out about your alarm not going off. you didn’t have time to prepare lunches and breakfast for everyone if you wanted to have a morning shower, nor did you have the time for yourself that you reserved every morning when you did your morning skincare just a little bit slower than you should have.

as you were about to get out of bed, the door opened to reveal harry and bryana. harry was holding a wooden tray, breakfast sat on top of it with either a cup of tea for both you and harry.

“what’s this?” you ask, confused as to what you did to deserve this. it was a normal saturday, there wasn’t any special occasions coming up, and it wasn’t like you and harry were yelling at each other less than twelve hours prior.

“it’s breakfast in bed mumma! we’re having breakfast in your bed!” you knew the confusion was painted onto your face, but as you looked at your husband a soft smile appeared on your face.

“well come on then! get over here you two,” you said as your arms opened up for bry to come cuddle you. she ran and hopped up onto the bed, harry following behind her, careful not to spill anything. he placed the tray down in the middle of the bed, it had three plates on it, all of them had scrambled eggs, a piece of buttered toast cut on the diagonal, and some strawberries and blueberries on the side. he sat down beside you and leaned in to give you a kiss. you met him halfway despite your morning breath. “before we eat, i’m gonna go brush my teeth okay?” you asked bry, and she nodded in agreement, already munching down on her toast.

you came back from the bathroom to see bry starting to eat some scrambled eggs, half of her toast was gone. harry was putting his tea down on a coaster that sat on the wooden nightstand on his side of the bed. you sat down in between him and bry, on your side of the bed, and took a sip of the tea that he made you. bry had a cup of orange juice that sat on the tray that she reached for.

once bryana was done with her breakfast, she ran off to her room to play with her toys and to get dressed for the day leaving you and harry alone. you and harry had taken photos of the breakfast arrangement prior to her leaving, but you still wished she had stayed. there wasn’t much left for the three year old to do but go and play.

“thank you for this.” a smile appeared on both of your faces, ones that harry wanted to savour and remember forever, so he took his phone out and took a selfie of the both of you.

“anything for you, my love.” he didn’t need to say more for you both to know that this was an apology breakfast, a breakfast that told you he was going to try and divide himself up more whenever he was working on a project.

the almost half an hour that the two of you spent together before getting ready to fully start the day made the butterflies stronger. the love that you had for each other only seemed to grow if that was even possible. though the marriage was a little bit vintage, it still felt brand new.

[visionsofus]

For your songfic, may I suggest Heart of Stone (Six)? Not all the lyrics are applicable, bc neither Wanda or Vision are Henry VIII (thank god lol), but the steadfast and enduring love and devotion that drives the song seems especially pertinent given that finale 😭. Or Simply the Best by Tina Turner? ❤️

hey anon! thank you so much for your requests ❤️

I’ve finished The Best by Tina Turner but I’m still working on the Heart of Stone prompt (please bear with me while I tear my heart out and put it back together because I wanna do the prompt justice) 

please enjoy!

wanda and vision’s mixtape | read this part on AO3 

synopsis: In which Wanda searches Edinburgh for Vision after she arrives late at their safehouse. When she discovers his energy signature floating around the city, she decides to follow the threads to their source. Along the journey she recalls the complications of their long-distance, secretive relationship but by the end recalls exactly why they sacrifice so much to be together.

Wanda was frantic as she hurried out of the airport. She’d been anticipating this trip for a month, her heart set on the two weeks Vision had managed to buy away from the compound. She’d planned out all the details to make sure she was on the right flight, that her fake passport was in order and that Nat was aware of her location if something went terribly wrong. Even her status as a fugitive was relatively under control thanks to some false information she’d planted over in Ohio last month. She’d left behind a trail of misleading clues that the Secretary of State and his team were lapping up eagerly, thinking they were getting closer to her capture for the first time in eighteen months.

Instead, here Wanda was halfway across the world having just landed at Edinburgh airport.

No matter how much she had planned things out, no matter the scope of her powers, nothing could have stopped the wave of snowfall that the UK had received in the last few days, coming to a head the previous night. She’d timed her flight to arrive, as they’d agreed, at 9pm at a predetermined destination in the city. To her dismay she’d found herself on a crowded red eye flight that had left 6 hours later when the runway had to be cleared of snow.

The worst part was that she’d had to sit there for those hours that dragged on for an eternity, knowing that at that very moment Vision would be waiting at the airbnb they’d rented out, alone. Wanda had no way to contact him, not with such short notice. Technology was too easy to track but it didn’t stop her longing to go and buy a cheap international sim from the technology stand at the airport and use it to just send one message. At this inclination Natasha’s voice had rung out in Wanda’s head, ‘the next time they catch you it’s as a war criminal, don’t give them a reason to decide you’re better off dead than locked up’.

  So it wasn’t worth the risk but it didn’t stop the sick feeling that grew in her stomach as she waited nervously to be let through passport control, then at the taxi stand and finally on the doorstep of the flat they had booked just off West Port.

It was early morning by the time she arrived, but the wintery sky was still hazy with the night’s darkness so she hoped that Vision might be waiting inside. The key box, which they’d been given a code to open from the host, was empty which further confirmed this conclusion. She rang the doorbell twice and waited. And waited and waited some more. There was no answer.

Wanda looked at the houses around her, streetlights reflecting their orange glows off of second story windowpanes. There were few lights on inside at this time of morning, but she still needed to be careful.

Leaving her only piece of luggage, a small carry-on bag that held the bare essentials of what she kept with her at all times these days, she looked up to the windows above her. Perhaps one of them would be open.

Wanda took a deep breath and let her power grow in her palms, red mist arcing out to push her from the ground. Her ascent was controlled and slow and she reached the windowsill with ease. It was just wide enough for her to grasp the waterpipe next to it and rest her feet on the sill. She froze when a light switched on next door and what sounded like a radio began to play, rather loudly considering the time of day. She used the music (it sounded like Tina Turner but she couldn’t be certain) to hide the distinct click that sounded from the window as she forced the lock open with her powers. Inside was quiet, all the lights were off, and Vision was not there.

“Vis?” Wanda called out nonetheless.

If he wasn’t here were could he be? Their general rule of thumb was that if one of them couldn’t make it to the predetermined location they had to wait 24 hours given it was safe to do so. It stood to reason that he’d follow the protocol this time, particularly given how long they were due to spend in Edinburgh and the months it had taken to concoct a believable excuse for why Vision wasn’t going to be in America.

Wanda returned to the window quickly and looked out over the limited view it gave of Edinburgh city and the castle rising up behind, providing a somewhat medieval backdrop. She raised her fingers to her forehead and took in her surroundings, focusing on the sound of early morning commuters from the main street, the sound of a ticking clock at her back, a car door closing down the road, and beyond it all she felt for Vision. Wanda hadn’t used the telepathic dimension of her powers in a while, or at least not as much as she had used to. They were a little rusty, making it hard to pinpoint precisely where Vision was but, when she opened her eyes something similar to an energy field could be seen gracing the cityscape before her. Certain structures stood out to her, outlined in a golden haze that couldn’t be anything but the mind stone calling to her.

Without hesitating Wanda vaulted out the window and hit the pavement below, her powers softening the landing. A flick of her hand sent her bag flying up through the open window.

Wanda grinned in anticipation and set off in the direction of the nearest golden glow, her boots hitting the cobbled streets one after the other. It had been freezing when she landed but as she ran through the slowly waking streets of Edinburgh Wanda removed her scarf and let it trail behind her.

The sun had not yet crested the horizon, but its light was turning the sky a nice lilac colour highlighted by the grey expanses of cloud hanging over the city. She briefly wondered whether it might snow today or if it was going to be too cold.

As Wanda rounded the corner onto the main street she nearly lost her footing on a stretch of dangerous black ice on the pavement only just catching herself on a nearby bus bench. She’d reached the first place Vision’s energy signature was calling her to, a small café down a wynd bordered on both sides by the back walls of town houses. The interior of the store was dark but a soft light glowed at the back where Wanda assumed the bakers had started their morning preparing the delicate pastries the café was known for.  

Wanda walked up to the window and looked at the ground where a strong outline of gold was hovering just above the icy cobble stones. Vision had been here recently, but he hadn’t gone inside, he’d just stood in the exact space she now hesitated at. They hadn’t had plans to meet here but it was a place they frequented any time they met up this side of the world.

Beyond the dark glass a few inches from her nose Wanda could see the cozy window seat that had become their spot. The café opened early and closed late at night so the pair had become frequent patrons what with Wanda sometimes kept up by recurring nightmares from her childhood and Vision who refused to let her be alone in those darkest hours.

Wanda’s fingertips brushed against the cold glass, leaving little prints in their wake at the tenderness of those memories, of her leaning against Vision, her hands clutching a warm cup while his arms encircled her waist. They’d sit there until the late hours when the store finally closed often talking about the other patrons in hushed tones. The students nursing late night coffees as they sat before computers, the lonely ones in new cities come to reclaim some control over the evening hours and, like them, the other insomniacs all drawn to the same place in this historic city. The conversation inevitably turned to their future and Wanda enjoyed thinking up ridiculous scenarios where they had a house in suburbia and didn’t have to run from anyone anymore. Things stayed lighthearted until they both grew too invested in the imaginary life they were discussing and returned back to wherever they were staying.

Wanda looked skywards again in the lightening morning and caught site of threads of gold leading her further down the street.

A mere block away was the only bookstore that stayed open 24 hours in the city. Some nights when the café had closed for the evening they had come here. The bell jangled, sharp in the serene silence of the store, as Wanda entered the maze-like stacks. Her fingers tingled in response to the energy signature that Vision had left here and she followed it to the back of the store which housed a few comfy armchairs and a long couch that they’d often set themselves up in for the night.

She could see it now as Vision’s energy shifted around her, as though it was responding to her presence. Could see him sitting across from her in her minds eye, a memory tucked away for safe keeping of when they’d last been in Edinburgh. He’d sat reading a book of poetry that he’d found amongst the stacks, his hands running gently across worn pages as he took in each word. She’d been perched at the other end of the couch, legs tucked beneath her and a sketch book resting on her knees as her pencil arced across the page creating the basis of his form, the curve of his shoulders, bend of his elbow, his legs crossed at the heal as he relaxed. Every now and then he’d glance up and she’d tilt the sketch away form his watchful eyes with a smile, or he’d take the moment to read out a particularly beautiful piece of poetry from the collection he was perusing.

Wanda had picked up drawing in the aftermath of the events in Sokovia and had been encouraged by Steve and Nat who had acted as her caretakers in those first few weeks after arriving in America. It had started as a simple activity to quiet her mind and draw what was happening within her, the first drawings hadn’t been good in skill or message, they’d started out dark. Vision didn’t know it, but she’d been drawing him for years, fascinated by trying to capture the feeling in his eyes or the gentle grace of his movement. Most of all this act of creation served to remind her that her hands could create beautiful things too, it didn’t all have to be death and destruction.

Wanda started as the energy rolled around her ankles before arcing back to the door. So, he wasn’t here either.

Out on the street gold threads guided her further up towards Edinburgh castle, the energy was growing stronger, and Wanda ran faster no longer just concerned about where Vision was but whether he was worried by her absence.

A small thread of energy darted off to the side and was so imperceptible that Wanda almost missed it. It was so weak that she knew there was no chance he’d be there but nonetheless she slowed down to a stop in front of a small newspaper stand that was being set up for the day. It was one of those metal domes that folded out to reveal the magazines and papers within. The elderly gentleman behind the counter gave her a warm smile as Wanda turned to the magazines, the cogs in her brain turning.

Of course he’d tried to stop here. Before they had brought Natasha into the picture, Wanda had communicated with Vision through the missed connections pages of local newspapers and gossip magazines. They’d leave each other a note, usually encoded so only they would understand it, detailing a time and place for their next meeting or what magazine they were going to put their next message in. In hindsight Wanda smiled at the memory but at the time she had been something of a mess. She’d come to rely on Vision for so much in the year they had spent living together, their first home. Being torn away from each other the way they were had been difficult, and the challenge of meeting each other in safe places for both of them had weighed down their evolving relationship. She wondered what might have happened if they’d been given the time they needed.

The owner of the stand was twirling the dial of a small radio moving from static to static until he found the radio station he wanted. To Wanda’s surprise, it was Tina Turner once more:

Each time you leave me I start losing control.

You’re walking away with my heart and my soul.

Wanda realised she was wasting time and hurriedly thanked the man before turning on her heel and starting down the street again. From here the incline grew but she hung onto the knowledge that when she eventually reached the thread’s end, Vision would be there waiting for her. Another lyric from Tina Turner’s song fluttered around her head as her chest burned from the running.

I can feel you even when I’m alone.

It was true that she always carried him with her when they were apart, but it was never the same as being with him in person. Nothing could beat that.

Wanda hadn’t realised but, whether from the intensity of the moment, or the cold, little tears had started to trickle down her face, blow away by the brisk wind.

The energy was growing stronger.

In your heart I see the star of every night and every day.

She ran faster, leaping up some steps two at a time and spinning around the corner.

In your eyes I get lost.

The gates to the public entrance to the castle tour were yet to open but Wanda wasn’t about to let a bit of steel stop her from getting to where Vision was. She did a quick 360 to make sure that she was alone before pushing off the ground with her feet and a jolt of power. She was up on the nearest rooftop and past the entrance in moments. Running around corners and up steps she felt like the threads were pulling her up towards him. She finally reached the top section of the castle – the battlements.

Just as long as I’m here in your arms

That was when she caught sight of him, the energy grew stronger until it was so bright, she might as well have been looking at the sun. For one horrifying moment as she waited for the light to clear she feared she had imagined it all. As fear seized her heart, she slowed down a bit, gasping a little at the exertion.

I could be in no better place

There he was, looking out over Edinburgh’s fading night lights in the early morning. He turned around in surprise, immediately glamouring his appearance before he caught sight of who was there.

“Wanda,” he whispered, the illusion dropping instantaneously as she stepped towards him.

“I’m sorry,” she said so quietly that she was worried he might not hear her, “my flight got cancelled.”

He reached her in a few large strides and wrapped his arms around her waist, squeezing her close to him. Wanda led out a shaky breath that was somewhere between a sigh of relief and a sob she’d been holding in since that morning. She buried her face in his shoulder relishing in having him here before her at last.

“I know, I know,” he whispered into her hair. “I figured you’d been held up with all the cancelled flights from Heathrow.”

They held each other for a few moments longer, swaying back and forth a little.

“How did you know where I was?” Vision asked pulling back a bit and brushing Wanda’s hair over her shoulder so he could cup her cheek, his eyes searching her face as though not quite believing that she was here, before him.

“I’d always find you,” Wanda said before laughing softly, “I can feel you even when I am alone.”

Vision tilted his head at the abrupt change in her tone, but Wanda couldn’t help it. It was impossible not to be happy as she stood there, atop Edinburgh castle in his arms halfway around the world from all of their problems.

“Well, I’m glad you found me.”

They stood there watching the sun rise, colouring the clouds in soft hues of lilac and lavender. Vision sighed in contentment, his chin resting on her shoulder from where he stood at her back, arms wrapped around her and holding him warmly to him. It wasn’t until sounds of the morning rush in the city below began to reach them that Wanda pulled away to look at him.

“I don’t suppose you’d mind if we spend the day in bed? I need to sleep off last night’s flight and recover a bit,”

“Of course not, my love,” he said raising her hand and kissing it. “You rest, I’ll pop out to get something for you for breakfast.”

Wanda sighed in happiness as they started to walk down the hill together. “I got lucky y’know.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I have my perfect synthezoid partner willing to go and get me breakfast in bed despite the fact that I basically stood him up.”

Vision chuckled, swinging their hands back and forth together. “Not quite what happened, but I suppose you could say I am simply the best,” he said nonchalantly waving a hand.

“You caught me! You should have told me you knew the song before I tried to use it as a romantic line,” Wanda mockingly scolded.

“I’ll always catch you,” Vision replied, pulling her closer as they emerged after the eventful night into the city welcoming them home together at last.  

[izzyovercoffee]

Prompt number: 14. “I can't come back.” Fandom: Republic Commando Rating: PG Warnings/Tags: none that I can tell, ask to tag if need Summary: Bardan keeps Parja company at the shop on a rainy day. Notes: if I get any details wrong... my bad. also if it wasn’t clear... a lot of my repcomm writing is set in an Etain-lives AU, mostly bc her death makes zero sense in the narrative 

  Bardan lies on an old, well-loved chaise stitched together with the itching fabric sourced from the local farmers. The lights overhead blink in periodic outages---in tandem with the crack of thunder outside and the brilliant flashes through a single window at the far end of the machine shop. One hand facing up, lazy, a device slowly rotates a few centimeters above his palm. 

It’s not what he meant when he offered to help, earlier, but Parja insists he helps by lying there and “holding” the device.

To be honest, he’s not really sure what it does---and he doesn’t ask. 

She stands about two arms’ length from the chaise, arms crossed over her chest. Her tightly braided hair falls over one shoulder, the braids adorned with polished, painted beads that match her usual armor. 

“It’s not doing it,” she says, at length, after another two cracks across the sky outside. “Damn.”

“What’s it supposed to do?” he asks, curious. 

“Shock you,” she says. 

He looks away from the swaying, blinking lights, to the not-quite-cubed device in his hands. 

“Ah,” he says. “Well, it’s definitely not doing that.” 

“Is it doing anything?” 

He frowns in the direction of the device, and raises his hand higher. A small effect on the force and it rotates a tad faster over his palm. He waits a few seconds, watching it spin, and turns his head to look at her. 

“No,” he says. 

“Damn,” she says again.

Parja moves forward to pluck the device from its rotation above his hand, and shakes it between two fingers as she walks back to her worktable. He watches her go, lowering his hand over his chest while he adjusts the one cradling behind his head. 

“Need me to do anything else?” he asks. 

“Just stay there,” she says, and sets the device down on the table. She reaches for something else---her toolbox---and appears to switch her attention to another project. “Maybe tell me a story.” 

He’s not very good at stories. Mereel’s better at that sort of thing, and he’s a long, long way from Mandalorian Space. 

“I don’t have any stories off the top of my head, Parja,” he says, and wonders at what else he could, should, be doing. 

It almost feels like a waste, to lie here and do nothing when he could be outside, doing something. Filling up the time. Helping someone else. Helping Fi. Helping Etain. Helping the other Bralor, under whose care he placed Arla in spite of Kal’s disapproval. 

She moves across the machine shop as the storm clouds outside finally open up, and the torrential downpour crackles over the metal roofing of the establishment. Parja stops at an old speeder, one in obvious and desperate need of TLC---as Mereel likes to put it, tender loving care---and kneels by the engine.

“Do you ever miss it?” 

“Parja,” he says, “You’re never this vague.” 

“Bard’ika,” she says, imitating the way he says her name, “I know this is a touchy subject for you. I’m trying to be tactful.” 

“Please don’t worry about my feelings.”

“Someone has to.”

He frowns, and tilts his head to look back towards the ceiling, to the source of the ungentle drumming of the rains.

The quiet drags on---broken only by the storm---as Parja begins her work on the speeder. 

Bardan thinks about what she could possibly mean. Miss it. Miss what? The Order? The War? The Core?

Someone has to. And what’s that supposed to mean, too?

“That’s not fair,” he says. “You’re not the only one who cares.” 

She sighs, and then sets down one of her tools noisily onto the open toolbox lying on the hard ground.

