#also i stopped being able to feel my pinky toe that afternoon and i still can't feel it sometimes ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[sad0nion]

so i'm gonna write down the events of june 2nd/3rd 2021 so i never forget how hellish it was if i ever think i want to move again

so we stayed at my aunt's in her trailer for a night, and are now staying there for a few days. but anyway, start of the 2nd, woke up in the trailer at about 5:45, got up at 6. left from here to got back down to the city so we can get all our shit in the truck.

first stop: gas station. mom's debit card goes missing, we can't find it. i should've realized that was a bad omen for the day. we get to the city in about an hour and a half.

we still have boxes open so we can put odd and ends in there. we pack the last bits, and i start throwing just so many expired condiments in the trash. why did we have them? who knows.

mom leaves to get the truck, and gets more boxes on her way back. so far, pretty chill, just tiring. we're just cleaning stuff out and getting stuff ready for movers. i spend a few minutes cleaning my bathroom. i'm very hot and sweaty already, and it's probably almost 100F outside already.

guy comes by to pick up our washer and dryer, which we sold him. he's very nice but mom thinks he was high. talks about his pregnant wife and how they thought about naming their son after the lake he was conceived at. idk why he told us this.

then, the guy who would take care of our yard every now and then comes by to take all our old mattresses. he's very nice and talks to us about keeping family close for about 15 minutes.

then the movers show up. they're three young guys and they get right to work. they're pretty efficient and start loading the truck. i start putting some stuff in our car. then i notice that my mom's two boxes of important things with a note that says "do not put in truck" on them are gone. they packed them in truck. we can see it but the boxes are already way back there. it would add another hour of work to get them. so we don't. it had my mom's clothes and medications. luckily, she uses a weekly pill box so she's not totally without meds, but her inhalers were in there and they're for sure ruined by the heat by now.

then it starts to look like we're not going to get everything in the truck. mom has a little meltdown. we have to get another truck. and we have to get someone to drive it. my aunt mary is already driving the big one. SO we call my aunt and uncle, and they start heading down. it's past 6pm at this point.

we order another truck, and while mom and aunt mary are going to get it, i vacuum and mop pretty much the entire house. we get the truck back, aunt mary takes off, and my aunt and uncle start loading it while my mom and i get everyone food and pick up my prescriptions. we get back to the house, i notice my mom has started limping.

i also realize that my aunt and uncle had to bring my grandma too. so my poor little grandma is sitting on a chair in the middle of this big empty living room. my aunt uses her phone to put on the music for her to listen to. it's too loud and it kinda pisses me off but i stuff it. it's dark outside

my aunt and uncle load the truck while mom and i clean and get odds and ends and i put the last little bit of our food in the cooler. we get a call from aunt mary, saying that someone crashed on the road up to where we're moving and started a small forest fire. mary is going to have to turn around, and there's no quick way up to the mountains now.

we finished up at the house at about 10pm. i stand in an empty and dark house that is no longer my home and say goodbye. i lock up.

my aunt and uncle take off for an alternate route back to their house that's maybe 3+ hours. my mom can't do the drive, we're too tired and it's too much. mary's mom offers her guest room to us, which is very nice and we appreciate very much.

we don't have any clothes or toiletries because we weren't planning on staying down here in the city, so we go to walmart and buy shirts, pajama pants, underwear, and socks. it comes out to like $70 because we didn't care about prices while choosing stuff. we pay and go to mary's mom's house.

mary's mom is wonderful and is staying up hours after her normal bedtime to help us. she washes our walmart clothes for us, and we sit and drink water while they wash. mary was finally able to turn the truck around and gets to her mom's house, too, at almost midnight. my mom takes a shower while i stand right outside to make sure she doesn't pass out. i take a shower, and then we go to bed about around 1am. my whole body aches, i have just so many bruises, and i'm sweating even in the cool house after a shower.

neither my mom and i can sleep for a while. when i sleep, it's dreamless. we get up a little before 6am. mary is already gone with the truck, so mom and i take off too. we get back to my aunt and uncle's place and we don't have the key to open the gate so that takes a while and i have to walk around the property to get to the front door.

we finally get back into the trailer and feed our poor cats. then we nap until after noon.

through this whole thing there were multiple crying fits by both me and my mom. i'm sure i missed some stuff and idk if i can ever properly describe how physically and emotionally tired i was and still kinda am.

future me, if you're reading this, it was worse than you remember. it was that bad, don't sugar coat it in your memory.

[julemmaes]

The One Good Thing

Rowaelin Month, Day Two

A/N: again, I'm gonna fail all my exams because of this stupid app, I'm sure. Also, I miss the off campus boys so much I kinda made Fenrys one of them and I love the idea of the tog men as hockey players so yeah, enjoy;)

Word count: 2,581

Aelin would have killed for a second of silence.

She daydreamed of that almost noisy quiet that makes you feel every deepest thought hidden in your brain that exists only at 3 a.m., when every soul is resting and cars can't drive around the campus. And there are no children screaming at the top of their lungs or parties going on all night long.

That was what she had been promised, the flyers she'd been handed during the open days, when she had come to visit the college.

That was how it was supposed to be.

Aelin had tried so many times to ask her upstairs flatmate to hold his Twitch live streams strictly in the afternoons or mornings when she wouldn't be home, but when Fenrys Moonbeam had first opened the door to his place, the girl had known immediately that she wouldn't be able to change his mind even by paying him.

Especially since his live streams were followed by such a large audience that Aelin couldn't even begin to understand how he had managed to build an empire so big in just under a month. Surely it had something to do with the long blond hair, different from her own but just as beautiful, and the arms covered in tattoos so colourful they blind you. They had their own charm. Add to the pile the fact that he was the goalie on the hockey team, and he was the perfect mix for the guy to marry.

From what their common friends had told her, he was already earning enough to afford an off-campus home, but that he liked the comfort the college dorm gave.

A comfort that Aelin, after three years in those filthy rooms and shared bathrooms, had yet to find.

When yet another howl of celebration at yet another victory that everyone expected pierced through his floor and her ceiling, nearly drilling her eardrums, Aelin gritted her teeth so hard that for a moment she feared they might shatter.

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath and trying to whisper, "Shut," failed miserably to keep her tone under control and shrieked the second word, "up!"

A booming laugh rang out upstairs and a millisecond later a message lit up her phone screen.

From Lys: Girl, maybe you should take a chill pill, I heard you on the live stream. Are you still studying?

She tossed the phone to the side, pulling her hair up and pinning it back with a pencil.

"Fuck off." she muttered under her breath.

Lysandra was one of the few in their group of friends who never missed a Fenrys broadcast. Whether it was at eleven at night or five in the morning, she was always one of the first to join in.

Aelin often wondered if she was just doing it because Fenrys was helping her sponsor her YouTube channel, but then she remembered that Lysandra would do the same for all her friends.

She got out of bed, taking all her books and notes in her arms, pen in her mouth and holding her phone between her pinky and ring fingers. She threw open the door to her room and found herself facing a wall of muscle, slamming into her roommate's chest.

Rowan's hands snapped forward and kept her from falling backwards and when Aelin looked up at his face, she almost lost her balance again.

His face was sleepy, only one eye open as he suppressed a yawn. The imprint of the pillowcase on his cheek just another sign that he had already been sleeping.

"Are you okay?" he asked her in a hoarse voice, stepping back and letting her through, "I heard you screaming. I was coming to check on you."

Aelin grimaced, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

He shook his head, moving a hand in mid-air, "Don't worry about it." then his gaze snapped to the ceiling as another laugh from Fenrys cut through the thin material dividing their quarters. He frowned, lowering his gaze back to her, and it was at that moment that he noticed the books in her arms.

If possible, his frown deepened even more.

He closed his eyes, gently grabbing her wrist and leaning against the wall behind him, pulling her towards him.

Aelin let herself be tugged, arranging the books so that they didn't poke at either her or him in that uncomfortable hug, but she positioned her head against his chest, letting his fingers expertly massage the nape of her neck.

"Baby." he sighed into her hair. Her toes curled.

It had only been a few weeks since they had decided to start dating, a few weeks since Rowan had confessed to having feelings for her. They had exchanged a few kisses in secret from their friends, wanting to enjoy that first phase of their very fresh relationship in privacy. They hadn't done anything too steamy yet, and Aelin had more than agreed with his decision to take it slow, but one thing Rowan hadn't held back in the slightest from the first second she'd agreed to go out with him had been the pet names he'd given her whenever they were in the safety of their dorms.

Baby was definitely her favourite.

His hands slid lower, down her back, and she looked up, resting her chin on his chest and fixing her eyes in his. His gaze softened, still clouded with sleep. "You shouldn't be studying at this hour."

Aelin grunted, smacking her forehead against his chest, "But I have a test tomorrow."

Rowan sighed again, pushing her away and taking the books from her arms. "Precisely why you should be sleeping." He walked towards the common room, speaking softly and hoping Lorcan wouldn't hear them. They both knew their roommate suspected something, but he didn't have enough worries in the world for him to actually give a shit about their possible relationship, and they also knew he would never say anything to anyone. Maybe to Elide, but neither of them would bet on it. "I left you alone tonight because you needed to rest, not stay up until morning melting your brain."

