#YEAH LOOK CLOSELY THE CAKE HAS TWO CANDLES THAT. HAVE THE SHAPE OF TWO CERTAIN STICKS MHM

[zerguette]

-sits- it's only thing i managed for the anniversary (because Madd, Konrad and Rupert live rent free in my head)but ALSO

Happy EARLY BIRTHDAY @bluetorchsky oughhhhh

We love the husbies(PLEASE ALLOW THEM TO BE HAPPY)

But ough i'll never be mentally okey of you allowing Zar to be Florence and Aurelia's uncle, my boy evolved into profesional babysitter

[tuiccim]

Terrigenisis (Part 19)

Pairing: Stucky x Inhuman!Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.5K

Summary: After undergoing terrigenisis unwillingly your life is turned upside down when you are deemed too dangerous to return to life as a civilian. You are put with the Avengers team to train and rebuild. As you hone your powers and skills, you must also decide if you can find home and love again. Or is your curse to be a lonely wanderer forever?

Warnings: Fluff, Smut (NSFW 18+)

Dividers by @fireflygraphics

Terrigenisis Series Masterlist

It’s the night of Tony’s party and you are in your room getting ready. You exit the bathroom after a shower to see a gift box on your bed. It’s wrapped in a blue bow and you know it can only be from two certain men. The note reads “To the most beautiful woman in any galaxy, please wear this tonight. We love you.” Inside you find a beautiful dress. It’s blue and has a style reminiscent of the 40s. You do yourself up and put on the dress. A knock on the door has you grinning as you answer it. 

“Wow. You look beautiful.” Steve says, returning your grin. 

“Beautiful doesn’t even begin to cover it.” Bucky charms.

“It’s a good start,” you kiss each of them. “I love the dress. Thank you.”

“It looks great on you, doll.” 

The party tonight was one of Tony’s penthouse parties at the tower. Only family, partners, and close friends were invited. After arriving, the three of you made rounds greeting everyone. You’re excited when you finally make it to Sam. 

“Hey Sam! Wanna introduce the beauty on your arm?” you grin widely. 

“Of course,” Sam puffs out his chest as he motions to her, “This is my girlfriend, Kaziah.” He gives her each of your names and you spend twenty minutes or so chatting with all of them. Kaziah is sweet and you enjoy meeting her immensely. You are distracted a few minutes later when Loki strolls in wearing an all black suit. 

“Well, don’t you look like a million bucks!” you hug his neck as he chuckles. 

“You like it?” Loki preens. 

“Very much. You look great. Are you still planning to go back to Asgard tomorrow?”

“Yes. And before you ask, yes, I’m going to tell her.”

“Yay. I look forward to your return and hearing how it went. Can I introduce you around a bit?” 

“Lead the way.” Loki offers his arm. 

You guide him to different groups introducing him, smoothing any ruffled feathers, and making him feel comfortable in the setting. Loki relaxed as the evening passed. You enjoyed yourself, spending most of your time with Steve and Bucky, dancing, eating, drinking, and having fun with your friends and people you know and trust. It was fun. 

A couple of hours in, you notice Kaziah sitting by herself on one of the couches. Sam is in a group nearby with Rhodey and a few others cutting up. You grab an extra glass of champagne and sit beside her, holding out the drink to her, “Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Yeah, there is always that little bit of awkwardness when you don’t know many people.” Kaziah flashes a nervous smile. 

“I understand,” you laugh, “I was basically dropped on the team with no warning, having never met any of them.”

“Wow. But it worked out? You’re dating Bucky and Steve?” She asks. 

“It worked out better than I ever hoped. And, yes, we are in a relationship together. We know it’s not conventional, but we’re very happy.”

“I saw you with Loki earlier. Are you with him also?” Kaziah asks carefully. 

“No. Loki is a good friend and we train together. He’s a really good guy once you get to know him.” You happen to catch his eye across the room and he smiles at you. That’s when you feel the ice pick to your head and immediately open your mind to him. 

“You’re needed in the rooftop garden, darling.” Loki’s voice drifts into your mind. 

“What? Why?” You asked confused. 

“I don’t know. I was just asked to relay the message quietly.” Loki’s chuckle echoes through your head and you grin.

“What was that? It looked like you were having a conversation.” Kaziah asks curiously.

“Oh, nothing,” you answer evasively, “Will you excuse me?”

“Uh, of course.” Kaziah looks confused. 

“It was nice talking to you.”

“You, too.”

You head to the elevator while looking for Steve and Bucky but, not finding them, you shrug and hit the button for the rooftop. Suspicion and curiosity curl in your stomach as the elevator goes up. When the doors open, you notice a trail of petals leading into the garden. You smile as you follow it.

--

Steve and Bucky had spent most of the day of Tony’s party shopping for you. They found the perfect dress to give you fairly quickly but finding the perfect engagement ring had proven nearly impossible. They didn’t know what they were looking for exactly but everything they were shown just wasn’t the one. It had to be perfect. As they visited the sixth jewelry store, they knew time was running out. The proprietor showed them several options but then, recognizing both men, he smiled and kindly suggested they check the antique store next door. He told them his brother was the owner and he kept a beautiful selection of estate jewelry. 

Steve and Bucky weren’t sure what he meant by estate jewelry but since they weren’t having any luck at traditional jewelry stores they decided to give it a try. The owner greeted them immediately and guided them to the jewelry case while offering to show them anything they’d like to see. 

“Buck.” Steve’s eyes go wide as a ring catches his attention. 

“That one? It’s not very traditional.” Bucky asks.

“Neither are we.” Steve chuckles. 

“You’re right about that. And the ring. It’s perfect,” he turns to the owner, “Can we see that one?”

“Of course. It’s one of a kind. I’ve never seen another like it. It came from a family in upstate New York. I thought it was a lovely piece.” He hands over the ring nestled in a small heart shaped box. 

“This is it.” Steve says.

“It’s perfect,” Bucky agrees. 

They paid for the ring and exit wearing grins. Tony had agreed to help them with the proposal and was having the rooftop garden turned into a paradise. Now they just had to get you to the roof and the rest would fall into place. 

--

The trail of petals leads you into the center of the rooftop garden where your men stand with smiles. Bucky and Steve are both handsome in their suits. A small table of desserts and champagne are off to one side. The garden is filled with lights and candles. There are blooming flowers everywhere and you have no idea what is happening. 

“What is all this?” you ask, all smiles. 

“We wanted tonight to be special.” Bucky says. 

“It’s beautiful,” you smile but tremble as nerves set in. What could this be about?

“Doll, we love you. You’re the love of our lives and this relationship is everything we ever wanted. So, we have something we want to ask you.” Steve says. He and Bucky take a knee in tandem and each take one of your hands.

“Will you marry us?” Bucky asks, looking up at you with a grin but you see the fear behind his eyes. You look at Steve and recognize the same expression on him. 

“M-marry? You want to, to ,to get married? To me?” you stammer. 

“Yes.” They say in perfect unison. 

They hold up a ring and you stare at it mouth agape. A star sapphire set in a halo of diamonds. The ring was obviously a vintage piece and it was the most beautiful piece of jewelry you’d ever seen. 

“You’re serious?” you breathe as tears flood your eyes.

“Yes.” Bucky says. 

“Absolutely. Please marry us. We love you so much.” Steve says. 

“Yes! Yes, of course I’ll marry you! Yes! I love you both. So much.” You exclaim as the men surge to their feet and swing you around. When your feet touch the ground again, Bucky takes the ring out of the box and places it on your finger. 

“It’s a star sapphire since both mine and Bucky’s symbol is a star.” Steve explains. 

“Blue because honesty always comes first in our relationship.” Bucky says. 

“Surrounded by diamonds because our love will always surround you.” Steve continues. 

“And antique because you’re marrying two old men.” Bucky chuckles. 

You laugh but stare at the ring that they chose with admiration, “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

“Let’s toast to our engagement.” Bucky goes to open the bottle of champagne. The three of you share champagne, strawberries, and cake as they tell you about how they decided to ask you and their day of shopping to find the perfect ring. 

You stare at it saying, “I never thought I’d get married again. I just assumed in this relationship we’d just be together.”

“You are okay with getting married, right?” Steve asks. 

“Yes! I want to marry both of you. I guess it will be more of a commitment ceremony since we can’t legally get married,” you explain.

“Actually, I’ve been thinking about it and I think you and Steve should get married legally and we can have a commitment ceremony for the three of us. There would be a lot of protection for you in being Mrs. Rogers.” Bucky states. 

“I’m… I won’t be changing my name. I never did with Charlie.”

“You don’t have to. Bucky, you hadn’t said anything about this before. Are you sure?” Steve asks. 

“Yes. It just makes sense. If you’re okay with it, doll.” Bucky says. 

“I get it from a legal standpoint but no matter what the THREE of us will be married,” you smile. 

Steve nods, “While we’re on our honeymoon, Tony is going to renovate our rooms into an apartment. We just have to pick a date. We-”

“We can go over all the details later,” you interrupt Steve. “Right now, I’d like to go to our room and celebrate with less clothing on.”

“I love the way you think,” Bucky says as he helps you to stand and kisses you. 

Steve grabs the bottle of champagne and bowl of strawberries, “I’m sure we’ll work up an appetite.” He winks and kisses you. 

You can’t keep your hands off each other in the elevator and find yourself sandwiched between the two men with their lips wandering over every expanse of exposed skin. You stumble into the guest room the three of you are staying in and gasp. The room is full of flowers, a small table covered in candles and food, another bottle of champagne, three fluffy robes with your names embroidered on them and matching slippers, a wedding planning book, and a note of congratulations from Tony and Pepper. 

“This is so sweet! They are so thoughtful.” you exclaim. 

“They definitely know we plan to work up an appetite.” Bucky chuckles. 

“We should get to it. Unzip me?” you whisper. 

“My pleasure.” Bucky complies and gently guides the dress down for you to step out of it. You’re wearing a beautiful lingerie set complete with garter and heels and both men devour you with their eyes. You sit on the end of the bed, lean back on your arms and cross your legs while eyeing the two. 

“Naked. Now,” you say playfully. 

“Yes, ma’am,” Bucky grins as they shuck their clothing quickly. When both stand before you gloriously naked you look them up and down, licking your lips. You go to them and put a hand on each of their chests before lowering yourself to your knees. You stroke both of their cocks and take turns swirling your tongue around each of their heads. 

“You’re both so good to me. I love you so much. I love fucking both of you.” You make comments each time you switch between them and they’re both looking at you with a feral expression as you praise and tease them. 

“Fuck, doll.” Bucky says as he grabs you and pulls you to your feet, “Get up here.” His mouth claims yours and Steve is behind you in an instant, removing your bra, cupping your breasts and kissing your shoulders. You feel his hard length pressed to your ass and Bucky’s pressed to your mound. You moan loudly as their hands and mouths wander over you, divesting you of your lingerie.. 

“I… I want to try something,” you moan. 

“Anything, sweetheart. What do you want?” Steve asks with his lips against your neck. 

“I want you both inside me. Both inside me at the same time.” You say breathlessly. 

“You mean, both of us inside your pussy, doll?” Bucky clarifies. 

“Please. Want to feel all of us together.” You whimper. 

“If it’s too much, you have to tell us, doll. Don’t let us hurt you.” Steve says as he picks you up and carries you to the bed. “Promise?”

“I promise.” you agree as he lays you in the middle of the bed. 

“Fuck, that’s hot. I want inside you so bad.” Bucky groans from behind you, both men are flush against your front and back. He pulls your leg up and runs his fingers through your slick folds. He dips two fingers inside to ensure that you’re ready. A third finger is added and you moan loudly. 

“Bucky, please. I need you. Please!” You beg. 

Bucky’s head finds your entrance and slowly presses in. You stare into Steve’s eyes as you grab Bucky and encourage him on. Bucky thrusts into you a few times languidly, working your pleasure and coating himself in your slick. “Come on, Stevie. Our girl’s ready for you.”

Steve slides his cock against you to coat himself before slowly pressing his head in. You gasp at the sensation. 

“Okay?” Steve groans. 

“Yes, it’s good. Don’t stop.” you moan and then cry out as Bucky gives a gentle thrust. 

“Fuck, baby, feeling both of you is so hot.” Steve groans. 

“Then don’t stop. Keep going, please.” You whisper. 

“Move, Stevie. We need it.” Bucky groans. 

Steve presses in by millimeters and keeps checking in. You feel so incredibly full and the pleasure is immense. When Steve stops again, you begin to roll your hips, loving the friction of feeling both of them in you. 

“Oh, fuck.” Bucky moans as he takes a gentle bite out of your shoulder. 

“I can feel both of you. Fuck, it’s so hot.” Steve says as he begins to move with you. 

Your moans mingle as you cling to each other and writhe in pleasure. 

“Oh, God. I’m…” the words fail you as your body shakes with the orgasm. The intensity nearly takes your breath and once it subsides you feel it immediately begin to build again. 

“You’re trembling and clenching so tight, doll. You’re so fucking perfect for us. So perfect. Fuck, can’t believe we found you. Love you so much.” Bucky groans as he begins to move a little more quickly. 

“Buck! Can feel you. Feels so good. You both feel so good. Want it to be like this forever.” Steve moans. 

You’re trembling uncontrollably. The words, the men, the intense pleasure are enveloping you, body, mind, and soul. You cry out as you fall over the precipice again. Your body shudders and your hips move of their own volition. 

“Oh, fuck. Fuck.” Bucky groans as he releases inside of you.

Steve’s hands cup your face and he kisses you intensely before his own orgasm overtakes him and he presses his forehead to yours. As he comes down from the high, he whispers to you, “Bucky’s always been right about you. You’re perfect for us.”

“You are. You’re perfect for us.” Bucky says, wrapping an arm around both of you.

You lift your hand and look at the ring that sparkles on it, “We’re perfect together.”

Part 20

Tuiccim’s Masterlist

Updates and taglist: Due to the unreliable nature of tags, I no longer keep a taglist. Updates for series are made twice a week. Please follow my sideblog @tuiccimfanfiction​ and turn on notifications for updates. All series and new stories will be reblogged to it. You will only receive notifications when a new part or story is out! Nothing else will be blogged to the page. I can’t thank you enough for your support!

[paellaplease]

HAII!! if it hasnt been done yet, could you do revali x reader with basorexia? maybe reader really wants to give him a kiss but she really cant since,, yknow she has lips and he has a fuckin beak so she just decides to give him a lil smooch on the cheek? idk that was just an idea i had in mind, u dont have to write it!

22. basorexia - the overwhelming desire to kiss.

pairing: revali x reader summary:  revali spirits you away to enjoy the new years eve festivities.

   In the darkness of your room, you awoke to the sound of a soft tapping on your window. Twisting in the mess of blankets and pillows, you pushed aside the papers and textbooks that had accumulated at the foot of the bed, noticing only then that the candle at your desk had long since extinguished. 

Head pounding, you rubbed at your tired eyes, feeling heavy. How long had you been asleep?

The tapping grew more insistent, forcing you to get up. Grumbling, you allowed yourself a second to stretch, ignoring how your room felt like water sloshing in a glass. 

"Yeah, yeah. Hold on!" You said, hobbling to the window. Brushing the mess of hair from your eyes, you pulled the curtains away and roughly pushed it open. 

The culprit hovered outside, eyes bright and smug. Revali looked very much at home though he was floating at a dizzying distance away from the ground. In the sleepy haze, he looked like a painting of some myth you had read before, with the late night sky as his backdrop and the outline of your window as his frame. 

"Took you long enough."

"Apologies. I thought some tree branches were hitting the glass." 

The Rito made a show of turning in the air. "Funny, I don't see any nearby trees."

"I know," you sighed, disappointed. 

Revali rolled his eyes and poked his head through the window, feathers brushing past your cheek as he ignored your personal space in favour of scoping out your room. The stiff turn of his neck as he looked around reminded you of the curious and confused little birds that landed on the sill from time to time. 

"Quite a dreary home you have here." Gesturing to the overall darkness, he pointed to your stack of scattered papers. "You shouldn't study without proper lighting, it's bad for your eyes." 

"I was asleep."

"Why, I'm surprised. And here I thought you were one of the festive many who choose to stay awake at an ungodly hour in order to count down the remaining seconds of the year."

"Well," you shrugged, not wanting to meet his eyes. "Not like it's anything special. New year, same shit. What difference would a countdown do?" 

Biting down on your tongue, you stopped yourself from saying anymore. The cold breeze sifted past the light shirt you were wearing, making you shiver. 

He was right, normally you were one of those people who stayed up, excitedly watching the hands of the clocktower tick til they reached midnight. You enjoyed the energy of being in a collective crowd, waiting with bated breath for the first inhale and exhale you would take into the brand new year.

The final month on the Hylian calendar brought a sense of relief and a hope for new beginnings. Usually today of all days  you were at your happiest, jumping at the prospect of celebrating along with the rest of the kingdom and yet…

That sinking weight clawed at your chest again, forcing you to clamp down on it once more.

You grimaced. There it was; that bitter feeling. Hylia. How annoying. It twisted in your brain like an angry snake, pulling down your mood and enthusiasm along with it. 

Last year you wanted to cheer and dance until the morning light. Now all you felt like was staring at the wall. Or falling asleep. 

You blinked, turning back to the window to see Revali patiently waiting for you to continue. Feeling your face warm, you hustled your brain to get a move on. A coherent thought would be great right about…now!

"Hey have you ever wondered why they don't grow trees on this side of the castle? It's not fair the more expensive quarters get all the pretty greenery. I mean, non-noble guests still need that sweet oxygen everyone keeps raving about, you get me?" Shut up brain, that's enough. I said a coherent thought. C o h e r e n t. 

Stars in his wings, Revali shook his head but answered anyway. "I agree, it's hardly fair. Also go change into something warm, we need to get you outside."

"What? Why?"

Something in the Rito's expression clued you in to the fact that he wasn't in the mood to play stupid. You've been sitting in the dark for the past few days and it didn't take a private investigator to know it was playing tricks with your head. "Fine, but when I say we go back--we go back, got it?"

He huffed, turning around to give you some privacy. "I promise on my honour."

The brightly lit lanterns of the town square made you squint as you shuffled closer to your guide, the sound of the city loud in your ears.

Though less prominent, the twisting feeling in your gut continued, making you more hyper-alert than usual to the world around you. Adjusting the sleeves of your coat, you followed Revali past the streets, the Rito expertly navigating through the sea of people. 

Somewhere along the way he had taken your hand, and you told yourself it was a good way for you both to stick together. Wouldn't want you getting lost and spending the final minutes of the year playing an elaborate game of hide and seek after all. He was a great friend like that. Nevermind that everytime you would hold his wing a little tighter to remind yourself that he was there, he would always squeeze back. 

You needed a distraction. 

Just focus on everything that's not him.