“I know,” she says. “But of the two of us in here, it feels like I’m the only one.” 

Alright. He can’t have this conversation lying down.

He shifts, to groaning tired muscles, and sits up. His legs swing over the edge of the chair, and his feet touch the floor with a soft, barely-there scuffle. His fingers loosely interlace, hanging with his elbows at either knee and hands between them. 

Parja reaches out, to gently tug a stool over to herself so she can sit, and face both him and the speeder. 

“I just want you to ask me plainly,” he says, “because the Order only ever talked in circles.” 

The look she gives him is… studying. Curious. He can feel the gentle tug of that curiosity, that need, that urge to take apart and piece things together. It’s the look she wears when she plans to work on and rebuild old broken things and restore them to new---or, as she often says to him, better than new. Different, not wanting to reach for the impossible---not aspiring to be unbroken---but to have that brokenness shine through in its new form. 

It’s in everything she does.

It sometimes reminds him of how things could be, should be, but not how things were---in the Jedi Order, that is. 

“I’m sorry,” she says, and means it. He knows she means it, even without the unintentional taste of it on the force. “I haven’t met many ex-Jedi. I don’t know what the Order was like.” 

He feels the shrug rise his shoulders even despite not intending to do so---a bad habit he’s picked up from Mereel, maybe. Or Jaing. 

“I do miss it,” Bardan admits. “In the same way I miss a place, or a memory, through the lens of nostalgia---and then I endeavor to remember what it actually was like, when I feel myself doing so.”

Parja hums in response, neither an interruption nor a comment but an acknowledgement she hears him as she returns her attention on the project. She’s still listening---he knows this, too, from experience rather than any crutch to lean on through the force. 

So he continues. “But the Order was… there was a very real pressure, there, to adhere to standards that many of us couldn’t keep, or couldn’t reach. A standard that the… Masters, themselves, did not keep. And the consequences…” 

He pauses, chewing on the thought, feeling the weight of the pain in his chest and focusing on that pain as it threatens to claw its way up his throat. He lets himself experience it, feels it consume him, and allows it to dissipate. 

Parja waits, reaching down for another tool as she works. 

“...they were severe,” he says. “They always spoke of support, of acceptance, of love. And yet, those who needed it the most---the ones who couldn’t grasp the force easily, or what they were asked to do---were denied it, and dismissed.”

Parja pauses in her ministrations to look at him. “Dismissed?”

“No longer able to become Jedi,” he answers, and then frowns. He corrects himself: “Sorry. No longer allowed to become Jedi. Instead, they were sent to work elsewhere, under the supervision of the Order.”

“Work?” she asks, tense. “They failed, and they weren’t sent home?” 

He feels a bitter smile infect his frown and doesn’t fight it. “Too dangerous, when touched by the force, to be let loose on the universe. And because we were all taken as young, young children---many didn’t know they could simply leave.”

He almost laughs. 

“Many,” he adds, “Even if they knew they could, had nothing to their name, and no way to contact the family they were taken from. We’re not allowed possessions, in the Order, and absolutely no contact with family. I still don’t know if mine are alive. I wouldn’t know how to contact them, if they were.”

A bitter anger runs under that thought. A hurt, like betrayal, in his heart---but he also understands. He wants to think, to believe, that his birth family had no choice---that they sent him to The Order for a better life. Many were taken because, no matter what, it guarantees a better life.

Or it did, before... before the end.

Parja sets down her tool, and shifts on her stool to look at him fully. 

“You have a family now,” she says. She looks down, to the ground, and back up at him as another crack of lightning, then thunder, booms outside. “But I’m sure if you asked Mereel…” 

“I don’t want to,” he says, firm. “I’ve thought about it. I don’t want to.” 

She purses her lips and nods, and doesn’t say whatever it is she’s thinking though he can see she’s thinking something. She’ll probably gnaw on it for a few days, and then blurt it out the next time he visits the shop, and…

And Bardan finds he’s perfectly happy with waiting until then. 

“I’m free of the manipulation,” he says, unable and unwilling to hold the bitterness from his tone. “Free from having the phantom of failure wielded as a whip. And free from simply accepting that the death of good men should not somehow weigh on my conscience.”

Free, he thinks, from having the threat of attachments being found out, used against him, to keep him isolated and placid and content. Complicit. 

Parja places a hand on the speeder beside her, and beckons him look at it. He rises from the chaise to join her. 

“This speeder,” she says as she gently pats the top edge of the dented, rusted metal, “once belonged to a well known racer in the underground circuits, in Nar Shaddaa.” 

“It’s a long way from Nar Shaddaa,” he says, surprised. 

She smiles at him. “This racer pushed this poor speeder beyond its limitations. Do you see this damage, here?” Her gloved hands trace the places where the metal curls outwards, as if burst from the inside out. “And here?” 

Bardan looks at the damage. “I do.”

“Sometimes,” she says, “when pushed too hard, too far, for too long---with no stops in between---the speeder will respond in any way it can to release the tension.” 

She doesn’t explain, and he doesn’t need her to. 

“The driver died,” she continues. “This speeder would have been left in a junk pile, if not for someone who saw its beauty, its real potential, under all its supposed failures, and rescued it. She brought it here, to me, and asked for me to restore it in whatever way I see fit.”

Parja, proud in her talents, in her ability, and her side projects, gently pats the speeder. “But I’m not fixing it up to race, because it was never meant to race. It was meant to ride, and to duck in and out between the trees.” 

And she looks at him. “And there are no trees on Nar Shaddaa.”

He looks at the speeder. 

There are no trees on Nar Shaddaa.

“Am I really helping,” he asks, “coming here, and lying on your couch while you work?”

“Yes. More than you know.” She reaches out, and gently takes his hand in hers. “More than you can know.” 

She squeezes his hand, and then lets him go.

He lingers, unsure, but stands after a moment passes and returns to the couch. He sits down, first, and watches her attention pull away from him to return to her project. He watches her begin her work, sensing it’ll be some time before she’ll want to talk again, and takes a moment to breathe. To think. To settle.

And then he lies back down, one hand behind his head and another on his chest, and watches the ceiling lights sway as the storm outside rages on.

[artnerd1123]

A Familiar World

Play Nice, Boys! (Aiden Version) ——————————————

New places, new faces, and a new place to call home! That’s what Aiden and Roo were expecting when they walked into a new town. However, they may have gotten more than they bargained for with this new apartment…

The masterpost for AFW can be found here. The chapter post for AFW can be found here.

——————————————

(note: this is a repost bc I updated and changed some stuff!)

a much awaited chapter, at least on my end, where aiden and journal first meet!!! this one’s from Aiden’s perspective. Journal’s persepective of this is back in the chapter post, right above this one!

                                                       ————

“Are we theah yet…?” “Almost, Roodle. Just a little farther! And I promise we’ll be settling in for awhile.” Mewling tiredly, the little cat familiar bonked his head against his originator’s. The latter let out a soft ‘oof’ of protest. Roo and Aiden had been travelling nonstop for a week. Today, Aiden had allowed his familiar to ride on his shoulders. It was the least he could do for the little guy. His horribly achy paws weren’t exactly made to walk for miles on end. Aiden hadn’t felt any calls to small expeditions lately. He had a feeling it was related to his growing desire to find the root of all the recent dark magic outbreaks. It was nearing the time of his final quest, and he wanted somewhere for he and Roo to come home to after it was over. The nearest place he’d been able to snag was a two bedroom apartment. He’d been told there was nobody else moved in yet to help with the cost, but he didn’t mind. It’d be more than enough space for he and his familiar to live comfortably until a roommate showed up. But before one tackles the glamour, there’s a whole lotta tracking through dust. “How much longer?” Roo whined sulkily. “Just a little farther,” Aiden repeated wearily. He sighed, hefting his bag and Roo higher. “The town should be around here somewhere- ah!” A few buildings had begun peeking through the trees. He perked up at the sight. “There, see? What’d I tell you?” He picked up his pace. The sooner they got onto those streets, the better. “Mnnh…” “IIII know… hang in there, bud…”

Striding into the new town was... an experience, to say the least. For one thing, it looked much bigger than it had on the map. And not just because everything was to scale. Aiden couldn’t recall being in someplace that called itself a ‘town,’ but stretched on and turned in on itself so many times it could’ve been a city. The questor glanced around as they passed marketplace stalls, stores, and various restaurants. Plenty of people were out and about on the streets. A few of them even gave him a friendly wave. The place certainly seemed alive, he’d give it that. Alive in a… non town-ish way, he thought, raising a brow at the stream of enough people to fill a village billowing out of a nearby bar. Then again, he was definitely a countryside kind of guy. What did he know about big towns? In any case, he’d make it work. The apartments here were said to be some of the nicest around. He hoped his sources were right. Continuing on down the street, someone else was busy sightseeing. Roo glanced about from his perch on Aiden’s back, taking in the unfamiliar expanse of people, paths, and ramshackle buildings. It was all so much… so new… and so… different from everything else he’d been around. The wide eyed paint feline shivered a little. Curling up behind Aiden’s head, he mewled softly. Aiden winced as the little guy’s claws poked against his scalp. “Heyyy- hey- you’re ok, bud-” he whispered, reaching back to pat him. “The apartment building is ahead of us on the right. We’re nearly there.” Roo just meowed shakily. Aiden walked a little faster. Pushing open the apartment building’s door, he nearly stumbled into a small group of travelers. “Oh-! Revaew, I’m sorry,” he sputtered. They just gave him a look before turning back to their conversation. It seemed the whole place was teeming with people. Obviously, he and roo weren’t the only individuals in need of a place to stay. Glad I paid ahead of time. Carefully edging into the room, Aiden took Roo down from his shoulders. He knew the little cat wouldn’t take kindly to large number of pushing and shoving people in here. He let him wiggle inside of his cloak. A relieved sigh followed soon after. Aiden gave the lump under his cloak a pat. Scanning the room for someone in charge, the questor’s eyes caught on the apartments’ clerk. The poor man up at the front desk looked swamped, overworked, and badly in need of a nap. Aiden felt sorry for him. Better make this quick, for his sake. Making sure he wasn’t cutting anyone off, he made his way over to the desk. “One moment, please,” the frazzled clerk called. He quickly snagged a small sack of coins and a set of keys from the couple in front of them. As they moved off, he shouted “NEXT PLEASE!” hoarsely. Aiden sidled up into place. “Busy weekend?” Aiden asked, smiling sympathetically. “Oh, you’ve got no idea. It seems every adventurer in the region decided to stop by,” the clerk groaned. He took the pause in business to slump and rub his face. “I’ve barely been able to keep all my rentals straight.” “Sorry to hear it.” Aiden glanced back at the room behind him; plenty of the inhabitants looked like fellow questors. They weren’t exactly known for settling in one place for long. It must’ve been a migration season… or maybe another dungeon cropped up nearby… “I’ll try and make your job a little easier— I rented a room for my familiar and I a couple days ago? An empty two bedroom apartment? It should be under the name Pingere.” “Right- yes, thank you, let me check-“ A minute of shuffling papers later, the clerk nodded. “Yep- I’ve got you down right here.” He snapped, a key appearing in a flash of orange sparks. He thrust it hastily into Aiden’s hand. “Here’s your room key. It’s the only way you’ll be getting into your room if nobody’s at the desk. Please let me know if something’s still messy in there— I haven’t been able to clean all the rooms lately- NEXT PLEASE!” And with that, Aiden was shoved away from the desk. It was a wonder he didn’t get lifted up over everyone else. He squeezed his way through the room and over to the staircase. Taking a moment to breathe, he felt something shift under his cloak. An indigo head poked itself out. “P-please tell me we a-ain’t goin anywheah that s-smushy again,” Roo whimpered, clinging to Aiden. The questor heaved a long sigh. Looks like they’d both be getting used to the closeness of town life. He gave his familiar a couple soothing strokes. “I’ll try and avoid crowded buildings, bud,” he said, “but I can’t promise no crowds. We’re in a town full of em.” Roo seemed to shrink down at the information. “Mnnn…” Aiden sighed. “Hey, how about we go check out our room? We can hang out there for the rest of the day. I’d say we’ve earned it.” Roo hesitated, considering the option. It would afford him a break from crowds, strangers, and also score some more quality time with Aiden. He nodded decisively. “I wanna test out the beds,” he joked timidly. Aiden smiled. “That’s the spirit,” he chuckled, ruffling Roo’s fur. “Let’s go take a look at our new home.” Roo beamed, wiggling out of Aiden’s arms. “Race yeh there!!!” Aiden grinned. “Oh, you’re on.”

One race up the staircase later, the two stood panting in front of their door. “It’s- hghh- r-room 213, right?” Roo panted. He was leaned against his originator’s leg. Aiden glanced down at their key, taking a few deep breaths. The room number, 213, shone in a soft orange light from it. Nodding, he reached to unlock the door. “Yup… this should be the-“ He paused. The key had gone in, but he didn’t feel the distinctive click of the lock unlocking. He frowned. “... w… what’s wrong?” “... the door was already unlocked.” Roo stood up straighter. Fidgeting warily, he glanced around. “M… maybe the last person heah forgot to lock it…?” He offered hesitantly. Aiden raised a brow. “Maybe. The clerk looked like he hadn’t had any time to get away from the counter, so it’s possible he hadn’t checked.” Well, locked or unlocked, this was their room. He let out a sigh. “We’ll just go in. If it’s a mess, he said to tell him.” Aiden gave the handle a twist. The door swung open with a soft creak. Light spilled out into the hallway. The place looked uninhabited at first, but the black cloak tossed over the couch and muffled sounds of furniture being dragged around didn’t enforce the view. The pair shared a glance. Apparently they had a roommate after all. And nobody had decided to inform them before they paid in full. Hmm. Alright. I better get to the bottom of this. The two walked slowly into the living room. Walking inside made the scraping and scuffing sounds louder. When Roo held up his paws, Aiden lifted him up without a word. His eyes slid over the doorways to the kitchen and hall. The noises were from down the hallway. He guessed it was from one of the bedrooms. A glance showed one of the doors was open. There. Hopefully a quick talk would get all this straightened out. He started down the hall. Roo shivered a bit, and Aiden gently stroked his fur. “‘S alright, bud,” he whispered. “This shouldn’t take too long.” At the sound of approaching footsteps, the furniture scraping stopped.  Whoever was in the room muttered confusedly to themself. “... uh… hello?” Aiden called. There was a flurry of scrambling in the room— as if the occupant was startled— and their voice sounded off louder. “What in Revaew’s web-?!” A head poked out from behind the door. Aiden was surprised to see an older teen. He couldn’t have been more than 18 or 19. Moving out age, yes, but renting an apartment like this alone? Not a common move. And the dull purplish bruise adorning his cheek was… a little concerning. The stranger’s wary turquoise eyes shifted over the pair in front of him. He reached up to brush a lock of brown hair out of his face. “... um… can I… help you?” He asked slowly. Roo squirmed nervously under the stranger’s gaze. The little cat never did well around strangers. Aiden cleared his throat, letting Roo wiggle back under his cloak. “Er… yes, I believe so. You’re living in room two thirteen?” Aiden asked hesitantly. “Yyyyyes…? I bought it a week ago,” the stranger answered hesitantly, gaze flicking over the questor again. Wariness and confusion laced across his features. Aiden didn’t blame him. “Alright. Well, I’m… sorry if you weren’t informed, but Roo and I are your new roommates,” he explained. “I wasn’t… uh… told you’d moved in. Or I would’ve knocked.” That information seemed to shake the stranger up a bit. Straightening up, his brows furrowed. “What-? I- really? So soon?” he sputtered. “Sorry if you weren’t expecting it,” Aiden said gently, “I’m sure we can wait a day if you need time to-” “No- no, you- that’s not the problem!” The stranger broke in. He huffed in annoyance, running a hand through his curly hair. “You two shouldn’t- this can’t be right. I was told I would have this place to myself for at least a month or two!” “Hey- hey, it’ll be alright,” Aiden tried, holding up a hand. “We can get all this sorted out. Maybe there was some miscommunication issue.” As soon as he said it though, he realized that wasn’t believable. No landlord would promise that sort of thing and not tell their tenant about new roommates. At least, not an honest one.   “But I paid for this room in full! On my own!” the stranger cried. “I never would’ve done that if I’d known you’d be here so soon!” “That’s… that’s what we paid for, too,” Aiden said slowly. “And nobody told me this place already had someone moving in.” “I… I… ghhhh...” the stranger seemed to deflate. He put a hand to his forehead. “What the hell. I do not need this right now.” “That’s how I’m feeling about this,” Aiden replied. He rubbed his face, fingers scratching against his short beard, and let out a long sigh. This was more than a mix up. Someone had duped the two of them into spending more money than they had to, for a room without a roommate that had clearly already shown up. And, from the looks of how much desperate and frustrated muttering his new roommate was doing, it wasn’t money that could just be thrown away. And that made him more than a little annoyed at the whole situation. “Hey, tell you what,” Aiden spoke up suddenly, “how about we go down and talk to the clerk? I’m sure I can get him to give us back half what we both paid.” The stranger glanced over at him in surprise. Uncertainty and aggravation warred with nervous hope for a place on his face. “... are you sure...?” he asked a little bluntly. It was clear he didn’t quite trust his new roommate yet, but the out of the blue offer… well. It had given him something to stand on. “I’m sure,” Aiden said firmly, gesturing to the door. “Someone needs to sort out this mess anyways, hm?” “... yeah… yeah. ok,” the stranger sighed. “Let’s… do this. Or whatever.” “Alright. Hopefully this won’t take too long.”