She followed him like a lost dog, dragging her feet on the ground, finally feeling that visceral fatigue get the better of her.

"I can't leave the study half done."

Rowan dropped the books on the table, turning around just in time to block her before she bumped into him again and slipped the pencil out of her mass of hair, letting it fall around her shoulders.

"You're not leaving the study half done," he told her as he rubbed her arms to keep her warm, "you've spent the last five weeks studying this stuff and I'm sure you know it like the abc. You need a break." he told her.

Aelin looked up at him from under her lashes, a little annoyed that that was true, but completely distracted by the lines his fingers were drawing on her arms. She took a deep breath through her nose, puffing out her chest and thrusting out her breasts, catching the attentive gaze of her almost-boyfriend for a nanosecond.

He smiled wearily at her, "Are you sleeping in my bed tonight?"

Aelin just nodded and took both of his hands, pulling him down onto her. Rowan squinted his eyes and placed his lips on hers in a quick, chaste kiss. She hummed in satisfaction as his hands slid under her bottom and wrapped around her thighs, pulling her up. She tied her legs around his hips and rested her head on his shoulder as Rowan made his way into their tiny flat.

He lowered her onto the bed, pulling the blankets out from under her body and laying down beside her before covering them both. Aelin moved as close to him as she could, pressing her back against his chest and her butt against his crotch, tangling their legs together.

Rowan's arm wrapped around her waist as the other slipped under her head and his hand found hers under the pillow.

The second they were settled, every bit of their bodies touching, Rowan left a soft kiss on her shoulder, pulling her even tighter against him.

She smiled weakly, in a drawling tone, "Thank you."

He hummed against her skin, "That's what I'm here for."

"Don't let me die around finals time?" she asked in a teasing tone.

Rowan chuckled softly, making her back shake, "Exactly."

Aelin tried to turn towards him, wanting to trace the pale freckles that were starting to sprout on his nose now that the days were getting longer and the sun kissed his cheek every afternoon, but his arms blocked her.

"No, it's not fair for you to be the big spoon every night. I'm fucking sick of it, I want to hold you today." he muttered, the chains of sleep already dragging him towards that blissful unconsciousness.

She huffed, stopping struggling against his grip, relaxing and feeling her muscles scream with pleasure after being tense for hours on end while she studied.

She hadn't realised she'd stayed up so long, but she was terrified of failing this last exam. If she failed it she would have to wait months before she could retake it and the idea of it was getting her down more than perhaps it should have.

She started thinking about the various questions the professors might ask her the next day, repeating the answers in her mind, closing her eyes as she thought.

"Baby," Rowan grumbled, "you're talking out loud."

She hadn't realised she was biting the cuticles around her nails until his hand came to rest on her arm, pulling her hand away from her mouth. He took a deep breath, helping her turn to face him.

When she looked up at him from under her lashes, she saw the way he was fighting sleep. And she felt terribly guilty. If she was having trouble sleeping the day before an exam, that didn't mean he had to stay awake for her too.

She was about to speak, tell him to close his eyes again and let her go into the living room so she could finish going over the last few pages and then return to his room, but he put his hand on her cheek and in a soft voice asked, "What's bothering you?"

She bit the inside of her cheek, shaking her head, "Nothing."

He tried to hold back a yawn again, but couldn't this time and Aelin's guilt grew immensely inside her. "If you tell me right now what's wrong, I could help you fix it sooner. And we could get at least three hours of sleep before we have to go to class." he pointed out in an exhausted tone.

She blinked once, twice, searching for the right words.

"It's Fen. If he'd stop playing so late every night-"

Rowan quickly cut her off, closing his eyes, almost as if he could no longer physically stay awake. "Ace, Fenrys never really bothered you. You've always managed to study and ignore it. What is it that's bothering you?"

Aelin let go of a shaky breath, "It's nothing, really. We'll talk about it tomorrow."

He only opened one eye, watching her carefully as she hid her face against his chest and wrapped her thin arms around his torso.

His hand began to slowly massage her back, "If we don't talk about this now I'll be up all night worrying."

She huffed, knowing full well how true those words were. For the love of the other, she began to ramble on about the real reason she hadn't been able to focus on the textbooks.

"I don't want to tell anyone we're together yet," she confessed under her breath.

Rowan opened both eyes then, fixing them on her and giving a small nod with his chin to keep her going.

"It's not that I don't want to tell the others," she said, referring to their closest friends, "but the second they find out, the news will become public knowledge and there are some people I really don't want to let that information get to."

He nodded, understanding perfectly who she was talking about.

"We don't have to tell anyone," he kissed her forehead, continuing to talk in that position, his lips brushing against her skin with every word he spoke, "it'll be our little secret for some time more, until we figure out how to get all the puck bunnies off our backs."

Aelin smiled, lifting her chin and kissing him.

Being the captain of the hockey team, Rowan didn't exactly go unnoticed on campus. Not many people approached him during the day, especially when Lorcan was at his side, knowing full well that they would receive nothing but a rude invitation to leave, but their friend couldn't spend his life attached to Rowan's hip, and the few times the two of them had gone out alone it had happened that a horde of fans had overwhelmed them. After those afternoons, Aelin had found herself the victim of not so nice threats from unknown numbers, as had happened to Lysandra when she had first started dating Aedion.

With Manon's help they had managed to track down the senders and Rowan had been unpleasantly surprised to discover that it was one of the girls he always partied with after the games. A girl he'd always considered a friend.

Rowan had taken all the blame, feeling responsible for those attacks on Aelin and it had taken months to convince him that he had no part in the insanity of others.

They'd started limiting the dates they went on as a pair, even when they were just friends, to prevent similar things from happening again, but Aelin felt trapped.

And she knew it was the same for Rowan.

She wished she could get a place off campus, where she could retreat with him, away from the prying eyes of the world, but it didn't seem right to bring up the topic of 'let's move in together' after not even three months of dating.

Rowan rested a hand on her cheek, moving a strand of hair behind her ear, "It'll be fine. And if anyone finds out and the threats come back, we'll do something about it."

She nodded, not entirely convinced and not at all reassured.

He knew instantly, "Aelin, whatever happens, I don't care what others think. I've waited years to finally have you. I've been on the sidelines all this time, watching you go on date after date with everyone and never with me-"

"You never asked," she mumbled in annoyance.

Rowan continued as if she hadn't spoken, "I would have preferred not to be the talk of the town all the time, but I'm not going to let public opinion take away the one good thing in my life."

She opened her mouth wide, "What about hockey?"

He shrugged, looking at her, "Hockey is just a sport."

"If Lorcan could hear you right now..." she shook her head.

"But Lorcan's not here. And you won't tell him," he made her silently promise.

They exchanged another brief kiss, before they carried on talking about all the worries she had and every word that came out of his lips acted as a sedative for her fears, killing one at a time, until she fell asleep in his arms, lulled by his soft breathing on her neck.

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[moonchildsaurora]

Garden of Words

✤ prince/king!Yunho x tailor!reader ✤ genre: Prince AU // angst, fluff ✤ t/w: sfw, lots of bittersweetness, rated PG ✤ count: 3.5k+ ✤ [ part 2 ] of Lacuna miniseries

a/n - look, when I was writing my plan out for this, my notes only centered around the garden scene. . .and here we are 3000+ words later hahahaaaaaa, this is what happens when the mind goes “what if” and gets invested in the before/after rather than just the now 😔 one day I’ll be able to write shorter, sweeter pieces but today isn’t the day. I’d like to whole-heartedly thank anyone who reads through this entire piece, for your time and hopefully it was worth it. Also I’ve decided to have a little bit of fun with subtly featuring other members in each others’ mini stories, so see if y’all can spot who the next character we’ll be visiting next! 💙 P.S. paragraphs in all italics are flashback scenes!

“Excuse me, are you the fae of the garden?”

The watering can of butterscotch shade in your hands tilted back to pause in the sprinkling of water droplets on the freshly bloomed red gardenias. Turning around, you found the source of the small tinkling voice.

“Good morning Young Prince,” you greeted him, setting the watering can down on a nearby bench before making your way over. Sunlight shone abundantly down on the Royal Glasshouse, some areas where the stained-glass windows stood were bathed in colourful hues. Where the light hit your peachy robe made of georgette-silk gave an ethereal glow to your figure.

The Young Prince looked at you with wonder as you bent down to his level before speaking to him again, “and how did you manage to find your way here, little one?” You recognised the mahogany velvet capelet that wrapped around his form; after all, just two weeks ago were you tirelessly hand-sewing those dainty pearls that left a trail of constellations across the velvet surface.

“Hmm…I followed the pretty blue butterflies!” the Young Prince excitedly pointed to where several of them were fluttering over the yellow hibiscuses. Of course he would, he is the King’s son after all and his smile was perfect proof of that too.

Your eyes soften and the sides of our lips tilted further up, “Well they definitely have led you to a special spot haven’t they?”