The night was alive with the sound of music. It didn't matter if you partied with an alcoholic drink in hand, or a glass of milk, everyone in Hyrule was filled with an addictive buzz that came with an event that only happened once a year. Vendors with bright smiles called out from their stalls, the smell of freshly baked sweets or the sizzle of a barbecue beckoning you to take a closer look. To your left, a group of friends raised their hands in the air, loudly welcoming a Goron that had turned up late but regardless had finally arrived. 

The archer followed your line of sight, guessing the question bouncing in your head. "Daruk is in Eldin, probably rattling Death Mountain with that story again about the Moblin camp and the barrel of explosives."

"I love that story."

"Of course you would."

"Sorry about your feathers though."

"Whatever, they grew back."

"How about the one's on your--"

"Anyway," he interjected quickly, playfully nudging you to the side and glowering at your laughter. "We've been told to 'take a break'. The other Champions have chosen to spend this day with their families and loved ones. We are planning to regroup and continue preparations in the days following."

"How about you?"

"I already said it."

Your cheeks coloured at the implications of his words, mind replaying the previous sentence. Families and loved ones. Families and loved ones. He didn't even hesitate. You both were not related. So that left you with...

"Woah!" Digging your heels into the dirt, you abruptly paused your brisk walk and saved yourself from colliding with the archer's back. 

Stopping at one of the stalls, Revali held two fingers up. You glanced up at him questioningly but he refused to give anything away, expression relaxed. The vendor returned quickly, the Rito thanking them quietly and placing the payment on the bright yellow table cloth along with a large tip in their jar. 

He turned around, dropping a square shaped pastry into your hands. It was some kind of rice cake, with a fluffy exterior and a golden baked surface that smelled of butter and felt warm like the sun. 

Taking a bite, you smiled at the hints of coconut that were hidden in its sweet flavour. The sticky treat was familiar somehow. "Is this so luck sticks to you in the new year?"

Revali scoffed, though failed to hide his own smile behind the cake held in his wing. "You said the same thing when we first met. You need new material."

"Says the baron of bird puns."

"I am the king." He punctuated the statement by biting into his own rice cake. Offering his wing, he gently took your hand once more, turning back to step again into the busy promenade. 

Following him, you noticed that the crowds ever so slowly began to thin. A lantern lit hill was coming up. The grassy expanse was dotted with a few people, though it was blessingly not as populous as the town square. "I should be the one that's surprised. Thought you hated crowds unless their attentions were all on you."

"It's tolerable so long as I am with good company." 

The both of you walked up the hill with an unspoken agreement to make it to the top. Taking a seat on the grass, you allowed yourself to breathe, chest heaving from the small burst of exercise after days of being sedentary. 

The twinkling lights of Castle Town stretched out before you. Gazing at it, you could imagine all the untold stories hidden in the glowing little pockets of the alleys and in the hushed whispers behind closed doors. Funny how in a city so full of people, one can feel so alone. 

Revali was the first to speak, breaking you from your thoughts. "I think I can understand now. Looking at it from this distance, it really can feel like nothing much has changed."

You continued to stare at the lights, trying to focus on a certain string in an attempt to ground yourself. "Yeah. Sometimes it feels like though the world continues to spin, I'm remaining completely still. Just stagnant."

Frowning, you ran your hands through the grass, feeling the dirt shift under your fingers. You could feel your frustrations building, bubbling up to the surface with no way of dragging them back down. 

"And the challenges just get worse every year. How am I going to face those old problems and these new ones if I'm still the same lost person I was back then?"

Your voice echoed at the last sentence, making you hide your head in embarrassment. That was loud. 

Some strangers relaxing on the hill turned around to flash you an annoyed glare, before quickly returning to their picnics after spotting the Great Eagle Bow on your friend's back. 

 "I'm so sorry." You wanted more than anything then to dig a hole and hibernate preferrably for the next hundred years or so. "I'm yelling, that isn't like me. I'm so so--"

"There's nothing to be sorry about. You needed to say it." He glanced at you from the corner of his eye. There was a serious element to it that made it a little hard to breathe. "There is one part of that I don't agree with, however."

"What is it?"

"That entire section about you, how did you put it, stagnanting." He twisted a wing in the air, thinking on his words before pointing a feather directly at your face. "You're fully capable of enacting the change you want to see in yourself."

You felt a little dizzy now. But another kind of dizzy, one very different from the vertigo you felt waking up in the darkness of your room. 

"And who said you were exactly the same as you were back then? You've changed. In a good way. You're stronger and more capable of things I'm sure the person you were two years ago or even less couldn't even fathom doing." 

Turning to face you, Revali gave you his full attention, compelling you to do the same as the cadence of his speech joined the steady rhythm of your own beating heart. From the back of your mind, you could barely register the sound of people gathering together, their voices floating into the cold night air. 

'Ten!'

"It's difficult to see your own progress from a distance."

'Nine!'

"So take my advice and start looking at yourself up close for once."

'Eight!'

He had that expression on his face, one that said he was thinking too hard about something. It was like watching him try to pull the planets together with just a piece of string. His brows were furrowed so deep that your fingers wished to run over his feathers and smoothe the worried creases. 

'Seven!'

You slowly reached out to him, giving him enough time to back away. Revali stilled as your hands traced up the nape of his neck, leaning in as his pulse thrummed underneath the soft pads of your fingertips. 

'Six!'

He opened his beak the moment you reached his face. You paused, half expecting him to tell you to let go and pretend like it never happened. 

Instead, he called out your name. 

'Five!'

He said your name again, though quieter now. It was enough to tug at the invisible force drawing you two together. Enough so that the polite distance nervously enforced by the both of you gradually began to dissipate, trailing away like a ribbon of smoke as you both leaned in closer.

'Four!'

"May I--," He cleared his throat, eyes darting away for a second before they were back on you again. Bright green in the lantern light. Emeralds in the desert sand. 

'Three!'

"May I kiss you?"

"Yes."

'Two!'

"Your way or mine?" You couldn't help but joke. Revali smiled, exhaling a soft joyful laugh before pressing his forehead to yours. 

'One!'

'Happy New Year!'

An earth-shaking boom rattled your ears, but all you could think of in that moment was Revali and the feel of his feathers against your skin; the utter elation of being so close to someone you deeply cared for and that cared just as deeply for you. 

In the dazzling light you lifted your head from his, both your eyes meeting for a brief moment. Hands moving, you gently angled his face with a steady hand, feeling then the soft, butterfly light brush of his wings on your waist.

Closing your eyes again, you leaned in to press your lips against his beak, the blush on your face warmer than any fever or furnace. The Rito's soft sigh was barely audible as you trailed your kisses upwards, stopping at the red circle on his cheek. 

Revali laughed again as you turned his face to press a kiss to the identical red mark on the other side. "You're very thorough."

"You deserve it." You beamed. "And this is just the beginning, just you wait at the end of the countdown I'll--"

"Actually my dear," he grinned, pointing to the sky. 

"Huh?"

Above you were the vibrant colours of the firework display. It was beautiful and awe-inspiring, but a confirmation that you were definitely minutes in to the new year.

"Oh," you said, before shaking your head with a smile. "It's fine, we got 12 more months to prepare ourselves for the next one."

Revali nodded, pulling you closer so he could press your foreheads together again.

"Indeed," he grinned. "Now will you finish your sentence? What exactly were you going to do at the end of the countdown?"

fin. 

[ageofevermore]

Unsaid Emily

SUMMARY — and maybe it was the midnight ink on her wrist that tied her to him

WORD COUNT — 1.7k

───── ･ ｡ﾟ☆ﾟ: *. ☽ .* : ☆ﾟ. ─────

They had said goodbye to a child eight years before welcoming the second with shocked and scared hearts. They had promised to do things differently -- to like whatever she liked, watch whatever she watched, and love whatever she loved. They drew no boundary at personal belief when it came to this second child that shadowed the life of Luke, but they made no attempts to forgive and mend the empty spaces in their hearts where they had already done this. They had already gone through first steps, words, and heartbreaks. They had captured Luke’s seventeen years of life in their memory so perfectly watching hers felt faulty. They tried with everything they had to love her as they never loved Luke, but somehow that caused even more of a divide as everything was reminiscent of the deceased first born brunette. 

She had been away at school when his birthday rolled around; for the first time in her seventeen years of pitiful existence she didn’t blow out the candles on a stale chocolate cake. She spent the day away from stories of her brother, and instead  spent it knowing somewhere in the universe he wasn’t being smothered by Mitch and Emily’s persistent opinions. She couldn’t outrun home forever though. An amazing music program in Santa Monica pulled her away from LA for most weeks out of the year, but her mother was persistent that she abandon the dorms and visit home every so often. It was that fear of Luke again. He had instilled so many traumas that even trust with her was unruly and weak. 

She heard the doorbell ring as she was unpacking her pile of homework, the weekend away from school meaning nothing for the multiple classes she was taking weekly. Though the private boarding school was diverse in the makeup of their structured courses, she was still on a tightly wound schedule with instrumental practice and vocals along with mandatory academics like calculus. She hates calculus. She had only started around the corner because she heard the sound of her brother's name roll off of a stranger's tongue. The defined L sound was unmistakable, and partnered with the topic of music, the correlation was undeniable. 

“Yeah. That’s Luke, when he was two.” Mitch explained the picture between the girls grasp, eyes growing damp at the topic of his greatest failure as a parent. Luke was his perfect gift. 

“Do you have any other children?” The girl asked, gently setting the picture frame down and bringing her chocolate eyes up to Mitch’s. The gentleness of her expressions were weighing heavy on the hearts of a family that lived with the memory of Luke on their mind daily. Even with the retelling of his story the only fragment of his existence that she knew, hearing these words hurt.

“A daughter. Lily.” Mitch looked just behind the guest, eyes trailing over his daughter that shared the same midnight toned hair and hard blue eyes as his Luke once had. She stepped past the threshold connecting the foyer to the living room, ignoring the butterflies that spread through her stomach at a certain point across the hardwood. 

“I’m Lily.” She smiled tightly at the girl, hand extended in a polite greeting that was in no way authentic. Her heart was beating her ears, palms collecting sweat at the idea of knowing Luke from somebody else's perspective. 

“Julie.”  The two smiled at each other, both looking equally displaced despite this being Lily’s house, and having been Julie’s personal decision to come. Luke just had that effect on people. His memory made you hurt so deeply that anything other than crying felt wrong. 

“Did I hear the doorbell?” Emily asked, hand softly brushing against Lily’s back. Emily hadn’t even flinched when her child pulled away from the embrace, just accepted what had become routine since implementing the memory and the love of Luke. In remembering one child Mitch and Emily had completely pushed away the other. 

“Mom, this is Julie.” Lily introduced the two, her eyes wandering around the space that suddenly felt so full. She had stood in this same living room for seventeen years prior to the current evening and never had she got the sense of being complete. 

“Hello, Julie.” Emily smiled, looking over the girl standing in their living room with nothing more than a name to her purpose. “Oh, that’s a beautiful sweater.” 

She had never heard her mother speak so freely kindly towards others' clothing. She had woken the same morning, expecting the looks of judgement and unwarranted warnings that band-tees and vans had been the very wardrobe to have taken Luke’s life. 

When she had gotten Sunset Curve tattooed to the flesh of her wrist, binding her life to her brother's memory, they had gone mental. It had been tears of disappointment and pain at the foundation of an argument. They had come around eventually, but only off of the premise that they didn’t want to drive Lily away and watch her face death like Luke did. 

“Thanks. It’s my moms.” Julie looked down at her sweater, fingers softly brushing along the knitted material. By the solemn expression in her eyes, Lily knew that death had been upon her. Nobody bore such a heavy gleam without the persuading of trauma and grief. 

“Julie lives in the house where Luke and the band rehearsed. She was just telling me she found a song that Luke wrote.” Mitch looked down at Julie, all while Lily couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes on her. Looking around the room again, her heart jumped painfully in her chest at the orb of afterlife reflecting from the sun just behind Julie. As she stared into the rainbow colors of the orb, she couldn’t help but feel as though a set of eyes was sharing the encounter with her. 

Blinking away the delusion, Lily’s thumb traced the tattoo on her wrist, her eyes welling with tears. She might have rivaled a ghost all of her childhood, but she missed the soft and tender memories of her brother she didn’t have the heart to relearn. She could love him with everything she had, but never would see ask her parents about his short lived life. 

“It’s a song about a girl named Emily?” 

A tear fell from Lily’s eyes, while warm pools of grief framed the waterline of her blue optics, threatening to spill over at any second. She traced the spot where the orb of afterlife had once floated above the air with streaks of rainbow, but the sun had moved away and stopped casting a spotlight on the space. 

“Emily…” Mitch whispered into the open air of the space, eyes glazing over as he looked down to his wife that had beared two children and loved the first more than anything worldly. “I’m Emily.” She pleaded, although neither she nor Julie knew what she was asking for with her desperation soaked tone. 

“Then I think your son may have written a song for you.” Julie handed over the old and tattered piece of notebook paper that bore the same handwriting as all of Luke’s journals still stashed away in the attic. The same handwriting that lived permanently on her wrist, taking the shape of what his dream had once been. 

“First things first, we start the scene in reverse.” Lily had to shake the thought of music out of her focus, her body so heavily convinced that somewhere in the depths of her home a song was playing softly. The dimension of the vocals she heard was unlike any streaming platform ability, making her wonder if her mother had broken into the vinyls again. 

“All of the lines rehearsed disappeared from my mind when things got loud. One of us running out, I should've turned around, but I had too much pride. No time for goodbyes, didn't get to apologize, pieces of a clock that lies broken. If I could take us back, if I could just do that and write in every empty space the words ‘I love you’ in replace. Then maybe time would not erase me, if you could only know I never let you go, and the words I most regret are the ones I never meant to leave. Unsaid Emily. Silent days, mysteries and mistakes. Who'd be the first to break? I guess we're alike that way. He said, she said, conversations in my head, and that's just where they're gonna stay forever.” 

It was a ringing between her ears that brought the delusion to a standstill. As her fingers curl around her wrist as if to physically grab the midnight ink, the whisper of a voice in her focus becomes too prominent to ignore. 

“If I could take us back, if I could just do that, and write in every empty space the words ‘I love you’ in replace. Then maybe time would not erase me, if you could only know I never let you go, and the words I most regret are the ones I never meant to leave. Unsaid Emily. If I could take us back, if I could just do that, and write in every empty space the words ‘I love you’ in replace, then maybe time would not erase me. If you could only know I never let you go.” She hears the words through herself so clearly, she’s certain the words she can practically feel are the same as what’s written on the page between her mother's fingertips. She doesn’t understand it, but somehow she knows. 

It’s him. Luke. Her big brother. 

Her wrist flashes hot for a second, startling her enough to abandon the tight locked gaze she has on the empty space behind Julie and look down at her reddening skin. “And the words I most regret are the ones I never meant to leave. Unsaid Emily.” 

A cold shock ran through her body in contrast to the searing hot pain circulating her wrist. She sniffled when the last sung Emily sounded through her body, the vibrato sounding so close to her it was paralyzing. When she found her bearings and the jelly like feeling in her legs dispersed to her heart, she looked back up at Julie.  

With one last fleeting glance towards the empty space behind Julie, the sight of a blue-eyed boy looking tearfully beyond herself, calmed the burn in her wrist. She made eye contact with the boy, a name fitting comfortably on her tongue despite the impossibility of it all. 

“Luke…” 

[iamthehousethatfloats]

This is absolute crack, but apparently it’s Scrooge’s birthday today (in some random canon - I don’t even know) so I bashed this out because why not?

It’s likely riddled with errors but ah well. It’s only his birthday for 10 more minutes in England so here, have it!

🎉🎉🎉

Scrooge McDuck had finally reached the end of a long old 8th of July. His board meetings were done, business deals concluded, and best of all, he’d made it through a whole working day without any one wishing him a ridiculous -

‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY UNCLE SCROOGE!’

Ah, so close.

His family burst into his office, the boys and Webby clutching balloons and streamers, Della and Donald grinning as they swapped his top hat for a party hat to match their own.

‘Ahhh you thought we forgot!’ Dewey cheered, mistaking the disgruntled expression on his uncle’s face for stunned.

‘We were gonna wait until you came home to surprise you but then we figured you’d be expecting that so it wouldn’t be a surprise at all,’ Huey explained.

‘So we brought the surprise to you instead!’ Webby cheered, twirling around in a mess of colourful streamers and glitter.

‘Yes, yes,’ Scrooge rolled his eyes. ‘Colour me surprised.’

‘You haven’t even seen the best part yet,’ Della grinned. ‘LP! Bring in the cake!’

On cue, Launchpad kicked open the door of Scrooge’s office and wheeled in an absolutely enormous cake, taller even than him. The tiers wobbled precariously in rhythm with LP’s warbling delivery. The kids, Donald and Della all joined in, building to the final line with relish.

‘Happy biiiiirthdaaaaay, Uncle Scroo-ooge, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TOOOO YOOOOOUU!’

Scrooge stuck a finger in his ear to check his ear drum was still in tact - he was seated next to Donald after all. When he extracted the digit, satisfied everything was in working order, he noticed the ominous silence and frowned.

Something odd was going on. Della and Launchpad were staring between each other and the cake, wide eyed and grinning slightly manically. Donald was starting to sweat. The kids were all glancing at each other, shifting awkwardly.

‘Alright, what joke am I missing?’

‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY MR MCDEEEEE,’ Launchpad began to sing again, even louder than the first time. ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!’

‘Yes, thank you Launchpad,’ Scrooge said tersely. ‘I heard you the first time.’

‘TO YOUUUUUU!’ Launchpad sang again, slightly desperately. Donald edged closes and gave the cake an experimental prod. Nothing happened. He looked back at Della nervously.

‘Oh, this is not good.’ Della said.

‘Oh no, it’s every worst nightmare come at once!’ Launchpad cried. ‘We baked Mrs McDee alive!’

‘Mrs?’ Scrooge spluttered.

‘Calm down LP, the cake was already baked when Goldie got in, at the very least we suffocated her in frosting.’ Della reasoned.

‘Not a bad way to go,’ Donald remarked, while Launchpad looked set to dive in head first.

‘Let me make sure I have this right,’ Scrooge interjected, and all eyes turned to him. ‘You brought that hellacious hooligan into the Money Bin, and left her unattended in close proximity to my entire fortune - with a diversion, no less?’

‘We didn’t leave her unattended, she was with LP... oh, yeah. Okay.’ Della realised their error as she spoke. The man in question was currently half way through escalating a hollow birthday cake in an attempt to rescue a woman who definitely was not there. ‘She said she wanted to surprise you!’ Della objected.

Scrooge rolled his eyes. ‘Aye. Well, that she did.’