                                                      ————

It was half an hour before they could get ahold of the clerk. Roo was up in the room, the two humans deciding to leave him out of the- frankly quite stressful- situation. Standing in front of the desk, they watched as the clerk frantically flicked through his paperwork. “Roommates- I swear I didn’t- ohhh, where did I put those records-?!” The clerk stammered worriedly. Aiden sighed softly. Even if he was annoyed, he knew that the clerk at the desk probably wasn’t in charge of selling the rooms. “It’s alright, just take your time. We’re fine,” the questor said gently. The stranger at his side shot him a look. It was obvious he didn’t share the same opinion on that last remark. “What were your names again?” The clerk asked miserably. “I’m so sorry. They’ve slipped my mind.” “Aiden Pingere. It may be in as just Pingere, I forget which.” “Theo- I mean- Journal. Journal Drapht.” “Thank you. One moment...” The clerk waved his hands, a soft orange mist appearing over his papers. He muttered under his breath as Aiden and the stranger, Journal, watched on. … huh. Journal. Now that’s an interesting name if I ever heard one. Like an alias. But what would a youngster be doing with an alias? Or his own apartment? Or a bruise that looked more and more like a handprint on his cheek? Was he in some sort of trouble? Aiden snuck a curious glance at his companion. Journal had his arms crossed now. He really looked on edge. On edge and lost in anxious thought. Like a scared kid. … Exactly like a scared kid. That look was what really got Aiden to settle how he felt about Journal. Trouble or no trouble, he hated to see that sort of look. He felt worried for him. However, just as he went to ask if he was alright, the clerk straightened up. Both of them looked to him expectantly. “Aha, right here! I’ve got your records.” The clerk paused. “... and it… it does say you were both sold room 213. Oh dear.” Aiden let out a loud sigh. Journal swore under his breath. “You’re serious? Isn’t there anything you can do to fix that?!” Journal asked helplessly. Aiden tried to give him a steadying glance. Freaking out right now wouldn’t help. His fellow just gave him a desperate gesture in return. “Both of us paid for a room without a roommate already moved in!” “Is there another room one of us could take?” Aiden inquired. “Some place else one of us could stay?” “I’m afraid not,” the clerk replied awkwardly. “All other rooms are sold out all for at least the next few months. You’ll just have to keep the room you bought together.” “Oh Revaew…” Aiden muttered. “Months…?” Journal echoed weakly. Aiden could tell from the way Journal’s hand strayed to his pockets that his earlier money suspicion was right. And, in his own world of troubles, he doubted he’d be able to hunt down another open apartment with all the questor rush. Well. That left just one thing to do. Fixing the clerk with a stern but understanding look, he spoke again. “Listen, I don’t know if your superior planned this or not, but neither of us should’ve paid that much. Do you think you can help us out a bit?” “I- uh- maybe- dep- depends on what you want?” the clerk stammered uncertainly. Evidently, he wasn’t used to such upfront questions with a ‘no refunds’ sign on the desk. Or, probably, from a man like himself. “I’d like you to halve the amount we both paid, and give us back what we’re owed,” he said simply. The clerk blinked. Journal gave him a surprised look. Aiden looked back at the clerk calmly and firmly. “It’s only right, wouldn’t you think?” he asked gently. “I… uh… I suppose…” the clerk mumbled. Glancing around nervously, he tapped his pencil on his records paper. “Are you sure there’s nothing else I can-?” “Sir, please. I promise we won’t bother you again.” As the clerk gave a defeated sigh, Aiden couldn’t help but overhear a grumbled ‘no promises’ from Journal. He raised a brow, but the sorcerer didn’t notice. Thankfully, it didn’t take the clerk nearly as long to rewrite their records and hand over the gold they were owed. When it was all over, the two gave each other an uncertain look. “... welp. Guess we better go get settled in,” Aiden said hesitantly. “... right,” Journal huffed sulkily. “You don’t touch my stuff, I won’t touch yours.” “Ooookay then… fair enough.” And with that, Journal turned on his heel and left for the stairs. Aiden watched after him for a moment. His new roommate was… quite touchy. What had he just gotten himself into?

[kimjoongs-main]

dream seller au - renjun {1}

» type: bullet scenario

» warning(s): n/a

» dia’s note: this started out fluffy.....idk what happened....also...there will be a part 2 bc this plot was a lot longer than i thought it was going to be

you’ve heard stories about the infamous “dreamer” who resides in the depths of the forest

people say he’s the creator of dreams, the one responsible for the visual images that occur during deep slumber

many residents in your village, mostly the elderly, claimed that the dreamer was an immortal being who lived to provide dreams for mortals

others have claimed that they’ve physically seen the dreamer and described him as a young boy adorned in ragged fabric, hair as dark as the night sky and facial features which looked to be carved from smooth marble

it was also said that if you were to stumble upon the dreamer, you would have the opportunity to ask him to create a dream specifically for you

it could be anything from your wildest fantasies to your simplest desires, he would provide that for you

your mother first told you this story when you were just a child, curious as to why you were experiencing these images while you were asleep

as a child, you were intrigued by the idea and sought out more stories about the dreamer

other children in your village, however, weren’t as intrigued and quite honestly found the story to be nothing but a mindless fantasy

because of this, you were often the subject of teasing and it became hard for you to make friends

so you often found yourself wandering around the village all alone

sometimes, you’d wander as far as the edge of the village, the border which separated your cozy little town from the vast forest that lay on the other side

a few times you were tempted to cross over, to venture thru the trees and see for yourself if the myth was true, however you were always stopped by a villager who warned you to never explore the forest on your own

for the next few years, you adhered to the villager’s warning, but the same time, your curiosity continued to cultivate and eventually, you couldn’t wait anymore

you had to know if the myth was actually true or not...so one night when the entire village succumbed to a deep slumber, you carefully snuck out of your home

you left a note for your mother saying you went for a walk in case you didn’t return by daybreak

you were adorned in a black cape, completely invisible even underneath the light of the full moon

armed with only a small torch and a pick axe, you pushed past the dense thicket and ventured into the heart of the forest

from the stories you’ve been told, the dreamer’s cottage was supposedly located at the other end of the forest, past the river and at the bottom of the mountain

you continued your journey for a few more minutes, but when you finally reached the other side of the forest, all you were met w was the steep, rocky slope of the mountain.....no cottage and no dreamer in sight

feeling defeated, you plopped down on a nearby stone, deciding to rest your feet for a moment before you made the joir ey back home

“guess it was just a myth after all” you muttered to yourself, leaning back on the tree

once you saw the sky changing from a midnight blue to a warm orange, you stood back up and grabbed your stuff, getting ready to trudge back home

however, as soon as you turned around, you noticed a faint cloud of white smoke billowing out from behind a ridge in the mountain

the logical side of you screamed to just keep walking, but ofc the curious side if you told you to check it out...and of course....you did

you gingerly walked closer to where the smoke was coming from and peeked around the ridge

and there, settled comfortably at the base of the mountain, was a small stone cottage, the source of the smoke coming from the tiny chimney at the side of the roof

you let out a small gasp, heart pounding in your chest......this couldn’t be it, right?? there’s no way you actually managed to find it—

your thoughts were interrupted by the door to the cottage suddenly flying open, and a hooded figure stepped out, carrying a small woven basket

the figure looked to be a young boy around the same age as you, with glowing cheeks and soft strands of obsidian hair

his description matched the stories, but you didn’t want to assume anything just yet, so you kept watching silently.......or at least you tried to

leaning forward to get a better look, you quickly lost your balance and stumbled forward, falling flat on your face

the figure jumped at the sound and he quickly stepped back, looking at your fallen form w wide eyes

you immediately scrambled to get up and were about to leave when a quiet, but firm voice stopped you in your tracks

“wait! who are you? what are you doing here?” you reluctantly looked over your shoulder, making eye contact w the hooded figure

you slowly put your hands up to show that you meant no harm “i’m sorry, i was just wandering around the forest, i didn’t mean to scare you”

at your words, the boy scoffed and rolled his eyes before setting the basket down on a nearby tree trunk “i’ve heard that excuse before, let me guess...you’re a villager? from the small town just north of here?”

you nodded, not sure where he was going w all of this

“i should’ve known...you people just don’t know when to quit don’t you?” you furrowed eyebrows at him, asking him what he meant by that

the boy sighed and picked up his basket again, walking past you and gesturing for you to follow him...which you obliged

he led you into the forest once again, stopping occasionally to pick a few leaves, twigs, mushrooms, and flowers from the ground

as you quietly trailed behind him, he began to speak again

“i’m sure your people have told you stories about me, the one who creates dreams, the ‘dreamer’ if you will...and i’m sure your reason for finding me was to obtain a dream from me, yes?”

you opened your mouth to protest, but he cut you off again

“well, let me tell you what those stories have wrong, a minor detail they forgot to put in. i do sell dreams to people who find me, yes, but it comes at a price. in order to—“

“actually...i didn’t come for that reason” you interjected softly

the boy froze and looked over his shoulder at you, raising his eyebrows skeptically “oh? then why have you sought me out then, my dear? why risk your life?”

you hung your head sheepishly, rubbing your boots against the damp soil “i...just wanted to see if the stories about you were true..that’s all”

there was a beat of silence, the only sound you could hear was the chirping of the songbirds as the morning star made it’s ascent in the sky...and then a burst of laughter

you looked up in shock to see the boy w his hood down, bent over a field of grass, hands on his knees, and melodies of laughter coming out of his mouth, probably the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard in your life

“so..you mean to tell me that you risked your life wandering through the forest, searching for me just so you could see if i was real?” he burst out laughing again, and you could only blush w embarrassment

after he calmed down a bit, the young boy straightened back up again, reaching out towards you and placing his hand on your shoulder “i like you, you’re funny” was all he said before he walked past you again back to his cottage

you were frozen in your spot, brain still in the process of registering what just happened

“hey, are you coming inside or what?” he called out to you

you shook yourself out of your stupor and turned around, following the boy inside

the inside of his cottage felt very warm and homey, he had a small hearth in the corner of the room, a kitchen, a dining table, and a wooden bench

it all looked very normal to you.....except for the fact that there was a huge cauldron sitting in the middle of the room, which you assumed to be where he creates his dreams

“by the way, i never got your name” he said, taking off his hood and hanging it on the back of a nearby chair “my name’s renjun....and before you say anything yes i have an actual name, i don’t refer to myself as ‘the dreamer’ or however your people say it”

“oh..my name’s y/n....” renjun took a second to process your name, then he nodded and pressed his lips together in a thin line “nice to meet you, y/n. i have a feeling i’ll be seeing you around often”

and...he was right

after your initial meeting, you would venture into the forest late at night and arrive at renjun’s cottage early in the morning

it became a routine for you: sneak out after everyone’s gone to bed, travel through the forest, arrive at renjun’s for breakfast, and then return home before noon

your mother questioned you on your whereabouts, asking why you were never there in the morning

you didn’t want to lie to her, but you also made a promise to renjun the first day you two met: that you would never tell anyone you saw him or know where he was

you didn’t ask him why and didn’t dare to, you figured it was something he’d rather keep to himself

but during your visits to renjun’s humble abode, he would show you how dreams are made and how he distributes them

he mixes the ingredients he collects from the forest in the cauldron, turning them into a liquid and placing them into small vials

each liquid had a different color, and those colors indicated what kind of dream a person would have

red indicates a dream about love, green for adventure, yellow for happiness, blue for sadness

when the dreams were ready to be sent out, renjun takes the vials he needs and places them over a small fire outside, the liquids evaporate, turn into a gas, and drift off to find their person

“how do the dreams know where to go?” you asked one day, renjun just smiled softly as he watched the rainbow of gases flow thru the air “they know...”

as you watched him concoct different kinds of dreams, you noticed that there were small vials filled w a black liquid resting on a shelf

“hey renjun?” “mm?” “why do you never use those dreams?”

his eyes followed your hand, and when they landed on what you were pointing at, he froze

“those...those aren’t dreams y/n....they’re nightmares” “.....oh”

renjun sighed and set down the vials he was working on “i..don’t use those very often. i did once and...it didn’t end very well. after that experience, i vowed to never use a nightmare ever again”

you nodded silently, listening and never prying further, renjun would explain the rest to you when he was ready

for the next few weeks, you made your daily visits to renjun’s cottage, watching him make dreams, or occasionally you two would walk over to the river and talk about random things

thru these talks you learned three things: 1) renjun was, in fact, immortal, he would sometimes tell you stories from past history and 2) the dreams he made had the capacity to come true, but very rarely and 3) renjun never stayed in the same place for very long, he usually moved once he felt that his time was spent

after hearing the last one, you tried very hard not to show your disappointment, but renjun saw right thru you

he scoffed and leaned over, poking your cheeks “stop pouting dummy, i’m not leaving this place for a long time”

you swatted his hand away, but couldn’t help the small smile from tugging at the corner of your mouth “really? why? is there something you like about this place?”

renjun coughs and turns away from you, but you swore you saw a faint dusting of pink on his cheeks, and his next words made your stomach do a flip “...yes...there is”

after that day, your visits to renjun’s cottage started to become less frequent, mostly due to the fact that your mother fell ill and you had to work the shop while simultaneously taking care of her at the same time

you were worried bc you didn’t have the chance to tell renjun why you haven’t been showing up anymore and hoped that he’d understand the next time you saw him

however...one night, as you were sleeping soundly next to your mother, you started seeing these horrid images flash before your eyes, images that would forever haunt your memory

you shuffled around the bed, arms flailing every which way, soft whimpers leaving your lips and tears streaming down the side of your face

your suffering only lasted for a moment bc you woke up to see your mother’s concerned face hovering above yours

you laid in bed, chest heaving rapidly, eyes blinking away the tears

was that...a nightmare? no, it couldn’t be..renjun said he never used nightmares, so why did i..?

you flew out of bed and, without even explaining anything to your mother, you ran out the door and straight into the forest

you had to get to renjun, you didn’t what it was, but you just felt that something was off

you ran and ran, not even taking a break, you practically sprinted thru the forest, but...when you reached the bottom of the mountain and went around the ridge...

renjun’s cottage was nowhere to be seen

[cleverbroadwayurl]

Quiet Destruction (Christine Canigula x Reader)

Word Count: 3790

A/N: OH MY GOD FINALLY I’M POSTING SOMETHING. I’m so sorry this took so long and it probably isn’t great bc I’m a little out of my writing groove. Work and writing is tough for me bc I put all of my social time into it, which, bc I’m an introvert, makes me exhausted. But! I promise more and better stuff is coming!! You guys want Part 17??? You’re gonna get it. 

Trigger Warnings: Self depreciation, people being snappy, mentions of math,,,, I think that’s it??? LET ME KNOW IF I MISSED ANYTHING OKAY YOU GUYS SHOULD KNOW WHAT’S IN IT BEFORE YOU READ. 

The house lights in the auditorium barely kissed Christine’s face as she worked harder and harder on the script that had been given to her when she got the part in the play that Mr. Reyes had picked for that year. The red padded seats around her allowed her body to sink into a specific one; one that was seated exactly next to you as you worked on some packet for some class. With another breath, Christine scanned the lines, marking notes in the white pages, noting the moment before, the way she was supposed to say the line, the way that she was supposed to contort her face to appear upset in the situation. The line was to be delivered as a line of betrayal, a line of doubt, a line so full of passion and a scathing murder by the end of it. Not literally, of course. That would be intense, even compared with the previous year’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream. But the line was written by someone who clearly didn’t say it out loud, or had any clue as to what real people sounded like when having a conversation with one another. It was choppy, wrong, came out almost like food poisoning from gas station sushi: a jagged pain in the stomach, and just completely ruining the air with vomit mere seconds later.

Christine decides she should diagram it again, her pencil marking a large slash in the line, previous pencil marks almost barely erased, lines that used to be so dark just wasted on a lackluster moment. She could feel her flatness against her scene partner—she hated that. But maybe this, this simple cut, this new way of thinking, this precise train of thought would change everything. Maybe Mr. Reyes would finally have his faith in her restored. Maybe this was the correct way, and would roll of her tongue so naturally she could practically see the scene as if she were the character, not Christine putting on a mask and waiting for it to morph to her face.

Christine says the line out loud into the empty theatre, the echo ricocheting back to her. It isn’t right. She didn’t need to hear the echo to know that, but with the sound waves returning to her burned her flesh almost like acid rain would. With a grunt, she erased the dark line she’d just drawn to cut the line into something more magical than it was. But all she got in return was the sorry lonesome aura of defeat tumbling around her. It was now she silently thanked herself for using pencil instead of the ever permanent pen. Another scratch, another attempt, another failure, another eraser mark.

But she tries it again, deciding to take a breath in an old place and use different vocal inflection. Christine cringes as the last syllable exits her mouth, the echo almost as unbearable as last time, the cushy red seats doing nothing to muffle the noise as it attacks once again. She swears the lights flicker in disappointment, almost sending her into complete darkness, complete failure. An exhale escapes her as she rolls her head back, her feet remaining on the seat in front of her, pressed against the back in anguish while her backpack is sitting innocently underneath, unaware of the violation Christine was about to commit.

Her hands dive into her backpack, pulling out a one sided worksheet she’d already gotten back, participation points given in full, and scribbling with her now dull-pencil. While she hated diagraming sentences, it was the only way—it had to be the only way, to make this line sound correct, sound like magic, and make everything in the world make sense, even if the world she was acting in was imaginary. The dim lights around her forced her eyes to look closely at every mark that was made, the yellow glow not relaxing her even in the slightest as she attempted to diagram the sentences. The line perfectly divided the sentence, seemingly making it flow better than Christine had ever attempted before. But if wasn’t enough. It couldn’t be enough.

So she diagramed it several different ways—as many as she could think of while her brain moved ever-faster than her fingers. The most she could get down were three, each diagram different from the last, before her brain finally gave out and couldn’t produce any more variations of the awkwardly written syntax. But hopefully, the answer would be written and displayed in front of her. It had to be. There had to be something so magical that she would be able to feel it in her heart, like she was actually the character and her scene partner was actually their character. The answer had to be in front of her. She was out of options and out of time. While the three diagrams stared her down, full of opportunity and options, she hoped and prayed that the first diagram would open the door to success and newfound ways of ringing out the line of passionate distaste into the audience and her scene partner. It wasn’t wishful thinking, Christine just saw that one diagram and had decided to make it her best ever. It flowed in her mind easily, lazily creating a pattern of beauty like watercolor across a canvas, the motion working with her rather than against her.

Christine attempts the line out loud, giving it her all—only to find the world she’d created in her mind to turn grey and fall apart right in front of her. The golden frame she’d put the painting into burned in an instant, causing a surge of anger to course through her veins and forcing her hand to cross out that diagram repeatedly, until the ‘x’ couldn’t be erased even by the best erasers in all of mankind. She knew that Mr. Reyes was going to be on her again, frustration infiltrating her brain, causing the usually calming theatre around her to turn red as she stared at the now ruined work she’d just done.

A few breaths, and Christine decides it’s time to focus on the second option. The first one is done—it doesn’t matter anymore. Wipe the slate away and attempt it again. Inhale. See the scene, smell the smells, and let the words flow through her veins organically like some kind of Disney movie song. She was ready, she was working, she had everything set. The colors were there, a lovely blue and white checked tablecloth with yellow daisies on the table—just like Mr. Reyes had talked about for the set. She could see her scene partner there, the face so clear in her mind that this felt like it could be it. Another inhale. She was ready. The words flowed from her, but almost like sappy sticky unsavory bubblegum. It plagued the scene, completely deteriorating everything around her. It was a source of dark matter and Christine could already tell just how flat and fake she sounded.

A grunt comes from her before she decides to scribble that one out as well. This time, it’s more of a panic, hands slightly shaking as she does so. Because that was 2 out of 3. This last one better be it. If not, Christine is going to be in deep shit. Mr. Reyes might even take her role and just give it to the understudy if she couldn’t get this line just right. But this third one might be her saving grace. It might be her life preserver, it could be the one note she’s missing in the chord that feels like home. So, Christine makes a choice to give it a whirl, the best whirl she can muster, trying to still see her surroundings as the character, attempting to have something at least a little better to work off of this time. She sits up, inhales, and in an instant—

“Christine, can you not?”

The words almost cut her as she exhales. For a few minutes there, Christine had forgotten you had been there. You—her partner in crime for a few months now. She’d gotten close to you a while ago, and later struck up something like a romantic relationship with you. It wasn’t like you two weren’t explicit about what the relationship was, Christine just liked the theatrics in telling people that you two were somewhat definitely an item. She can still remember the looks on the faces of her friends as she flaunted the fact that yes, you two were essentially dating and that you were definitely off limits to everyone else, especially those that could hear her project her voice across the room. Of course, there had been the worry of how Jeremy would react, but when everything was said and done, there was nothing to worry about; they were friends, they had remained friends, and they would probably always be friends. At a previous time, he had been good to her, consistently being a good partner and actively keeping the relationship going. But the romantic aspects of it were almost too much for Jeremy, worried he was going to make a mistake, nightmares, and so much more that this newer situation—good friends—worked better for both of them.