“Please don’t tell anyone!” the Young Prince turned to look behind him quickly, as if to check if the coast was clear before taking a few shy steps closer to you. He brought up his little hands to cup them around his mouth and anticipating that he was going to whisper, you leaned in with a listening ear. 

“I’m not supposed to come here on my own but Father brings me here sometimes and always tells me that the flowers here are most happy because of the fae who cares for them. I wanted to meet the fae because they never are around when Father and I are here.”

With great effort you suppressed the giggles that threatened to spill out, not wanting the Young Prince to think that you were laughing at him but rather at how adorable of a pout he formed by the end of whispering his little secret to you.

“Who told you that you couldn’t come here by yourself?”

“Everyone says that this glasshouse is Father’s most favourite and no one should come in without him saying ok. Even Mother doesn’t come here.”

Now it was all starting to make more sense to you, trust him to give you a title like fae of the garden. Letting out a gentle sigh, you gave the Young Prince a reassuring smile and held out your pinky.

“I promise not to tell, if you don’t.”

His eyes sparkled immediately as his little pinky was quick to curl around yours, “Oh thank you great fae!”

The soft spot in your heart grew once more.

“Would you like to see what fresh blooms will greet us today, Young Prince?” 

The initial shyness he had melted away and the eager tug on your hands with a delighted laugh was a clear answer to your question. You let him lead you down the cobblestone pathway, patiently answering his questions whenever he’d point out flowers to you along the walk.  

“Ah! Father’s favourite flower!”

The both of you slowed to a stop where the sea of multi-coloured freesias clustered, like a protective circle, around the Juliet Rose bush. With glowing apricot coloured petals that looked tender to touch, the rose bush stood dignified in the middle. Oh, the amount of care and love that went in to growing these roses, it truly is the treasure of the Royal Glasshouse.

You could still feel the phantom prickles on your fingertips from when you’d accidentally catch on one of the thorns whilst pruning. But you also remembered the warm hands that used to encompass yours and those same hands fought many more thorns to build this piece of Eden just for you.   

“Shall we get some to give to him later on?” you suggested, having swiftly gone round the corner to retrieve the pruning knife from the crate.

“Yes, yes! Oh but won’t our shoes get muddy going in there?”

“Your Father didn’t mind losing many good white trousers to the dirt when he used to tend to the garden.”

“Father did that?” gasped the Young Prince, his eyes locked on as you moved with practiced ease. Still unsure as to whether he should risk a scolding from his tutor later on, he stayed behind the pebble border.

You hummed in reply, tip-toeing to avoid disturbing the freesias to reach the rose bush. “He drove the palace tailors mad with the amount of buttons he’d lose…but it was all worth it in the end.”

Your hands cupped one of the larger roses, observing the intricate layers of petals within the heart of the bloom. Just like the layers of memories that stirred within you in that moment.  

”Not again Your Highness!”

Shoving the tunic you had been sewing to fix up a rip at the seams to the side, you hurried over with a handkerchief towards the Crown Prince as he came out of the Royal Glasshouse. When he wasn’t attending his classes or royal duties, all free time was spent on the garden. The only rule was that no one but the Crown Prince was allowed inside.

“Blossom, we’ve talked about this. You know I’d prefer it if you used my name.”

“That’s the last thing you should be worrying about now! The Queen won’t be too thrilled to know that you–“

A snow white camellia was tucked behind your ear, distracting you to a pause. Your hand immediately reached up and your fingers were met with the morning dew still upon the petals.

“This is first of the few that have successfully bloomed.”

“You’re distracting me on purpose, Yunho!”

“Well it got you to say my name, did it not?” he laughed, crouching down slightly to allow you to help wipe some of the soil off his cheeks. Even as you continued to fret over his mess of a stained blouse that certainly will cause a ruckus over afternoon tea, Yunho looked at you with so much affection that it would’ve made the rest of the flowers blush.

“You are impossible,” with no real bite to your words.

“And yet you’ve stayed by me all this time.”

You weren’t just the child of the Queen’s personal seamstress, no, you were Yunho’s first real friend within the palace. He treasured the friendship, for being with you meant Jeong Yunho could breathe freely. 

The hallway had a woeful chill despite the midday sunlight streaming through the arched windows. Perhaps it was reflecting your current state of mind, your feet scurrying with haste to carry you to the safety of your chambers. Only behind closed doors did you allow your walls to crumble.

“It’s settled then, we shall entrust you with the task of creating the wedding gown. After all your sewing skills are immaculate and the Princess herself personally requested for you.”

Your mind kept replaying the announcement, echoes taunting the reality right in your face. Extremely confused at the absence of feeling on top of the world that you’ve been tasked with such a prestigious request nor were you jumping with joy knowing that Aethevintis and Cilon were officiating a strong alliance through a royal engagement.

“Every tailor in the kingdom would’ve killed for this job! Soon you’ll be making a name for yourself!”

The palace staff showered words of encouragement and your mother couldn’t be any prouder…

...yet it did nothing to ease the piercing cold emptiness that invaded your shattered heart.     

“Blossom that would be considered as assault against the Crown Prince.”

You threw an unamused look his way, right after you had nearly kneed Yunho in the face when he effortlessly hitched you over his shoulders. Without so much as giving you a valid explanation as to why he arrived unannounced at the tailors’ room, only to whisk you away from your half-sewn bodice.

“Some of us need to work, Yunho!”

“You’ve been working a fair bit lately, I simply miss spending time with you.”

Now that you have actually acknowledged your feelings towards him, you couldn’t afford to let such words feed the false hope; not when you knew there will be an inevitable split in your pathways. You had been purposely avoiding him since preparations for the Engagement Ball have started, under the guise that you needed complete focus on your commission. It numbed the hurt inside temporarily, but you couldn’t deny that you’ve missed him.

Terribly so.

“Where exactly are you taking us?”

Scrunching your nose slightly at the smell of hay and heavy worn leather upon entering the stables, you noticed the saddle was already on Yunho’s Friesian stallion. Had he planned this beforehand?

“On an adventure!”

Of course, Yunho may have forgotten to notify you that he was supposed to be at a council meeting at that moment instead of bolting out of the stables like your lives depended on it.

He needed to breathe again and you decided to run with him for once, rather than away. The faint shouts of his name could be heard in the distance but consequences be damned if it meant seeing his radiant smile be set free and feeling the steadiness of your entwined hands.

“Watch your step.”

For whatever reason you couldn’t fathom, that Yunho somehow managed to sneak away from his own Engagement Ball without getting noticed and now was guiding you through an alternate and poorly-lit route towards the garden. Had it not been for his insistence that this matter was of great importance, you would’ve dragged him back in to the Grand Hall yourself.

Not even daring to think about the implications of his future wife being left, having to wait inside and what should happen if any of the guests or palace staff saw you with the Crown Prince in this questionable state?

“I’ve already talked to Captain Song and requested for his guard unit to ensure this area is kept clear for tonight, so you needn’t worry.”

His warm hand that held onto yours gave a reassuring squeeze, dampening your anxiousness just a little. You ended up facing the entrance to the Royal Glasshouse, the window panes were crystal clear in the dark that you could see the stars that hung above in the night sky in the reflection. Admittedly this place hadn’t graced your mind in months and you immediately felt disappointment towards yourself for not checking in with Yunho over time about his progress.

As you were about to speak, your vision suddenly goes pitch black.

“Hope you don’t mind but it’s a surprise,” Yunho whispered softly and only then did you realise that those were his hands covering your eyes. Wordlessly you nodded and allowed him to lead you in, an array of floral scents hitting your senses almost immediately, indicating that you both have made it well in to the glasshouse.

Something brushed against the top of your head unexpectedly and you flinched back, hitting Yunho’s solid chest.

“It’s ok, it’s just the blue jade vines. I’ve got you.” You wished your heart would stop fluttering as you felt him shuffle around you.

“Had it been anything else, I would’ve been right out the door and never stepping foot in here again,” you murmured.

You heard Yunho’s low chuckling before, “And leave me behind? That’s harsh. Who would I ever share this with then?”

His hands lifted and you blinked a few times to settle the initial haziness. Your breath caught in your throat as you took in the view; there were lanterns both hanging from the roof and ones scattered around to illuminate the interior with a soft glow, fireflies danced about unbothered and even with the vast amount of plants it wasn’t a suffocating space.

Taking tentative steps to look at some of the flowers up close, you couldn’t help but let out a breathy laugh. Just when you thought Yunho couldn’t get any more incredible than he already is.

“Yunho, this is…you really did it! From which fairytale did you pull this garden out of? All of this is exquisitely stunning!” you said, gently running your hand over the pink and white baby’s breath bushes.

Unbeknownst to you, Yunho’s barely keeping himself together under his calm façade. His heart has been yearning to just go against all odds and take you away with him but that meant condemning you to a lifetime of hardship, in a world where tradition doesn’t take too kindly to change.

He would never do that to you.

If he couldn’t be free to love you openly, then he’d love you in all the ways that required unspoken words. He poured his time and love into creating something, untouched by others and solely from himself, that he could give to you.