‘Uh, guys?’ Louie, who had been quiet so far, had trundled to the far side of the cake for a closer look. He pointed to a Goldie O’Gilt shaped hole in the side of the cake, directly opposite the Launchpad shaped hole in the other side. ‘Looks like we’ve been conned.’ Louie said helpfully, with a slight grin. He had to admire a master at work.

Scrooge immediately slammed his hand down on the security button at the side of his desk, sending sirens wailing and red lights flashing. ‘This is a security breach, the Bin has been compromised,’ he said into the intercom. ‘All operations will shut down until further notice. NO ONE is to come in or out until the culprit has been apprehended.’

As security personnel rallied, shutting down the bin floor by floor and searching fruitlessly for the thief, the Duck family inflicted their merriment upon their miserly uncle anyway, whether he wanted it or not. Almost an hour later, there was still nothing to report, and so Scrooge begrudgingly agreed to open up the Bin and let everyone go home for the day.

Well, almost everyone.

‘Right you lot,’ he said, fixing his family with a stern glare. ‘It’s Binventory for the lot of ye.’

‘Binventory!’ Della and Donald chorused in dismay, as the kids and Launchpad all groaned.

‘Aye, and a detailed one at that. You brought that diabolical deviant in here, and you’ll be the ones to find out what she’s stolen. I want every piece of gold in that Bin catalogued - and make sure what you count is genuine too. That mendacious minx is not above the old switcheroo or two.’

‘Yes Uncle Scrooge,’ the resigned sighs and grumbles didn’t bother him one bit as he marched his family out of his office and down to the Money Bin, ready for a long night of his very favourite thing; counting up his fortune. Perhaps he would be considering this as a good birthday after all.

After an hour or so, he left them to it, set on returning to his office to watch another sweep of the security cameras to catch a glimpse of Goldie’s retreating figure in the corner of a frame. He told himself it was because it would help him figure out what it was that she had taken, it was nothing to do with him wanting to see her or anything. Nope, nothing like that at all.

He trudged wearily up the steps to his office, and he knew something was wrong when he saw the lights were off. He was certain he’d left them on - he knew he was coming back after all. He gripped his cane slightly tighter, before stepping through the door and reaching for the switch, flooding the room with warm golden light.

A large piece of cake sat untouched on his desk, two small forks beside it on the plate. In his chair, lounging about like she owned the place, was Goldie O’Gilt. His heart skipped a little in his chest.

‘Oh no, you caught me,’ her eyes sparkled mischievously as she licked frosting off her fingers. ‘I was trying so hard to hide.’

Scrooge swallowed heavily, taking a measured breath before closing the door behind him.

‘I thought you’d be long gone by now,’ he commented casually.

Goldie grinned. ‘And miss blowing out your candles? Please, Scrooge. It’s like you don’t know me at all.’

Scrooge rolled his eyes, glancing at the security screens beside his desk. Judging by their progress in the Bin, he had at least another hour until his family would come looking for him.

‘What did you steal?’ He quizzed her sharply.

‘Your heart,’ she shot back, with a wink. She licked another finger clean of frosting.

‘You’ve got that all over your face, you know.’ Scrooge told her, unable to ignore the fire kindling in his belly as her grin turned even more wolffish.

‘Why don’t you come over here and have a taste? It’s your cake after all.’

Scrooge paused... for about half a second. Just long enough to click the lock of his office door closed behind him. He crossed the room in three paces, and he had her in his arms before she could even open her mouth to make another retort. It wasn’t long before they were both covered in cake.

‘Happy birthday, Moneybags.’

As it turned out, it was a very happy birthday indeed.

[abbynx]

Sibling things (Kakyoin X Sibling reader)

Spoilers for part three! Please skip if you haven't watched/finished it yet!

Just an angsty fic to satisfy my needs for my lovely cherry boi~

Yesterday... It felt like yesterday when you and I played together within the enclosed walls of our residence. Despite being too young to remember such things, the memory was vivid in my memories. That dumb cherry licking, mother chasing bastard was a tolerable asshat who tend to tease me a lot. He'd mess my hair style whenever he gets the chance, call me an embarrassing nickname, just sibling things nothing much. With all the teasing, all the fight picking, all the kicks, the punch, scratching, biting, possibly knife pointing... We cared about each other, for we were told that it would be us against the world when we grew up. If we grew up... I can't get to grow up with him like we planned.

______________________________________

"Happy seventeenth birthday! Oh my sweet darling child!" Your mother embraced you, pressing a firm kiss on your cheek leaving the residue of her red lipstick after you blew the small flame that burned the red candle moulded to mimic a cherry.

You softly smiled at her statement, when your eyes flickered up and caught a glimpse on the mirror. For some goddamn reason, you didn't see yourself in it. In your place, you saw Noriaki, embracing your mother with that smile of his while he was wearing his form fitting uniform of his he always wear for some god forsaken reason. You saw yourself in the mirror as well, holding the cherry flavoured you bought with your allowance.

_____________________________________ Seventeen. It was his seventeenth and last birthday. I can vividly remember planning his birthday, saving funds, baking him the cherry flavoured cake since it was his favourite, saving my allowance to buy him the video game he had his eye on...

A bright future was ahead of him, welcoming him. Bright young man with grace, regality, intelligence, had myriads of talents. He was an intellectual, a painter, a gamer! He knew a thing about other cultures, literature, norms, morals. A boy with the heart of gold, brains rich with knowledge and wisdom... The bright young man wasn't bright at all, as darkness snuffed his light and he was gone. ______________________________________

"We are so proud of you sweetheart." Missus Kakyoin wholeheartedly smiled, she took your cheeks within her grasp, softly running her thumb on your cheek. Her eyes became glossy with tears pooling in her eyes that couldn't escape. "We love you Y/N. Please remember that no matter what."

"Your brother would be so happy and proud of you." The patriarch of the Kakyoin family puts a hand on the matriarch's shoulder, smiling alongside her as tears has already escaped his eyes.

"Thank you mom, dad." You gathered them into a warm embrace in an attempt to hide your watering eyes, not wanting them to see you cry. You glanced up, catching the family's framed photograph from two years ago. Noriaki sat beside you, whilst your parents stood behind you. That stupid jerk and his stupid smile, he was seventeen and had decades and decades more to live when he died, he could've been nineteen already.

Upset, you gripped your parents tightly within your grasp, tears making their way out of your eyes whilst your chest tightened with your denied sobs.

_____________________________________ Loneliness... All he wanted was a friend, someone who can understand him, who will be there for him as much as he is there for them... And that he found, I was proud of him for making friends... But he was only friends with them for fifty days. ______________________________________

"Oh! Happy belated birthday Y/N!" Your classmate leaned on your desk with a bright smile. "Gosh, you're seventeen now! Only four more years and we're legal to drink! I would TOTES love to hang out with you."

"Thank you, Ibara. I would also love that!" You responded, putting a humble hand on your chest with a close eyes smile.

"Wow! That necklace is pretty! Emerald really suits you a lot!" She compliments, tucking her hair behind her ear. "It accentuates your features and it's really pretty despite not being that bedazzled. Simplicity really is beauty."

You blinked at her in shock. "You really think so?" Your hand unconsciously lands on the circular shaped emerald pendant.

"Yeah! It's so very pretty! Its the first time I saw you wearing a necklace, so it must be new. Is it a birthday gift?" She gasps, covering her lips with her opened palms before smirking mischievously. "Is it from your boyfriend~?"

"Oh, more like my brother's boyfriend!" You rolled your eyes, playfully punching the girl's shoulder.

Jotaro Kujo, Noriaki's friend visited you yesterday. The big guy was a statue towering over your small stature but that didn't let you be afraid of him. Despite being practically strangers with each other, only seeing one another during random bumps in school, a friend of your brother's is a friend of yours. And besides, you found yourself being fond of his family after his grandfather and Jotaro came to your residence that day to share the tragic news. It was a complicated situation, very messy... But in the end, the tragedy was all the same, the death, the circumstance... Despair inducing.

Jotaro Kujo shared so many tales about your brother, how smart he was, how helpful, how brave... How dead he was.

___________________________________ "I honestly didn't know he'd be capable of that..."

"Same here. In all my years of knowing him, I never knew he'd pull that stunt... But undeniably, sounds like him," I smiled, looking over the normally silent behemoth. "And you're right about the cherry stuff. He regularly does that whenever he'd eat cherries."

"It's unnerving, to be frank." The hat wearing boy turned away, tipping his hat downward.

"It is! I remember when we'd buy milkshakes after school! He would often take my cherry and do that thing he always do....."

The storytelling went on, endless stories of Noriaki's childhood with me went on and on. I could never get tired of taking about him, his memory lives on with me, in my heart and in my soul. It hurts to admit he's gone in this certain young age of seventeen, but he still lives inside me... That came out wrong, but you get my point.

After our not-so brief talk about Nori, it was time for him to leave, when he turns back to me. In his hand, was a black velvet box wrapped with an emerald bow. He said it was my gift for my birthday and wouldn't you know it, the behemoth is a huge softie. He is like an older brother to me, but of course, I would never replace Nori.

Let me tell you this, it wasn't easy being friends with Jotaro. I'm a junior year while he's a senior. And for some god forsaken reason, they thought we were dating... Uh, I like him as a friend/brother. Nothing more, really.

The box... Inside it, was the necklace. The golden chain and the circular emerald pendant, a certain colour I often associated with my older brother as he named his stand's attack just that. Emerald splash... No one could deflect it, as he claims alright. That's what I thought at least, he never aimed the attack on me.

I gave Jotaro a hug before he parted ways with me. The green certainly reminded me of the stand and it's user... I honestly miss them. _____________________________________

"Say Y/N, I say we go get some boba tea after this class! My treat of course!" Your friend beams, posing with a peace sign at you. "It's the least I can do since I wasn't able to attend your birthday yesterday! And it really makes me feel guilty!"

"Oh Ibara you don't have to," you giggled. "But if you insist!"

As of cue, the bell rang to signal class was over. Ibara has always been a close friend of yours since you've transferred in this school. The girl with an obsession for boba milk teas and middle aged actors who were thrice her age. The comforting soul that stuck with you while you mourned for your brother's death and never left your side. After packing you bag, you glanced at the orange haired girl who was already waiting for you in the doorway with an encouraging smile. Giving your friend a smirk, looping your elbows through hers.

"Off we go, Ibara. A certain cherry boba milk tea is calling my name~" you giggled.

"Oh you always get that flavour. You're obsessed with cherries, aren't you? How come you don't try other flavours?" Ibara asks, casting a questioning glance at your direction. "And your pin is even cherry! And your earrings! Seriously! You and your cherry obsession!"

"I don't know why, but I think they taste good and they're oddly aesthetically pleasing." you lied. "I just like how cherries taste and how they look, that's all."

______________________________________

Heavenly... Every moment spent with you is the reason why I lived.

You may not realize it, big brother, but you were a great influence for me. I was hard on myself for not knowing how certain mathematics work, I knew not much about literature, culture, history, sociology and you taught me all about it. Stands, what the fuck were stands? I developed one and I was afraid and you helped me cope with it and now we're friends.

I knew nothing about friendship, but my relationship with you alone made me feel relevant, valid despite being bullied back in elementary. Your influence lurked within me every single time.

Thoughts like "What would big brother Nori do if...." Frequently crossed my mind whenever an inconvenience occured. You are, in a way, my role model. I love how you handle things, the way you think, negotiate, move after thinking... Such a quick witted guy you were. That's how much I look up at you despite I acted mean to you. You never knew how you influenced me to be a person I am today...

I miss you, truly. I wish you weren't dead.

But I have to ask... Why? Why do you always want to make me feel better about myself when you can't even do the same thing for yourself?

You did everything to make me smile, make me feel comfortable, make me feel loved, appreciated, you helped me feel valid while you suffered with your own pain. You bear your pain alone while I had the nerve to unload my personal baggage as if I was the most miserable person there is...

Hell, I don't even know how much you've suffered until you died. I'm such a useless younger sibling who can't even return the same gestures you've made for me... _____________________________________

"Ewww, what is that?" Fifteen year old Y/N Kakyoin pointed at the canvas in which the red haired male painted on.

"Why, it's my very own magnum opus, dearest youngest sibling," Noriaki jokingly stated with a mock posh accent. "It was time that I replace De Vinci, don't you think?" He moves away for you to get a perfect view of his painting.

It was a painting of your Stand that stood behind a street light. The rough painting was difficult to recognise, but the colour scheme was a dead give away for your Stand. You presumed it was still unfinished, considering there was a clear outline of another character that stood in front of your Stand.

"Why would you chose to draw trash like me?" You pointed at yourself, seating yourself on a stool whilst you watched him dip his paintbrush on a pile of mixed paint before making soft, precise stroke on the canvas.

"No don't say that, you're not trash. You're the whole dumpster." He retorts with a smirk. You couldn't see him as he had his back turned away from you, but you highly suspected he was smirking.

"Wow, that's toooootally original," you dragged the vowels, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms. "Says the one with a trashy looking hair."

Noriaki chuckles, shaking his head, the dangling cherry earrings he has shook alongside him. "Okay, I take it back. You're not the whole dumpster, nor trash. You're just my cute little sibling." He has this smile that can light the whole damn town with fire, and girls would swoon and fall and dance around that fire like witches in a ritual to summon a demon... Ugh, it sounded too specific, but that's how you'd describe his smile. Irresistible, not easy to contained and it easily affected you as well because in no time, you were smiling just like him.

"Okay, what the fuck did you eat for you to say those things to me? Who are you and what have you done to my Noriaki?" You laughed, poking him by his tiny waist and immediately elicited a flinch and a laugh from him.

"Oh nothing, just feeling particularly thankful for the existence of my younger sibling who is totally relevant and beautiful in every way. They think that they're bad looking and is often feeling down, as they doubt themselves every time makes me feel like a bad brother." He puts the brush down alongside the others and turns to face you. Noriaki firmly places his hands atop your shoulders and shook you repeatedly. "You haven't been completely honest with yourself and your family. I know something's happening to you in your class. Tell me what's wrong."

His firm grip prevented you from escaping, prompting you to pout. Of course he'd know you were being bullied. He always knows something is up. You're starting to think he uses those good looks of his to pull gossips from gossiping school girls who knew of your circumstances. Nevertheless, you sighed, you spilled your problems as he listens intently.

"I just... I don't feel like expressing myself if people can't accept me. They're right though. I'm just an irrelevant trash and— ow!" You were able to barely flinch when his grip tightens around your shoulders.

"You. Are. Valid and beautiful! Don't forget that okay? You're a flame that doesn't deserve to be snuffed out." He reassures. "I know how you feel, but know that there will be people out there who will love you for who you are. You're not irrelevant, you're not trash. You're the best, unique and the only you they will ever meet and they will miss out for not meeting you. I will not stop saying these things if you do not know, scratch that, believe you are one of the most wonderful person everyone will meet."

"Tsk, stop being cheesy you dumb dork." You playfully punched him by his pectoral, trying to deny your glossy eyes to escape, prompting you to coil your arms around his waist to prevent him from seeing it. "Big dumb dork."

"See? There's my little sibling!" He strokes your hair with a soft smile. "So cute and small, growing too fast!"

"You're not mom, you don't have the right to say that." You glanced at him with a smirk, poking a finger on his waist earning a slight flinch from him, as he is ticklish there.

"Well I am your older brother and I am always in charged on watching you," he flicks you by the forehead in retaliation, prompting you to lightly smack his cheek with a toothy grin. "Have you finished packing yet?

"Yep. I honestly can't wait for the trip in Egypt. I think this going to be the best vacation slash celebration of successfully moving to another house." After speaking, you let out a high pitched shriek when he ruffled your hair with his palms with a mischievous chuckle. As you were about to attempt to free yourself from his grip, he tightly held you to his body and resumed ruffling with your hair as you squirmed and moved. Once he had his fun, he released you with a playful chuckle, watching you rearrange your hair. "Ohhh, curse you!"

"Shut up, now go to bed. We still have a flight to catch tomorrow. If you need me I'll be in my room. Good night!" He waves, abandoning you in the living room as you tend to your hair.

"Whatever you cherry sucking idiot." You incoherently mumbled to yourself, straightening your hair into its former glory.

____________________________________

I love you Noriaki... I hope you believe that. Mom and dad are proud of you, they love and miss you so much. Your friends miss you and they are grateful for what you've done for them.

I hope you're doing well up there with the angels and the cherry gods or whatever.

Know that your little sibling is alive and well and living the best years of their life because of you. By this, I will fulfill everything you have never done.

I miss you big brother and you will always live in my heart. _____________________________________

[prettyboongi]

BTS Reaction - They React To You Giving Them a Gift

[Note: Hello readers! This is my first BTS fanfic with actual dialogue. I’ve been working on this for awhile and I feel pretty proud of the results. I really hope you all enjoy. Bye!}

Seokjin 

“I’m home!,” Seokjin yells as he walks into the living room of the apartment you two share. He has had a long and stressful day at the studio so seeing the sight of you walking towards him wiped away any tiredness he’s been feeling. 

“Hey baby,” you greet him. You wrap your arms around his neck and give him a tender kiss. “How was your day?”

“Super exhausting,” he sighs, “I’m just glad I’m finally home though”. Before he goes in for another kiss, you stop his mouth with your manicured hand. 

“Wait,” you said as you released yourself from his embrace. “I got something for you. Close your eyes and hold out your hands.”

“Oh honey, you didn’t have to give me anything,” he says as he complies with your instructions.  

“No peeking!,” you playfully exclaim. You lightly jog to the next room to grab his present and once you return you place the present in Jin’s hands. “Okay, open.” 

Jin opens his eyes to see a paperback book in his hands. He lets out a lighthearted laugh as he reads the title: 101 Jokes That Will Make Anyone Laugh Out Loud. “What’s this?” 

“I found it when I was out running errands today. It made me think of you, my little comedian”. 

To the average person, this gift would come off as weird and cheesy but you knew that how perfect it was for Jin since he was the embodiment of weird and cheesy. And best of all, you loved putting a huge smile on his face. 

Jin leans in and lovingly kisses your cheek. “I absolutely love it. Thanks darling, now I can’t wait to unleash these genius jokes on the guys.” 

You knew that the guys will come to hate Jin for constantly belting out awful jokes from the book and will hate you for giving Jin the cursed book. Hey, maybe deep down inside, annoying the boys was your intention. But at the end, putting a smile on your man’s face was the true icing on the cake. 

Yoongi

Yoongi was held up in his studio, diligently working on some tracks for his mixtape when he got a call from you. 

“Hey,” he flatly answers. 

“Hey, Yoongi,” you reply in a chipper voice. “I’m heading toward your studio right now. You still working on the mix-tape?” 

“Yeah, still working. Why’re you coming over? Did you leave something here?” 

“Can’t I just pay my loving and hardworking boyfriend a visit?” you cooed. 