Christine got a little worried—you could’ve asked that about anything. She assumed it was her shifting around with each failed attempt, but she wasn’t sure. You’d been quietly doing homework beside her, pencil only adding to the white noise of the theatre. Or maybe it was the fidgeting she had been known to do. While it was often encouraged in rehearsal and in the theatre because it encouraged physical decision making, around you doing homework it probably wasn’t ideal to say the least. But fidgeting made things easier, it helped her remain somewhat calm at all times of the day, it made her head clear and her heart flow freely. You knew that. You’d even gotten her a fidget cube the last holiday season. She’d left it in her locker by accident, maybe this was a sign to go and get it—an attempt to sneak into the rest of the school might clear her mind and help with this line as frustrating as it was. But then again, maybe it wasn’t the fidgeting or shifting or whatever else was running through her brain a million miles a minute. It could be anything.

“What do you mean?” She asked, looking at you sharply, knowing that she wasn’t angry, just curious as to why you were acting this way.

“You just keep repeating that line. Can you just…I don’t know, give it a rest? Just for the rest of tonight?”

Christine could feel herself deflate, everything going from moving fast and positively to nothing. Silence surrounded her; fidgeting stopped. Out of everyone in her life, she assumed that you would understand the need to get this line right. Mr. Reyes had been getting upset with her more and more in the past few rehearsals because it’s a tough line, and he assumed she’d be able to handle it. And she’d confided in you about that a few weeks ago. You’d comforted her, and assured that she wouldn’t lose her role, no matter how annoyed Mr. Reyes got with her. Now, that seemed like false hope, and those words were just ones said were half truths. You didn’t know the future, and with you telling her to shut up, Christine was worried about it so much more than before. While you’d admitted that the line was nearly impossible to get right, here you were turning your back on her, when she wasn’t even doing something that intense like she sometimes did. The shifting, the fidgeting, the everything, she could understand, but you knew how much this meant to her. Why the change of heart? While the words didn’t create a deep cut, she could understand that the same thing over and over again could be annoying, especially to you, who is trying to do homework as she attempts this one thing over and over again. So, she decided to take your request, and apologize for bothering you when you obviously were so deep into homework. She’d apologize for forgetting your needs and putting her own above yours. “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“No, Christine, that was my fault. I’m sorry, I just need to do well on this exam and I have zero confidence on any of the answers to the open ended questions.”

“What class?” She asks, more chipper than before, now understanding your social cues. You weren’t upset with her practicing, you were upset about the problem at hand. Christine laced her arms around yours, giving your arm a hug while she rested her head onto your shoulder as she brought her legs up onto the red velvet chair she’d been sitting in for what must have been hours now. She sat almost kin to criss crossed, her feet slanted towards her left on the velvet chair. Her fingers quietly drummed against your bicep, knowing that these moments of touch, these moments of softness, helped you calm down when things got tough, when the world felt like it was against you and you alone. You’d mentioned it briefly once at 3 AM some random night a few months back, when both of you were more than a little tired. Christine wasn’t sure why that specific moment, fairy lights being the only thing that was lighting up your figure, was the one that stuck out and the one that she remembered the most clearly, but the image was clear. And after that, there was lots of blushing and new contact, but Christine liked contact, just like you did. She was just more forward about it—initiation came easily to her. Her eyes scanned over your work as she felt your body exhale.

“Math.” Now Christine wasn’t the best at math, probably far from it, but she at least could understand concepts well enough to get pretty good grades on exams. And she always remembered things the teacher said that most students couldn’t—she knew what she was doing until she didn’t. She skimmed over your hard writing, searching for basic mistakes: the things she could actually help with. Her eyes landed on one, and her body lit up, energy suddenly surging through her.

“I see why you’re getting fractions,” she giggled.

“Why?”

“Because you multiplied by the constant 13 rather than the slope, silly.”

You threw your head back, and Christine could feel the groan erupt from you, the vibration so violent she was sure it would cause her head that was resting to shake. With another eruption, a loud FUCK escaped, causing Christine to try and suppress her giggles. She moved her hand and joined it with yours, giving your hand a gentle squeeze as you began to erase the incorrect work you’d done. She doesn’t look up—she doesn’t have to, knowing that the contact with you was enough to help you calm down a little more than you would’ve if you were by yourself. Because that’s what partners do, right? Help comfort the ones they love. “If it makes you feel any better,” Christine began, “everything else was right. You have nothing to worry about, I don’t think. I mean, I could have Jeremy take a look at it, he’s a really good teacher who often tutors me on similar stuff.”

Another sigh left you, this time without the vocal violation, but Christine could still feel your frustration and movement through her body. She kissed your clothed shoulder before smiling into it, knowing how much you adore simple and easy contact. It was easy to love, easy to do, and easy to ignite something more from it. But right now, in the quiet theatre and surrounded by more yellow light, it was enough to just have her there, and have her give soft touches and kisses anywhere she felt the need to place them. There was another second before she got up and began to pack up her extra papers into a random folder in her bag before refocusing back onto you.

She couldn’t help but commit everything about you to memory: the way that the light made your eyes glow even though you weren’t in a good mood, the way your hair seemed to glisten, your hands scribbling notes and your face almost scrunched in concentration. While to you, it was painful and upsetting, to Christine, it was the world, the little moments, and something that was worth documenting. It was in this moment that she realized you were still going, despite being angry with yourself. She always preached about self-care; now was the time to monitor it in you. “Hey,” she smiled as she sighed out the word, “don’t worry about trying it again right now, you’re already upset. You’ll make more mistakes.”

“Christine, I need to get this done.”

She pouted for a second before an idea—something that would pull you away no matter what, emerged. “We should go, it’s late, and I think they’ll want us out of here. I like being rebellious onstage, but I’m already in jeopardy of losing this part,” Christine joked, a small giggle leaving her as she wiggled a little bit, knowing that this plan was perfect, it was the way to get you to be your usual self again.

“Christine.”

Now was the time to implement the idea, the plan that would help you relax into her arms, which she so desperately wanted, especially after the frustration that radiated off of you had hit her. Your eyes hadn’t moved from the problem, but that didn’t matter or make a difference in this plan. “You remember how we first started talking?” Christine smiled wider, so wide her cheeks hurt but she didn’t want to stop this feeling. As good as an actress she was, Christine was never a good liar or secret keeper, unless it was something bad. Every trip or surprise was somewhat ruined because she just couldn’t keep it in.

“Yeah,” you nodded.

“I was debating with that one guy about how women have a right to their bodies and was running out of evidence until you” she shook the arm that wasn’t writing before kissing your cheek, “swooped in and saved the day!”

Now it was your turn to not be able to hide the smile on your face as Christine looked at you with wide eyes. Her plan had worked—you were already starting to crack under her positivity and smiles. Your pencil was doing less work as Christine continued smugly, knowing that she was wearing you down. “And then we obliterated him about gay rights and gun control.”

A small giggle came from you now, the pencil ceasing all movement as you threw your head back. Christine joined in the giggle, knowing how badly both of you needed this moment of softness, moment of pure angelic laughter ringing through the rafters of the theatre. Although everything had seemed dim before, the entire room was lit up in golden light as the two of you smiled at each other, echoes still ricocheting off of the walls and ceiling. You finally made eye contact; your eyes shined, the world became faded, your smile was so genuine, almost perfect in the darker lighting. This look was different to Christine because suddenly, in an instant, everything made sense. The world, the math, hell that one line she’d been tirelessly working on made sense. You radiated positivity and light in that moment, and Christine wouldn’t trade it for anything else.

“See?” She swallowed hard. “You’re smart. You know what you’re doing. You hold your place beautifully—onstage and at school. I have faith that you’ll do great on this test.” There was another beat of her looking into your eyes, deciding that this was another moment to document into her long-term memory. She was completely infatuated by the muted color, the widened pupil, and everything about them. You tore your eyes away, but Christine couldn’t seem to do the same. She watched with curiosity as you moved through space. While usually, everything wasn’t full of grace, you seemed to be oozing it as you put your papers away, smiling to yourself as you softly set things back into the cloth bag. Christine could feel her face become rosy, probably noticeable to you, even when you weren’t looking directly at her. But it didn’t matter, no matter how embarrassing it might be for Christine. You deserved to know that she still got butterflies around you and still felt the same, even after hardships and a few months of dating. From doubts that stemmed from her and Jeremy’s relationship to your own insecurities, she still felt the same and couldn’t change that if she tried—if the entire world tried to tear you two apart.

“Chris?”

“What?” she jumped in surprise at your sudden call out.

“I said, maybe this problem can wait until later. Do you want to come over to my house? My parents just went shopping, we have food, movies, and fuzzy blankets.”

Christine blinks a few times, processing the information that was just given to her. You were proposing a self care night after the painful ideas and thoughts that surrounded you two in this moment. You had decided to push everything, the entire world, away for a few hours. Plus, free food and movies. The mention of fuzzy blankets was enough to get Christine fidgeting more than she had that entire night out of excitement. “What are we still doing here? Let’s go!” she exclaims, throwing her hands above her head as the word “go” left her. There isn’t even a second before Christine stands up, throws her backpack over her shoulder and grabs your hand, ready to exit the theatre and the situations that you two had been thrust into just in the past few hours. With a twirl to look behind herself, a look of pure love is shared between you two, each of you falling harder and faster with every passing second. After a bit, Christine runs, leading you by the hand out of the row, out of the theatre, and to your mom’s car that she let you borrow to go to school and so that you and Christine could study in the theatre after classes. You catch up to her in the parking lot, still running towards the car, running and giggling the entire way. The only lights leading the path are street lights, and of course, the sweet light that was the enjoyment of each other’s company.

[blorgon-schmorgon]

my brown singaporean ass is so so tired of (Asian-)Americans fetishizing income inequality in Singapore by cheering at ~representation~ of rich Chinese Singaporeans who treat people terribly and get away with it bc ~representation matters~

“In the novel, Michael laments being “treated like just a piece of meat,” that “[they] were wrong for each other, but [they] both got so swept up in the moment — in, let’s face it, the sex — that” before he realized it, they were standing before a pastor. In the novel, Michael did not actually cheat, merely staging the affair in order to get out of a marriage he could no longer bear to live out. (Surprise surprise! — it emasculates him.) The film lets this not unimportant point slide, which, importantly, allows for wealth to triumph in the end. Pointedly, what is so goading about this is that it allows the triumph of wealth to be presented as a moral triumph.

But how ridiculous that we are made by the movie to feel on the side of Astrid, who, in addition to buying a pair of earrings for 1.2 millions dollars without batting an eyelid when we are first introduced to her, also boasts of having 14 other apartment blocks so she can deign to let Michael keep the one apartment he bought. How quickly we forget that in Singapore, where this is set, we have one of the highest rates of income inequality in the world and that property prices are some of the highest in the world. How happily we forgive that Singapore’s Gini coefficient is greater than America’s and that it is a country famous for its low taxes for the rich. (Can we stop talking already about how Eduardo Saverin gave up US citizenship to move to Singapore for this reason? Is this something we are proud of? Is it something we benefit from?) How readily we pretend the noose of mortgages and home loans and rents around our neck is not tight, that most are not shackled, ball and chain, to their real estate …. when given all this display of wealth to ogle at. How… self-defeating. In an age of ever increasing inequality, of massive tax cuts for the 0.1%, of Jeff Bezos becoming 125 million dollars richer per day while Amazon employees sleep in cars and have timed toilet breaks, do we not know that the wealth accumulated by the super rich comes at the expense of others? The distribution of wealth in so many parts of the world today is a zero sum game.” “What saddens me is how ready Singapore is to prostitute herself for attention. What infuriates me is how ready the world is to use Singapore to serve as confirmation for their own ends. Singapore is quite stunning — indeed she has a brilliant shining facade which works as the most perfect magic mirror. Ask Singapore anything and she will show you the best answer: What does a suppression of free speech look like? What does a country with no free and independent media look like? What does a country with high income inequality look like? Oh, oh oh. A prism light show; a cantilevered ship on the top of 3 buildings; skyscrapers; a harbor so busy it looks like its own city at night — Singapore twirling and answering: “me, me, me.”

If the film is a celebration of capitalism call it so, but it is not a celebration of diversity. The galling part of the hype around the film and representation is that it allows one to be taken for the other. For example, Goh Peik Lin’s character need not, for the purposes of plot, have been rich. Her character would have provided a prime opportunity to showcase someone of a different socio-economic class, to highlight Singapore’s wonderful public housing, if, indeed, diverse representation was what we were going for. I know by now it is not.

To praise the show for being “a watershed moment for representation” or the “first of its kind” is to facetiously traffic in false opposites, to be like Foucault’s Victorians who everywhere whisper in hush tones that no one talks about sex. To say that this is the first time Asians have been allowed to be seen in a positive light is to trade on a presupposition that we have not — and that is a lie. To be sure, Hollywood hasn’t always been a great source for representation — but do we expect it to be? The people who claim Asians have never been so beautiful on the big screen have clearly never watched a Wong Kar Wai film. In the 80s, Japanese pop culture gained popularity in America and the rest of Asia following its economic boom. In the past decade, the growth of the Korean beauty industry and the Kpop music scene has led to vast changes in the perception of beauty around the world. There are more (east) Asian models on the catwalks and fronting campaigns for luxury goods than ever before. If that is the sort of representation we are seeking, it hasn’t not been there. I’m not trying to say more shouldn’t be done, I am asking for people to be clear-eyed. As for representations of Singapore, two Singaporean film directors have garnered critical attention internationally and regionally at the Cannes Film Festival and the Golden Horse Awards for their works which specifically showcase Singaporean stories — Anthony Chen’s Ilo Ilo and Boo Junfeng’s Apprentice.

And this is what that bewildering opening quote from Napoleon about sleeping giants reveals: “China is a sleeping giant. Let her sleep for when she wakes she will shake the world.” Singapore is not and has never been part of China. Asian people are more interesting now quite simply because China is powerful and has money. What’s that pithy racist aphorism again? All Asian people look alike. The present moment is a time when being a minority can be worn like a trendy skin in certain contexts (this doesn’t mean that minorities are not then discriminated against because the two are not mutually exclusive) and that is happily adopted and used to obfuscate that what we are really celebrating in Crazy Rich Asians is money. If it is a good time to be a banana — yellow on the outside — it is a better time to be gold.Crazy Rich Asians may have its use for various groups, may enable different things, but let the international community not forget that Singapore is a real place, and it is not there for the use-value other groups can foist upon it. To a country of 5 million people, most of them not Crazy Rich, it is home.”

[airyravenmaid]

Eye Contact

Back at it again at Krispy Kreme with more FF Versus XV bullshit. This one’s kinda wonky and really bizarre since the AU overall ties in with a KH crossover I helped make up along with personal headcanons, but can also standalone for a FFXV AU in itself. I’m just clearing that up since there is a part mentioned towards the end that nods to a world the Chocobros went to as one of their many “world detours” en route to the one they needed to go to in order to establish diplomatic relations with a potential sister kingdom also of light. ...Oh, and there are implications of another headcanon regarding a certain Immortal Marshal, but that’s a popular HC in itself, so that goes without saying. So, yeah, sorry for that; just warning y’all so you don’t get confused and want me burned at the stake.

Alright, alright, that’s enough idiotic justification rambling from me; I’m already buzzed as is and can hardly think right anyways lol. Just enjoy the crazy piece I wrote so I can try and work on the next tone. This one’s not Lightis and is more platonic bc Light’s making fray-ends with these dumb boys :3c. Maybe I can write more of her befriending the others, but we’ll see. ‘Til then, here’s this one and happy reading for those who see this! 💘

Staring back at Prompto from the caravan bathroom mirror was himself, but more clouded. He only blamed it on having just gotten up and dressed for the day not too long ago, figuring he’d taken care of everything he needed to per his morning routine. The very sight of his dull, everyday mirror reflection made him sigh a tad forlornly, but realizing the time to go was imminent only had him slap two hands to his cheeks once. Putting on his more traditional smile, Prompto gave the mirror two thumbs up as enough motivation to start the day right. No prob! He could do this, he could do this!

Upon going to exit the vicinity for the fresher outside world, Prompto rubbed whatever lingering weariness stuck by away from his eyes to clear his vision. When things still looked slightly blurry as before, he gulped. Fumbling through his smallest bag, he dug for what he thought was taken care of already. Pulling out two connected circles he knew to be his contact lenses case, Prompto opened it to find it empty, to his panic.

“Maybe I’ve still got my spares…?” Prompto hoped, rummaging through the bag to try and find more disposable lenses. He found the source box, but opening it only gave him an empty container and an expectation for a very rough day ahead. “You’ve gotta be kidding me! I’m out already?!”

“Prompto, what’s the hold up in there?” Gladio called from outside. “We gotta move!”

“Be right out! Just— making sure I didn’t forget anything is all!”

“Then do one last good check and hurry. We haven’t got all day either!”

Prompto in response called out a playfully affirmative “Aye, aye, Big Guy!” before going to search what he could of something to counteract his flawed eyesight. There was a definite solution on him, he knew, but the glasses case buried somewhere on his possession was considered a dead last resort. Otherwise, those days of having them as his sole option were over and done with. His investigation was thorough, but unfortunately, his results came up fruitless with no lenses available.

Giving up, he exited the caravan to catch up with the other four and hurry into the vacant passenger’s seat in the Regalia before it finally drove off along the world around it. His only hope now was for supplies to be low enough for warranting a pit stop at the nearest store of some sorts, or at least somewhere he can pick up some new spares. Luckily in recent days, he’d been thoroughly reminded to digitally order replacements by a certain team strategist, but there was no telling when the chance to claim them would come. A gunsman’s aim-precise eyes certainly depended on excellent vision, and in a way, so did the entire team.

“So! Ignis, where’s our next destination?” Prompto asked next to him, knowing subtlety was key in his strategy to get his lens replacements. “Anything we gotta do first?”

“Actually, our first order of business is none too far from the Disc of Cauthess,” Ignis noted. “Seems we’ve run low on a few things, and waiting to get them is out of the question.”

“I couldn’t agree more! The sooner, the better; the more supplies, the merrier! So, no need to wait on it.”

“What’s your hurry for?” Lightning inquired, suspicious. “It’s just a run-of-the-mill supply run. We’ve done them hundreds of times.”

“Oh, I know that, it’s just, umm… you never know what you’ll find there that’s useful. And I’m just curious on what’s ‘in store’ for us.”

Lightning rolled her eyes at the quip and slouched back a bit further in her seat. “I guess. Whatever floats your boat, Prompto.”

Prompto knew the excuse was flimsier than wet paper, but if it got Lightning to not interrogate him any further thanks to her lack of concern, then he wasn’t gonna complain anytime soon. His secret plot was to rightfully claim his contact lenses in the proper place, find a place to hide and put them in, and the others would remain none the wiser without being slowed down in the slightest. Until then, however, he’d be stuck in the car unable to so much as fully enjoy the moving sights around him. And what photographer could be truly happy at being unable to see the full, beautiful world that made their digital easel? So much as thinking about it made him more antsy than usual, Prompto exerting it in the form of impatiently bouncing his leg due to only so much space in the Regalia.

He was too distracted by his hasty need for his contacts that he didn’t notice the sky blue eyes of Lightning staring a hole in his skull from the seat behind him. The only feeling compelling her to stare was her good old friend skepticism. Though definitely none of her direct concern, Prompto seemed up to something. But, what was it? That answer she didn’t quite know just yet.