Just like he already has with his heart.

So when you heard him call your name, rather than the usual term of endearment he’d use, it set off the butterflies in your stomach. He reached out for you and you met him halfway.

“Did you know these are my favourites? They’re still young but as they grow, you’ll see that they aren’t just ordinary roses. They’re called Juliet Rose.”

Yunho showed you around the garden, telling you of the different flowers and their meanings. Peruvian lilies for lasting bonds, bluebells for devotion, gladiolus for strength, chrysanthemums for happiness, carnations for faithfulness. You were so caught up with keeping track that you nearly missed what Yunho had said next.

“–for an undying love or you’re the only one…”

“What...did you say?”

A barely-there whisper as you choked the words out. The running water from the mini fountain in the lily pad pond was the only sound among the silence that stretched between you both. And then there was the feeling of dread again, that you needed to run. Far away. Now. “W-We should go, th– your future fiancée is wait–“

You barely made it past 4 steps before Yunho caught your wrist and this time, he wasn’t going to let go. He called your name again.

“Please look at me.”

Perhaps it was the desperation in his voice that got through to you, telling you that you’d deeply regret it if you were to leave. So you willed your heart to stay through the pain and to stay for Yunho. It wasn’t until you felt damp velvet against your cheeks that you realised it was from the tears that cascaded down from your eyes and soaked in to Yunho’s suit, for he held your shaking form close to him.

“I’m such a fool.”

“Well, I guess we’re both just fools very much in love then.”    

And then it dawned on you.

This entire garden being Yunho’s vow to you, which made you cry even harder than if he would’ve just confessed out loud to you right from the start. 

Your hands grasped onto his back, fisting the fabric as you buried yourself further in to him. Noting that he smelled of clementines on a cool breezy summer day, you ingrained that scent to your memory. Wishing upon all the stars above that time would stop and allow you both to just live in your little garden.

“And with your permission, could you allow this fool to be selfish for a while more?”

A light kiss to your forehead before your face was tilted up, sore tear-stained eyes meeting his matching ones. “You? Selfish? Impossible.” Keeping your voice soft, partially from not wanting to break the peaceful ambience as you clumsily wiped his tears away.

Yunho knows he already has been selfish especially with time, he can’t stop it but he can draw it out at least. And he’s selfish in wanting to take from you when he knows he cannot give back entirely. But if it’s once in this lifetime that he gets to have you before having to return to the cruel world of normality, then he will get on his knees to beg for your forgiveness for being selfish.

He pours out everything in to the searing kiss he places on your lips and whilst you never imagined your first kiss to be like this, at the very least you finally have closure. Swollen lips, rosy cheeks and warm hands that refused to part until the very last second. Words that you both have been meaning to tell each other over the years are woven into poetries.

The garden kept it all, kept your love safe and your hearts safer.

“Do they make you happy too?”

Just like that, you’re brought back to the present. “What gave it away little one?” you asked, glancing to smile at him before focusing on cutting off two large roses.

“You were making the same face at the roses as Father does when he’s happy…when he tells me about you and the garden,” replied the Young Prince with honesty. The blue butterflies from before came fluttering around the roses that you held in your hands, much like the ones that stirred inside you once more when you heard the words.

Some things never change, do they?

You started to take the thorns off the stems with the pruning knife before replying, “They do, and this is my happy place.” Once you deemed the stems were safe enough for the Young Prince to hold, you made your way back over to him. You knelt down and presented the roses to him, “What do you think?”

He cautiously took the flowers that dwarfed his small hands, peering in to the layers curiously and taking a whiff of the delicate scent. “They’re really pretty! I think Father will like them very much!”

“Shall we go look for a few more blooms? You can create your very own little bouquet.”

The Young Prince made little noises of excitement and rushed to hold on to your hand once more, continuing on the quest to pick more flowers. It wasn’t until awhile later when you were showing the Young Prince how to arrange the flowers he picked to tie them together, that you heard the sound of approaching footsteps.

“Father!”

If Yunho hadn’t already learnt how to harden his heart these past years, the scene before him would’ve surely made him cry with happiness. For a second he could pretend that this was real, that you were the one with the aquamarine diamond band around your finger and that he was coming to join his actual family for tea in the garden. His eyes never wavered from yours, even when his son came barrelling in to his legs waving his bouquet merrily in the air.

“Your Majesty,” you greeted with a formal bow, not missing how Yunho’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.  

“Father, I finally got to meet the great fae! We spent all morning finding these!”

Only when you subtly flicked your eyes down towards the child did Yunho respond, quickly reaching down to take the bouquet from his son’s outstretched hand and bringing him in for a hug too.

“I had a feeling I’d find you here, sneaking off from your tutor again,” amusement lacing Yunho’s tone, “and what an intriguing choice of flowers you’ve got there.”

Father and son both adorning mirrored grins on their faces, “they’re for you, do you like them? And I’m sorry for sneaking in here Father!” said the Young Prince, little brows furrowing slightly.

“Very much, thank you…the both of you. And it’s ok as long as skipping your lessons doesn’t become a habit,” said Yunho as he ruffled his son’s hair affectionately and drew his gaze back to you.

“Unfortunately we must take our leave now.”

“How come? Do we really have to go?” The Young Prince seem to have inherit the puppy-dog eyes from his father, putting on the best pout he could muster as he looked between the two of you. Yunho shook his head, bending down to pick his son up. “Remember Grandpa and Grandma are coming by for lunch? Your Mother even asked the cooks to prepare our favourite dessert,” as if attempting to appease him.  

“But…I wanted to spend more time here!”

“You’re always welcome back here little one, if His Majesty is ok with that–”

“Of course, although I hope it won’t be too much trouble?”

You gave a gentle smile and eyes twinkling with mirth, “Considering he hasn’t lost more than two dozen buttons within the last two weeks nor requires daily stitch repairs, I’d say it won’t be too much trouble at all Your Majesty.” That drew out an apology and light laughter from Yunho.  

You walked the King and the Young Prince back to the entrance of the Royal Glasshouse, and just before stepping out Yunho turned to you once more. “Have you stopped by the pond recently?” the random query puzzled you.

“I thought I saw something interesting growing there the other day.”

Please go.

Right after waving a goodbye to Yunho and his son, without a care of making it obvious you hurried to where the lily pads floated at. It wasn’t hard to miss the bundles of serene blues nestled in the damp soil near edge of the pond. As you got closer, the realisation of what those were made your heart soar and ache at the same time.

A couple of tears fell onto the sea of blue petals as you reached out to cradle them with your hands.

“As if I could ever forget…my beloved King,” you whispered to the forget-me-nots that silently delivered Yunho’s words for you—

This garden is forever yours and so is my love, always. Never forget that.  

[geniedocroe]

CLOSE AS STRANGERS

(don malarkey X reader)

angst, potential fluff

wc: 4430+

you were very in love. in fact, you had been for quite a while. since your seventh birthday actually. it was a blur of memories now and you could just barely recognize it. thirteen years passed quickly. soon things began to change and the future you were seeing . . . it wasn’t very bright and happy.

donald malarkey (your best friend, soulmate, the person you were in love with) had always been very perfect in your eyes. there wasn’t much to despise about him. so you simply couldn’t. you couldn’t hate him. of course there were a few things that set you off. these were only little things though. for instance, when the two of you would share a milkshake or something of the sort and he’d accidentally drop it (he was fairly clumsy), or how he’d jokingly trip you (that ticked you off to no end), or when he’d notice everyone else but you . . .

despite these minuscule flaws you loved him. from his toes to the stunning freckles and ginger hair. he was as pretty as a picture. he truly was. you didn’t believe you were as pleasing to be around, but it was always a confidence boost when don politely asked your mother if you come outside for a while. you felt as though he cared when he did little things like that.

today was like any other. you sat on the front porch of the little house you had grown up in, reading a book.

you thought maybe that was why you weren’t as desirable as the other women in town. they all seemed so daft and boring. apparently these “men” didn’t appreciate someone who could use their brain. it frustrated you to no end.

your like any other day was actually very tedious. it was one warm day in june. your mother wouldn’t allow you to work because she encouraged you to attend college first, which you did, but it was summertime. there was not one thing for you to do. so half of your day was spent sitting on the porch, flipping through books you had appeared to have read hundreds of times.

the excitement bubbled throughout your chest when you saw a mess of red hair running your way. it was about time he had shown up. don ran through your front yard and up the steps. he stopped short of you, trying to catch his breath.

“good afternoon, ma’am.” the ginger managed to cough out with a very bad british accent. he never failed to try and turn anything into a joke.

you looked up from your book with a soft smile. you responded in the same accent. “good afternoon, my good sir.”

“the weathers quite alright today, isn’t it?” he questioned, sitting beside you on the swing.

“i guess it is looking rather nice.” you gazed towards the sky. immediately regretting your decision to be blinded by the sun, you blinked at him, seeing colors.

“nice enough for a walk?” don asked, dropping the accent.

you grinned, gently shutting the book before standing to enter the house. “let me ask my mother.”