On the other side you could hear suck the air through his teeth. “I dunno (Y/N). I still have a lot to work on.” 

“I won’t stay for long, just five minutes tops. I promise,” you say reassuringly. 

Yoongi hesitates at first but soon agrees to the quick visit. “Sure, come over. You remember the code, right?”

Fifteen minutes later, you finally arrive at Yoongi’s studio. Before punching in the room’s code, you took a moment to make sure you have everything together. Even though it was just going to be a quick visit, you still wanted to look cute for your industrious boyfriend. And most importantly, you made sure that you had the one thing that was the whole point of the visit, which was safely in your tote bag. 

You walk into a slightly dim yet warmly lit room. Besides the several energy drink cans and empty Starbucks cups, the studio wasn’t terribly messy. Once he notices your presence, Yoongi swivels his chair to face you. 

  “Jeez,” you start, “you look like absolute shit.” And you weren’t exaggerating. With his ruffled bleached hair, his bags under his eyes and his skin paler than usual, he looked like a zombie. 

Yoongi gives you a tired smile. “You’d look like this if you’ve been working 16 hours straight.” He gets up to give you a quick peck on the lips. “Wish I looked as good as you right now.” 

‘Oh I bet,” you respond as you cheekily flip your hair. “Got something for you.” Excitedly, you slip off the tote bag from your shoulder and hand it to Yoongi. 

Yoongi takes the bag, utterly surprised and a bit flustered. “Babe, you really shouldn’t have.” 

“Go ahead, open it, “ you insisted. 

Yoongi gives you a quick smile before looking into the bag. “What?,” he says with his left mouth agape. He pulls out a black fleece blanket, perfectly folded and tied with a silver ribbon. 

With glee, you exclaim, “It’s a blanket! I know you’ve been taking nap breaks here and even spend some nights here during times like this. Well, I thought if you’re locking yourself in your studio, you might as well stay nice and cozy. Do you like it?” 

“Like it? I absolutely love it,” he answers, showing off his gummy smiles that you adored so much. After setting the blanket down, he gently places his hands on your hips and pulls you into a big hug. “Whenever I get to use it, I’ll always think of you.” 

“Hope you’ll let me use the blanket whenever I visit you” you say into his ear. 

With a mischievous smile, his says to you, “Well, since you are cute and thoughtful… maybe.” 

Hoseok

“Hey, Hobi! Guess what I found?,” you yelled as you barge into your living room. Hoseok was sitting at the kitchen island, scrolling through Twitter, when you surprised him with your abrupt arrival. 

“What?” he asks. 

“This!”. You pulled out what was behind you and revealed a tall and kitschy pink flamingo lawn stand. It was as if the thing was pulled from a 1950s shopping catalog. 

Hoseok smiled but honestly didn’t know how to react. “Uh, why do you have that?”

You set the flamingo between you two, bright pink and standing on one leg with all its glory. “On my way back from my walk, someone in our neighborhood was having a yard sale. And you know me, I don’t pass out on any yard sale I stumble across. And while I was looking at all of the so corny shit they had there, this eventually came to my sight and it called to me: Buy me (Y/N).” You gave the 3ft tall flamingo a friendly slap. 

Hoseok couldn’t help but laugh at your spontaneity, one of the reasons he fell for you. “ So I’m guessing you wanna put it out on our front lawn for all to see." 

"Nope,” you pushed the pink plastic beauty towards Hoseok. “This is my gift to you and you only." 

"Really? Why’s that?”. 

“Well when I first noticed this thing, it instantly made me think of you.” Hoseok raises one of his eyebrows as you continue. “I mean, flamingos -this one and real ones- are cool, lively and flamboyant, exactly like you.”

Hoseok quietly examines the flamingo. “This thing,” he thought, “was gaudy as all hell”. It was half your size, the color of it was an obnoxious shade of pink and it was plainly super cheesy. But seeing how happy it made his loving girlfriend and it’s a gift just for him, Hobi had no choice but to love this monstrosity. 

He picks up the flamingo and gives you a warm, heart shaped smile. “This is such an awesome gift. I love it, and you, so much." 

Namjoon 

"Okay no peeking!" 

You were leading your boyfriend Namjoon towards the front yard of your home. 

"Please don’t tell me you bought me a car,” said Namjoon, trying to his excitement. 

You scoff. “Please, on my salary? But I promise it’s just as good and fancy as a car, maybe even better.” Once you reached where you placed his gift, you stopped him with your hands still covering his eyes. “Okay, are you ready?” When he nods his head, you take your hands off. “Open!,” you shout. 

Namjoon opens his eyes to see a light gray tandem bike about two feet away from him. He turned to you, with a puzzled look on his face. “A tandem bike?” He’s flashing a huge smile, his adorable dimples included, but is still perplexed over such a random gift. “It isn’t my birthday and I’m definitely certain it isn’t your anniversary either." 

You walk over to him and wrap your arms around his waist. "I know but I’ve always wanted to ride a tandem bike with someone and luckily you already like going out on bike rides. I thought it was perfect, something we can share together." 

Namjoon had to admit that the gift was super thoughtful and that he was lucky to have someone to share his interests with. He can already anticipate the stares and silent judgment from strangers the moment they take a load of the bike, but he didn’t care. A gift from you,  even something as eccentric as this, is something to be cherished. 

Namjoon held you from your behind and kissed you on top of your head. He then tilts your head back so you can look up at him, simply to ask, "You wanna go for a ride?" 

Jimin

It was Valentine’s Day, your favorite holiday for two reasons. One, because you have always been a sucker for anything romantic and sentimental. And two, because you get to spend it with your sweet boyfriend Jimin. Ever since you two started dating, Valentine’s Day was one of the few holidays where you two splurge and get something special for each other. It wasn’t about whose present was more expensive, it was more about the gesture of buying something with your true love in mind. 

And this year, you’re feeling pretty proud of yourself with what you’ve gotten for Jimin. You knew him like the back of your hand, which made gift shopping for him even more easy. 

This year, Jimin planned out date night for you two: just a quiet and sensual dinner at home. With candles, rose petals, champagne, chocolate covered strawberries, the works. He even took the time to make a delicious meal for two, something he normally doesn’t do. With all of his hard work, you couldn’t help but fall in love with him all over again. 

After dinner and a few glasses of champagne, you two found yourselves passionately kissing on the couch in your dimly lit living room. You were so busy distracted by his soft lips and his strong arms, you had almost forgotten about his gift. You playfully push him away from you and say to him, "Before this escalates to something else, I wanna give you your Valentine’s day gift." 

"Come on, baby, can we wait until a little be later?” he says in a husky voice as he tries to pull you back in. 

You push his chest again. “No, I really wanna give it to you now,” you pout. 

“Well me as well but you’re exactly helping." 

You give him a look, "Jimin…" 

He lets out a quiet laugh all the while cupping your face. "I’m just teasing, honey. Of course you can give your gift." 

You then leaned towards the glass coffee table in front of where you two were sitting, grasping at the rectangular box with box hands. The box was plain white that was tied by a dark red ribbon. "Here, Happy Valentine’s Day,” you cheerfully say, placing the gift in on his lap. 

With great anticipation, Jimin untied the ribbon and opened the box. He took out and held up what was inside: an extremely soft, cream colored cashmere sweater. Jimin couldn’t help but break out a huge smile on his face, you knew him so well. “Thank you, baby, this is such a sweet gift.” He was about to try it on when you stop him. 

“Maybe you should wait until later to try it on,” you say as a confused look appeared on his face. “I mean why put something on when you’re just gonna take it off in the next couple of minutes. 

With biting your bottom lips and giving him hungry looks, it was good of an invitation Jimin could take. 

Taehyung 

It was late afternoon by the time you got to Taehyung’s apartment. Three weeks since the last time you two were together ever since the incident. As you stood in front of Taehyung’s door, memories from that very day flood your mind, as vivid as it happened the other day…

"Hey (Y/N) please put that down!,” Taehyung pleads to you as you picked up his most prized possession: his very first camera, given by his great aunt when he was a child. 

You ignore him as you walk around his bedroom, examining the object as if it was your first time seeing it. “Relax Tae, I just wanna take a look at it.”

“You’ve seen it a million times before. I’m not messing around!”

Out of annoyance, you sighed and walked over to hand it to him. However, on your way to Taehyung, you trip over your own shoes like the moron that you are, losing your balance with the camera flying out of your hands. As you fall to the ground, you hear the sound of the camera hitting the wood flooring with a sickening crash. While not totally shattering to pieces, several parts were broken off and scattered across the ground. There’s a brief silence as Taehyung got up then crouched down to his broken camera. He examined his precious gift while you finally stood up. 

“Tae, I-,” you opened before Taehyung stopped you with a raised hand. 

“I told you to not mess with this. You knew how important this camera is to me,” he says with a steady yet clearly angry tone. He looks at you, his expression looks like he’s about to explode. 

“I know, I’m so sorry,” you attempt to help him pick up the scattered pieces but it stops you again. 

“Just… please leave." 

"Tae-" 

"Leave! I mean it!" 

You grimace as you remember him raising his voice at you, something he has never done with you. You and Taehyung have been best friends for years, and sure there’s been plenty of times when your foolishness has caused him grief, you knew that you really fucked up this time. Seeing him so angry and hurt broke your heart and him icing you out ever since hasn’t helped at all. You tried calling and texting him a hundred times but of course he hasn’t responded to any. The only reason you knew that he was home was because you wouldn’t quit badgering Jimin for information. 

"I really hope it works out, (Y/N),” Jimin said to you earlier today. 

I hope so as well, you thought to yourself. You gave a few loud knocks on his door and waited patiently. On the other side, Taehyung looked through the eye hole and sighed. Once you opened the door, you were instantly happy to see his face but that quickly changes when you notice the stoic look on his own.  

“What are you doing here, (Y/N)?, he asks with his arms crossed in front of his chest. 

You nervously chuckled. "Just came to pay a visit to my best friend.” You see him raise his eyebrow in disbelief and sighed. “Can I please come in? I just wanna talk”. 

Taehyung was still furious at you and frankly wasn’t ready to see you, let alone speak to you. But the sad but hopeful look in your eyes weakened him inside. He moves aside and gestures to you to come inside his apartment. 

As you both sit down on his sofa, you anxiously try to avoid Taehyung eye contact. He was staring right into you, waiting for you to speak. “Well?" 

You clear your throat before you begin to speak. "First things first, I just wanna say that I’m so sorry for not listening to you and breaking your camera. I’ve been feeling terrible ever since then-" 

"Yeah, imagine how I felt,” he interjected. 

“Right,” you gave out a nervous chuckle. Wow he is not gonna make this easy for me, you thought to yourself.“ 

"Also,” you began again, “this time apart has got me thinking. About how much our friendship truly means to me. And that I’m truly lost without you.” Taehyung’s eyes widened a bit while you felt your face getting hot from embarrassment. It was true; Taehyung was the sunshine of your life. You loved how comfortable you were with him. Every text and phone called lifted your spirits. He was alway available whenever you needed a shoulder to cry on. You loved how much of a  caring and friendly guy he was. You, in every sense of the word, loved him. "Um I got your something,” you said as you reached in your bag. 

Taehyung, whose expression has softened, wasn’t expecting you to get you anything. Or to say you were lost without. “You really didn’t need to buy anything…” He stops once you take out his present from your bag. A camera, nothing like the vintage one his great aunt gave him but rather one of those cute mini instant cameras you’d see on some Tumblr aesthetic blog. Okay, Taehyung really wasn’t expecting that. 

“I know it isn’t the same camera your aunt gave you and I can’t afford to buy a fancier one,” you said in a rush, “but I hope this makes up for what I did. Even by a little bit”. 

Taehyung takes the package and takes a look at it. After a moment, he burst into a fit of laughter. 

Flustered again, you said, “Yeah I know its dumb but I thought it was kinda cool, so…” You trailed off as you couldn’t find the words to finish. It was only when Taehyung finally stopped laughing he took your hand and tenderly held it in his. Jolting a bit, you looked up at him. He was smiling at you. 

“Thank you, (Y/N). This really means a lot." 

You couldn’t help but break out a happy smile. "So, you’re not angry at me anymore?,” you ask. 

Taehyung caresses the back of your hand before answering. “After getting a present like this, from someone like you, how can I be?”

Jungkook

It was Jungkook’s birthday and tonight you, him and the boys were spending an intimate dinner party at your home. Even though you two have been together for only 4 months, you knew you were hopelessly in love with Jungkook and wanted to throw an amazing birthday dinner. You spent the entire day cleaning up your home, running last minute errands, cooking up a fabulous (or at least edible meal), and made sure you looked drop dead gorgeous by the time everyone arrived. 

Dinner was heartily eaten, drinks were drank, jokes were made, everyone was having a great time. And to make things even better, Jungkook looked like he was having a fantastic time. He’d give you quick, loving glances throughout and occasionally squeezed your thigh from time to time. “You look so good tonight, babe” he whispered to you at one point, “I can’t wait when these fools leave and we move this party to the bedroom.” While not the most romantic thing to say but honestly what’s not to love about that? 

Once dinner and dessert was finished, it was time for the finale to this shindig. “Time to open presents!”, you squealed enthusiastically. You suggested that the order of the present giving should go from oldest of the group and ended with you being last. You anxiously wait as each person presented their gifts to Jungkook. You even had to rush some people who decided to break out in a speech (looking at you Jin and Namjoon). Once Taehyung’s turn was over, you were finally up. 

“Wow, you really are excited, (Y/N),” says Jimin

“I actually can’t wait to see myself,” Hoseok follows with.

You hand a perfectly wrapped box to your boyfriend, “I hope you love it, Kookiepants.” You give him a quick peck on his cheek as he carefully unwraps his gift. The whole room is silent in anticipation once Jungkook opens the box and looks inside. He holds up a black t-shirt while studying the front side. 

“A plain t-shirt?” Namjoon asks quizzically, “Doesn’t he already have enough of those?”

Jungkook silently shakes his head and turns the front side of the shirt to face the boys. It turns out to be not just a shirt but a shirt with the picture from their dates early in their relationship; a day spent at Disneyland. The picture showed Jungkook holding by the waist as you take a selfie of the both of you. 

“How…” Taehyung begins

“Nauseatingly cheesy,” Yoongi finishes. 

“Come on, Yoongi,” Jin says, “I think it’s pretty adorable”. 

“Coming from the king of cheesiness himself,” Yoongi fires back. 

You ignore the other’s banter and turn to Jungkook. “So,” you start, “do you like it?" 

Jungkook stares at the image on the shirt before turning his eyes to you. Suddenly, he cups your face and crashes his lips to yours. This abrupt action surprises you initially but you soon relaxed into his embrace, passionately kissing him back. 

This was such a very romantic moment for the two of you that you two haven’t noticed the awkwardness you two caused amongst the members. 

Jin tried to loudly clear their throat to break your heavy makeout session but you two wouldn’t budge. 

Namjoon then says quietly, "I guess it’s our time to leave”. The others silently filled out of the apartment, all the while you and Jungkook were lost in your own little world. What the boys didn’t know was that after they left, two finally broke away from each other. Still holding on to you, Jungkook tells you he loves you for the first time. And of course, you said it back to him. 

[dansedan]

Did anyone ask for bad impulsive original fiction? no? ok so I’m doing it anyway under readmore bc 

1) it’s four pages long

2) It’s not good

open at your own risk it’s gay pining and isolated places bc that’s what I’ve been thinking about latelyyyyyyy 

ok here ‘tis sorry everything I touch becomes brooding and horny at least this one isn’t explicit lmao I started it right after watching brokeback mountain and maybe that’s super obvious and sad!

The blonde man is in a yellow suede coat (for that is what blonde men wear) and the black-haired man is wearing blue (not denim, though, just house-clothes) and they are standing in a bog-road not quite a mountain, too tropical for Western dessert, and the black-haired man is short but the blonde is shorter.

The are moles on the black-haired man’s blonde-skinned face and the blonde man wants to kiss them quickly, kiss repeatedly like a combo in an arcade game. The black-haired man is grinning more than he would really grin and his eyes are proud, round almonds and his hair is long and leather-smooth. The Blonde man looks like carrot cake in essence but not color, he is pale and strawlike.

The Blonde man is shivering under the coat and hat and isn’t used to it, but the black haired man just smiles again and says that Jersey winter’s colder, that he should visit sometime and see it for himself. The blonde man does believe him, still shivers without being cold.

“It’s good that you’ve managed to make it all the way down here.”

The two men are in the cottage- or house, or shack, or whathaveyou- and they’re shedding their coats with warm hesitance. The light from the windows is white-cold and streaming in like sheafs of silk, and the blonde man stares like a movie-still, too conscious and composed. The black-haired man is real, though, and he’s rustling through the kitchen for mugs, and spoons and coffee grounds. Chattering about the weather and elections and the recent movie by the actor they both like to fill the space in the air, and the Blonde man is breathing with intent, too much intent. Like receiving a shirt from a lover, he is breathing in the air of the house (it is still air with no notable fragrance, the coffee from the kitchen exempted by its diegesis) and looking around, taking slow steps like a peppy realtor on a tee-vee show. The house is American, and hand-made several years ago (he knows, for this is how he met the black-haired man, in that year of furrowed brows and little lies and paperwork) and overwhelmingly warm, wooden brown. It is draped in corners with thick fabric, like a swaddled child, and the Blonde man can see embroidery and weavings he himself had sent along with a mutual friend on her much more frequent visits- a pillow with a bird design, a blanket made to look like an old overcoat, art-school projects disguised as adult whims that had never fooled the black-haired man, but had successfully flattered him.

And the black-haired man has finished making coffee, or gotten sick of hearing “yes” and “really?” from the younger man, is instead sneaking up behind him with the mugs.

“neat house, huh?”

“thanks, made it myself.”

And the black-haired man pretends to gasp, and pretends to laugh, and passes on the coffee to the blonde man. And they are not drinking over an open fire, they are walking to the sofa- one in sock feet, one in boots.

“how’s school?”

“s’fine- ‘school’ makes it sound like I’m in sixth grade.”

“…is sixth grade fun?”

“fuck no.”

The black-haired man’s smile is wide, and heart-shaped, and it breaks the blonde man’s heart to see it plastered like that and to know it’s his fault.

“Still, god, how long’s it been now, three years?”

“threeish.”

The black-haired man is looking everywhere other than him, and it’s painfully obvious in the closed quarters of the open living room.

“all because of-“

“yeah, well, and the distance is-“

“of course, of course, still-“

“yeah. No excuses.”

And the blonde man wonders how they can do that- having never heard each other’s voices- how the black-haired man can read his tone and answer without seeing him face, without staring like the blonde man does and is at his small face dwarfed by warm-toned sofa seat.

“You know, you’re shorter than I thought you’d be.”

“really?”

“well, from the photos-“

“ah. Well, my roommate’s- uhm, whatsit… like, five feet? One-twenty cm, whatever that is.”