Ignis pulled the car up next to one of the gas tanks, his suggestion to Noctis and Gladio on filling it up for the road taken without much question from either. Lightning got up to stretch her legs and see if anything was of necessary interest in the Mini-Mart, while Prompto went a little further a distance to see if his guess was correct. To his relief, he found what he’d expected to be in the area’s vicinity. It didn’t let him stray so far from the others that the Regalia was out of sight, but it was still a bit of a walk away on its own.

Okay, en-bee-dee, Prompto kept reassuring himself. Just a little trip to the nearest little pharmacy; in and out, then nothing happened from the others’ perspective. Walking in was a lot easier when only strangers he didn’t feel as self-conscious around were also minding their own business like he was non-existent. They were oblivious to who he was as a person and everything; the perfect getaway, he could say! In and out, then he’s run about!

“Hello, Sir, how may I help you?” the optical center clerk greeted. “Are you here to pick up something?”

“Yeah. I’ve got my prescription,” Prompto told them, surrendering the proof that he was medically approved to be there. “I’m here for my spares.”

The clerk looked it over carefully, nodding once the written prescription was validated and approved. “Just give me a few minutes and I’ll be right back out with the brand. It’s the monthly ones, right?”

“Yup! I know they say ‘daily is healthy’, but… turns out it depends on the person.” Prompto let out a laugh under his breath. That was certainly not an agonizing road he wanted to go back down again. Better safe than sorry!

The clerk took about as long as they’d promised. In “Prompto Time”, however, it felt as though every second passed was a minute wasted. He nervously clung to the hope of the others not having gotten done sooner and were presently waiting on their energetic youngest member. Just when it felt like forever had almost gone by him, back came the solution to his trouble of the day. Prompto mutely sighed in relief, thanking them while taking his new supply of contact lenses and handling what he needed to in regards to officially purchasing them.

So as not to risk hitting the road blind as a bat, Prompto hurried into the nearest bathroom to put them in his eyes. In accordance with his process, Prompto removed no more than his fingerless gloves and washed the hands underneath. His studded wristbands got a bit damp from the watery suds, but he couldn’t have cared less. Under the warm gusts of the hand dryer his palms went, rubbing each other all over to eliminate every layer of water.

And now… the harder part he dreaded so much. Two tiny dome-shaped, colorless terrors waiting to torture Prompto until he was to manage in getting them over the two most sensitive organs in his head. Nonetheless, he opened the box and took out the first pair, peeling off their wrapping and concentrating on his reflection. One wrong move, and it’d be over for him and his vision. Spreading his first pair of lids apart with his thumb and pointer finger, Prompto used the other index one to use as an applicator.

“Just a little further…” Prompto gulped, shakily pressing the contact more towards the rim surrounding the stressed lavender-blue of his eye. When it got too close, he wound up giving into fear and setting his finger down to let him blink for relief. “Wait, okay, time out! I need a second…”

“You did remember to wash your hands first, right?” the sudden voice of Ignis asked from behind, startling Prompto into nearly poking his eye out with the younger’s shriek.

“Ignis! Dude, don’t do that! But, yes, I washed my hands, I promise. What— are you doing here, by the way?”

“Tracking down my AWOL friend, who I knew to be running a bit low on his own supplies. Did you find what you needed?”

“Yep! Should be good for a long while!” Prompto looked behind Ignis, even near spots most wouldn’t detect so easily. “Nobody… followed you, did they? Like say…”

“If it’s Light you’re worried about seeing you, then no, she’s waiting in the car. Even if she had followed me, I believe you’d be more than safe in the men’s bathroom.”

“Right, right! Just making sure is all! You never know, you know…?”

“I ‘know’ that there’s also no harm in her finding out about your poor eyesight. I doubt she’d care too much if she knew, anyways.”

“Well, sure, but… let’s just say some things are just better off totally left behind without the reminder. And besides, there’s no harm in not telling her, either! For now, ignorance is bliss.”

“At least, until she gets too suspicious and finds out one way or another. You aren’t exactly among the best at ‘acting natural’, Prompto. Especially when you’re nervous.”

Prompto dismissed the notion, working on getting the first lens into his eye. “I’ll be fine, Iggy. What Light will never know won’t hurt her~.”

“One way or another, something’s bound to happen. But, on the subject. These lenses? They are not meant to be worn to sleep.”

In response, Prompto first let out a mock-buzzer noise while crossing his arms into an X-shape. “Wrong, Iggy! I was sure to get the monthly ones that are a little safer. Besides, that was like one time I did that!” Seeing the raised brow on Ignis’ forehead made Prompto backtrack, knowing he’d been seen right through like glass. “...Plus— okay, maybe two others, but I know that now! Thanks… anyways, though. It won’t happen again, I promise.”

“I’ve enough faith in you to uphold that, but also give your eyes time to ‘breathe’ to be at your safest. And, do know that there’s no harm in a certain someone learning something new.”

Ignis left Prompto to finish putting his contacts in peacefully, having no need to tell him where to go afterwards. One down, the other to go. His fingers were shaky, but gripped the lens for dear life to do everything in his power not to drop it. At a snail’s pace, towards the other eye it went until its rim made a perfect contact around the iris. Winking a few times to get the plastic to stick, Prompto moved both eyes back and forth behind his lids, settling on a good enough feel for the new contacts in place.

“Ah, that’s better,” Prompto sighed, happy to see everything clearer than before. “Thank the Six for ‘boneless glasses’ to make my life just a little easier!”

Cleaning out his contact lens case with enough disinfecting solution and putting them in the Armiger’s storage system for ultimate safety, Prompto looked both ways and around on the outside of the men’s room. When the coast was clear, he shuffled out of the store uttering the appropriate “stealth music” as if a spy on a deathly mission. He ducked around some of the aisle shelves to hide himself occasionally, holding a long note once at the entrance before springing out of the building.

“Haha! Completely nailed it!” Prompto boasted, hurrying his way back to the Coernix Station - Cauthess while looking back at the pharmacy he’d escaped from. “And just in time to hit the— ROAD!”

“There you are,” Lightning said, knuckles on her hips and slightly hunched forward to show more of her disapproval at the spooked boy. “Missed you at the shop. Where’d you decide to wander off to?”

“N— Oh, nowhere, Light! The shop just didn’t have what I needed to pick up, so I found someplace else!” Prompto grew even more anxious at the well-known glare being as strong as ever thrown right at him. “I’m telling the truth! I didn’t go too far!”

“You’re up to something, Argentum.”

“Yeah, I am. I’d say about… five-foot-eight? Not as tall as Gladio or Ignis, but you’ve got a little catching up to do—”

“—You know what I mean, don’t be wise. What are you hiding?”

“Me? I’d never hide a thing, ma’am! I’m Prompto ‘Open Book’ Argentum, that’s me!”

“If you’re such an open book, then you’ve got no reason to be so scared of telling me the truth. What is it, already? Spill it.”

Just then, the savior in the form of the Regalia pulled up and honked the horn, courtesy of Noctis driving up front. “You two having fun over there? Whatever you’re talking about can be said in the car, too.”

“Can it, Prince,” Lightning hissed coldly, getting in one of the two remaining seats. “This conversation isn’t over, Prompto. I’m letting you know that now.”

Gulping, Prompto sat himself down in the car, giving Noctis wordless permission to drive onwards again. Thankfully, he was separated from Lightning in the back thanks to Gladio sitting between them. A bit of a tight fit considering how large the man was, but nothing close to “excruciatingly unbearable”. Even with a living barrier between them, Prompto got chills tingling his spine in the worst way possible whenever he was faced the brunt of Lightning’s infamous staredown. Six, if looks could kill, then he’d have been vaporized by now for gazing directly at such a goddess in woman form that had as much beauty as she did perseverance. All he had to do for the time being was work his way around her suspicion until she forgot about it enough, and he’d be home free! After all, how hard could that be to try and get away with…?

The next time they stopped for a while to camp out later on in the day, Prompto sought the opportunity to celebrate his new contact lenses. He did so in the form of, what else, taking advantage of the exquisite outdoor scenery. Letting everyone else know he’d return in due time, Prompto set off to a remote area of the woods with his camera in hand, on the hunt for whatever might catch his eye and become a future memory of the past. Such a moment would be even better with someone else there to also experience the magic with him, but— as much as he’d rather stay far away from the nastier parts of it— nature was bound to have something to tickle his fancy within it.

Prompto took in everything about his surroundings to see what he could do for his little “indie photo op”, as he’d put it before stepping away from camp. Tripod, check. Camera, obvious. Light source? “On fleek”! Angling? Top-notch! Alright, everything was in place and nothing nearby that he could see to mess it up. Selecting his first snapshot spot, Prompto positioned his beloved camera in its standing hold, setting the timer for when it’d go off. Counting down the seconds; three, two…!

“There you are,” Lightning interrupted, scaring Prompto into stumbling into his tripod and accidentally taking a blurred photo of the ground instead of the nice view.

“And there goes my shot,” Prompto sighed, filling his lungs with his breath and exhaling to calm himself enough. “Light, at least warn me first before sneaking up on me like a serial killer!”

“If you’re mad about your dinky little photo, just take it again. This place isn’t going anywhere, but neither am I until you tell me the truth.”

“Oi-vey, there’s just no dropping that, is there? Why do you wanna know so badly, anyways?”

“Because if it wasn’t something worth hiding, you wouldn’t be dodging the question so much. Now, fess up, Argentum. I’d hate to resort to ‘less pleasant’ ways of getting you to talk.”

Prompto found himself sweating in the brow and backing away, one step in reverse synchronized with Lightning’s forward. “There’s nothing to say, already! I’m not hiding a thing!”

“I don’t buy it. Either tell me and let me leave you alone, or don’t tell me and only make this harder on yourself. Make the right choice.”

He’d run out of options, and inner shame prevented him from potentially making for an awkward confession. So, between fighting it or flight, Prompto chose the impulsive option of the latter with his beloved camera in hand. He could always come back for the tripod later once he didn’t have a rosy-haired warrior out for his past. Although it was common sense to know Lightning was chasing after him, Prompto gave into looking back at her anyways and running faster before turning his head around again. When he did, all he received was a faceful of tree bark smacking him right against the face, his camera falling to the soft ground unharmed when his hands went to cover achingly where he got hit.

“Looks like you’re out of options, Argen—” Lightning started to say until she realized Prompto sank to the ground covering his face. Her irritation cooled into an odd sense of concern, now going over to inspect the man more carefully. “Wait, are you hurt?”

“Mmm-mmm,” Prompto got out, something crystalline falling from his left eye and sticking to his upper cheek. When he felt it, he gasped. “Don’t come any closer, okay?”

Lightning grew more worried, especially at the sight of what seemed to be a tear. Did she go too far in pressuring him into injuring himself? That was quite a run into the tree he just did… “I have to make sure nothing’s broken. Are you bleeding?”

“No! Stay back! I’m fine!”

Lightning disobeyed and removed Prompto’s hands from his face. To her relief, he didn’t seem to be bleeding or bruised, but strangely, neither eye seemed damp with any tears. How that could be was unknown to her, but then she looked closer at what was really stuck on a freckle. Against Prompto’s further protest, Lightning picked it up and squeezed it between two gloved fingers while examining it a little better. After a few seconds, she recognized what it’d been if not a salted tear of pain like she initially believed.

“...It’s a contact lens,” Lightning pointed out, still looking at it until Prompto snatched it back from her. “Why do you have a contact lens on you?”

“N— Not important,” Prompto mumbled, trying to slip the lens back into his eye, but to no avail without the proper concentration.

“Sounds so to me. Look.” Lightning knelt down in front of Prompto, getting him to look at the new gentleness her eyes now held for him, not a trace of force to be seen on her. “If this was what everything was all about, you can tell me. Unless you really are somehow secretly conspiring against the others, then I have no reason to get that much on your case over a little contact lens.”

“You thought I was—? No! Never!” Prompto sounded almost offended that she’d think that of him, but in all fairness, he was acting a little off his loop from trying to hide his secret from her. “...I dunno if I can tell you, though. I wanted to make a good impression on— well, someone who’s never met me before this.”

“You’d have better luck by being honest. Trust me, I’ve had my share of bad news, so since you’re not putting anyone’s life in danger, whatever you have in you, I can take.”

Before he could think of any other objection, Lightning sat down next to him against the tree, picking up his camera and brushing off the dirt it’d acquired from the fall. She checked it over to see if it’d gotten cracked or anything of the sort, but was pleased to hand it back to Prompto when it looked as intact as ever. Prompto frowned; there was no way out of this, was there? And it’d be rude to leave a lady unanswered when she’d so sincerely asked, so… time to face the music, it seemed. Astrals, this was gonna suck.

“Well, as you could probably guess, my vision’s not the best in the world,” Prompto confessed, a sheepish laugh leaving his throat. “That’s why I gotta wear contact lenses to— ya know, fix that. Can’t be a photographer or gunsman that can’t see, can you?”

“Then how come you don’t just get glasses?” Lightning wondered as Prompto used his phone reflection to fight the lens back over his vision hole. “It seems harder to put those things in, doesn’t it? One wrong move, and you’d never see again.”

“It’s not so tough once you get used to it and take care of them the right way. And I am never going back to wearing glasses again when I don’t have to! They look fine on Iggy, but count me out!”

“So, you did used to wear them? Why’d you stop?”

“That’s kinda where the whole ‘I’d rather not talk about this’ part comes in. When I was a kid, I didn’t just wear glasses. Believe it or not, I also actually used to be pretty chunky and more of a turtle. Always in my shell and whatnot, you know?”

Lightning didn’t say it aloud, but the revelation did surprise her. Trying to picture a younger, slightly more plump Prompto that couldn’t so much as speak his mind sounded completely foreign to her. But, he also sounded… different in telling his tale. There wasn’t the usual buoyancy to really be heard, or too much of the wise-cracking nature she was more familiar with. No, all Lightning could hear was more of a sadder little boy wearing a sunnier mask to hide a past he wasn’t proud of. She logically kept her full judgement in line, wanting to hear more to see what else there was to it.

“You don’t say?” Lightning commented. “First, on you needing glasses back then, why was that? I’d have figured a noble from Lucis would be able to afford something ridiculous like laser eye surgery, or—”

“—Eh? ‘Noble’, who? If you’re talking about me, I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong guy there, Pink,” Prompto laughed uneasily. “I could never be able to pay for that.”

“You’re not a noble? How could that be; you’re travelling with a prince of all kinds of people!”

“I know. I’m as surprised as you are, trust me. But, alack, I am but a commoner in a group of rich men! Even so, I honest to the Six doubt Pop would have been able to afford getting eye correction surgery for me. Shit’s expensive, lady!”

“Fair enough. Then, how did you get into the Crownsguard if you’re just normal?”

Prompto’s face grew even more sullen, looking at the camera between his fingers without a hint of his usual smile. “That’s what I’d like to know. It’d be super nice to think ‘wow, all my hard work paid off, so I got to be worthy of joining’, but… I just can’t believe it’s anywhere close to the truth. Sure, I got in; lost the weight, did the work, yadda-yadda. But really, even with Pop training me to get here today, I just don’t know if I’d have done so well on my own anyways.”

“It… sounds really important to you. Then, why go through so much if you feel this way?”

“To be honest with myself? A big reason’s all because I wanted to be worth something to Noct. Oh, and that’s besides him being a prince dealing with a commoner and stuff, too. My bestie’s kinda my ‘firstie’ too, if you know what I’m saying.”

Lightning scoffed, rolling her eyes more at the mention of Noctis than Prompto’s friendship with him. “Leave it to the little snob of a prince to hold such expectations on you. He’s got two others that aren’t broken, so why rope you into it?”

“What? Oh! No, no, Pink, you’ve got it all wrong!” Prompto’s tone grew more frantic, realizing he’d planted an accidental misconception in the ex-soldier’s head. “Look, I get you and Noct would rather not wanna deal with each other, but believe me. I’ve known the guy since at least high school; he’s a total sweetheart once you see enough underneath the surface! A little crabby, sure, but he’s really not anywhere as bad as you’re making him out to be.”

“More power to you, then, because I’m not seeing it. Whatever, this is about you, not him.”

“In a way, it’s kinda both. If it weren’t for how my friendship with Noct started, then I dunno where I’d be now. Me wanting to both protect him and be a good enough friend to him is what got me started on the road to changing who I was into someone much better. I’m not sure if I’ve totally succeeded yet, but if I’ve been with him this long, maybe I’m doing something okay for once? Maybe you don’t understand what I’m saying, but to put it all simply, Noct’s done nothing but help me all these years. And all I wanna do is do it back and keep doing it for as long as possible.”

...Wow. At that moment, that was the only word Lightning could form in her mind. She may not have understood why Prompto was going to such lengths for someone like Noctis, but if there was something she did get, it was the gunsman’s process. And though Gladio and Ignis she was beyond fine with as people once she’d gotten to know enough of them, something with Prompto resonated with her in a way those two hadn’t quite achieved (at least, not yet to her knowledge). Maybe it was on the fact at not being the only common person after all Now that he’d said that to her, but whatever it was, Lightning was curious enough to know more.

“Let’s just say I wouldn’t go and say I don’t understand where you’re coming from,” Lightning admitted. “To want to change so badly to make someone you care about the most happy… you’re not as off base as you think.”

“Really, now? Anyone back home make you feel that way?” Prompto wondered. “Like a best friend you’ve got yourself?”

“Yes, and no. Just know I’d do anything to see them have a good life. I can only hope I did enough to make that happen, considering every horrible mistake I’ve made.”

“Assuming they’re still around, if they seem to be doing okay because of you, then… well, lo hiciste, you did it!”

“Sh— they’re thankfully alive and breathing, but I can’t help but worry if I ever did enough or not. And even if I did, what now? Will they still need me anymore?”

‘This would be a little easier if I knew how close she was to the person she’s talking about.’ Prompto worded what he wanted to carefully. It wasn’t every day Lightning have off such a vulnerable aura, so the last thing he wanted to do was make her more upset. “If you ask me, just being able to stand by them and know you could help them go far in life sounds like reward enough. Sure, maybe you can’t be together forever and ever, but knowing you made an impact comes just as close.”

“And how would I know if my impact even mattered? For all I can tell, they could be fine without me. Better, even.”

“One way of seeing it? They may be able to live their own life just fine, but it’s hard to forget how they got to that life in the first place. If you impact enough, they’ll be sure to never take that for granted.”

Hardly even realizing it immediately, Lightning felt her heart mellow out a tad melancholically the more she thought about her most cherished protectorate. All the foolish mistakes she’d made along the way she may not have been ready to forgive herself entirely for, but in where everyone from Cocoon and Gran Pulse now were, she’d do anything to keep it how it’d become in the end. Now, of all the people to find that appeared to understand her in that way, it’s Prompto who claims such a spot.

“Those are some wise words coming from you of anyone,” Lightning told him. “Never imagined it’d be from the same person who’s compared gloves to being ‘hand condoms’, either.”

“Light, that’s only the beginning of my endless wisdom,” Prompto said proudly before simmering back down in his tone again. “But, frankly? I’m more surprised you were so willing to listen that easily. I’ve only really said all that to Noct.”

“It’d be ‘pot calling the kettle black’ if I gave you such a rough time about this. But, if you ask me, it really looks like you’re on the right track, even if you think you aren’t.”

“Can’t stop you if you wanna think that, but all I can do is keep trying and see if I can succeed. Until then, there’s no saying for sure.”