“you’re twenty years old!” he called after you as the screen door slammed shut. your laugh could be faintly heard.

don gave a soft little chuckle at the sound of your own laughter. he thought it was quite musical. everything about you screamed peace. it was like tiny birds helped you get dressed in the morning, or mice aided you whilst cleaning the house. you were some sort of sweet dream. something that he didn’t even know he wanted, someone he didn’t know he needed.

he may have been smart at times, but he was completely oblivious to your feelings and his own. you hadn’t made it extremely obvious that you were infatuated with your best friend. however, you dropped a subtle hint every now and then. don would just seemingly dance around it, but after some time you realized he didn’t even know how love-struck you were. in fact, you didn’t think he shared that very same feeling. you didn’t think he even had a minuscule bit of that feeling.

don sure felt something, but he thought it was just nerves. his chest felt loose and fuzzy, his stomach seemed to have joined gymnastics, and he just couldn’t seem to stop wringing his hands when you were near. he didn’t hate the way it felt, then again he certainly didn’t appreciate it either.

seconds later you reappeared, slamming the screen door shut behind you. there was a distant yell within the house. don looked up at you with innocent eyes.

“she said yes, of course.”

he stood up with a grin plastered over his freckled face. you bounded down the steps with your dear friend in tow. as the two of you stepped onto the sidewalk, he looped his arm through your own. you appreciated this dearly. it was as close to holding hands that you were gonna get, but it was casual enough where people didn’t ask you too many questions. this action had also made you feel safe. like the two of you were just out of arms reach.

of course you never felt unsafe in don’s presence. you weren’t incapable of protecting yourself, he was just your knight in shining armor. don was there and you would never force him to leave.

“what book were you reading?” don asked, gazing over at you, taking you in as if there was no more time left in the world.

“the wonderful wizard of oz. i cannot tell you how many times i’ve read that book.”

don thought for a moment before replying excitedly. “do you remember when we saw the movie and you dumped that bucket of popcorn on that poor guy? his face is fried into my brain. that was truly one of your best moments.”

“i live to please.” you sighed, throwing up your free arm. “you know what i still can’t get over? how amazing judy garland is. like truly, she is perfect i think.”

“she may be judy garland, but she doesn’t have a thing on you.”

you ducked your head away as your cheeks began to grow warm. a little voice in the back of your brain was screaming at you to just tell him before it was too late. you didn’t know how much time you had left or what girl was going to come and steal him away before you got the chance.

the rest of your walk continued it silence. the empty moments were filled with tranquility. don felt as though he wouldn’t be able to experience times like this for a very long while. all he wanted was to be around his best friend. all he wanted was for you to understand. for you to hug him and tell him that everything would be alright in the end.

approaching “your spot” on this day was unlike any other. it was a beautiful maple tree in the middle of a field with one ancient looking tire swing. not a lot of people knew about this place so it was perfect to get away. to just be the both of you. this was your safe place. you loved it here. you practically grew up here.

you could faintly remember the moment everything changed for the two of you as best friends. the moment you fell in love. you wondered if don remembered it better than you did. you wondered if he even thought about it at all. because to you, it meant the world.

“hey don, can you promise me something?” you asked, hanging upside down from the tire swing. you struggled for a moment before jumping down.

“i’d promise you anything.” he smiled at you as you sat down beside him. the two of you leaned up against the tree, looking out over the field.

“promise we won’t ever be like my parents. that we’ll always be best friends. cause, my parents have no friends and i always want you around.” you wrung your hands together nervously.

“of course we’ll always be best friends. i promise.” he stuck out his pinky to you and you accepted graciously. “oh! i have something for you.”

don pulled his hand away to grab something in his front shirt pocket. the look he had on his face said everything. the excitement had built up at this point. in his hand was held a small chain with a locket hung securely on it. he handed it to you and watched as you inspected it. engraved onto the silver was “forever in my heart” with two tiny roses.

“wow, don!” you gave him a huge grin as he secured the necklace. you threw your arms around him, hugging him tightly. you spoke into his shoulder. “i love it. thank you!”

“happy birthday.” he said fondly as he pulled away. he stared at you for a moment before he made an impulsive decision.

it was quick and it surely caught you off guard, but don pressed his lips to yours in a fleeting motion. you stood their wide eyed as you blinked at your friend with burning cheeks. don’s face was almost as red as his hair. and you were sure you had never felt this way before.

even at seven years old, you fell in love.

you plopped down beneath the tree without a care in the world. dust flew up as you disturbed the spot with your presence. don stood hesitantly beside the tire swing. his hand reached out to hang onto the rope.

looking out over the empty field sent a warm sensation from the tips of your toes to the top of your head. the sky seemed to stretch for years and the grass was as yellow as ever but that never stopped you from adoring it. the soft chirp of birds was music to your ears. how could you ever learn to loathe a place like this?

“i need to tell you something.”

you looked towards don. he fiddled with the rope for a moment before looking up at you. he didn’t expect you to already be gazing at him with puppy dog eyes. the sight of you almost made his eyes well up with tears.

“i’ll always listen. you know that.”

“i know. that’s why this is going to be so hard.”

as he sat down beside you, you began to think. with the war going on you weren’t very confident in what he was meant to tell you. half the men you had gone to school with had already enlisted or been drafted. it was only a matter of time before don would be leaving too.

there was a moment of silence where the both of you gazed out into the open field. you had to remind yourself that this was the place you loved and that don was your best friend. he wouldn’t ever intentionally do anything to hurt you.

“y/n,” don turned to you, placing a hand on your knee. “i’m being drafted.”

you blinked at him once, twice, then a third time. he stared back at you with sincere, innocent eyes. he prayed that you would understand. that this would all be okay and your friendship wouldn’t suffer.

whatever preparation your mind had done was no use. not a single person on earth was ever ready to face war. it didn’t matter how old you were or how many horrors you had seen. don would come out of the other side of the war as someone else. you knew he would. he would barely make it out alive. you didn’t want to know that person.

“i have to go.” you muttered, shoving his hand away from your knee.

immediately you stood with don following suit. he looked so incredibly hurt by your sudden movements. this was not the reaction he had expected.

a part of you was telling you to turn around and hug him one last time as you stalked off. you knew he was following close behind you but you were hard to keep up with. it was like a giant black hole had materialized in your chest and was beginning to consume all of your organs.

a hand grabbed your shoulder and you whipped around at an ungodly speed. the tears in your eyes were visible. you weren’t angry. don took a step back from you. he frowned at your reaction but still managed to choke out a sentence.

“this isn’t my fault, y’know. i wish i didn’t have to go.” he tried to reach for your hand but decided against it at the last moment.

“i just hope you make it home some day. you stay safe wherever you go, kid. good luck.” you gave a small smile before turning once again.

don was quite taken aback. you hadn’t called him kid in years. it was a joke that had died away after being used one too many times. then it became something you only called him when you were hurting deep down. he couldn’t fathom that this was one of those times.

as you quickly walked through the field you saw flashes of your childhood before you. the good, the bad, all of it. you love it here. actually, loved it.

over the next few days, you and don had absolutely no interactions. you strayed away from him and he felt hopeless. any time you saw him approaching you, you ran in the other direction. however, he never seemed to chase after you. neither of you knew what hurt more.

all don wanted to do was say one last goodbye. he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to see you again. there was some part of him that needed to see you but he couldn’t understand why. so, he left.

the day after don left you had begun to regret not going to see him. that black hole in your chest never subsided and you were afraid it was permanent. you had never gone so long without talking to him. the two of you had always been attached at the hip. if he never made it home . . . this silence would become your biggest regret.

your family looked at you with annoyance as you shoved the food around on your plate. you felt selfish to not want to eat but you truly weren’t hungry. you weren’t tired. you weren’t interested in anything. you had no motivation. it was obvious.

“what is the matter, dear?” your mother asked.

“nothing, mother.” you set down your fork, resting your chin in your hand.

“elbows off the table.” your mother instructed. you did as told. “it isn’t nothing, y/n. you haven’t spoke a full sentence in over a week. you haven’t left your bedroom. i haven’t even seen donald around here. are you ill? have the two of you gotten into an quarrel?” your mother questioned you with clear worry on her face. the rest of your family was silent. they looked at you curiously.

“i ain’t ill and there’s nothing wrong with don. he’s gone off to fight in the war. we won’t be seeing him for quite a while. we’ll be lucky to even see him again.” you huffed, studying the table cloth.

your siblings exchanged a glance. they didn’t understand the war. their naive innocent brains couldn’t comprehend why the war was being fought or why some people might not ever come home. you wished you could be as angelic as them.

“are you infatuated with that boy?” your father asked. mother elbowed him sharply in the side as your head shot up.

“infatuated?” you scoffed.

“let me tell you, y/n, military men are no good to marry. i like donald, but he’ll be completely gone after this war. they never come back home with a sane mind.” your father pointed his fork at you with a raised brow. “thought it will be such a same. he had a great future.”

“yes, because you’re such a great judge of character.” your mother dismissed her husbands opinion with a wave of her freshly manicured hand. “when he returns home you will dote on that boy. i’ve seen firsthand how much warfare can change a man, he’ll need all the help you can give him.”

you looked back down at your plate before looking up once more and scanning every face at the table. they stared at you expectantly.