“oh. Tiny.”

“yeah, tiny.”

And the black-haired man looks away again, towards the door that leads to a half-kilometer of nothing and no-one, and farmlands sat past that, so no-one was making any sort of noise or was otherwise expected. And it is warm inside the house, and they sit apart on the single sinking sofa, their hands next to each other but apart.

“god, you’re white.”

“well, that’s evident in-“

“yeah, photos but-“ the black-haired man reached out, tentatively placing their hands side by side, touching pinkies. “god, in person… it’s a lot.”

“hm.” The blonde man hummed to cover his sudden breathing. He didn’t know where to look, so he stared. “…The British have a lot to answer for.”

“ha! Maybe so,” the black-haired man seemed emboldened, he kept looking amiably about the blonde man’s face, starting to fully touch the surface of the Blonde man’s hands. “do you burn easily?”

“too much.” The blonde man nodded, looking up, jittery. He made a gesture, a short nod up, signaling to notice the field of faint freckles on his face. The black-haired man noticed only the quirk of his pink lips, puckering slightly as emphasis, and the youthful blemishes on his rounded chin that lead his eyes down to the soft expanse of neck and chest under the button-up. It was quiet awhile, both faced towards each other but looking away, choking on still coffee and stale air.

“how is the book-“

“So what did you think about me?-“

And the second the words were out they were still again. The Blonde man had been tentative, the black-haired man weakly attempting a mocking falsetto, crowded into a pose with his feet drawn up on the sofa. They finally locked eyes, both half-desperate and half-heartened, restraining the urge to laugh or cry out of politeness.

The black-haired man broke the gaze first.

“um, well- Book’s okay! Got it into querying, so that’s good.” He scrambled to stretch out again, break pose and settle further away into the arm of the couch, further away from the blonde man still looking at him, still stunned serious.

“good.”

“yeah, good. Pretty good.”

And the black-haired man couldn’t look forward but seemed to feel the stare still standing solid back at him.

“You’re… “ the blonde-haired man hesitated, voice low. “you’re older than I thought you.”

“hah! Yeah, I’m a geezer, right?”

“you’re handsome.”

And that gave the black-haired man some pause, the easy tone he’d suddenly taken then, as if suddenly reporting on some subject he was confident about, like there was somehow more shame in asking him about work than there was in breaking that barrier. And he kept watching and talking.

“you look old Hollywood. Like that one guy- god, what’s his name? He was in one of the older westerns…”

“…s’rude to make fun of folks like that, you know.” He could feel his voice was small, and suddenly those couple inches height seemed to have lost their worth.

“I’m not making fun.” The blonde man said, and he stood up from the couch with his empty mug of coffee, walking back to the corner kitchen and the dripping sink. Even from away, there was a certain elegance in the way he went about the movements of walking and washing the cup, hands flowing soft like thin silk in smooth motion. And the blonde-haired man didn’t speak, while the black-haired man watched and sat in relative silence.

He watched the blonde man wetting, washing, coming up to rub his neck and card through the short-shaved back of his nape. The blonde man ducked his head down, gathered water to wet his face, and his neck was slender and unmarked, snow-white, and the black-haired man could not explain why it made him hungry, recalled the scent of citrus, of the bitter pale-white pith.

He could feel and see the light outside the window finally waning into night, bathing the open room in cold grey-casted light, see its effect on the blonde man, patting his hands dry on his pants and glancing around for a light switch.

“hey- why don’t you bring the matches? Second drawer.”

A brief pause and elegant hands took up the order, diving into the dark of the white wooden cabinet and strolling back over to the sofa.

“do you know how to strike it?”

The blonde man plucks a match out of the box, stares down and strikes it on his teeth.

“I’m not that young.”

The black-haired man wants to make a joke of it- ask about the party trick, make light of the dramatic gesture. But sadly, it works, the blonde man’s little living movie scene gimmick, and while the air between them grows thick all he can do is breath in and lean back, salivate. Candles on the coffee table lit, the blonde man sinks into the seat next to him, breathes even in the silence and doesn’t look away from the flame.

Three years in a cold, golden counterweight. In a joke gone bad and a cheesy gimmick.

The blonde man swore to himself this wouldn’t end with them in bed.

The black-haired man swore inwardly that this could only end with them in bed.

And the night swore nothing, just lay itself on their laps, belly-up and threateningly expectant.

[brywrites]

i just finished tkow and this may sound like a wild request but can we get a story for elizabeth’s birthday? maybe like her turning 5? and reid and bianca throw her a party?

A lil more “domestic Reid family fluff” coming your way, anon!

-

Elizabeth had a thing for frogs that year, and so their living room was decorated with green streamers and paper mâché, little green stickers and posters, and plenty of big-eyed, smiling amphibians. The day had been a flurry of activity as they welcomed a dozen small children into their home – friends from preschool as well as Michael and Hank. Henry hung around with adults, mostly excited to tell his godfather all about what he’d learned about planets at school. There had been games of leapfrog and tag out in the backyard, and Garcia had brought her ukulele to perform a silly song-based skit about tadpoles growing up and turning into frogs.

The party had been an all-around success, as far as fifth birthday parties went. The cake had won over their small guests – fluffy layers of chocolate with ganache in the middle and bright frosting that that featured a happy frog on it that Bianca had lovingly hand-baked. The frog- themed scavenger hunt Spencer set up around the house kept them busy for nearly half an hour. And Eliza had a smile on her face the entire time. When things wound down and her friends headed home, she’d been eager to try out her new frog-shaped kite and Garcia had begged for permission to take her out to the backyard.

“I’ll keep a close eye on her,” she’d insisted. “Besides Luke and I would love to spend a little quality time with our favorite birthday girl!” And so they’d agreed. It gave them time to tidy up and take a moment to breathe, for which they were both grateful.

Bianca checked the living room to make sure nothing was left behind, and when she returned she found Spencer standing at the kitchen counter with a gift-wrapped bag and a snickerdoodle cookie on a plate. There was a tiny candle stuck in the center of it, it’s flame flickering softly.

“What’s this?” she asked.

He broke into one of those crooked grins she so dearly loved, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he held the plate out to her. “Happy birth day.”

His words were a puzzle, she was certain, but she couldn’t quite work them out. She tilted her head in question. “But it’s not my birthday.”

“No,” he said. “But it is the day that you gave birth.” He sent the bag and plate down on the counter. “I was just thinking the other day about birthdays and what they mean. And make no mistake, I absolutely love that we get a whole day to celebrate each other’s existence. Because I am so happy that our daughter exists. But if we’re being honest, you did all the hard work that day.”

When she laughed he said, “It’s true! Childbirth is consistently rated as one of the most painful human experiences, and as someone who has been shot, I find it difficult to comprehend what a pain worse than that must have felt like. You were in labor for seven hours! Seven hours! And before that, you were so nervous about being a mother. You dealt with all those fears and changes, not to mention me being in prison.” Five trips around the sun later, and looking back on that year of their life was still difficult. “So I thought that you deserved a little celebration for all of that, and for being the best mom and partner in the whole of human history.”

“The whole of human history? That might be overselling it.”

“I’m a genius,” he said, winding an arm around her waist. “So it has to be true.” Then he grabbed the plate once more. “Quick, make a wish before it burns out.”

Bianca looked down at the flickering candle. And she glanced out the window where Penelope and Luke were kneeling in the grass to help Eliza hold tight to the handle of her kite, flying somewhere up out of view.  Then looked at Spencer, smiling at her, standing in the kitchen of the house they’d built a home in. It had been five years of bliss since Elizabeth Luna Reid came into the world. It wasn’t always easy and certainly it wasn’t perfect, but they were a family and they were happy and they were home.

She shook her head. “What am I supposed to wish for? Everything I could ever want is right here.”

Spencer considered this. “Well then,” he said. “I’ll make a wish for you. I wish for you to always be safe. For every book you read will be a good one, and every poem you write will have just the right words. For have a long and happy life. And for you to always know just how loved and celebrated you are. Because you are so loved, Bianca.”

He blew out the candle with a gentle breath. “Do you remember the day we first met? I told you I had an eidetic memory and you-” he laughed “- you apologized to me, saying that you wished you were giving me happier memories than a few dozen files of crimes against humanity.”

“Did I?” she asked. She could never forget the first time she saw him or the words they exchanged the day or so many other moments in their life, but she didn’t remember that very first conversation other than fleeting memories of being surprised by Garcia and Morgan’s banter and being fascinated by Spencer.

“You wished for something for me that nobody else had before. And then you made it true. You’ve given me so many happy memories since that day.”

“You gave me a home,” she said. “And a family. And the kind of love I thought I’d only ever write about. You make me happy every day.” She pulled him close enough to kiss, feeling him smile against her lips. His hands slipped under the hem of her shirt, his fingers warm against her skin as he pressed her to him. In the business of the birthday party, she’d hardly had a moment alone with him all day, and it felt so good to be held by him.

“Shield your eyes, Eliza Lou!” Garcia shouted. “You don’t want to catch the cooties!” They spun around to see Luke and Garcia in the living room. Penelope covered Eliza’s face with her hands, and the little girl stood there laughing, clutching her frog kite tight.

“You’re not trying to catch up to the Morgans are you?” Luke teased. Savannah had just given birth to their second child two months ago.

“Oh no,” Bianca laughed, her cheeks turning pink. “One is enough for us.”

“After all, why mess with perfection?” Spencer said, lifting Elizabeth into his arms and kissing her cheek. They bid farewell to Luke and Garcia who had to go let Roxy out and sat down with Eliza to help sort through her birthday presents.

She was telling them all about her friends and the games they played today when she paused, looking at a book in her hands that had a frog in a cape on the cover. “Daddy, did you used to be a superhero?” she asked suddenly.

“What do you mean?” Spencer asked.

She shrugged. “Michael said that you used to be a superhero like Aunt Jennifer is. But that you’re not anymore.”

Oh. That kind of superhero. “Well,” Spencer said. “Yeah, I guess I was. We all used to work together to fight bad guys – me and a lot of your aunts and uncles. Grandpa Dave, too.”

“He said that you stopped being a superhero because of me,” she said. Her lip quivered as she looked at her father. “Did you hafta give up your superpowers because of me?”

Spencer’s expression fell at the same time Bianca felt her heart sink. Their daughter’s question had come seemingly out of the blue but now she understood. They hadn’t told her much about Spencer’s past in the BAU, figuring it was best to wait until she was old enough to understand. Michael must have told her something, and while she was sure that he had meant no harm, Elizabeth had misunderstood his words. She thought he wasn’t allowed to be a hero because of her.

“Oh sweetheart, no,” he said. He reached out to stroke her hair, trying to calm her. “No, that’s not true. I didn’t have to give up any superpowers. But I stopped chasing the bad guys when you were born because there were bad guys that wanted to try and hurt you and mama. I didn’t want you to get hurt, and I knew that all of my friends like Aunt Jennifer could stop the bad guys without me. I didn’t want to be a superhero anymore. I just wanted to be your daddy. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, that’s okay,” Eliza decided, her smile returning. “You can still be my hero. And mama!” she added.

Spencer laughed, grabbing her in a hug. He reached over to grab Bianca’s hand. “Yeah, your mama is my hero, too. So, was it a good birthday?”

“The best birthday ever!” she said. “I was so happy the whole time!” She threw her small arms out wide to demonstrate just how much that was.

“Us too,” Bianca said. “You make us so happy, Eliza Lou. And we love you so, so much.”

“I love you more,” she said, clambering into her mother’s lap and hugging her tight. Bianca kissed her forehead. Five years ago, their little family had grown by one person, and she remembered holding that small baby girl in her arms for the first time and thinking that nothing had ever been so perfect. But as each year went by, the happiness of that day seemed only to increase exponentially. Happy memories that they got to share together, and a million little wishes that were still to come true.

[razorblade180]

Lasting Embers:Epilogue

Knock knock knock

Tenzen:*Opens door* Pssst, You up Jin?

Yujin:Zzzzzzz

Tenzen:Of course not...*smiles and walks over*

Yujin:Zzzzzz french toast....zzzzzzzz

Tenzen:(Why am I not surprised in the slightest) *inhales* YU-

Yujin:*covers his mouth*........

Tenzen:!!!!?

Yujin:*opens her eyes* Please......stop waking me up with screaming okay? Why can’t you just shake me like a normal person?

Tenzen:Your dad already gets antsy when I’m in your room too long. If I scream then at least he knows I’m actually waking you up like I say I am.

Yujin:*groaning* You’ve been living here for almost a year by now. If you were gonna try something then it would’ve happened by now.

Tenzen:Was that disappointment in your voice. *smirks*

Yujin:*red* Not in your wildest dreams sherbet top; I’m still sleepy, I’m gonna sleep longer. *closes eyes*

Tenzen:You do know what today is right?

Yujin:.......

Yujin:OH MY GODS!!!! *jumps out of bed* it totally slipped my mind!!!

Tenzen:There’s the spirit I was looking for! Ha-

Yujin:It’s already seven and we need to be in Vale by ten!!! I gotta get ready! *lefts shirt*

Tenzen:*closes eyes* Ummm could let me leave your room first!?

Yujin:Huh? *blushing* Oh!!! Sorry about that... *guiding him out*

Tenzen:You should shower before you try the new clothes on.

Yujin:I took one last night.

Tenzen:But beds can be filthy and gross.

Yujin:Hey, my sheets are clean so what are you implying? *squints*

Tenzen:I’m just saying important people will be there. Who knows, maybe even Lilith. Meeting your idol would be embarrassing if you smelled like fire and brimstone from all that weapon forging.

Yujin:......I see what you’re doing here. I hate how it worked too; tell dad I’ll be down soon.

Tenzen:Good! One more thing...

Yujin:Come on man I need to start-

Her face moving mind was quickly stopped by a gentle kiss. It wasn’t exactly long but there was definitely enough time for her to ease into it right before she snapped to her senses and jumped back. Yujin’s face was almost completely red.

Yujin:Tenzen!!!! We had a talk about this! Minds on self improvement and moving forward; confusing and pleasant feelings later. *pointing at him*

Tenzen:I remember, don’t get all bent out of shape over it. *smiles* just consider it my birthday present to you. *closes door*

Yujin:......

Yujin:Huh, it is my birthday isn’t.....? *smiles* guess I lost track of time.

Casually she grabbed her gear and headed towards the bathroom while her mind drifted off towards past events. When she finally arrived the mirror caught her attention more than usual; it was her hair. It had grown almost to the length it was on her last birthday. Blonde, wild, and just slightly passed her shoulders; for fun she turned on her semblance and took a minute to just take in the uncanny resemblance she shared with her mom. Once upon a time the sight would’ve made her blood boil but now, it only brought a gentle smile to her face.

Yujin:I wonder how you’re doing out there? I hope you’re okay wherever you are. *turns on water* Now it’s my turn to do my best....

Jaune:*flipping pancakes* Can you pass me the-

Tenzen:*hands him plates and fruit salads* Gotcha covered.

Jaune:I’m gonna miss having a little helper in the kitchen. Something tells me you and Yujin are gonna steal the show.

Tenzen:I’ll say, everyday I did nothing train my butt off in secret so I can surprise everyone. Yujin has probably read and practiced all training tips Yang left in that book at least a hundred times.

Jaune:I still can’t believe you two only trained together in hand to hand....*shakes head*

Tenzen:We want to keep it fair! Especially if for some reason we end up having to face off in some sort of contest. I for one cannot wait.

Yujin:I can, fighting you is a chore. *jumps down stairs* tadah!!!!

The gentleman took a minute to check out the new threads. Blue jeans were the first thing to catch their attention, followed by light brown combat boots that were laced up calf high. A sleeveless white tucked in shirt. Over was a light fabric, blue trench coat with the inside of it being orange. On her hands were brown fingerless gloves. Adam’s sun pendent and Tenzen’s jade dragon bracelet completes her look.

Yujin:Tenzen, I hope you realize the risk I’m taking wearing your bracelet; it matches nothing I own.

Jaune:I think you look very stylish.

Tenzen:About time you got some gear for hunting. I was starting to think you were gonna take on everything in blue jean shorts.

Yujin:Says the guy in tracksuits half the time. Where’s your new stuff?

Tenzen: I’ll change when we get there. The tracksuit life stays for a bit longer. You have tempered steel with you?

Yujin:Of course I d- *looks at her wrists* don’t? Where did I leave it? I could’ve sworn I put it on.

Jaune:Maybe check under the couch cushion.

Yujin:*checking* Why would they be under the- oh hey would you look at that?

Crafting a new weapon wasn’t easy in the slightest and frankly, Yujin still wasn’t sure she had it down. In her hands she held two thick pieces of metal that looked almost like box cutter blades. Each one went around here wrist like a slap bracelet that looked like her mother’s Ember Celica in rest mode. The colors were gold a blue and function the wasn’t the same; it wasn’t a shotgun. As she put them on she decided to flick her wrist to turn transformer it into the more recognizable gauntlets.

Yujin:Function B is still a little clunky but I think this should do for now.

Jaune:How’s Function A?

Yujin clicks the bracelets together as they go back to rest mode. Both pieces automatically straighten back out while still connected side by side to form a hilt. A blade then extends out of it.

Yujin:*inspecting the long sword* A fine blade if I do say so myself.

Jaune:Think it can cut a cake?

Yujin:Cake? Why would you say - *looks in the kitchen*

Jaune and Tenzen:*lighting a birthday cake* Happy Birthday Yujin!!!!

Yujin....*eyes widened* You made me shower again and hid my sword just to pull this off?

Tenzen:Maybe......

Jaune:I mean it’s a definite possibility we- *bothed pulled into a hug*

Yujin:......I love you both, I mean it.

Jaune:We love you too sweetheart.

Tenzen:Not everyone gets to have their sweet sixteen be the day of an exam. Maybe you can use a little birthday luck to give you an edge.

Yujin:*blows out candles* Luck will have nothing to do with it. I’m using everything I’ve been taught to make sure I pass.

Jaune:You gotta get there first, which brings me to my birthday gift to you. *holds up keys*

Yujin:*gasp* Shut up......

Jaune:So last year you sorta lost your car to an insane race with a train so I got a replacement for you. Never thought I’d say that sentence in my life. Now you’ll show up in style.

Yujin:*grabs keys* Garage or front yard!?

Jaune:Front Yard....

Yujin:*bolts outside*

Tenzen:Maybe you could’ve told her that after we had her slice the cake?

Yujin:*staring at white and blue vintage mustang; and it’s convertible.*...... This looks too beautiful touch. Am I even worthy enough for you. *tearing up*

Jaune:*shouts* the seats are leather!

Yujin:*jumps in* Yeeeeessssss...... *looking around* this thing is amazing! It’s-......