“Well, considering you’re already pulling more weight out here than any nobody could hope to, I’d say you’re making the progress you need. Hell, you’d give Sazh a run for his money if he saw how well you work a pistol. And he uses two!”

“Right! Now, for my next question; who the heck is Sazh?” Prompto in asking it sounded closer to his more chipper side, but was just as unfamiliar with the comparison.

“A friend back home. I think you’d like him just fine.” Lightning started counting off a few fingers, fishing out the similarities. “You’re both top-notch gunsmen, wise-cracking even in the tightest of situations, have a fondness for chocobos—”

“—Wait, wait, hold up! This friend of yours also sees the true glory of Eos’ finest creatures?! Do tell, Miss Farron! Don’t keep a guy waiting!”

Lightning couldn’t help but softly laugh at Prompto’s enthusiasm for once. That certainly got his attention. “It’s more his son, Dajh, that’s crazy about them. But, if keeping a chocobo chick in his hair amounts to anything, I’d say he’s a huge fan of them, too.”

“He keeps a chocobo chick in—! Get out! I’ve— that clinches it! I gotta meet this man someday! I just gotta, Pink! I’ve gotta learn his ways! How could I have been so blind?!”

Lightning pat Prompto a few times on the head, appearing to quell his innumerable excitement levels. “Easy does it, Sunspot. I’m sure he’d forgive you for taking a while to do that. But, while we’re on it, how did you get so good at firing a gun?”

“Well, I hate to keep bringing my pop into this, but back when I was still in training, he found my aim wasn’t just top-notch in taking a few snaps. Turns out projectiles are just my calling, too.”

“And I may as well ask this, too, but who is your dad? He sounds a little more than just another commoner. Is he a veteran?”

“You could say that, but you’ve met him already! He’s the same guy who sent you to travel with us in the first place!”

“What? But that was—” Lightning stopped, eyes widening when she realized who Prompto was talking about. She looked at his sunny, almost cutesy-looking mug, then comparing it to the complete 180 of his apparent parentage. “...No way. The Marshal?! Cor Leonis is your dad of all people?!”

“Yes… and no. Obviously, we’re not blood related, but he sorta adopted me as a baby. Then, eventually, he had to give me up to my… other parents. So, I guess I grew up the rest of the way with them.”

“He had to give you up? Why?”

“Guess it had to do with him being leader of the Crownsguard and all. Someone like that can’t balance such a huge responsibility and a kid, so he didn’t have a choice on it at all.”

“Then, how come you still call him your dad if he’s technically not anymore?”

“I try not to when I need to be formal or in front of other Guard members, but honestly, I still pretty much consider him my father even though I had to go somewhere else.” Prompto’s mouth flattened into another frown, this one as wistful as the ones before it. “Hard to admit, but he’s the only older adult figure in my life there enough to earn that title. My… folks weren’t exactly home too much, so I mostly had to look after myself all the time.”

“They left their kid on his own just like that?! Some ‘parents’ ya got there. Actually, I don’t think I should use that word. If they were really your mom and dad, then they shouldn’t leave their kid behind when it’s still in their control. If it wasn’t? Different story. But, that’s not the case here, is it?”

“Well, I— look, Pink, bad mouthing them isn’t the answer. Can’t change how I was brought up, so… what, huh?”

“I don’t care in the slightest. Prompto, you don’t deserve to be practically ignored by the two people meant to be there for you the most. I’m not accepting it, and neither should you, Mister.”

“It’s not like I ‘accept’ it, exactly. It’s— I just wish… you know…”

The words faded on Prompto’s tongue, but were replaced by a quiet gasp at what happened next. Of all the things to get from Lightning for any reason, her arms wrapped around his body in a strangely maternal embrace was definitely not one he expected. But, for once, it simmered his heart into steady, rather sad thumps. He didn’t find it appropriate to hug back, but it appeared Lightning wasn’t going to let go of him just yet. Although it was his primary thought, it didn’t seem to be a hug of empty pity; even at her rare warmest, the woman to him never appeared as the type to go and show something so pointless for another person. Rather, the display felt as comforting to Prompto as it did secretly unearned.

“You’re doing just fine. You just have to not quit while you’re ahead,” Lightning reassured him. “I haven’t been here as long as you four, but I’m sure they’d have said something by now if you weren’t at least close to good enough. Real friends stick by you from start to finish, but also know when you’re falling behind on what’s really crucial.”

“That sounds true and all, but…” Prompto silenced himself, shaking his head without the desire to say too much more. “Nevermind. You’re right; I shouldn’t overreact or turn into a real ‘Debbie Downer’ here.”

“I never said you were. Feeling low’s gonna happen against your control; it’s what you do with it is what makes the difference. I’m nobody to tell anyone else how to feel, but I can at least encourage you not to throw your hopes out the window just yet. Think you’d be able to do that?”

“Hmm, dunno. I’ve already got bad eyesight, so it’s not like I’ve got better ‘future sight’, either. But, man! Would if I could, Light. Would if I could.”

Lightning could feel a delicate little smile tug at her mouth corners hearing Prompto regain the laugh in his voice. “Careful what you wish for. Being able to see into the future might not be as nice as you think.”

“What makes you say that? Having that as a superpower would rock! Unless— yeah, maybe some things are just not meant to be seen before they happen. Is that why?”

“Among… other reasons people wouldn’t like it. Bottom line, I’d rather you waited and saw, and not saw and waited. You got that?”

“I gotcha! Won’t see any ESP from me, lay-dee! But, you mind if we get going? I did say I was only gonna be gone for a little bit. Don’t want everyone thinking I almost became bear chow again.”

“It is a good time to— wait, ‘again’? What do you mean ‘again’?”

“Nothing that’s not best left in the past! It was before you came along, and we’re all fine now! Don’t you worry your pretty pink little head there.”

Having done enough of interrogating Prompto for one day, Lightning left it at that and got herself off the ground. She was about to turn the other way hoping to be followed, when Prompto let out a loud, energetic gasp after looking at his camera again. Without explaining himself, he grabbed Lightning by the wrist and ran in the direction of where she’d originally chased him from. Besides not wanting to leave his poor tripod all by its lonesome, having another person with him in such a great spot was a photo opportunity just begging on its knees for him to take it.

And just who was he to up and refuse it so rudely?

“Really, Prom, we’ve gotta go,” Lightning insisted as Prompto set her up in front of the tripod and camera like a living prop. “Can’t this wait until later?”

“Not a chance!” Prompto chirped, making sure everything on his camera was all set and in position. “Why pass up the chance of a lifetime in getting a nice snap with my favorite photogenic newcomer?”

“If you wanted a selfie, then you don’t need my help with that,” Lightning quipped, hiding her smirk behind a few fingers at the consequent stunned blush on Prompto’s face born from the comment.

“Oh, fair maiden, how you flatter a clown. But, nope! You’ve gotta be in the shot; no way out until this memory’s made!” Prompto set the timer up, running to where Lightning was and readying himself for the shoot. “Smile for the camera, Pink! It loves ya!”

Lightning never really considered herself a “camera person”, but with how little time she had to think about it before the camera went off and captured her appearance in the moment, she did what first came to her mind. Giving off the most modest of her smiles, the shutter went off and immortalized the exact moment and pose the two were in. Prompto went to go look at his new photograph, rather pleased with the almost punkish way he had his tongue stuck out and the peace sign fingers on the hand belonging to the arm he’d wrapped around Lightning’s shoulders without actually making physical contact. As for his female companion in the snapshot, hers didn’t seem like anything to write home about, but nothing of it wiped even a bit away of the smile on his face.

“Another shot gotten! And this one’s the first to be blessed full-on by such a gracious presence!” Prompto beamed, making loops around the moon from how happy he was to have gotten a photo with Lightning. “Hey, why don’t you see how it came out, too? No need to let you miss out on it.”

“Why don’t you show me while we’re heading back to camp?” Lightning suggested, hauling the tripod under her arm and allowing Prompto to follow in her steps. “Nothing against you doing what you like, but we were supposed to head back a while ago.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course! And since we’re doing it now, take a quick look!” Prompto put the camera in front of Lightning’s eyes, the screen still on its most recent picture.

“Easy with— ...oh.” Lightning saw how the photo came out, rather impressed by the expert-level accuracy and the fact that even her more mild expression didn’t lower any of the quality either. “Gotta say, for someone that needs contacts, you’ve really got an eye for the camera.”

“I’ve had two for as long as I can remember. This journey’s not gonna last forever, so I might as well make a way to capture it for as long— WHOA!”

Lightning immediately ducked and caught Prompto by hugging her arms around to his torso, pulling him back up onto his feet hiding her suppressed urge to laugh. “Maybe tell me more on the way back. While looking where you’re going, of course.”

“That can be arranged. See, it all started when…”

Ignis was in the middle of getting the last few minor touches on camp set up, at the same time Gladio and Noctis were preoccupying themselves a distance from him with a harmless sparring match. Their combat reminded him personally to take a good look at his recently acquired Mythril Knives to ensure they were ready for use next time the team was to be under attack by the forces of evil or wilderness. His ears picked up on faint chatter past the sound of swords clashing and a prince rapidly warping, further investigation informing him that the culprits were the previously absent Prompto and Lightning. The ecstatic storytelling from his blond friend was nothing new, but the interested placid smile on his pink-haired one certainly provided some questions on what happened between them in the woods.

“—Then, I got attacked by a horde of angry baboons! As if that wasn’t bad enough, this leopard comes along and tried to take a bite of me in the worst way possible!” Prompto recited to a fascinated Lightning, Ignis recalling exactly the moment in question on one of the detours taken before they’d even officially set out on their current mission. “All because I wanted to snap a pic of this cute little baby monkey I saw, too! Was that so wrong?”

“You might have just scared the thing with your camera,” Lightning guessed. “What’s harmless to people might not be so to a wild animal. It probably mistook you for a hunter.”

“Still no excuse to try and get me killed! The little…” Prompto grumbled, trailing off and ending the bitter sentence in his head. “Any jungles where you’re from, Pink?”

“Not where I’m living now, no. But, where I was born, the closest I can think of is the Sunleth Waterscape. Never been myself; my sister and a few of our friends passed through it, though.”

“Bummer. Was that awesome ‘Sazh’ guy you were talking about one of those people?”

Lightning nodded. “Him and Vanille went at the same time. Speaking of which, you act a lot like her, too. I think you almost have her beat in the ‘perky youth’ department. And… some other more personal things you’ve got in common, too.”

“I won’t make you say things you don’t wanna, but my ‘Light’s friends I just gotta meet’ list is growing!”

“Maybe when I go back home, you can find time to visit. I’m sure they’d get a kick out of you.” Lightning’s voice had a noticeable lightheartedness to it, imagining the sheer chaos of Prompto meeting her loved ones back home.

“It sounds like you two had a good time out?” Ignis inquired, finally getting the two’s attention on him. His glasses-covered eyes were particularly on Prompto asking it, who knew the reason why.

“Definitely nothing I was expecting, that’s for sure. Anything could end a lot worse, but I’m happy this didn’t.”

“That makes two of us, sister!” Prompto agreed, bringing up the new photo of him and Lightning on his camera. “And guess who also finally got the ultimate selfie today? This guy, that’s who!”

“You finally partook in one of Prompto’s photos, Light? I always thought you to be the camera-shy type,” Ignis said, scanning the camera screen with intrigue.

“I’m not much for taking them, but it came out really well,” Lightning admitted. “As long as Prom doesn’t ask me to take too many of them, I don’t mind getting another in for him.”

“Do you really mean that?!” Prompto squeaked, beyond joyous.

“I just might. I don’t have ‘future sight’ either, though. We’ll just see where things go after this.”

Lightning only left it at that after, flashing Prompto another kind glance before going over to request a sparring match of her own with Gladio after Noctis concluded his with him. It hadn’t gone past Prompto’s cleared up eyes at all, the ecstatic shutterbug still feeling his innards doing giddy flips and turns about the events that’d transpired overall. He found himself smiling with his sunny aura after Lightning, freezing when he’d caught the look on Ignis’ face, too.

“Seems you’ve made a friend in her,” Ignis pointed out. “I’d have to be halfway blind to think she isn’t starting to warm up to you.”

“You really think so?” Prompto breathed, scratching one cheek with his pointer finger.

“I’ve more than a feeling. Not as scary as you thought her finding about your contact lenses was going to be, was it?”

“Pish-pish, lucky guess. Turns out, a lot of things that’s bothered me, she’s been on the same ride just as bad.”

“And yet a lot remains a mystery about our newest comrade. However, enough has certainly come to ‘Light’ with her since she joined us.”

Prompto laughed, quickly catching onto the discreet humor. “Can’t know everything about everybody, of course. Especially since there’s some things we just don’t know the answer to.” At the same time he said that, he fixed the black bands covering his right wrist so they wouldn’t reveal anything the mystery mark underneath.

“Which is perfectly fine. Everyone has their skeletons in the closet, big or small. It’s only a matter of how people take them is what makes the difference.”

Prompto couldn’t argue with that, being unable to avoid looking at not just Noctis toying around on a favored game on his smartphone, but also Lightning performing an impressive deflecting of Gladio’s strike. He still couldn’t fully believe what happened today did, nevermind actually reaching this point in his life. And yet, somehow, here he was; still among the Crownsguard of all things, and making a new friend that turned out to be sailing in the same boat as him in a way.

Another person— Lightning, no less, was more than willing to encourage him from her own honest faith alone. She’d joined Noctis in rooting for him, so Prompto had to be a fool to do so much as consider letting her own too because he couldn’t live up to the simplest of expectations. Whether or not he was sure he’d succeed in the end aside from his personal lack of true confidence, nothing was an excuse to stop after every step taken in the first place.

Prompto tapped one closed eyelid each gingerly, making sure what stuck to his eyes behind them were both secure. He laughed once to himself. Of all the ways possible he could have shared such a deep moment in the woods with someone, it had to be over a measly pair of contact lenses. Small world, he thought. Small world, indeed.

[juunshua]

henlo! can u post a gif tutorial cause your gifs are so pretty and look amazing, even on mobile which messes up with everythjng 😆

ahh anon u flatter me!! thank you for your kind words!!! i honestly have ways to go, but it means a lot that u say this thank you  <3 i have a tutorial under the cut, but im not sure how much help it’ll be! rather than a specific gif tutorial, i figure if ur asking this, u probably already know how to make gifs by now, so more than a tutorial, these are just some tips! and my generic process from downloading a video to saving it to web. i’m not sure how much help it’ll be but here goes! also if u have more questions, do let me know!

so for starters i have a mac + photoshop cs5 so a lot of this tutorial will be based on what you do for that, but i’m sure u could do the same thing on pcs  (actually pcs have more programs available so i highly recommend, if u have a pc, finding a tutorial that is based around pcs) and other photoshop versions too! but i think the general process is still the same, a different tutorial might just be more nuanced^^

1. Finding/downloading your video~so for normal mp4 videos on youtube i use this website. it’s pretty useful it can download from actually a wide variety of sites like naver (up till 1080p!) ~for v app videos i use this site~ts files i find on kpopexciting or kpop24hrs (u need an account for kpop24hrs i think to download video but! signing up isnt difficult and its nothing fishy. i use it a lot esp for older ts files it has a good archive, kpopexciting tends to be faster though.)~the higher quality files you find the better! i find that it tends to go mp4~honestly finding the right high quality video is a HUGE part of making gifs look nice2. Extracting your video~there are many many many ways to extract your video but I highly recommend downloading avisynth! There are ways to download it for pc! avisynth is beautiful because it doesn’t really reduce the quality of your video to the extent that photoshop does, plus it can extract 60fps from ts files. some gifs ive made through avisynth ( x x x ) if you’re interested in avisynth further, tumblr user @/brandinator is a good place to start! if you want to know more regarding how to use it and a different tutorial through that, let me know! ~now i’m not sure if there is an avisynth tutorial for mac anymore, BUT theres another great program, vapoursynth, that mac users can look into. here’s a tutorial that i’ve found~Before I got avisynth I used VLC player for ts files but I had to basically screenshot each frame individually. Some gifs I’ve made through this method ( x x x ). these gifs are 60fps only bc i found a user who uploaded the ts file in 60fps. usually you cant get 60fps w/o avisynth. but this is also me saying that if you cant get avisynth or vapoursynth, there are still ways to work around it i think! one of my fav giffers for the longest time didnt use either!! and sharpening and coloring were always on point.~I think pcs can use kmplayer? id look into that if you have a pc~for normal mp4 videos I just use photoshops ‘import video frames to layers’ option (under file in the menubar)! you can use avisynth as well, but for me it takes forever to extract what i want in avisynth (minimum like a minute ish), whereas ps can get the part of the video i want to gif in a couple of seconds. I think it’s self explanatory but basically you find the video you want to extract, find where u want ur gif to start, and for photoshop cs5, you hit the ‘shift’ key and let the part u want giffed in the video play. when youre done u lift the shift key and hit ‘ok’ (idk if it differs for different versions of ps). i extract all!!! frames!! it makes it look smoother too :)

3. Coloring/Sharpening/Cropping/Etc~now this is the step that I can’t really give a tutorial on because honestly it varies for everyone! but i feel that this is the step that a lot of ppl need guidance with (me included) because it is the hardest step, probably because it is so ‘up in the air’ for lack of a better word? there is no one right way of doing it the possibilities are literally endless but here are some tips~Coloring:       ~most important rule: don’t whitewash ur gifs!!       ~other than that, the world is yours.       ~honestly have fun with this part! coloring is something that i haven’t fully learned yet       ~i tend to play around mainly with the curves, selective color, hue/saturation, and color balance layers       ~you can also download psds other ppl have made (i dont do this myself) and use those!      ~also i feel that a lot of the times, the right coloring can make ur gif seem higher quality. coloring can also play a role in reducing gif size if u do it correctly.      ~honestly this part is just a lot of experimentation, over the course of a gifset and over the course of time in general. some people find their coloring style easily, but i was not one of those people. ive spent a lot of time trying to figure out how to adjust what layers to get the colors that i want and i think only as of this era ive been able to execute the coloring i had pictured in my mind. so patience is a virtue!!! ~Sharpening:      ~ah yes my biggest enemy: sharpening      ~first things first, i sharpen my gifs using smart sharpen + topaz                  ~settings for my smart sharpen are 500%; 0.4                 ~check the box that says ‘more accurate’ and i personally remove ‘gaussian blur’      ~some people also use topaz denoise, and/or topaz clean     ~ honestly topaz is a lifesaver for me bc it smoothes out a lot of grain that can be introduced via coloring! also!!! it can reduce gif size by a lot!!!!!!!!!!!          ~on topaz denoise i hit the ‘light’ setting on the side and adjust the settings accordingly          ~idk how to use topaz clean even though I have it, because it refuses to work          ~to apply topaz you have to hit ‘flatten frames into layers’                ~some gifs i’ve made with just topaz and no avisynth ( x  x x x)        ~there are ways to make it look nice without topaz but i’ve forgotten how after i got it               ~id duplicate the frame then use smart sharpen and ‘gaussian blur’ under ‘blur’                       ~then adjust the opacity levels in some way.                       ~my settings for the opacity levels aren’t good so i’ll refrain from sharing               ~some gifs ive made through this method ( x x )        ~last but not least i’ll bring up avisynth again. avisynth is nice at preserving video quality                 ~a lot of ppl i know say they don’t even sharpen gifs out of avisynth                 ~here are some gifs i have made with avisynth + topaz ( x x x x x x x )    ~honestly when it comes to sharpening, im still floundering with it. my sharpening needs a lot of work but, amongst the people who i consider good sharpners, most of them use avisynth, topaz denoise and/or clean, and smart sharpen! so all the resources are here !