“may i be excused?”

dear y/n,

i know we haven’t been on speaking terms and i’m sorry for that. i miss you so much. you are my best friend. your opinion means everything to me, but i hope you have tried to come to terms with my absence. it’s been over a year and neither of us have reached out to one another. that truly breaks my heart.

i’ve finished my training as a paratrooper. i’m sure you’ve never heard of that before. to put it simply, alongside the men i have trained with, i will be jumping out of airplanes with a parachute. it sounds terrifying, i know it does. however, i have trained with the best. you don’t need to worry.

i have met some amazing people during my training. it’s safe to say i’ve also met some insufferable individuals. there’s this guy named skip. he really became my best friend over the past year (of course no one could take your place). you would love him. he’s a great guy. super funny too.

my company consists of mostly good men. i don’t think i would ever say otherwise. they have to be extremely brave to want to jump out of an airplane. i have really gotten to know these men and i’m sure i’ve made bonds that will never break.

the beginning of my training took place in georgia. we ran up this mountain more times than i could even imagine. it was so painfully hot everyday. i don’t think i’d ever want to live there.

today i’m in a camp in new york. we leave in a couple days. we’re getting on a boat that’s heading over the atlantic ocean. i don’t know where we’re going or how long i’ll be gone. i’ve always wanted to visit europe, but not like this.

i hope you’re doing well. maybe you’ve graduated from school. maybe you have a great job. maybe you’re dating the best man you could find. maybe you have a kid. maybe you don’t have any of that. what a shame that’d be. you’re a real catch. you deserve anything and everything.

even if i don’t ever come home, i want you to live the kind of life that was always meant for you. find a new best friend. move on with your life. show everyone that you can’t be walked all over. don’t think that it’s all over because you won’t be seeing me again. in fifty years you could have everything you’ve ever worked for.

i miss you. i always will.

-don malarkey

dear y/n,

in about two days we will officially be entering the war. i’m terrified and i know i should be. i’m just trying to push through everything so that one day i will be able to come home.

there’s not much i’ll be able to say. i actually don’t know what to say. training has always been rough. they claim they want us to be the best. i secretly think they just want to see us struggle.

there has been a lot of difficulty over the past couple of months. despite all of this, there’s been the usual shenanigan. skip and our other friend alex, have dragged into some odd situations. i’m glad they do though. these are some memories i’ll hold close to my heart forever.

i still miss you. you never responded to my last letter. unless you did . . . perhaps i never got your response. i hope you’re doing great.

is there anything knew happening in your life? did you graduate? have you met any peculiar people? have you met anyone who’s completely changed your life? do you still go to that diner? i know you loved it there. i miss the milkshakes so much. are you working at all? do you miss me?

i pray that you will be able to respond to me. i’ll never know what my last letter will be. this could be it.

i miss you. i always will.

-don malarkey

dear y/n,

i still haven’t gotten a response. i hope you’re okay. i don’t know if you’re even alive. how horrible would it be if i was the one fighting in the war and you’re the one who’s passed?

this war is brutal. it’s horrible actually. i cant even explain how bad it is because those words aren’t even in my vocabulary. i’ve seen some really horrifying things. things that would make your hair curl.

we’ve lost people. good people. men with lives and families back home. people just like me. it just makes me realize that my days are potentially numbered.

i ended up getting into some trouble actually. a friend of mine and i had stolen a motorcycle. we went through the country in england and honestly i haven’t had that much fun in a long time. it was nice to let go and appreciate everything that was happening at the time.

if you are reading this, please respond. i need to know that you don’t hate me. or if you do hate me, i still want to know. i haven’t gotten many letters but every single one i get, i hope it’s you.

how are you? i really want to know. it’s been so long. are you okay? i miss you. i haven’t spoke to you in over two years. i’m sure something has happened in your life. something that has changed you completely. please respond, y/n.

i miss you. i always will.

-don malarkey

“hey mal!” skip called over to his friend who sat beside george luz.

don looked up curiously. skip, alex, john julian, and babe heffron stared back. they all shook furiously from the harsh weather of bastogne. taking the piss of conversations during their sad mealtimes were the only way to get by.

“who’s that girl back home that you’re constantly chattering on about?” skip asked.

“girl back home?” george echoed skip with raised eyebrows. “why have i never heard about this?”

don rolled his eyes as everyone looked at him with curious eyes. he had only ever spoke about you to skip. he hadn’t even told alex about you. i mean, what was there to say? you were only friends.

“i gotta hear this.” joe toye leaned forward to listen in.

“there’s this girl back home and she’s . . . she’s everything. you know, we were best friends. we grew up together. she hasn’t spoken to me since i told her i was leaving though. and – and i used to think i wouldn’t need her to just exist, but now without her . . . i feel like there’s a part of me missing. it’s horrible. she’s my best friend, y’know.” don explained. beside him george burst into uncontrollable laughter. skip and alex shared a look before cracking up as well. julian looked at babe with a confused expression. “why are you laughing at me?”

“sounds like you are in love with her, my friend.” joe nodded. george took a moment to try and regain himself but he burst back into laughter a second later.

“there’s no way. i’ve known her my whole life. i just - i just miss her, that’s all.” don pushed george away. the man was all but laughing in his face.

don felt like he was folding back into himself and pulling away from his friends. he didn’t want to bring you up and then get laughed at for your friendship. you hadn’t even spoken in years.

“you said you haven’t spoken in years?” julian piped up. don nodded. “well, why not?”

“i don’t think she wanted to face the idea that i wouldn’t be around for a while. she was pretty hurt. called me a name i hadn’t heard in years. i don’t blame her.”

“oh, so she’s in love with you too?” joe suggested and don gave him an incredulous look.

“i strongly doubt that.”

“you never know until you tell her that you love her too.” julian said.

“what the hell do you know about love?” babe snorted at the replacement next to him.

“i just think it seems kind of obvious.” julian shrugged. “he can’t realize that he’s in love with her and she could be in love with him and doesn’t realize it either. if the both of them can’t come to terms with it then the other would never know. so, they’ll both be suffering while they watch the other move on with their lives. might as well tell her now.”

everyone blinked at julian. for being so young and virginal, he spoke very wisely about love. he had more of a mind than don did. perhaps he would confess to you . . .

y/n,

i’ve never felt more alone. skip & alex got hit. they’re my best friends. i don’t know what to do. please tell me you’ll still be there when i get home.

-don malarkey

don,

i’m sorry about your friends. i’ll be here.

-y/n

dear y/n,

the past couple of months and years even have been extremely difficult. the war has changed my life drastically. it’s put me through the ringer. i pray it hasn’t done the same for you.

everyday i anxiously await the announcement of the japanese surrender. i cannot tell you how exciting that news was. the war is finally over. after years of all the pain and suffering for millions of people. of course, there’s still tons of rebuilding that will need to be done and there’s still so much that needs to be change. all i want to do is come home.

i hope you’re waiting for me. if you haven’t already met someone and started growing a life for yourself, i’d love to go out with you. you’re always the only thing i can think about. which is not good in a war.

i love you. i have always loved you. you mean everything to me and it’s hurt the both of us knowing that neither of us had said it sooner.

i’m coming home soon. i promise. i’ll be home before you know it. please don’t forget about me.

i miss you. i always have.

-don malarkey

[squidbatts]

all that you have left to lose

Just on a medical note, folks, Peter does regrow his parts, so you Runners don’t need to return any bits you find lying around

Or: an incomplete list of things that runners have returned to Peter Lynne, local disaster

((keeping with my “at least one fic about peter a month” streak for 2020, have a silly little thing about peter being able to regenerate and runners returning his body parts to him anyway. spoilers to... lazarus (s5m30) i think? the fic exists Technically sometime in early s6 but it doesn’t include any of late s5/s6′s plot points so! you should be good. please enjoy!))

{ao3}

1. Ear (Right, torn)

Nadia drops the ear in front of Peter at the mess hall, which is less than ideal for a variety of reasons. A bit because it makes Peter want to eat his mystery soup a little less, but mostly because it causes Reggie from the kitchen to glare over at them. 

"What did I say about dismembered limbs in my mess hall?"

"Not allowed unless they're going in your food," Peter dutifully recites. "Though, can I just say, that's majorly creepy. Am I supposed to take that as 'If Abel had a food shortage, you'd become our very own renewable meat source'? Because that's how I've taken it."

Reggie doesn't respond except to narrow their eyes further, which isn't exactly inspiring. 

Peter turns back to Nadia. "Good afternoon, Nadia! To what do I owe the honor?"

"Someone gave this to Veronica but she said that it wasn't a 'good enough sample,'" Nadia says, with the look of an indulgent older sibling who's been given a mudpie. "I figured you might want it back."

Peter is never sure where he stands with Nadia; she didn't know him, before, and hasn't really shown any interest in getting to know him now, beyond awkward small talk when he goes to Veronica's labs. Still, as her hand's twitch against the wheels of her chair, he recognizes her bravado, as well as the devotion to someone who's just a bit crazy. He smiles at her, puts his spoon down, and picks up the ear. He doesn't want it, not really, but it was nice of her to bring it.