Her heart stops as she takes a look at the stick shift. Tied around it is a faded sky blue bandanna; her old bandanna. She takes it gently and starts to tear up as a someone starts to sing.

Happy Birthday to you....🎶

Happy Birthday to you....🎶

Yujin:*turns around sniffling*.....

Yang:Happy Birthday my Sundrop....🎶 *wipes away her tears* Happy Birthday to-

Yujin:Mom! *hugs her* you’re....home.

Yang:Told you I’d come back. I wasn’t gonna miss your exam day. *points to the house* Also.......

The young girl turns her head to see her Aunt hugging Jaune, but she wasn’t alone either. A smile showed up on her face to see Tenzen look just as emotional as she did. In his arms was both of his parents trying not cry. They were back, they were really back and right in front of her.Who would’ve thought a birthday wish could come true so fast? Today was already shaking up to be the best day of her life.

Yujin:You’re all alive!!!

Yang:Yeah.... *holds her close* we are.......

[Ship]

Jacquelyn:......*swollen eyes*

Blake:Jael?

Jael:*staring at Vale in the distance*.....

Blake:You know this doesn’t have to end ugly right?

Jael:Yeah it does.....

Jacquelyn:Listen...*sniff* I know this isn’t how we wanted things but there’s still hope. Don’t give up just-

Jael:Last year you told me not to let hate rule over me someone might get hurt remember?

Jacquelyn:I do.....

Jael:Well I’m already hurt. *turns around with tears down her face* Might as well share the pain with others.

Jacquelyn:.......please don’t do anything you’ll regret.

Jael:*turns back around* I won’t do anything crazy but hey, it’s my Birthday after all. I might get a little self indulgent...*grips her star pendant*

[Menagerie,hospital]

It’s quiet and smells sterile through the bright hallways. All throughout the building you can hear countless different beepings of machinery as they do their best to keep a loved one around just a bit longer. Sun roams these depressing corridors until he makes it to the back where only certain doctors and visitors are allowed for confidential reasons. He opens up the last door in the back to check in on a visitor; it’s Adam’s oldest daughter. She’s crying over her father’s bed as the man is unconscious and hooked up to different wires and tubes. It’s been like this for six months.....

Sun:Any changes?

Sienna:*shakes his head* He just won’t wake up. Today the doctor said he didn’t think the coma would last this long. Said.....he might not ever....*sniffling* might not ever....*covers mouth*

Sun:*holds her close*.......

Sienna:*sobbing* I can hear his heart beat. Yet they say we might as well start think about pulling the plug. How could they just say something like that!?

Sun:He’ll pull through just you watch. The man is to stubborn to die like this. I just hope when he gets up......things will be okay.

•

Yujin:Alright everyone! To the entrance exam! Get ready world....

•

Captain:Not too long before we arrive at Vale. To all you going to then entrance exam, good luck!

Jael:Get ready Yujin......

“I’m coming at you full force.”

To be continued....

[cinnamonrollstark]

May 29th.

It's Tony Stark's birthday, and he's not here to see it.

◇◇◇◇◇◇

The smells of vanilla and baking waft through the house, and the scent envelops Peter the moment he enters the door. This will have been the second time he's entered Tony's house, and in some ways, it still feels like an intrusion on his privacy.

Then again, their introduction had begun as a result of Stark having zero boundaries.

She's waiting by a wall, leaning back against the surface. She looks nervous, maybe, some confused emotion in association with her father's absence and Peter's presence. He hopes Morgan doesn't hate him, but wouldn't be surprised if she did.

"Hey Morgan," he starts off, still unsure of just how to talk to her yet. "What's up?"

She smiles, awkwardly. Her hair is all in her face, brushed but unruly.

"Nothin. Mommy's making cake!"

Peter smiles. This is quite literally the cutest kid he's ever seen, and she bares a striking resemblance to Tony. Same, deep brown eyes and thick lashes.

"It smells amazing," adds Aunt May behind him. She brushes to his side, a casserole dish in hand.

"We brought shepherds pie," she says, holding the pan out, "can I set this in the kitchen?"

Morgan shrugs, and May takes it as a yes. Out of Morgan's line of sight, May turns and makes an adoring face at Peter, as if to say, isn't she adorable?

And she is, painfully so. And in that, there is so much lingering hurt that she causes. Because in looking at her, Peter sees what he has completely and entirely destroyed. He'd had to ask, because if he hadn't, it would stay with him forever- this resentment for Tony, as to why he would ever risk his family.

Pepper had tried her best to avoid the answer, but in the heat of an argument admitted that it was Peter.

That had been all she'd said on the matter.

It was you, Pete. He had to fix this.

Peter wonders if Morgan knows. She must make some connection there. She's intelligent, much brighter than most kids her age. Of course she knows.

All this, he swallows, and brushes on.

They eat Shephards pie in the quaint and homey dining room. Well, almost all of them eat. Peter can't touch it. He feels sick.

Fifty sets of eyes are staring at him, jailed in picture frames across the walls. Many of them Tony's Pepper's, Morgan's. His own. It makes his skin crawl with anxiety, his heart swollen and risen to the roof of his mouth.

Every clang of a fork on plate, every bite taken out of mashed potato and ground lamb and peas, is amplified. He's zoned out, but he doesn know it, every sense turned up to a thousand. And the guilt he has in being here- the pain of it- it makes him want to throw up or cry or both.

Happy is chatting up May on one end of the table. Rhodey and Pepper are having a totally different conversation. Then, Morgan. She plays with her peas, and looks at Peter, not knowing that he isn't really looking at her.

"Petey?" She asks, short arms trying to reach a bowl of sliced bread. "Can you hand me some?"

And no one is listening. Not Pepper, or Rhodey, or May, or Happy. Certainly not Peter, but that's not his fault.

"I can't reach," she tries again, and in her effort, she knocks over a glass of water.

The cup spills, icecubes flying, and rolls off the table and on to the floor, where it shatters into a million peices.

Peter jumps up, at the sound, sending his chair flying backwards. He's up, abruptly, and everyone- everyone who, moments before, were caught up in their own buisness- is looking at him.

All he can manage is a weak, "I'm sorry," before rushing out.

May almost gets up to help him when Happy lays a hand on her shoulder, a shake of the head. Let him grieve.

They don't try to stop Morgan, who carefully gets up and steps around the shards of glass and exits the front porch door. She closes it behind her.

Peter is sitting on a chair in the corner of the porch, looking out at the water. Tears make trails down his cheeks, and looks as if he's in immense pain, bottling almost every bit of hurt he has inside him like a shaken soda.

Morgan remembers this. This pain. She's seen it before, in her own father, who never taught her that pain should be concealed, and yet, often tried and failed to hide his greif from her.

She's seen this. She's lived this. And she knows just what to do.

She stands before him and holds out her arms, and Peter obliges, picking her up and embracing the child against his chest.

Just as Tony has done, so many times before, Peter's pain pours out through jagged sobs into Morgan's hair. All she does is hold him tighter.

She's so small, but she has the biggest heart out of any of them.

"I'm so sorry," Peter weeps, and although Morgan cannot entirely comprehend what greif means, entirely, she's had practice with her father. He's said these words, too. She's not sure why everyone is always apoligizing.

"It's okay," she says, because this is what she always says with her daddy.

"You're okay." And she pulls away, and her tiny fingers wipe away snot and tears from Peter's face.

"Daddy loved you lots." She says, because she remembers that too. She remembers the stories he'd tell her at bedtime, about the spider-ling named Peter. About his adventures and triumphs. And when it got to a certain part in the story, one of adventures is space, Tony would stop, and tell her she needed to get to bed. The next time she would ask to hear what happened to Peter, he would start all over at the beggining.

The love in his eyes, recounting the adventures of the spider-ling was her favorite part of story time.

And her daddy isn't here anymore. It's his birthday. He told mom he would be 29 this year. Morgan marveled at how old that was. Her dad is never turning 29, now, and now she knows why he was so sad each passing year on Peter's birthday.

"He did?" Asks Peter, tears still falling freely.

"So much. He told me- he told me so many stories!"

"Yeah?"

"Stories about you doing- you two doing awesome things! And frying bad guys!"

"Frying bad guys?"

Morgan smiles. It isn't any harder to believe that this boy- this soft and tearful boy with hair that hangs down to his eyes- is the hero her father describe, than it is to believe- no, to know- that her dad was every bit the legend he is remembered as.

"He really loves you. And he misses you. And every year he makes this amazing- the coolest cake ever."

Peter's the one smiling, now, even though this hurts to hear in ways he couldn't imagine. Morgan wipes more tears from his cheeks.

"A spider. Looked like a spider. Can we make one this year? We could make one with mommy's cake!"

Peter sniffs and exhales deeply. "I think I have a better idea."

And so they gather icing, tools to spread it, food coloring, the works. When Peter proposed the idea, Pepper was all for it. The four adults hang out in the living room, reminiscing about Tony, while Peter and Morgan slather icing rather messily across the surface of the yellow cake.

It doesn't take shape for a good while, and even when it does, it isn't perfect, but Morgan's smile says it all.

"Okay," says Peter, wiping icing off onto the sides of his pants. "It's ready!"

Morgan takes. a dip of left over icing and licks it off her finger.

When Pepper sees the cake, she almost starts to cry on the spot.

"Oh my god," she says, breath stolen from her, "this is- so incredible. You two did this?"

Peter looks down at Morgan, who's quite proud of herself. She smiles at her mother.

"Actually, this was mostly Morgan."

The cake itself is messy, patches of icing rubbed off in some spots and too thick in others. The surface is a pale blue, almost a perfectly accurate color as to what the real thing once was. Darker hues etched around the edge of the thing. When you stand, just far enough away, it becomes perfectly clear what it is.

It's Tony's arc reactor. Pepper wipes away two tears that fall, but God, this woman is the strongest person in the room.

They gather two candles- a 2 and a 9, which Peter finds hilarious.

"I think you've got those backwards," says Rhodey, implying that Tony would be turning 92. Morgan scowls and Rhodey holds his hands up in submission.

When the candles are lit, the six all hold hands, and are silent for a moment before Morgan starts them off in singing.

"Happy birthday to you," in such a tiny voice that it instantly constricts each and every person's throat.

"Happy birthday to you," Peter and Happy join in,

"Happy birthday to, Tony," Rhodey and Pepper,

"Happy birthday," long and drawn out, the six of them now,

"To you."

Morgan grips Peter's hand just a bit harder then, as she always did for her daddy.

[angelicsentinel]

the same bare place

@fruitsudans a pinch-hit for a pinch-hit, and thus very, very late. I hope you enjoy a bit of festivity in March anyway!

 written for @dcmkkaishinexchange

As always, mirror on ao3.

Outside, the wind howls.

Inside, the fire flickers, crackling and whispering in the dark. It casts shadows over the room, giving ordinary objects extraordinary silhouettes; their shadows dance merrily on the walls and ceiling.

A large tree twinkles in the corner, strings of lights sparkling in beautiful patterns, reflecting off multicolored orbs. The smell of evergreen fills the air. A small pile of bright presents rests around the base.

Kaito watches the interplay of lights for a while, then turns his attention to the snow still falling hard against the window, driven by the wind. Shinichi isn't home yet. He'd left when the sky was clear, promising not to be gone for too long. The weather report had mentioned a string of clear days, and it isn’t supposed to snow this heavily. Not in Tokyo proper, anyway.

Kaito taps his fingers on the white tablecloth, eyeing the reflection of the soft candlelight in the clear glass vase, a solitary red rose giving the table a splash of color. It reminds him a little of another time, of a body in the snow, a fire, and the fierce tenacity of a certain detective. The memory fills him with an odd nostalgia, and he thinks on how much things change.

Without realizing it, Kaito slips into a light sleep until a sudden dull thud startles him. He jerks up, nearly knocking over the candelabrum, but he rights it with a quick hand before it can do more than drip wax on the table. It sounds again, and his sleepy mind takes a moment to realize someone's knocking.

Kaito goes to the door and opens it. A strong gust of wind blows in, guttering the candles, followed by Shinichi, who quickly closes the door with his hip, bags on his arms.

He sags against it, taking off his thick knit hat with one hand, and lets out a huge exhale. “That's bracing,” Shinichi says.

“You’re late,” Kaito says mildly.

“Yeah, the weather has people acting a little strange,” Shinichi says. “Delayed me a little bit. I'm glad we decided to stay in tonight.”

“I had a feeling,” Kaito says.

“Besides,” Shinichi says, dropping the bags on the side table, “That also means I have you all to myself.” He takes a step forward, wraps his arms around Kaito's neck, and presses a soft kiss to his lips.

Kaito pulls him closer, deepening the kiss. “That is a plus,” Kaito says after, voice low, husky, a little breathless. “We'll have to take advantage of it.”

Then he grabs the bags, heading towards the kitchen, taking ingredients out of the bags and separating them. Shinichi follows after hanging his coat up to dry and pulling off his boots.

Shinichi's hair is an incredible mess from the static of the wool, and his face is reddened from the wind (or maybe the kiss). Either way, Kaito finds himself distracted just watching him. He doesn't think he will ever get tired of it. But sadly,  it's not getting things done. He returns to his task reluctantly, setting the food aside for preparation, when he comes across an unmarked box wrapped in ribbon.

“Shinichi…?” Kaito asks. “A present?”

“For you. One of them. I thought you might like some dessert,” Shinichi says.

“Dessert, huh?” Kaito says. “What did you have in mind?”

“I thought we could forgo a proper Christmas cake, since it's just the two of us,” Shinichi says. He nods his head. “Go ahead. Open it.”

Kaito pulls off the ribbon, opens the box. It's an assortment of cutely shaped wagashi, trees and santas and reindeer and presents. Kaito is touched, and he smiles. Shinichi is secretly a romantic, no matter how much he tries to hide it. “Is that it for dessert?” he asks, letting a curl of suggestion thread through his tone.

Shinichi fights a blush, then clears his throat and looks away. He takes the small cake out of another bag, putting his arm between it and Kaito almost protectively. “Those are for you. The lemon cake is for me.” An intricate decoration of a snowflake covers the top.

Well, Kaito can’t let that stand, can he? Kaito grabs a fork, and slides the confection towards himself before Shinichi can react, popping the top of the box open, cutting directly into the cake itself for a small bite.

“Hey!” Shinichi begins, but Kaito doesn't let him finish. Instead, he takes the opportunity to fill Shinichi's mouth with it, grabbing his chin to hold him still.

Kaito can tell the moment it hits his tongue because Shinichi's expression turns to bliss and he closes his eyes.

Kaito thumbs his lip. “Good?” he asks, even though he already knows the answer.

Shinichi swallows. “Good.” Then a glare. “I was saving that for later, you know.”

“But there’s no reason we can't have dessert first, right?” Kaito says.

“You'll spoil your dinner,” Shinichi says.

Kaito blinks. “You can’t be serious.”

“I mean it,” Shinichi says with a straight face, but the way the corner of his lip quirks up means he’s fighting not to smile.

Just for that, Kaito cuts another piece of the cake with his fork and feeds it to Shinichi. “You mean I'll spoil your dinner,” Kaito says.

He accidentally smears some on the corner of Shinichi’s mouth, so Kaito runs his thumb across it to wipe the excess frosting away. He brings it to his own mouth, lets the flavor of it burst across his tongue.

Lemon buttercream. Somehow, he's not surprised. Thick and heavy, made with cream cheese. Delicious.

Shinichi is ambivalent about sweet things, but he doesn't mind them when cut with tart flavor. Kaito contemplates it for a moment. In a way, it's kind of like Shinichi's personality. Sour only at first, with a softly rich and tangy sweet taste, and a lovely aftertaste.

Yes, Kaito thinks, lemon flavor suits him.

“You’re a brat,” Shinichi says, voice fond.

“And that’s why you love me,” Kaito says, taking the opportunity to snatch a bite of his own from it.

“One of the reasons,” Shinichi says, grabbing Kaito's hand and guiding it to his mouth.

Amused, Kaito lets him feed him. The cake itself is rather denser than he expects, nice and moist and perfectly tart. Very good. He'll have to get the name of the shop. He wonders if it was the patisserie in the seventh block.

“The other is my excellent taste,” Kaito says, closing the box and setting it inside the refrigerator for later.

“And small ego,” Shinichi adds. “Thank you for coming over tonight,” he says. There it is again, the tartness of the name calling cut with the sweetness of sincere thanks.

“Where else would I be tonight, if not by your side?” Kaito asks him.

Shinichi blushes again. Ah, Kaito doesn't think he'll ever get tired of flustering him. He hasn't so far, anyway.

Kaito slides the mix of vegetables Shinichi's way before filling the skillet with oil. They work together, side by side, as Kaito pulls out everything he needs to begin, moving in and out of each other's space with ease.

It's not a horribly complex meal. Just steamed vegetables and rice with pan fried chicken as a nod to the day. Kaito knows just enough about cooking not to do anything irreparable (the less said about Shinichi the better, though).

Shinichi moves from paring the vegetables to coating and breading the chicken.

And as Kaito watches his boyfriend's back as he works, strong, effervescent warmth floods through him, making him feel lighter than air.

Kaito slips his arms around Shinichi's waist, pressing his face against his back. Shinichi's hands are dirty, so he can't reciprocate. What he does is tuck his elbows in, around Kaito's arms, in sort of an awkward half hug. Kaito takes that as the acknowledgement it is and lets out a happy sigh.

He has to move eventually to put the chicken on, but something settles deep in his chest, warm and glowing and bright, sparkling like the lights on the tree.

It's not often they experience this quiet domesticity, extended time they can spend together few and far between.

It won't be like that forever, but until then, Kaito takes advantage of it whenever he can. Not a thief. Not a detective. Just a simple couple spending time together on Christmas Eve. 

Nothing more complicated than that.