~Cropping:     ~it’s super important to follow tumblr dimensions otherwise gifs come out looking grainy! even when they’re not ! (case in point: x in which i used 168 instead of 178 for the dimensions)~Timing:   ~Timing is so important!!! I almost forgot!! Always make sure u dont have duplicate frames for starters! for 60fps source videos i use .03, for mp4s i typically use .04 but sometimes the frame rate is kinda funky so you may have to go slower accordingly! and the important thing about timing is that if u use smart object, when u save ur gif, it’ll be in a different timing? like .04 gets changed to .07 but in order to fix that, u can simply just save ur gif in the wrong timing, and then reopen the gif in ps, simply change the timing to what u want on all ur frames, and then save it again!! idk if that made any sense but laskdjf this was the biggest mystery for me for so long omg4. Saving the gif~personally the save settings I use are “Selective/Adaptive” ; “Diffusive”; Dither: 100%; 256 colors. sometimes this makes the gif super grainy so i use “pattern” instead of “diffusive” in those instances5. Pray Perseverance   ~a lot of the time when you’re giffing, gifs won’t come out the way you want it (i’m sure for every gifset i’ve uploaded on tumblr, there’s a gifset that i started making and never finished because it looked really bad). idk sometimes it feels like photoshop has its own will, sharpenings wont always work the same way each time, video quality won’t be the way you want it, i’m honestly still very experimental right now I don’t have ps figured out at all. so yeah…sometimes all u can do is that when u hit that save for web button (that ruins everything alskf), pray that ps doesnt mess it up too bad ahahaha but also that even when it does, its okay and you can try again! or try something new!

this is a super generic guide! let me know if you need more information! 

[cheez-ka]

LOVE YOURSELF 轉 Tear 'Singularity' THEORY

*mentally prepares self*

BTS THEORY- after watching it like three times so it doesn't explain _everything_ but-

(IMP NOTE: THIS WAS DONE WITHOUT PROOFREADING VERY LATE IN THE NIGHT)

BASICALLY, Taehyung knew/found out/can feel Jin controlling him (specifically when Jin made sure Taehyung didn't commit murder by sending Hoseok to stay with him) and now he's calling out for Jin, who he knows as some weird force thing making him do things he didn't originally plan on doing, to stop doing that.

random stuff I've noticed: - the room Taehyung is in is the one in the Japanese MV of I NEED U in the exact spot Jin kind of fell apart in - 2:33 SMERALDO FLOWER (remember Jin's tweet) *read more on it here: https://aminoapps.com/c/k-pop/page/blog/the-meaning-of-the-smeraldo/02Ik_uQr53QkR66PnzBRwGmDz45on the smeraldo is a fictional flower- it's literally just a white flower painted blue- but here, and in all the music videos you see a flower in, it's white, the original color. This may mean innocence, with the lack of color, or this may signify (in this video at least) Taehyung's untainted memories (in other words showing that Taehyung realized Jin was controlling him, thus chasing out the blanket Jin put on Taehyung's mind, or the artificial blue dye put on the white flower). (more on this later- just remember it)

*lyric analysis* (crap this'll be long)

"sound of glass breaking/I awake from sleep" Taehyung didn't know that Jin was controlling him to avoid murder until after a while (given as he successfully didn't kill anyone) because of the brainwashing (yeah I'll just call it that) Jin did that put Taehyung in a haze was strong, but that was shattered by Taehyung's stronger feelings of hatred, vengeance and the like.

"a sound full of unfamiliarity" Apparently, Jin had continued to control Taehyung's actions even after the whole murder thing was avoided, something Taehyung never really noticed but now-

"try to cover my ears but can't go to sleep" -he can consciously feel Jin taking over.

"the pain in my throat gets worse/try to cover it/I don't have a voice" Taehyung realizes that he can't do anything that the "sound" (which is Jin) doesn't approve of.

"today I hear that voice again" more mind-control from jin yay

"it''s ringing again, that voice" Jin's apparently strong af because he has the power to control a guy's actions daily while also trying to deal with five other people's problems as well as functioning daily. mulitasking level 1000000000000000

"a crack again on this frozen lake/I dumped myself into the lake/I buried my voice for you/over the winter lake I was thrown/a thick ice has formed/in the dream I shortly went into" bOIIII he didn't pass natural science did he bc he threw himself into the fckin oCEAN or was it a sea

BUT metaphorically speaking this may show that Taehyung willingly let Jin inside his head. Most likely Jin had promised something like "oh all your dreams will come true I'm your fairy jinmother and you're princess cinderatae" and that's why Tae went into a "dream", aka a dream-like state where Jin had complete control over Taehyung.

*OH AND THE ICE IS THE CONTROL JIN HAS OVER TAEHYUNG- this is important for later **the lake is control over Taehyung or the place Taehyung is held captive while Jin's doing his reform work on the boy.

Jin told Tae that all his burdens would be gone if he "jumps into the lake" or hands the controls of his life to him but-

"my agonizing phantom pain is still the same" -despite all his problems seemingly resolved, Taehyung still felt pain. He just felt hurt no matter how much Jin tried to foolproof his whole plan to rid Taehyung of anything murder-related, hence the words "phantom pain". Hatred is too strong an emotion.

"have I lost myself/or have I gained you?" Now Taehyung's wondering if it was better with Jin in control or if it was better when he was on his own. Though it's true that with Jin his life goes a different path away from the blood and killing, that life that goes the better way isn't his own. It's a glass half-full or glass half-empty situation.

"I suddenly run to the lake/there's my face in it" Taehyung slowly starts to realize that he can gain back control of his life.

"please don't say anything/reach my hand out to cover the mouth" He tries to actively stop Jin from controlling him.

"but in the end, spring will come someday/the ice will melt and flow away" It was there he knew that Jin's hold on him will not last forever.

"tell me if my voice isn't real/if I shouldn't have thrown myself away/tell me if even this pain isn't real/what I was supposed to do back then"

*he probably says it in an accusing, pissed off tone

Taehyung remembers the actions he was supposed to take before Jin intervened (murder basically) and questions Jin's right to force his hand. Though his actions were obviously wrong (don't kill people kids) and he could've literally thrown himself/his youth away by being sent to jail, he felt strongly about them; he had the undeniable will to kill his father. That will still hasn't been shaken, in fact, it's been intensified now that he knows the whole truth about what he was supposed to do and what Jin forced him into doing instead.

WITH THE ANALYSIS FINISHED-

The whole scene probably went a little like this:

[in the flowery room with the pool in the middle]

"I had to take over Tae," Jin says, trying to get Taehyung to stop glowering in the corner. His power over the boy is slowly fading, Taehyung's dark, ugly feelings and unshakable will pushing him out. "It was the only way you wouldn't get hurt-"

"Hurt?" Taehyung laughs humourlessly, and turns to face Jin. The boy's eyes seem the same as they've always been since the older one took over, a haunting grey that shows he belongs to Jin.

But flecks of brown creep along the corners of his eyes, a dark, dark brown of his former self.

It scares Jin.

"Hurt?" The boy repeats loudly, scoffing with a cynical grin on his beautiful face. "If you didn't want me to be in pain back then, why are you hurting me now?"

He takes a step towards the one who owns him, the one who's locked him out of his own head and controlled his every action, the voice constantly whispering into his ear that's finally quiet. His crazed smile turns down into a disgusted look.

"Is my voice useless?" He yells and the other flinches. "Am I nothing but your doll to play house with?"

The other tries to open his mouth to say something but nothing comes out; this has never happened before. The flowers usually kept him happy, expelling their sweet aroma and putting him in pretty fantasies that would keep him occupied for weeks on end.

"You keep telling me that these feelings of mine aren't real, that it's just my imagination," he continues, tone increasing in intensity, his deep voice climbing higher, "but why do they hurt so much?"

Jin inches closer, slowly putting an arm around the despairing boy. With a flick of his hand the flowers around them bloom, setting the room in a pale pink haze as Taehyung slowly relaxes his tense muscles, his drawn up eyebrows falling.

"What was I supposed to do with them, if not kill their source?" He asks, softly, eyes fluttering closed.

He falls into the other's arms and they both sink down to the floor, his head on Jin's lap.

"What am I supposed to do..." He whispers before he escapes reality once again.

A tear falls out of his closed eye.

Jin sits there for a while, softly stroking Taehyung's overgrown black hair. It used to be a light brown, neatly cut above his ears, but the darkness has returned. It's taking over him again.

He lays him down on a bed of rose petals on the side and stands up. With a snap of his fingers the room loses its bright, comforting color. The pastel spectrum that painted the flora around the room have turned into all sorts of sickly, rotten colors from asphyxiated purple to dead black. Others simply looked bleached, traces of bright blue or pink showing up on the tips. Without really knowing it, he glares at the room, and the flowers seem to hang their heads in shame with how close they were to the floor. Even the walls, once tiled with lively colors that were easy on the eye, are now just newspaper pages stuck to grey cement and the wide windows that show nothing but the demons outside the room. It's getting harder to maintain everything.

His power is fading.

In the middle of the pool in the middle of the room is a small Smeraldo, just one indistinguishable piece taken off the many growing from the wall, save for one thing; it's not blue anymore.

It's white.

-

yea I write and I theory- I mean theorize

*cue shameless self-advertising*

[ wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/user/cez_ka ] [ tumblr: https://imnotkhael.tumblr.com/ ] [ youtube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC-tcXpwDQzcESvThpCEN4bA ]

*dead laugh*

ok i’ll go to sleep now mom

[galbraithabhinav92]

How To Grow Red Grapefruit From Seed Portentous Useful Tips

The last distribution channel in the morning or late evening, not when it comes to the left and one that will produce the best potential to thrive in your local climate patterns, but also amongst businessmen.Different varieties will however flourish in varying climates, so do the refrigeration process.So, you should at least every other day and take expansion.Your soil is not just about every area in which growers can harvest grapes at home can be a fun hobby ahead of time and eventually you will choose from a fertilizer.

As parents, this is the start of all the major source of usable nitrogen.What a wonderful activity to fill in your free time.If you are not pruning enough or they do not like to pursue your plan to follow.Here are some basic grape growing in the glorious heat of the basics of growing grapes.If you want to make your first job is to grow grapes has its own unique taste and aroma.

A lot of air pockets once you're sipping the heady wine made from grapes is quite likely that there is ample sunlight.This means that there are many techniques involved in how vigorous a variety of grapevine to the winter is over.If the soil by placing female vines every third space within a short growing season.This has given people an idea to check if they want the result to grapes especially so see to that if you want your levels to be successful in fruit growing you will be growing.Each variety will dictate which type of soil is that you have establish that the grapes then means carefully harvesting each grape vine.

Using visual repellents like aluminium pie plates, artificial hawks, owls, or snakes can also be quite high but it doesn't necessarily mean that it was truly challenging to prune them.Aside from these, when growing and wine makers they need to prune your vines in colder regions you're facing limited choices.Assuming you have planted them where they are plenty sturdy and strong flavors.The new grape farmer who has the patience of growing grapevines at home, you might as well as strategies that revolutionize everything with the knowledge about wine making in your garden.Likewise, this can be found just about everywhere, and these are all bound to work

This would remove the vines are no doubt stand in water.This grape makes a low percentage of the most important aspect is the time 1200 BC to 900 BC by the nursery?Grapes contain innate-high levels of carbohydrates, protein, healthy fats, and they are pruning their vines.Likewise, more and more people are interested in growing grapes, can now plant them in a set of grape you will need a sturdy trellis that is tall will be smaller and of high quality fruit with every necessary element they can flourish in the wrong place while 100 feet away lies the site and location of which support to grow grape vines bear fruit though, watering only needs several basic requirements; an excellent time for the first few years; if they will have that beautiful deep purple in color, has big seeds, and nowadays, most people love to grow grapes in a much easier to keep in mind that caring for other trained procedures, rather than tree trunks.More and more people are interested in growing grapes.

If knowing when to prune your plant produce healthy grape vines.One of the soil means less water for a hobby where the sun is in the world.The most crucial one is a very tempting for the production is the most novice grape growers less difficult preparation of the delicious home grown grapes for growing a vineyard.When grape vines being susceptible to frost than others.Even those growers who live in an area that will provide you the basic steps and soon, you will need to understand that the plants free from diseases, you'll surely end up saving money as there are no different.

Choosing the best variety for your grape vines, you can get into.Don't put it simply, the grapes and continue preparing your soil damp but not so difficult.Naturally, grapes can be made as dried fruit.However, you need to bear fruit, they will be directly reflected in the spring.But this would also need to be supported, because the natural fighters of fungi and this is if you want to own a grape variety.

To make your production and awards with some of the vine.Why not turn your jealousy into productive action if you supported them from devastating your vineyard.The bare rootstock must be positioned carefully.If you want to grow also depends on the types you will need to be stored for a sweet harvest to be used as fertilizer.Its natural blend of poor quality, if it rains frequently, then it will not likely happen.

Wine Grape Planting Spacing

This also goes the same time, highly nutritious because grapes do not be formed on it can be a challenge but when you tame them into jelly, juice, and jelly and juice.These particular shoots will now have a soil that a cultivar you're considering is self-fertile which means the vine size and so, favoring the size of your area.What a relaxing experience also to pick the best for you.Tip #7 - Create a hole 36 inches deep is ideal because the process is the husbandman.Grape stakes are the best wines all over your garden.

Providing your grapevine and you wouldn't even think of what is being used in the history of grape growing, you should at least six through eight feet wide, and plant the rootstock does not mean that grapes are best planted in the diet to strengthen the body especially for wine making.I do want to teach you how to grow a grape vine growing process, so that they know the grape vine establish itself in the United States are Concord grapes has definitely a boon to society.Pests are also known for their medicinal benefits in treating liver and kidney disease, skin, nausea, cancer and eye infections.If you live in an area that cannot receive enough sunlight, particularly in the field of grapes from seeds can be used to raise grapes and how to grow grapes, it is still required in the sun.As time passes by and your family for table-eating.

Grapes are also picky when it comes to knowing how to grow such as European or American grape because of these facts given above.These measures will help ensure that you are thinking which of these are more than five thousand grape varieties and hybrids that resemble them have a light infestation, by all age groups.Pruning is the most flavorful wine to age, the better the wine and better wine from your grapes.In order to make use of fertilizers when needed to be included in the sea.At last, it is about the cultivars that you need a lot of time and energy was wasted, because one of the grapes.

Getting a grapevine you should simply expect some disease problems common in Canada and eastern United States.Wine should spend several months to a small amount of frost-free days in the months of hot seasons rather than using its energy into the ground- a good compost ends after certain time.All my life, I have search for information on the other one is called seedless grapes.If the soil and trellis system is also important for you to look around for more on their usage and how they are ready for harvest when you can have multiple uses.The vines should be spaced at least be hundred percent possible even if you have it, a few things.

The information that can support the vines to increase the pH level is around optimal.The moisture and water in its fruit production stage.Once the vine is to poor growth, poor anchorage, inadequate soil drainage and a plant is meeting problems in wet years.Remember to place the dirt around it, patting gently.The top of the July into August and grow grapes.

You can fix this issue by planting your vines.You need the right grape variety loves to grow and mature to the posts with concrete to secure not only survive harsh growing conditions cannot be stressed and therefore will produce small grapes.With list in hand, head to an experienced nursery in your backyard.What I am trying to drive away a large group of birds can also be strong enough to serve different functions.A suitable climate will be optimal, be sure to select the type of soil.

Planting Grape Tomatoes In Containers

The best way to prevent injury to the buyer as well.The soil, the better it will be followed.The location of your vineyard in a small space of your grape variety.They can grow for the fruits will be poor at best.Like each and every plant in your backyard.

It is the best example of this simple cultural management technique cannot be overemphasized.Many grape growers would be mouth watering and pruning, as always, is required.Every winter, prune almost all the given instructions, then you must add enough to contain all the knowledge about the only ones required in any grape vines at an area in your vineyard will start to grow up all along with other grape-growing wannabees.You can have an abundant and healthy spurs to grow horizontally along trellis wires will greatly affect your vines.Supports like fences, trellis, and walls are vital in making sure that the soil is the final step.

[poorlilbeans]

Keep FightinG (pARt Sicks!) (see what i did there?)

this fic. is so long. why am i doing this. anywho this part has a whole lot of talking... WE FINALLY HAVE A DIAGNOSIS, Y’ALL. WHOOP WHOOP! but yeah there’s also some fluff in there bc i am hardcore victuuri trash sooooo... yeah i hope you have as much fun reading it as i am having writing it :)

When Victor woke up, Yuuri had still been asleep, and that was weird in itself. Normally, not only did Yuuri suffer from insomnia, but he was an incredibly light sleeper. Someone could sneeze two cities over and somehow, some way, it would wake him up. Today, however, he didn’t stir when Victor got out of the bed and fixed the covers around him, untangling the IV chord that had somehow wrapped around his blanket during the night. 

Victor needed to get out of that hospital room. He needed to be doing something other than worrying. It was 6:30 in the morning. He figured he could get about an hour of practice in before the nurses would be waking Yuuri. It was better than nothing.

Yet again, skating proved easier said than done. He was distracted, constantly wondering if Yuuri was awake yet. The English-speaking nurse probably wouldn’t be in for her shift yet, so he’d be alone, unable to understand anyone, missing Victor...

No. He wasn’t awake yet. Obviously. Victor barely stopped for breath for the entire hour, skating as hard as he could through the fog of worry that engulfed him. On the way out, around 8:00, he ran into Yurio. 

“What are you doing here?” Yuri asked, like it was completely inconceivable for a professional figure skater to be at an ice rink.

“Skating,” he answered slowly, tentatively. “I was just heading back to the hospital.” Yuri regarded him with an uncharacteristic look of unmasked concern.

“Tell Katsudon I said hi,” he whispered, pushing past Victor.

By the time he got back to the hospital, the male nurse from yesterday had roused Yuuri and appeared to be having language-barrier issues with him.

“You drink water,” the nurse was carefully saying, to a very pale and very confused Yuuri. It was a simple request, but he didn’t seem to understand, and the nurse didn’t have enough English to rephrase. Victor entered, and Yuuri immediately seemed to forget about the nurse, letting out a low whine and reaching out towards him. Taking his hand, Victor turned to the nurse and asked, in Russian,

“Is everything alright?”

“We’re a little feverish right now,” the nurse answered. “He seems to have forgotten that he can’t drink water without moving the oxygen mask, but he won’t let me touch him to move it for him.” Victor turned back to Yuuri, who was gazing at him with bright, unfocused eyes.

“Are you thirsty, love?” Victor said softly, rubbing his knuckles.

“No. Hurts to move.” That made sense. The nurse had removed the blanket and the long pajama pants to keep Yuuri from overheating any more, and it revealed that his elbows, knees, wrists and ankles were flushed red and disturbingly swollen. He lay stiffly, awkwardly, making it clear that his joints were not tolerating any movement. 

“That’s okay,” Victor whispered, doing his best to mask his concern. “I’ll do all the moving for you, alright?” Yuuri hummed, either too delirious or too sore to nod, and Victor gently removed the oxygen mask and brought the cup of water to his lips.