--

2. Finger (Left pinky, cut just above the palm)

Peter supposes that it’s his fault, walking up to another runner without loudly announcing his presence beforehand. Still, it's not like he knew Jody was sharpening her knife. 

"Peter, oh my god, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!" Jody gasps, dropping out of her defensive stance as easily as she'd moved into it. Between them on the soft grass of the quad, Peter's finger lays forlornly.

"Since when do you use knives anyway?" Peter hisses, voice muffled by how he's shoved his hand into his mouth in a reflexive attempt to stop the pain. He knows that his body is working to fix it, that in a few hours he'll have a full hand again, but still.

"Tom gave it to me," Jody replies, more starry-eyed than the statement would've called for half a decade ago. Really, Peter should've expected the answer; De Lucas like it best when everyone is nice and well-armed.

"Why are you sharpening it, then? I'd say it's sharp enough already, obviously." Peter wiggles his pinky-less hand pointedly, though there's a significant part of him that's thankful that he only caught her after the knife was sharp enough to make a clean cut: a half-dull blade would've hurt more. Jody scowls, though her eyes still have an apologetic sheen to them. 

"Well, what are you doing skulking around like that? You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"I was going to ask if you wanted to join me on a book exchange run because I heard a rumor that Fort Canton had the fifth Percy Jackson book," Peter huffs, "But now I think I should just go alone."

"Oh, don't be like that," Jody says. She picks up Peter's still bleeding finger from the ground and tosses it to him as she bends to tie her sneakers tighter. 

"What am I supposed to do with this?" Peter asks, making a face. The wound on his hand has closed up, overactive cells already starting to grow him a new pinky, but he puts the old one up to the spot for a moment anyway, pulling it away like a macabre mimicry of a fake finger magic trick.

"I dunno, that's none of my business, is it?" Jody snarks, "Now, let's go, before someone else gets that novel."

--

3. Kidney (Look, it’s been a hard week)

"Damn it, Peter," Louise Bailey hisses, and something hits Peter's back, fast enough that he knows she threw it, "I slipped on your intestines!"

"Sorry! Next time someone's slicing through me with a machete, I'll be sure to keep all my organs inside so I don't hurt you," Peter snarks back as she catches up with him. She didn't actually slip on his intestines, Peter knows, because his intestines are definitely still inside of his body, despite the large torso-spanning slash that he's weakly pressing his hands against -- it used to be hard for him to tell what he'd lost or what hurts, but he's become something of an expert at it since he's rejoined Abel. He's still not sure if that's a good thing. Still, Louise probably did trip on something of his, since whatever she threw at his back was too fleshy and soft to be anything but organic, and he's certain that a few of his less than vital organs spilled out. "You know, this is why I hate missions where I have to deal with people."

"Because you lose your organs?" Louise asks, voice dripping with sarcasm. 

"Yes, because I lose my organs! Zombies bite and scratch, but they don't throw knives or slice me up. I may be immortal but I can still feel pain," Peter says. Louise is quiet for a moment before she turns around. Peter slows down, nervously looking back towards her and, unfortunately, the direction that their pursuers are coming from. "Oi! What are you doing?"

Louise bends to pick something up and doubles back, cradling a fist-sized, burgundy thing in her hands. She tosses it and Peter catches it on reflex. "Here, it's yours anyway."

The kidney is a bit misshapen and smushed, probably from where Louise stepped on it, but it's still warm in his hands. Louise looks at him out the side of her eye like she's expecting him to just pull open his cut and pop it back in. He slides it into his backpack instead, already anticipating a lecture from Maxine about getting bio-goo on Township supplies. "Thanks, appreciate it."

--

4. Three toes, as well as one and a half loose phalanges (Big and index of right, big of left, god knows where those phalanges came from)

Paula frowns at Peter's feet. Peter frowns at the roof of the building that he still calls the Med Tent in his head. 

"Well, doctor?" He asks, "What's the verdict?" 

Paula moves her scrutiny to Peter's face. "I don't know how you managed to crush your feet like this-"

"I was carrying a supply crate and I tripped, alright, it's not like I did it on purpose," Peter defends. Paula continues as though he hadn't spoken.

"But, usually, I'd do an X-ray and maybe some surgery to re-set, then wrap the toes up for a few weeks. For you, I can tell that at least two of these have set wrong already, so I'll have to re-break them. Though I guess, I could always just amputate."

Peter considers this. "Which one will be faster?"

"The amputation, but you'd be off-balance while things grew back."

"I'd be off-balance with the wrap too," Peter waves her concern off like he's swatting a bug, "No, no, better the quick solution. Can I get anesthetic?"

"Can you get- Of course you can Peter, what kind of doctor do you think I am?" Paula shakes her head at him. "Sometimes, I wonder what's going on in that head of yours."

Peter grins at her, unrepentant and a little self-deprecating. "You and me both, Doc."

Later, after Peter's enjoyed some of the best pain-numbing that Abel can spare and has been given a blindfold because "If you don't stop looking down here and flinching, I'm going to have to cut even more and neither of us wants that," Paula hands Peter a biohazard bag. 

Peter shakes it experimentally and scrunches his nose at the sound of flesh bouncing around inside. "Are these my toes?"

"Yes. Bring them over to Veronica for me, would you? She's been trying to convince Maxine that it would be ethical to cut off one of your limbs for nearly a month now, anyway, might as well give her some actually ethically-sourced Peter parts."

"What am I, a mailman?" Peter asks, peeking into the bag and wincing with phantom pain. Paula frowns at him.

"Do you need a blindfold to wear on the way over to Veronica's as well?"

"Why, Doctor Cohen, I didn't think you were into that sort of thing," Peter leers, breaking into laughter when Paula throws a roll of bandages at him. "Alright, alright, I'm going!"

"And be careful of that foot!"

--

5. A rather large bone (???)

"That is not mine." 

Tom stares at Peter, unblinking. Peter likes Tom, he did even when Tom was more liability than friend, but god if he isn't creepy sometimes. 

"Are you sure?" Tom asks, looking from the bone, a massive thing that's clearly longer than Peter's forearm, to Peter. 

"I'm quite sure. I don't know who's out there missing a bone, but I like to think that I would've noticed losing a leg bone."

Tom hums, consideringly. He picks up the bone and swings it once, as though he's testing the heft and balance. Peter suddenly has a horrible vision of Tom, just as dangerous and De Luca-ish as he is right now, but also armed with a bone sword. He doesn't think that Janine would ever forgive him if he let that happen. 

"Actually, you know what?" Peter says, reaching forward and taking the bone from Tom, "I think this might be mine. Thank you for returning it, I'll just, uh, add it to the collection, as it were."

"You collect your own bones?" Tom asks. Peter, who is already too far in, just smiles back at him. 

"We all have our little hobbies," He offers. Tom raises his eyebrows but nods. Still, Peter makes a mental note to tell Jody to be on the lookout for any weird new quirks; Tom had seemed much too interested in the concept of a bone collection.

--

+ 1. Nothing

Five clears their throat as they enter Peter's curtained-off corner of the Med Tent. "Rare that you're trapped in here," They sign. 

"Unfortunately, even I need some time and doctor assistance to fix spinal trauma," Peter says, putting down the knitting that Jody gave him; he appreciates the gesture but knitting when one of your hands is pins-and-needles numb and you can only use the other if you hold your arm in a very particular position while your nerves knit themselves back together is more effort than it's worth. "Nice of you to come visit, though." 

Five makes a face, their classic I'm not sorry but manners tell me that I should be face, and signs, "Sam told me that I should come visit you. He says I shouldn't keep your things without asking."

"My things?" Peter asks, brow furrowed. "What do you have of mine? I didn't you'd be much for theft, Five. Well, theft among friends, that is."

"I'm not, it's just-" They cut themselves off and reach into their pocket with a heavy sigh. What they pull out is small, white, and clean. Peter's confused for a moment, wondering why in the world Sam thinks it's his, and then Five moves it in their hand and he gets a better idea of the shape and- huh. 

"That's one of my vertebrae." He says, though it sounds more accusing than he'd wanted. Five scowls. 

"I found it, fair and square. You just left it on the ground, obviously you didn't care about it."

"Five, my dearest, darling head of runners," Peter starts, desperately wishing that his hands were working enough that he could steeple them for emphasis. "I passed out from blood loss."

"That's not any of my business!" Five signs emphatically. 

Sometimes, Peter forgets that Five is like this; sometimes, in his head, Five is a big soft puppy that loves sports bras and Sam. The real Five, unfortunately, is a gremlin who does things like drink shampoo to win a bet and picks up garbage off the ground during runs just because they can. "Whatever, it's fine. I don't want it anyway."

Five looks at him suspiciously but puts the bone away. "Are you sure?"

"Very. I've already regrown most of the damaged pathways, I'm sure the bones are nearly back as well." 

"I wasn't really worried about you taking this one back," They say, finally coming closer to settle into the chair next to Peter's bed. "But it would've been okay if you did; I have three more."