[springdase]

207. anniversary

it’s like he forgets the reality of physics, that things exposed to heat will most often become hot, when he dives into the oven at the timer’s call and tries to take the cake tin out bare-handed. he retracts as soon as his fingertips meet scalding metal and he curses, clutching his hands to his chest and hissing. he knows he’s too excited, and being too excited will lead to having to start this over again - and he doesn’t have time to try making a third cake. the first attempt sits at the bottom of the kitchen garbage bin, a mess of blue goo because he’d started icing it far before it was cooled, and he’s not sure he even has enough box mix left for another attempt should he mess this one up, too. he checks the time on his phone with a buzz of something like butterflies in his stomach.

he’d asked namjoon to pick up dinner around an hour ago and had been pleased to find that he’d already planned on it. although he isn’t the best cook outside of spicing up instant ramyeon, jeongguk had wanted to try his hand at making something proper, had spent an incriminating amount of time browsing pinterest for recipes even he couldn’t mess up, had bought the ingredients for a simple-looking pasta dish, but after wasting most of the afternoon (and his blue icing) on a botched baking attempt, he knew he wouldn’t be able to have it done and plated by the time namjoon came home from work. now seeing his name flash across his phone screen saying that he’s on his way home, jeongguk feels akin to a teenager about to go on his first date.

he pockets his phone and slips on the pair of pink oven mitts jimin had gifted them for their housewarming and retreives his project, setting the heart-shaped tin on the counter. he’d gotten the table fan out of their bedroom in hopes of speeding up the process, so he sets it up beside the cake and sets it on high, then leaves it to chill while he hurries to clean up his mess. there’s puddles of flour on the tile floor, an egg shell that missed the trash can, drops of milk on the counter, and the state of jeongguk’s clothes is another story entirely - he’s still shower fresh from before this whole ordeal began, but the splatters of cake waste on his sweatshirt and jeans won’t do.

jeongguk scrubs down the kitchen in record time and properly tests the cake’s temperature before he starts decorating it. his tongue peeks out between his lips like it does when he’s concentrating, hard at work; he coats the surface in a near seamless glaze of white buttercream and uses what’s left of the blue to pipe words as neatly as he can, and meticulously craft a few little hearts here and there. it’s undeniably ugly but it’s finished, and he sprints to the bathroom to wash up and change, running back to light the tea candles he’d bought, just in case namjoon gets home before he’s ready.

he’s spritzing some perfume on his wrist and his neck when he hears the front door’s locks turning, and with one last once-over in the mirror he runs into the living room where he’s set everything up. it looks as close to his daydream as he could manage, balloons kissing the ceiling, flower petals scattered on the carpet, bottle of wine from seokjin and two glasses at the ready, and he’s so satisfied and so ready for namjoon to come through the door and fall in love with him all over again.

leaning against the back of their sofa, he tries to make himself look as casual as possible - tries arms folded, arms to his sides, hands in his pockets, settles for clasping them together so namjoon can’t see them shake - and watches the doorknob turn, the light from the hallway flood into their apartment, and settles on namjoon. he’s trying to wrangle a few plastic bags, more balloons, and what’s probably the biggest bouquet of flowers jeongguk’s ever seen, so he doesn’t immediately notice the scene that’s waiting for him and jeongguk tries to bite down on his smile, to not let his giggling give him away.

when he finally gets the door shut and his sneakers off, namjoon finally straightens up and turns around, looking a bit flustered from the battle he must have fought to get up to their floor with all of his luggage. it disintegrates, though, as soon as he sees jeongguk standing there looking so simultaneously embarrassed and certain, nose scrunched up and front teeth prominent. he’s like a little kid showing his parent what he’d made at school, and namjoon couldn’t describe the way his heart twists if he tried.

“oh my god,” he tries, after a moment of stunned silence, staring at jeongguk, and then the room, and then jeongguk some more. the glow of the candles on jeongguk’s skin, against his strawberry blonde hair, god, in his eyes - there’s no feeling quite like coming home to jeongguk any day, but tonight, it’s that much more heartstopping. “you… oh my god.”

jeongguk feels like if he smiles any wider, his cheeks are going to pop right off of his face. he brings his hands up to press against them, like he’s trying to will himself to calm down, like there could possibly be something wrong with being so full of joy that he can’t contain it. “hi,” he murmurs, unable to keep the essence of a laugh in.

namjoon sets the bags of take out on the ground, lets the balloons float to the ceiling like the rest of them, and crosses the room to meet jeongguk, offering the bouquet of flowers so bashfully he may as well be shoving them into jeongguk’s chest. the younger takes them graciously, squeezing his eyes shut in an act of pure bliss. “hi,” namjoon says, rubbing the back of his neck like he does when he gets shy. even after all this time, jeongguk still manages to make him shy.

“these are so,” jeongguk inhales the delicate scent of the peonies, the lavender and baby’s breath, so soft and pretty and his favorite. “you didn’t have to…”

“neither did you!” namjoon gestures vaguely to the room around them, his face as red as jeongguk’s feels. “no wonder you were barely answering my texts earlier. you were scheming.”

jeongguk cradles the flowers in one arm and uses the other to reel namjoon into him, cupping the back of his neck and leaning up the little distance it takes to press their mouths together, a gentle caress that’s more smiles than contact, really. “of course i was scheming,” he says, kissing him again. “i’m very mischievous.”

namjoon’s palms find jeongguk’s waist, his slight hips beneath his too-big sweater, and pulls him close enough to feel his body heat all over. he smells like his usual soap, like fresh cotton, like home. “happy anniversary, babe.”

maybe it’s a bit much, jeongguk thinks as he stands there letting their kisses melt like chocolate, grow deeper and dreamier and more careful. three years isn’t call for much celebration, he’d found after asking around about what he should do for theirs, but he wanted it to be special - as special as every day this far has been, will keep being, so long as they’re with namjoon. and if all the fanfare and effort he’d gone through is kind of a way of thanking namjoon for putting up with him this long, then let that be implied, too.

“is that —- did you make that?” namjoon asks when they’ve finally given each other a chance to breathe, his chin hooking over jeongguk’s shoulder in a tender hug. jeongguk sets his bouquet on the couch behind them - he’s already thinking of the nice vase he’s going to put them in, right on their kitchen table - and holds his boyfriend in a proper embrace, arms winding around his shoulders. he nods, hiding his sheepish face in namjoon’s neck.

“it’s… yeah. i don’t really know about the taste but i hope it’s, hope it’s pretty, at least.” he stutters, twining his fingers into the baby hairs at the nape of namjoon’s neck. when he lifts his head to look at him, he finds the reflection of all the candles in namjoon’s eyes, some fondness swimming in them, in the muted little grin on his full lips. jeongguk breathes out softly.

“it is, gguk. it’s perfect. i knew i was right to assume there was nothing you couldn’t do.”

he thinks about telling him how he’d messed up the first time, how it wasn’t supposed to look anything like it does, thinks about complaining about all the trouble he’d caused himself because he actually can’t bake —- but he doesn’t. he doesn’t tell him that he’d gone to three stores looking for a heart-shaped tin, or that he spent ages trying to create a shade of blue closest to namjoon’s favorite before he started mixing food coloring in icing, or that he’s been anticipating this day since their very first date, excited to get to this point and beyond. he doesn’t say that he feels so in love right now that he could faint.

“i love you,” he does say, cupping namjoon’s jaw for one more kiss before he presses his forehead to his and lets namjoon lace their fingers together. he doesn’t say that he can feel namjoon’s hands trembling against his when he says it back, or that they’re sweaty, because his are, too. he giggles at how ridiculous they’re being, wonders when the new-love jitters are going to wear off.

(they never do.)

[optimisticcritique]

Gotham 4x18 - Review

This might just be the last episode for a certain character...it is time to see. 

Interim mayor? Haha good luck with that, buddy. I have a feeling you will either die or resign by the time this season ends. 

Who is the commissioner these days?

At least half of the people at this meeting are going to die this episode.

This woman really needs to chill--never mind. Freeze has it covered.

His voice sounds so much like a voice changer. Mr. Freeze could really say some fun deep voiced quotes with that voice. I actually believe it’s required in order to be accepted into the voice changer club.  

I want to know why they chose Mr. Freeze and Mad Hatter for this job. It may not require any specific skills, really. Do they just flip a coin to decide who will go kidnap or murder someone?

Look at this guy. Trying to make deals with anyone who will listen. Kind of reminds me of season 1 Oswald a bit. You know, trying to do whatever it takes to survive. 

You are really asking the Mad Hatter to save you from lunatics? Do you not know him at all? 

“Lunatics is a bit harsh. I prefer visionary” Well, that is typical. Is Jervis Jerome’s number 1 fan now? He is going to be so crushed when the visionary is no more. If it is anything like how he reacted to his sister, there might be more trouble coming. 

“I am with Mr. Valeska one hundred percent” Oswald, I hate to break it to you but...you are a terrible liar. That was unconvincing and you should know this.

Oswald is pretending to smile but deep down he is so ready to be done with all this XD

Hey, I know purple is Oswald’s color but that shade of blue tie? It really does bring out his eyes. 

Geez this toxin is way crazier than I expected it would be in this show. I really want to know why Jerome came up with the idea just now. Also, how did he explain it to Mr. Freeze and Scarecrow as they were helping to create it? Did he just say, “Hey yeah, I want them to go bonkers. Laugh maniacally, go insane, possibly start bleeding and change color from laughing so much so they look like sadistic clowns.”  

I am just waiting for the moment that Oswald leaps out of the truck and just runs as fast as possible. 

You thought Alfred would forget your birthday? I know life has been crazy but he has practically raised you. 

Ooh did you buy him a giant red wagon? 

Awe his baby bat mobile! Awesome! The fact that he didn’t even notice it in the garage until he pressed the button... 

I just realized...he has so much money...how come he hasn’t bought like twenty cars at this point? Although, to be fair, this one is so much cooler and is bullet proof. 

Harvey and his liquor.

I want to know how Oswald knows Jim’s cell phone number. Has he always had it saved in all his phones? Surely it isn’t public knowledge, unless he researched it.

“Well, this is a first” Oh please, like you two have never met in secret before ;)

This reminds of the Pilot, where Oswald was snitching on Fish...yeah, nothing can possibly go wrong here. 

“Why did you come here if you aren’t going to help me?!” Jim, I think you need a vacation, you seem tense. Also, at least he is giving you a heads up on the toxin that may destroy Gotham and turn everyone insane. Think positively :)

Oswald being scared of Jerome? I am honestly not surprised. 

“Or maybe you just don’t like the competition” ...maybe so but does it matter? You got to take whatever help you can get, can’t be choosy on the motives there.

“And I am an honest criminal, Jim” Oswald seems so offended. Like, how dare you excuse him of serving his own interests! 

Why did Oswald sneak off? Didn’t Harvey hear Jim say “Oswald” when he answered his cell phone so he knows who Jim is meeting with? Jim is not discreet.

Jerome breaking out a killer dance entrance. 

It is scenes like these that make me wish Jerome met Ed. You know that they would totally fight over who has the best extra entrances.

People losing heads? That’s a bit graphic for all of Gotham to witness...well, I mean, as of now. I am sure it is going to be even more graphic as years go by.  

Side note: I feel like the pacing of this episode is far better than last week. Less rushed, less story lines that need to develop.

I know the League has major skills so this probably wouldn’t happen but I can just imagine what would happen if someone had terrible aim, accidentally harming or killing Babs. She’d probably still live or be resurrected somehow but I can just picture the shocked responses and the person going “Whoops...I might need more practice...” 

Awe come on, let Tabby have her murderous fun! 

Yeah, Tabs isn’t having any of this league crap. 

Ooh wicked ice device! I want to see more of these cool gadgets that Victor has been saving. 

Wait, I know that tune... 

Oh my god they are doing 60s Batman theme! This is brilliant!

Now say “Batman!” or something similar.

*stops music before getting to the “batman” parts :( I guess close enough...the batman part will come later ;)

Where was Bridgit even shooting the fire for people to duck?

Of course he wants Jeremiah and Bruce...

Wait, so Jim didn’t seem totally against the idea when it was Jeremiah but when you mention Bruce Wayne? Absolutely not! 

Jim, now is not the time to be negotiating with him. He is not going to bite.

A bundt cake. Not really my taste. A nothing bundt cake is better. 

Happy Birthday, Bruce! Wait until you see the presents waiting for you today...

Wow, Selina. Way to take away all his wishes by blowing out the candles. Unless, of course, Selina was his wish. 

lol where did she even come popping from anyway? Such a kitten, pouncing when you least expect her.

Aww as much as I liked them having separate story lines from each other (just because I was curious to see where their stories would go), I did miss them sharing scenes. Teen batcat is cute. 

Luuuccccius! (Yes, I will say this every time I see him in an episode)

Where were you Foxy? Vacationing? Taking weeks of spa days? Practicing better defense skills? Hanging with your secret lover? What? 

Yeah, Jerome doesn’t care if he has to blow up any heads. It does not faze him whatsoever. 

I love how much Alfred and Selina care about the well being of Bruce...yet Bruce is going to do it all anyway. 

“I’m positive.” Yeah, I believe in you Foxy! “99% positive” That 1% is going to get you, isn’t it? 

Why didn’t the league show Babs this room sooner?

Wait, the painting has... why do I feel like this is a set up or something? This seems so fishy. 

You know, if Babs was still working her art gallery, this would be the painting on full display. 

Oh gosh...Babs is about to fall deep into this, isn’t she? 

Ooh Jeremiah and Bruce in the same scene! ..And now shaking hands and having a conversation!

This is going to hurt when Jeremiah most likely becomes the Joker. Is Bruce going to blame himself for this too?

Wow, that is a very nice speech Bruce. You make a good motivational speaker.

I bet this guy is regretting being interim mayor. If you make it through this, you may want to take a very long vacation and just forget to ever come back.

So, what did Jerome do while he was waiting this whole time? Dance around? 

Wait, wha-Oh, of course Jerome would foresee this. Always be prepared for anything. Impressive.

Hey, where is Butch/Grundy while all of this is going on? He just joined the group last episode. Why isn’t he involved and by Oswald’s side?

Oswald looking at this like “Maybe I can build one shaped like a penguin later in life...” 

Hmm...why is Jervis using the watch now? He didn’t need the watch before, did he? 

Oz, maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to criticize Jerome’s plans in front of his most loyal followers... Just a thought.  

“A bird’s eye view” ha. ha. 

Jealousy? Okay, I know that Babs was pretty mean to Tabby in season 3 but this just seems like her mind is getting twisted or something... She isn’t thinking clearly. 

Babs isn’t letting this all go to her head or anything.

Tabby being so mistreated. She just wants to run a club with people she cares about. At least she can turn to Selina for help.

The two wild jokers in a deck sitting side by side. 

Jeremiah rolling his eyes at Jerome is such a mood. I get that way when I have to hear people ramble about stuff I have heard many times too.

“We are practically identical” Can’t imagine why...

Well, I give you points for effort, Jeremiah. You at least tried. 

Lucius is so done with this crap.

Lol Jerome repeatedly trying to hit the trigger. Him and Ed should rant about how frustrating that is. 

Harvey with his whole “I’ll shoot it down. Oh right” lol at least he didn’t impulsively do it first. 

Whose idea was it to leave only two people on there? Did they not think Oswald would get loose and stop it?

Oswald freaking out. Come on, you can think of a plan! Oswald’s thoughts: This is why penguins don’t fly!

Oswald calling Jim for help first because he knows Jim will help. I wonder if he tried calling others but they just didn’t answer. 

“I don’t even drive my own car!” LOL I’m dying. He is so not for this plan. 

Well, he can actually drive, he just probably doesn’t do it very often or likes to.

“If you don’t, thousands will die...maybe worse.” “What’s worse than that?” Pfft. Yeah, death doesn’t matter but not being able to rule? Far worse. Man, he REALLY doesn’t want to steer.

It seems to me that Jerome kind of knew he was going to end up dead all along, didn’t he? 

Oswald’s relief when he starts steering...he’s like “I’m doing it! I’m actually doing it! Oh my god...” 

You just know that Oswald is going to want to have a blimp of his own later in life. Well, I can now check that off the wish list. Now, can we have Oswald in a scene with some live penguins? Thanks. 

Where is Bruce and Jeremiah when all this is going on? Kind of a shame that they aren’t there to probably see Jerome in his final moments. 

Of course Jim would still try to save him but Jerome is like “Nah”. Would he really rather risk his life for all this? 

Laughing to his death. Pretty appropriate. 

This is sad. I’m going to miss Jerome.  

I believe I can flyyy. Okay, sorry. Now is not the time. The slow motion is getting to me.

Now, I am 99.9% sure that he looks dead. At least he died with a smile on his face? ...again...

I know it is all about plot armor but they should really define deaths better on the show. Selina falls out a window and lives. Sofia and Butch get shot in the head, live. Was Jerome’s body just too feeble? Was it because he was shot a few times AND fell off a building onto a car? 

Bruce trying to make things right. Starting somewhat of a friendship...that is doomed to be heartbreak. 

Oh my god he is still up there. How long has Oswald been up there?

Who knew Oswald would be Gotham’s hero? Go figure. 

“Jiiiiiiiiiiiiim” That shot, that scream. I swear it is like the end of a cartoon. 

Poor Oswald. I feel bad but it is also hilarious. 

If this is the end of the episode or if he is still up there at the start of the next episode, I will laugh so hard. 

I just think of the standby pilot like customer service. Standby: Yes, can I help you? Oswald: I am stuck on a blimp, I want off now! Standby: Is it the blimp or is it the zeppelin? People often mistake the two. Oswald: Wha-does it MATTER?! Standby: Please hold *music starts playing* Oswald: *screams in rage and frustration*  

Yeah, as good as Tabby is...it is difficult for her to fight against a few members of the League. 

Aha! Ra’s is about to come back. 

Wait, where are they taking Tabitha?

Jeremiah...uh oh...what’s about to happen? Surely, we aren’t just going to watch him drink tea. 

A gift. Don’t open it. Don’t open it. Don’t open it. 

You are supposed to be smarter than this. You JUST got back from dealing with Jerome. Do. not. open. 

A jack in the box? You know that isn’t from Wayne enterprises. Throw it now! It’ll probably spray you with toxin! 

A special made toxin for him? Oh, so it isn’t exactly the same as the other...that’s good to know. So, that is how it will affect him differently!

Oh god... this is about to be even more insane! 

What a birthday present for Bruce...the birth of the Joker.

I’m interested in seeing how different Jeremiah’s Joker will be to Jerome.

Kind of wish the season had one extra episode, so that we could have seen Jeremiah and Bruce be friends or partners for an episode before being sprayed. Maybe the package comes in the mail the next day, instead of waiting for him, and it doesn’t seem as dumb for him to open it.  

Over all: Solid episode. Jeremiah becoming the Joker is happening a bit fast but not enough for me to be too upset. I have to wait to see how it all plays out before deciding if his joker and evolution is a good one. RIP Jerome, you will be missed. The rest of the episode was nice. It always does well when there are only a couple of major story lines going with all the characters, rather than there being 4 or 5 separate ones. Babs sees a painting of herself and Ra’s from supposedly centuries ago, she believes she has a major purpose but Tabby doubts it, resulting in Tabby being kicked out/beat up by the League. Tabby encounters men who say Ra’s is the true Demon’s Head and isn’t really gone, they take Tabby. Bruce meets Jeremiah, offers him work with Wayne Enterprises. He briefly celebrates his birthday with Selina and Alfred. Lucius gets around 7 lines (not that I counted), where he helps in not getting heads blown to bits. Oswald tries to stop Jerome’s plan, ends up steering the toxin away from the city. Jerome falls to his death, but not before giving Jeremiah his own special toxin to drive him mad. The rest of the Legion of Horribles are in unknown places, I guess.