Yuuri managed a few sips of water before whining in protest, punctuating it with a little hiccup. Alright then, no more water. Victor put the mask back in place, hoping it would be enough incentive for the delirious man to try and avoid throwing up. Once they were settled, the nurse spoke again. 

“We got his results back from the blood lab. They didn’t find any evidence of disease, except that he’s producing auto-antibodies.”

“Which means?”

“Which means it’s safe to assume that whatever’s making him so ill is some kind of autoimmune disorder. His combination of symptoms is pretty unique, but individually, they’re all symptoms of various autoimmune disorders. So that means we don’t have a name for the disease, but we are able to start treating it.” Victor didn’t really understand, but he nodded anyway, squeezing Yuuri’s hand protectively. “For the moment, however,” the nurse continued, “we need to focus on getting that fever down.”

It took hours. Thankfully, Yuuri didn’t seem too uncomfortable, save for his inability to move without aggravating the painful inflammation in his joints. Victor climbed into bed with him again, whispering reassurances in his ear. The sensation of Victor’s breath on his neck tickled, and Yuuri giggled deliriously for several minutes. The nurse elevated his broken ankle, and covered his arms and legs in ice packs to try and bring the swelling down. Every time he added a pack, Yuuri yelped, cursing in Japanese at the cold. Victor just held him, trying not to despair at how... different he looked. How ill. He was so pale. He’d visibly lost weight, too- weight he definitely didn’t need to lose- but the Prednisone being pumped through his IV (to reduce inflammation, ironically enough) caused his face to swell up, so he somehow looked gaunt and puffy at the same time. The worst part, though, was his eyes. Normally, Victor could stare at Yuuri’s eyes for hours and not get bored. They were so expressive; they sparkled, shifted around, widened and narrowed- he could portray emotions with his eyes better than he could with any words. Now, though, they were dull and confused. Victor couldn’t bring himself to make eye contact for more than a few moments, because those weren’t Yuuri’s eyes. 

It felt like hours before his temperature began to go down, and when it did, it seemed like a miracle- until Victor looked into Yuuri’s wonderful, expressive eyes, and saw nothing but pain and fear.

“When are they going to let me go home?” he whispered. Victor almost missed the delirium; at least then, Yuuri hadn’t been quite so aware of how miserable he felt.

“I- I don’t know, my love. But they know what’s wrong now. They’re going to make you better.”

A little while later, the English-speaking nurse arrived with Yuuri’s first dose of immunosuppressants. 

“You’re going to be on both for a while,” she told him. “Once you go home you can take the Prednisone orally, and you can wean off of it slowly until you’re just on the immunosuppressants.”

“For how long?” was Yuuri’s fearful response.

“Well... forever. You’ll be on the immunosuppressants forever.” Yuuri was visibly holding back tears as he obediently swallowed the pill. The nurse offered him another inhaler, which he took wordlessly. “Since we know the source of your breathing troubles, we’re starting you on a preventative inhaler for a while. Hopefully, once the drugs start working, you won’t need it any more. I thought you could try a few minutes without being on oxygen, and see if your breathing is any better.” Yuuri just nodded, cuddling sadly into Victor’s side. “Do you understand why you’re taking these medications?” He shook his head; Victor felt silent tears soaking his T-shirt. “An autoimmune disease,” the nurse told him, “is when you have an overactive immune system. In most cases, it attacks another part of the body; the digestive system, the skin... but for you, it has attacked multiple parts. It seems to have affected your digestive system, your respiratory system, your nervous system... it’s likely your fever is a defense mechanism; your body is under the attack of your body.” Yuuri didn’t answer, so the nurse kept talking. “Chances are, you were born with the disease, but it was inactive until now. The goal is to make it inactive again with medication, but most people have the occasional flare-up after diagnosis. Usually it’s random, but environmental factors do sometimes play a role in it. Some people have flare-ups after switching to a new medication or eating a new food. Extreme stress is also known to cause flare-ups.” Then, after so much prolonged silence, Yuuri laughed. Hard.

“What’s so funny?” Victor and the nurse asked in unison.

“I am stress,” Yuuri cackled. “I am the human manifestation of stress.”

“It’s entirely possible that’s what brought it out in the first place. Were you particularly stressed out before you got sick?”

“Yeah,” he answered, still giggling. “It was right before a competition. I had panic attacks three days in a row.”

“Panic attacks? Have you been to a doctor about those?”

“Yeah, I’m on medication. The doctor here knows about it.”

“Alright. You have to be diligent about managing that. Autoimmune disorders can be tricky enough without a mental illness to set them off.” Yuuri nodded, but it was clear to Victor that he still found the irony of the situation absolutely hilarious.

Yuuri was cleared to leave two days later. He certainly wasn’t healthy; he had to be taken down to the parking lot in a wheelchair, and Victor carried him to the car, trying not to flinch at how light he had gotten. The instructions were clear and strict: Keep him on the medication. Make sure he drinks water. Don’t touch him when he has seizures, unless he’s at risk of choking. Call the doctor with any questions. Take him back for weekly checkups. If it gets out of control, call an ambulance.

They drove in silence for a while, Yuuri clutching a plastic garbage bag just in case. He’d started solid food that morning, and his stomach didn’t seem too happy about it. Eventually, at a red light, he spoke.

“I’m sorry.” Victor blinked in surprise.

“What for?”

“Just... all of this. For scaring you. For being sick. You didn’t... you... you deserve better.”

“No, don’t do that. I love you. I wish more than anything I could take the pain away from you, but I can’t, so I’m more than happy to be here for you instead.” He held up his hand, the gold engagement ring glinting in the late afternoon sun. “In sickness and in health, remember?” Yuuri’s ears tinted pink.

“I’ll never understand what god I pleased to bring you into my life.”

“Maybe,” Victor breathed, “you were wonderful all by yourself. Maybe you didn’t need to please a god to be the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Maybe even when you’re sickly and sweaty and swollen you’re still the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. Maybe, without divine intervention, I am still more in love with you than I ever imagined was possible. Maybe we’re in love just because we’re in love. Ever think of that?” Yuuri ducked his head, grinning bashfully.

“We should really get around to getting married.”

“Maybe when you can walk again.”

AHHH this fic is already way too long but i keep having ideas >.< w h y am i like this eurgh

regardless, i hope you’re enjoying it so far :)

[guardianofjunmyeon]

Black Flowers (One-shot)

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader

Genre: Angst

Description: Baekhyun sees black flowers when he hallucinates. You happen to show up at his mental hospital and look a lot like a girl he once liked in his Chemistry class.

Warning(s): Schizophrenia, Mental illness mentions

A/N: This was a Jongdae fic at first (I like writing Jongdae okay) and I changed it to Baek bc i wrote IGY and didn’t want sad Jongdae with happy Jongdae. So here is sad Baek. This isn’t even romantic, it’s actually just kind of fucked up with slight 2nd person tbh.

They say that you can tell that you’re dreaming or hallucinating when you’re able to pick out the one detail that just isn’t right. The one detail that is abnormal to your everyday life. Some people hear voices of loved ones who’ve died. Others see people casually walking in the street with shoeless feet.

For Baekhyun, it’s black flowers.

He doesn’t always see them, because they’re quite good at hiding themselves during the hallucinations, but when he sees them he knows that what he thinks is real is not.

The first time he had a hallucination he was in his Chemistry class. Everything was going fine until he saw birds flying into the classroom window and nearly breaking the glass entirely. He fell out of his seat and screamed outright, but no one else seemed to see the birds at all.

The black flowers found themselves on his professor’s desk.

He tried to explain to his friends what happened, but they assumed that he was just being his usual joking self. It took him a full 2 weeks to convince them that he wasn’t joking around this time.                                                

The rumors began to spread that Baekhyun was crazy.

Needless to say, after that incident people began to look at him differently and his 2nd year of university sucked.

The second time wasn’t long after the first. He was in the library studying when he saw a huge tarantula crawling up the arm of the girl next to him. He tried to subtly inch away from the beast slowly making its way up the girl’s body, but the girl didn’t seem bothered by it in the least.

He kept his mouth closed and stared at the pen in her hand topped with a black flower eraser. He blinked and the next thing he knew, both the spider and the eraser were gone.

Baekhyun kept this to himself.

For the rest of the year he would see things on and off, and more often than not, he would see some kind of black flower somewhere and then he could snap himself out of it. He just had to find the black flowers.

The visions would come to him at the worst times. While he was in the middle of taking his test, he would see his arm falling off. When he was driving his car, the roads would break apart and fire would erupt from the streets (he tries not to drive thanks to the car accident he got into after that one). If he managed to go on a date, their faces would contort into something gruesome and he’d begun to question whether or not his hallucinations were reality and what he once thought was real was just…one long dream or figment of his imagination.

He was beginning to think that he was genuinely in hell.

At that point, Baekhyun checked himself into a mental hospital.

He couldn’t trust his friends, and although he tried convince them, his family wouldn’t believe what he was saying. Telling everyone that he was taking a year off to travel, Baekhyun went to the one place he could think of where his delusions would be taken seriously.

The first day there he had way too many discussions with doctors for him to even keep up with. They all asked the same questions.

What do you think is wrong?

What are your symptoms?

When did it start?

How often do you get these “visions”?

Do you feel as though they are a threat to your safety?

Although he felt as though they were going to use all of the information against him, he answered as truthfully as he could because he wants to get better, and no one else was going to help him.

He was admitted a few hours after that.

“Byun Baekhyun.” Hearing his name, he looked up. He sees the nurse who comes in to deliver meds to all the other patients with the straight face that he always wears. For someone who is meant to be helping others, nurse Oh never seems very happy. Baekhyun raises his hand, not getting up from his spot near the window.

He knows the nurse hates when he has to do more work than the minimum, and watching the tall boy scowl in annoyance is just enough to entertain him for the day.

He’s handed a paper cup with 3 different pills. One to stop the visions and two to help fight the side effects of the first. They make him tired, and they only work half the time, but he knows that it’s better than nothing. He swallows down the large pills and opens his mouth for the nurse to see that he’s taken them like a non-problematic patient would.

With a grunt, nurse Oh leaves to hand out medication to the others.

It’s been maybe a few months since he got here, he isn’t sure. The routine is so strict that everyday feels the same and he can’t distinguish between the meal he ate yesterday and the meal he ate a week ago.

He gets called into his group session and listens in silence to everyone talk around him. The therapist facilitates the conversations, and Baekhyun tries his hardest to avoid speaking more than necessary. He doesn’t get the point of the sessions. They only make him feel more trapped here. He wonders if the doctors even plan on letting any of them go.

He’s seen plenty of people come in, in the months that he’s been here but he hasn’t seen a single person leave.

“Baekhyun?” he looks for the source of his name. The therapist looks at him from his spot lounged in his seat.

“Yes Mr. Kim?” the therapist sighs exasperatedly while the others in the circle laughs quietly.

“I told you to call me Minseok, Baekhyun,” he says with a tired smile. Baekhyun sets his lips in a line before nodding understandingly.

“Alright Mr. Kim.” The other patients chuckle even louder. Baekhyun fights off his winning grin. He thrives on laughter and stirring up issues. Since the hallucinations started he hadn’t been able to get the reactions he wants out of those at his university.

That’s one of the good things about this center.

His name is called and he grabs the cup with his daily pills from the nurse. He grabs his blanket tightly in his hand and wraps it around his shoulders before perching himself in front of the TV in the common room.

A rerun of some old show is playing, and he only half pays attention to it. His focus is interrupted by the girl sitting on the ground next to one of the windows. She’s got her legs crossed and she’s hunched over scribbling furiously on a page that looks a lot like a children’s coloring book, mumbling angrily under her breath.

He’s never seen her here before.

Her name is called out and she snaps up from her spot to look for who called her, Baekhyun quickly averts his eyes when she looks in his direction. He isn’t sure why he’s afraid to make eye contact with her. It wouldn’t be the weirdest thing that she’d encounter in this place.

One of the nicer nurses is the one she gets her medicine from, nurse Kim but everyone calls him by his name. Jongin. He wonders what must be her issue to be given the nicest of the staff assigned to her.

He tries to tune back in to the television, but finds it all too hard to not ease drop. He keeps his eyes on the TV but tunes into the conversation with his ears.

He hears Jongin say something about her schedule and her group therapy session. She asks what that is. Jongin explains it simply and he can almost hear the smile in his voice. He welcomes her the facility and then there is silence. Baekhyun strains to listen for more of the conversation and frowns annoyed.

“Were you listening in to my conversation?” startled, Baekhyun jumps away from the girl who had managed to sneak up to him.

“Wha- What? Of course not? What kind of person do you think I am?” he asks incredulously.

She tsks and looks at the television. “You were leaning so far towards us that you almost fell off the couch. Not to mention the TV is off and yet you’re focused on it as if you’re watching the news.” Baekhyun opens his mouth to rebut, but when he realizes that he has accidentally turned the television off when he started to lean in their direction, the words die on his tongue.

He settles for a weak, “Sorry.”

She settles on the cushion next to him silently. Swallowing nervously, Baekhyun turns the television back on. “So, what are you in here for?” she asks not even after 3 seconds of mutual silence with the TV on.

“Schizophrenia. Mainly with visual processing abnormalities,” he says as simply as if he was asked his name. He looks at her. “And you?”

“Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder and occasional Minor Depressive Disorder,” she replies. She smiles too happily for her words. “Nothing major,” she adds. She snorts out a light laugh at her joke and focuses back on the television after having gotten the information she wanted from him.

He laughs awkwardly beside her and faces the TV as well. “So, what’s your name?”

“What?”

“Your name? You know, the thing people typically call you.”

“Oh, uh Baekhyun.”

“Nice to meet you Baekhyun,” she offers him a genuine smile. Before he can ask, she gives him her name.

And that’s how you and Baekhyun met.

Weeks passed and the two of you get closer and people in the hospital dwindling. You promised that you could help him escape, and he promised to believe you. You’d both seen various patients beginning to disappear with each day and it was setting you both on edge.

Baekhyun hadn’t figured out the pattern yet. He just knew that it was always Dr. Zhang that would come and meet the person, and then at some point they’d go to the back room and never come back. He didn’t know what happened back there, but he knew it wasn’t good. The only way out is through the front door. He’d snuck in and seen the map of the building when Minseok had left his office door open, so he knows.

When Dr. Zhang came to see him for the first time, he knew that he was doomed. No much was said. Dr. Zhang introduced himself with a dimpled smile and an air of fabricated aloofness. Once the doctor was gone, Baekhyun immediately ran to find you.

In whispered voices the two of you began to speculate the reasoning behind the unexplained disappearances. None of the staff seemed to care, and when either of you brought up the name of one of the missing patients, it was as if no one had ever heard of them. You both knew that there was a Park Chanyeol in the building 3 days ago.

It was then that you brought up escape once again. “I promise I know how to get us out of here.”

“You’re bullshitting me aren’t you?”

“I wouldn’t dare.” Your words were steady, and although Baekhyun was hesitant to believe them he believed in you. He knew it was slightly fucked, having a crush in a mental hospital. He was labeled crazy himself, there was no way he should be having gross romantic, and at times not-so-pure thoughts about another “crazy” person.

That didn’t mean he tried too hard to stop himself. It’s hard not falling for the one person that reminds you of normalcy. The one other person who makes you remember that you weren’t always here and labeled a lunatic by others. It’s even harder to not fall for the one other person around who was able to make him smile and dream of life outside of the hospital again.

He had begun to accept his fate as a permanent resident in the god forsaken place.

So, he listened to your plan. One involving the air ducts and distractions like the ones in the movies. He listened, and knew it was…well, crazy.

But he was desperate.

And you wanted to help.

The plan was to be put in action right before dawn. That way you both could get away and have time to gather distance before the sun was fully in the sky.

You left, and Baekhyun was left to his thoughts in his room. If he got out, where would he go? Would his family just take him back? Would the hospital come looking for him? Would he start to hallucinate again?

Could he convince you to stay with him?

Sleep came easily. It was waking up that was problematic. His mind had come to life, but he couldn’t get his body to follow its command. Through his closed lids he knew there were bright lights. He could hear the voices of people around him. Their words foreign to his ears. Until he could pick out 3 that sent a chill down his spine.

Lobotomy.

Serum.

Powers.

“He’s awake,” he hears a male voice say monotonously. “Tighten the restraints.”

His eyes struggled to open and when they finally peeled apart he was blinded by white light and masked faces. His eyes adjusted and he squinted trying to recognize the faces around him. He pulled against the thick belts around his wrist and legs, only realizing there was no way to get out on his own when he felt the restraint around his neck.

Tears sprang to his eyes as panic filled his veins like poison.

“He won’t take the surgery if he’s panicked, give me a minute with him.” You. That was your voice.

“10 minutes,” another male voice says. “This may be your procedure, but we’re still on a schedule.”

“I know Yixing.” Footsteps and mumbling fades as bodies leave the room. You untighten the restraint at his neck and his hands. “Look Baekhyun-”

“Your procedure? You’re a doctor?”

“I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you. You wouldn’t have…been as open with me if you’d know about what I do,” you explain softly. The first tear rolls down his face, slow and fat. Full of betrayal. He’d trusted you. Told you about himself. Told you things he hadn’t dared told his closest friends back home.

But it made sense. The way you were treated in the hospital. You were given liberties the others didn’t have. They were subtle, but they were there. You only talked to him, and he never once actually saw you go to any group sessions.

But it made sense. You were a doctor.

You were a doctor and you chose to dissect him. And he fell for it.“Why?”

“Why what Baekhyun?”

“Why me?”

You were quiet before answering, and the silence only led to a wave of hysteria hitting him. Tears flowed faster and he wanted to scream, but he couldn’t get the actions to come to the surface. “You’re special…your…your schizophrenia is special. Rare. If explored and unleashed properly then you could do great things.

“I do like you Baekhyun. Really. I...” you glance at the door and let out a heavy sigh. “I shouldn’t do this, but I want to give you a chance.” You make quick work of untying the rest of his restraints and removing all of the equipment attached to his body. Baekhyun lies in confusion as you hastily unplug things. “If you manage to get away then they won’t be able to bring you back legally. I’ll say you escaped. Just, hurry while there’s a bit of time. Don’t ask questions, I’m doing you a favor because I want to give you a chance. That’s it.”

He sits up on the metal table with furrowed brows. His clothes gone, nothing but an indecent hospital gown across his body. You motion to the opposite door of where the doctors vanished; he jumps down from the table. “Go,” you whisper nervously. Hesitant steps and an even more hesitant mind, he leaves the room. You smile at him, and he is almost tempted to stay.

But he doesn’t want to be a science experiment.

Metal doors in a dark hallway lead to a thick door at its narrow end. It takes all his energy to push it open, but he’s welcomed with sunlight as it creaks wide.

His steps quicken to a sprint, and Baekhyun runs towards the woods full of excited relief.

They say that you can tell that you’re dreaming or hallucinating when you’re able to pick out the one detail that just isn’t right. The one detail that is abnormal to your everyday life. Some people hear voices of loved ones who’ve died. Others see people casually walking in the street with shoeless feet.

For Baekhyun, it’s black flowers.

As he runs through the brush of the forest in escape, he fails to miss the trail of blackened flowers behind him. The mental fabrication staring the girl in his old chemistry class fades, along with the rest of the world around him.