Previous review: 4x17   Next: 4x19

[joongie-smiles]

The Phone Never Rings

This is not a one-shot, just a little something inspired by the lines “I wait by the phone but the phone never rings” from “Campfire song” from the Lightning Theif Musical, which is absolutely amazing. 

Warnings: Angst, cursing, character death, neglect

Masterlist

Request

Tag

A little boy with fair hair kicked his feet up and down as he swung from the swing. The park he was in was practically deserted save for a couple walking a dog with their son, and the woman in front of him. She was beaming at him and her eyes held only kindness and love. She was wearing a big yellow hat that looked obnoxious against her purple dress, but he had insisted on her wearing his favorite hat, and she  had complied. It was his birthday, after all.

"Okay, I think we've been here long enough, don't you, Sweetie?" his mom asked. "Why don't we go get some ice cream?"

Normally, he would have said yes, but he was waiting for something. He had refrained from asking, but he was getting impatient. He shook his head sheepishly. "Can I . . . can I call him?"

She hesitated. She knew this question would come, it always did. He had been asking for 5 years without fail. She had tried to get him to forget this time with a trip to the park, presents, and ice cream, but it was useless. Even at 5 he was stubborn. "I don't know, Luke, maybe later-"

"Please," he whispered. "Just once then we can go."

She nodded and smiled softly, but the smile didn't reach her eyes like they usually do. "Okay." She gently stopped the swing and pulled her phone out. After looking through her contacts, she passed the phone over to Luke, who waited patiently for the ringing to end.

Eventually the ringing did stop, but instead of a voice answering on the other end -he wasn't sure what it would sound like but it would definitely be loving- he was meet with the all too familiar robotic voice of a woman telling him to leave a message after the beep. Luke forced his own smile and left his message. "Hey, Daddy, it's me, Luke. Um, I know you're really busy with work and . . . stuff, but, um, I just wanted to say that today's my birthday and I'm wishing for something special this year. Mommy says I can't tell anyone or it won't come true, but I'll give you a clue, it has to do with you. Mommy got me a cool plane and I'll tell you all about it if you call back. Bye, I love you, Daddy."

He hung up the phone and gave it back to his mom.

"Ready to go?" his mom asked.

Luke nodded silently, took her hand, and followed her back to the car. He looked out the window at the family with the dog and couldn't help but sigh. He tried to keep his disappointment from showing, he really did, but it was hard. It wasn't fair that some little boys got a dad or even two dads, but he couldn't even have one. He loved his mom more than anything in the world, but he missed his dad. But, like his mom always told him, no matter how far away his dad may be, he stilled loved Luke.

Luke just wished he'd show it a little more.

--

"Happy Birthday to Lu-uke! Happy birthday to you!" the crowd around the dining room table sang.

Luke, who sat at the head of the table, smiled and, when prompted to, blew out the candles. The crowd cheered and prompted him to stay still for pictures. His mom came around the table to stand at his side and started cutting the cake after taking the candles shaped in the number 1 and 0. He got the first and biggest piece and happily ate it while everyone else was given a piece. The rest of the night was spent with more congratulations and presents. Eventually, everyone left and Luke and his mom were left to clean up. Not many people had gone, so the cleaning was pretty quick. Luke was in his pajamas and in bed by 10:30 pm.

His mom stood above him and smiled down at him. "Another successful birthday?"

Luke grinned. "Another successful birthday," he confirmed.

"Sorry about Grandpa not making it, I know he promised to take you fishing," she said apologetically. She ruffled his fair hair lovingly.

Luke shrugged. "It's okay, I'm kind of used to someone missing my birthdays." He tried to say it nonchalantly, but it came out more bitter than he wanted it to.

She sighed. "Luke-"

"I know, I know," Luke interrupted. "He loves me, and he's a busy man, but can't he love me and show up? At least on my birthdays?"

"I'm sorry, Honey, I know that it's . . . not ideal, but," she stopped and closed her eyes for a moment. It was then that Luke remembered that it hurt her just as much as it hurt him. She took a shaky breath and continued. "But this is what we have, and we have to make the best of it."

Luke sighed and nodded. She was right. Their family situation might not be ideal, but they could work with it. He loved his mom and would allow her to be mother and father for him.

This would be enough. For now.

--

"It was him!" a large boy yelled. He pointed a finger at a scrawny 13 year Luke Castellan. "He's the one who stole my phone!"

"No I didn't," Luke scowled. "It's not my fault you can't take care of your things."

"Well, you steal everything else, how do I know you didn't take this too?" Behind the bully, Steven Bake, was a group of students who had formed a crowd, ready for the fight that might start between the 7th and 8th grader.

"You have no proof," Luke pointed out. "Apparently even that isn't obvious enough for you."

Steve's face started getting redder by the minute. He bared his yellow teeth at Luke and stood taller to look more intimidating, but Luke wasn't scared. He had dealt with bullies before. He was prepared to dodge the fists.

But he wasn't prepared to dodge the words.

"You're a no good thief, just like your deadbeat Dad," Steve spat. "No wonder he hit the road and never looked back."

Luke blinked in shock. Yeah, it was common knowledge that his Dad wasn't around, but nobody had really brought it up before, especially not at school.

"You probably never even talked to him before," Steve laughed harshly.

The shock was quickly replaced with anger. "Yes, I have!" Luke shouted. "I talk to him all the time." It might have been a lie, but it's not like they would ever find out. Anyway, his anger was clouding his reasoning.

"Oh, yeah? Then prove it." Steve fished his phone that had been allegedly missing and held it out. "Call him," he said.

This was the 2nd time today Steven had surprised him. Luke knew he was a jerk but even this was low. "He's-he's probably busy with something or-"

"Or you're a thief and a liar," Steve said smugly.

Luke surrendered and took the phone from his hand. It was half his fault for lying about it, now he had no choice but to follow through. He dialed the phone number he had memorized a long time ago. Upon Steve's harsh insistence, he put it on speaker and waited.

If there's anyone up there please, please, please let him answer. Dad if there was ever a time for you to answer the phone it's now. I've never stopped believing in you. Just, please, do this for me.

He waited and waited until the ringing stopped. Luke held his breath as the pause went on longer than it usually would for a message. Maybe it had happened. Maybe by some miracle, his dad would finally answer.

But, unfortunately, miracles weren't ever in Luke's favor. The dreaded robotic voice told him to leave a message after the beep.

Luke didn't wait for the standard message to end before dropping the phone and running from the laughing crowd

--

Luke stared at the phone on the table and willed it to ring. This room, unlike the rest of the rooms in the Big House, was mostly empty except for the desk, phone, and chair in front of them. Since it held the only available phone in Camp, the room was rarely used except for emergencies. Not only was it a direct connection to the mortal world, it was also a direct connection to Olympus. Usually someone here would be calling the gods, but this time Luke was waiting for a certain messenger god to call.

Luke had been at Camp Half-blood for a couple days now. The journey had been tough and he had lost a good friends, but now he finally had the chance to get some answers. Why didn't you come for me? Why didn't you claim me sooner? Why did you leave us to fend for ourselves?

Why did you do that to Mom?

That was the million dollar question. Why did Hermes, who apparently loved his mom enough to tell her that he was a god, make his mom crazy? One morning she was helping him pick his classes for the next school year, and the next she was locking them in the house and insisting Luke never leave the house because monsters were out to get him. Luke had been terrified of this new person who definitely wasn't his mom, so he left. And now he wanted answers from the man who did that.

Not man, god. A god who was his dad and apparently didn't see the need to fix what he had done.

A deadbeat god who couldn't even have the decency to apologize for what he did.

A coward who couldn't even pick up the damn phone and call Luke for a simple 'hi'.

Luke got up abruptly from his chair and glared at the phone with watery eyes. "Screw you too, Dad," he spat. He left the room with his head held high and his resolve set.

He would make him regret neglecting him.

--

"Group 1 goes to the east end, group 2 to the west end, and you, make sure the archers are in place," Luke said, pointing to the teams as he called them. "Got that?"

"Yes, sir!" his makeshift army confirmed.

"Then go." Once his troops were gone, Luke double-checked the maps around him of Manhattan. The final battle had begun and everything was going according to plan. All accept one thing.

The damned phone.

A simple phone like the one that had been at Camp sat at the front steps of the Olympian thrones. He had expected the opposing demigods to try to contact him, that seemed like something Chiron would do, but it appeared to not have been put there by the half-bloods. That only left the gods.

Now would be a good time for the gods to try to reason with him or plead with him to not destroy them. But that wasn't their style. Zeus would rather give up his lightning bolts than admit that he was wrong and a rebellious teen half-blood was right. He wouldn't give Luke that satisfaction.

Still, he waited. He waited for Zeus' apology or even a phone call from his Dad. Funny how you can't get any attention from your parents till you're destroying their parthenon.

But Luke had very low hopes, so when the phone never rang, he wasn't that surprised, but he was still disappointed. Deadbeat dad till the end, huh. He left the throne room and forgot about the phone.

It wasn't till he was back in the throne room fighting Percy that he even remembered the phone. When he was stabbed, he crumpled close to the phone and thought bitterly I started by the phone and it's only fitting I end by the phone. While he bled out in his friends' arms, a sound cleared his fuzzy mind for a moment.

The unmistakable sound of a ringing phone.

[bottomofthemeniscus]

Wedding Day Dreams from 2016

Wedding Day Dreams

Since I was nine years old I have been fantasizing about my wedding. It was my favorite daydream topic, and I spent way too much time thinking about it for someone of such a young age. By the time I was eleven I had drawn sketches of what my cake and dress were going to look like, and by the time I was thirteen I had started imagining and drawing out my venue. Both my parents found it amusing, and my mom even started helping me plan out other details by explaining which dress shapes she thought I would look best in and what color flowers would be appropriate for the different seasons.

But when I turned sixteen, I realized that my dream wedding was going to change dramatically. Don’t get me wrong, I still have plans for a beautiful dress and a delicious cake, but it’s who I’m marrying that has changed. I will not be saying “I do” to a groom, but to another bride. And because of this, my parents want nothing to do with my wedding...or me.

I continued to plan my wedding throughout my teenage years though, eventually getting focused on food. What food would I have at my wedding? What meal would be special enough for my wife-to-be and me to share on this special night? In order to answer these questions, I became obsessed with food. I began to cook and experiment with different flavors and ingredients. After a few years, I took a chance and I started a small restaurant, and then I started to cater weddings.

That’s where I am now, 28-years-old and already an entrepreneurial business woman. If only that was what my parents saw in me.

“Well, that’s all the food,” Paige says to me. She’s my partner in crime when it comes to running this business. She’s also my fiancée.

We’re currently working a wedding for some friend of a friend of Paige’s who heard about us. Dinner was over now, all the guests full and happy. It went well if I do say so myself.

“Yeah, but we still have all the cleaning up to do,” I say.

“Well, maybe you should take a break.”

“No, no it’s okay.”

“Come on, Sam. It’s okay, I can take care of it. I know you like to watch.”

It sounds creepy when she puts it that way, but I do like to watch the weddings. I like looking at whatever marvel the wedding cake is, and taking notes about the choice of flowers and centerpieces. I also like watching the happy bride and groom, and their parents, even if it always makes me sad. I suppose it’s a way for me to imagine how my parents would act if they ever came to my wedding, for me to have that experience vicariously.

“All right,” I say with a shrug and guilty smile. I step out of the kitchen and into the heart of the celebration. Right out in front of the doors to the kitchen, I see the banquet table I had set up earlier in the night being taken down, platters with varying amounts of food being cleared away by my employees. Nearby is another table with a five-tiered mountain of fondant-covered cake, waiting to be cut later in the night. I walk over to it and see the bouquet of red and yellow sugar flowers adorning the top of the cake and cascading down the tiers on one side. It is gorgeous and I love the decorations, but I can’t imagine having a cake that size and I wonder what it must have cost. I take my eyes away from it and step further out into the room.

The wedding venue is inside an old firehouse, I believe as homage to either the bride or groom, as one of them works as a firefighter. The walls are all made of brick, giving the place its own charm and character. The only decorations hung from the walls are strings of white Christmas lights that are strung around the building, lighting the place in a homey and magical way.

Within the walls of the firehouse, the layout of the wedding is set up fairly traditionally, and similarly to how I would set up my wedding. There is a DJ up on a makeshift stage to my left, with a long head table for the wedding party directly below it. In the center, two ornate chairs, that appear more like thrones, are set for the bride and groom. In front of the head table are a cluster of about 20 other round tables for the wedding guests. Each table is adorned with a decorative candle in the center that casts beautiful, spiraling shadows on to the place settings. The tables are setup to allow an empty space in the middle, where it seems everyone in the wedding is currently gathered. It is most likely the dance floor. I don’t know for sure until a few people in the crowd shift and I peek through the heads of the crowd and see a wisp of white float by. I realize that the crowd must be watching the bride and groom dance their first dance.

That was my favorite topic of my fantasies as I got older, the first dance song. My parents danced to “Color My World” by Chicago at their wedding. It is a beautiful song and I always said that I would love to find a song just as sweet. However, my non-traditional fiancé wants to rock out to Smash Mouth’s version of “I’m a Believer” instead. But, I am still not convinced I want that to be our first dance.

I don’t know the song that this couple is dancing to, but it is slow and calming. As the song starts to wind down, people begin to disperse and head back to their seats, giving me a better view of the dance. It is just as sweet as the song they are dancing to. The bride and groom are standing arm in arm, gently swaying back and forth. As the final chord of the song is played, the groom dips his bride and plants a kiss on her. I feel a dopey smile spread across my face at the cheesy romanticism.

“Let’s give a round of applause to the bride and groom!” I hear the DJ announced. The crowd, including myself, obliges his request and begins to applaud. “Ok folks, if the bride would be so kind as to find her father, we will begin the father-daughter dance.”

I see a man make his way out onto the dance floor and hug the bride. Another song I don’t recognize starts to play, and the bride and her father begin to dance. The sight is beautiful, but as I watch the two of them dance, a pang of sorrow hits me and begins to well up inside of me, until it feels like I am drowning in it.

I am hit with memories of my dad. Old memories, from when I was a kid; we were really close. He was the one who raised me as a baby, and my mom the one who was always working. He would take me to the park all the time as a kid, and every Friday after school we would go get ice cream from the ice cream truck that was always parked around the corner from my house. He was always there for me with a hug when I needed it, and he was always there to support me.

I had always loved the idea of my dad and me sharing a dance together on my wedding day. I imagined us swaying back and forth to music; tears forming in both of our eyes, sharing a father-daughter moment unlike any other that I would carry with me for the rest of my life. But, of course, that dream would have to stay a dream, because my father no longer loved or supported me.

He was the one who told me I was an abomination when I was sixteen years old.

He’s the one who kicked me out the day that I turned eighteen, without saying a word other than “get out.”

He is the one who never answers my calls on Christmas, or birthdays.

And he will never dance with me at my wedding.

Thinking about my dad feels like taking a gunshot wound to the heart. Emotions swell up inside me, and soon I feel the tears bubbling up in my eyes and I see the lights on the dance floor start to go blurry. It does not take long for the tears spill over and run down my cheeks. I cover my eyes to hide the fact that I’m crying.

Every time I come to a wedding, I remember that my parents, and much of the rest of my family, no longer want me to be a part of their lives. I have given up all hope in them, yet I still cry when I think about it. All my childhood wedding fantasies involved my family. My dad walking me down the aisle, and me looking over at my mom, blotting tears from her eyes as I stand at the altar. Having my aunts and uncles party into the night at my reception and making memories that we could share during future family holidays. Thinking about it makes the tears fall from my eyes faster.

I feel an arm wrap around me while my eyes are still buried in my hands. “Sam?” the voice says.

I look up and see Paige staring at me, concern and compassion written on her face.

“Oh, Sam,” she says as she wraps me into a hug.

“I just wish…” I start to choke out

“I know, I know. I do too,” she responds, not even needing me to complete my thought. She pulls me out of the hug for a second and wipes away the tears on my cheeks.

Paige has been with me through all of this. She was my first girlfriend; I met her when I was 15, and she has stuck with me ever since. I don't know what she saw in me back then. She was cool and looked like a badass to me with her short, blonde hair that always dyed funky colors. I was just a shy, book nerd who spent most of her free time in the library.

I remember the day she first talked to me. It was raining outside, and I think that was why she had come in. I was sitting in a bean bag chair that was in the school’s library, reading a fantasy novel during our lunch break. I didn’t notice her right away, as my book was holding my attention, but eventually I looked up and she was standing right in front of me, watching me. I was actually a little scared of Paige at first, worried she was going to try to sell me drugs or ask me to go vandalize the school. I had never talked to her before, but she had a certain vibe that made me think she was a bad influence. That changed though once we started talking.

She asked me what I was reading, which prompted her to sit next to me and start a small conversation about the book. She later told me that she actually had no interest in the book at all; she just wanted an excuse to talk to me because she thought I was cute.

I didn’t know I was gay until I met her, but it did not take me long to realize that that I could never leave her again. With her, all my worries floated away. She helped me in high school when some stupid kid decided to tell the whole school that we were going out. She was standing by my side when I told my parents the truth, even as they threw books and water glasses at us. When I was officially kicked out of my house at eighteen, she invited me to move in with her family, who has always been more supportive.

“You can always dance with my dad at our wedding,” she says, keeping her arms wrapped around me.

“If he’s not passed out drunk by that time,” I reply back through tears. Paige’s dad had a reputation for getting plastered at parties. Paige’s 21st birthday was the worst; they were both out cold before midnight.

“Well, that’s why I keep telling you that we can’t have an open bar,” she says smiling.

“Now is not the time for wedding planning,” I say, pouting, although part of me realizes this is a lame comeback considering that I have been thinking about our wedding throughout the night.

“Oh contraire, look around you. This is the perfect place to plan a wedding! We’re literally at a wedding! ”

I look up again and see the bride and her father continuing their dance. I can see the father tearing up. I feel the tears coming back to my eyes again.

“Okay, never mind,” Paige says, grabbing my chin and turning it back towards her. “I was only kidding anyway. Jeez. It’s a wonder I let you out to watch. Every time you end up a weeping mess!”

As if on cue, I start sobbing again. Paige pulls me closer and I hold her for support, staining her shirt with tears and streaked mascara.

“It’s okay. I still love you,” she says stroking my hair affectionately as I cry into her shoulder. After a minute she props me up so I’m standing up straight, wipes the tears off my cheeks once more, and kisses me.

Her kiss brings me out of my crying spell and I try to compose myself. I take a few deep breaths to calm down, “Alright. I’ll be alright.”

“There’s my Sammy-Wammy,” she says. I lightly punch her in response. I hate the nick-name. “Fine, sorry, Sam.”

“Come on,” I say “Let’s get back to work.”

“Hey!”

“What?”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.” I say, and we walk hand in hand back to the kitchen, a small smile beginning to grow on my face, the kind of smile only someone you love can bring to you.