"Three more?" Peter asks, "Are they all vertebrae or- Actually, nevermind, I don't want to know and I don't want them back."

"Good," Five grins, sharp as a wolf, "I wouldn't have given them to you anyway."

[noaoats]

Adrien Learns How to Ride a Bike

cross-posted on ao3 here

“Marinette learns that her boyfriend can’t ride a bike. She decides to fix that.”

Chapters:1/?; Words: 3,452; pure Adrienette fluff

---

Ladybug knew that her powers and identity were based on the concept of good luck, but sometimes she just felt really lucky.

She was currently on a beam near the top of the Eiffel Tower with her head in her boyfriend’s lap. The two had ended patrol early and were content to spend time together before each had to return to their homes. Ladybug’s eyes were closed as she rested. Chat was humming a song and dragging his fingers through her hair while looking down over the city.

His claws scratched gently on her scalp and her toes wiggled in bliss. “What are you humming?” she asked.

“A song my mother used to sing when I was younger. I was afraid of storms, so she’d sing to keep me calm if it began to thunder. I don’t remember the words, but the tune gets stuck in my head from time to time.”

“It’s beautiful. Maybe we can try to look the song up sometime.”

Chat separated a portion of hair and began to braid it. “I would love that.”

She willed herself to stay awake. She had despised going to bed as a kid and her mother had always played with her hair to help her fall asleep. During sleepovers she loved to play with Alya’s hair, but occasionally the other girl would braid hers and it would knock her out. The comfort of being with Chat coupled with the warm afternoon sun was making it difficult not to drift to sleep hundreds of feet above Paris.

Chat’s voice roused her as he continued talking. “We still haven’t planned our date for Saturday. My father confirmed again that I could take a few hours off so I’m free until evening. And the weather is supposed to be nice. What do you want to do? Hang out up here?”

“Hmm. I’m not sure,” she said. “We haven’t gone on many dates as ourselves, you know? We’re always transformed. We could… watch a movie. Or go swimming, since cats love the water so much.”

“Ha. Ha.”

“What about a bike ride along the Seine? We could go until we find a nice spot for a picnic. I’ll bring a blanket for us to sit on and some food. Or we could try to cook something together beforehand if you have time! My bike has a basket.”

He paused while braiding her hair. “Um… what about a picnic at the park near your house?”

“I mean, we could, I just figured it would be nice to try something new. That’s where we always eat lunch during school, plus bike rides are fun! I haven’t ridden mine much since I was a kid, and even then I really only ever used it to bike over to Nino’s house for playdates.”

“Oh. Yeah, it’s just that…” His voice sounded strained, and she opened her eyes to see if he was okay. His forehead was creased in thought and his cheeks were pink. “Um. We could just walk, instead. And not go as far since I can’t stay for too long.”

She giggled. “What, don’t tell me you can’t ride a bike.”

When he grimaced again the smile dropped from her face. She had made a major mistake. “Oh. Oh, Chat, I didn’t mean to-”

“No!” he interrupted. His face turned red as he realized that he had cut her off, and he patted her forehead awkwardly as if to apologize. “No, don’t feel bad, it’s okay. It’s just kind of embarrassing, is all. What kind of kid our age doesn’t know how to ride a bike?”

She pushed his hand aside and sat up next to him. “Lots of people! It’s nothing to be embarrassed about!”

“Yeah, I bet. Name one other person.”

“I… Alright.” Ladybug looked around dramatically as if to ensure no one could hear them way up on the tower, making Chat laugh. She leaned closer to whisper. “You can’t tell anyone, okay? I was sworn to secrecy, and I know for a fact that this person will hunt me down if they find out I told you. We made this blood pact back in CE 2. You mean a lot for me to break a promise like that.”

“Blood pact?”

She shrugged. “We were wrestling and gave each other bloody noses. We wiped the blood on our hands and then made a pinky promise. It was very serious when we were eight.”

His nose crinkled. “That’s disgusting.”

“Eh, we were kids. More importantly, do you swear to take this secret to the grave?”

“Yes,” he said. “Yes. Please. Tell me this life and death secret. What other poor soul can’t ride a bike?”

Her voice dropped even lower. “Kim. Kim can’t ride a bike.”

Chat looked stunned. He stared at her for a few moments. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope. And not even Alix knows that.”

“Huh.”

“So you see!” She bumped shoulders with him. “If even the great Kim can’t ride a bike, it’s obviously not that big of a deal. Did it scare you as a kid? Or did you forget how to do it?”

“Well, firstly, it is a big deal if you literally exchanged blood over it. Seriously, that’s just wrong.” He looked down at his hands in his lap. “And secondly, no. I just never learned. My parents were going to teach me, but then my mom disappeared, and my father… The Gorilla tried once but he obviously didn’t know how to teach. He just told me to put on a helmet and go, and I didn’t know what to do with that. Then I was banned from ‘dangerous activities’ that could ruin my modeling career.”

Ladybug fell silent, processing her partner’s words. Knowing how to ride a bike wasn’t the most important skill a person could have, but it was one that had brought her a lot of joy. She also knew how much Adrien loved being able to transform and race around, and biking could bring a similar sense of freedom in his civilian form. He was also rich enough to buy a bike without any hassle if he ended up loving it.

Her mind was made up.

“Alright, that’s it. This Saturday, I’m teaching you how to ride a bike.”

-

“Marinette, I don’t know about this.”

Adrien was sitting uncomfortably on her bike, tilted to one side as he shifted around on the seat. She had switched the bike’s gears and elevated the seat to accommodate him but the whole thing felt awkward. He did like the bike’s design, though- it was a pretty light blue with small gold bells on the handles. Clinking them had been fun at first, but now that he was actually about to ride they felt like they were in the way of his hands.

“Don’t be a scaredy-cat.” Marinette handed him a matching blue helmet. “I promise to help you, and I’ll run alongside you when you go, okay? If you begin to panic just… fall on me and I’ll catch you.”

“I’m not going to crush you with a bike!”

She flipped a hand. “Whatever, I’ve been through worse. You’re the model that can’t get banged up. Alright, so put this on your head. It clicks under your chin; you want it to be tight but not uncomfortable.”

Adrien followed her directions. He had assumed that the helmet would feel strange on his head, but he was used to so many weird head pieces from modeling that he barely noticed it. His girlfriend rapped on the side of it once it was in place and he rolled his eyes. “It’s on, Mari.”

“Just checking. Okay, so getting started… I’m actually not sure what the best way to explain this is.” Her eyes darted back to the bakery across the street. “Wait! I have an idea!”

He knew that look. “Don’t leave me here on the bike!” he hissed. It was too late, though. She had already sped off in the direction of her home and left him stranded in the middle of the park. He still didn’t know what he was doing, but having her there had made him feel less awkward. He avoided the looks of other groups strolling past and shifted his weight from foot to foot. Was it weird for people to just stand around on a bike? He had never noticed, but he also had never paid attention to it. He was sure that he looked stupid.

Just as he was about to climb off and walk the bike back here was a thump to his right and he turned to see Marinette sprawled on the ground. She just jumped back up and kept going. In her hands was a giant, empty box. “We have so many of these from all the ingredients we order. I thought this might be easier.” She plopped it down next to him and sat down on it, lifting her hands to grab onto imaginary handlebars. “See?”

He snorted. “Love your bike.”

“Thanks, cardboard is in this season.” She winked. “Okay, so you move forward by pushing the pedals like this.” Her feet rotated next to the box in a circle, and he looked down at the real pedals near his feet. That seemed simple enough. “You have to do some balancing at the start, but once you get going the bike just takes off.”

“What if I start to tilt?”

“Well, you either fall or you don’t. But seriously, once you get some momentum you’ll be fine. And you steer with the handles, like this.” She demonstrated and he copied her with the real handles, twisting the front wheel against the pavement. “To stop…” She leaned back and bit her lip. “Hmm. Normally there are brakes on the handles you can squeeze to stop. It’s those small silver things there. But mine don’t really work that well ‘cause they’re so old. You’ll need to start pedalling slower and squeeze the brakes, and then I usually slide my feet on the ground to help myself slow to a stop.”

He blinked. “What do you mean, your brakes don’t work? I thought this was supposed to be safe!”

“It is! A lot of people have broken or missing parts. Riding a fully functional bike doesn’t count as a true biking experience, don’t worry.” The box was thrown in a nearby recycling bin before she stepped next to him to put her hands on his shoulders. “Alright, so at first you’re going to pedal slowly and I’m going to help you stay upright. I won’t let go, okay? We’re just going to go around the park.”

“Wait, what? Now?”

“Uh, yeah? When else, silly?”

This was happening too quickly for Adrien, but he reluctantly nodded. “You promise you won’t let go?”

“I promise, chaton.”

“Alright.” His foot hesitantly pressed down on a pedal and the bike squeaked, rolling forward a few inches. Marinette helped him balance himself so that he could lift his other foot off the ground and push the other pedal. The bike jerked forward but he stayed upright, gripping tightly. “Whoah!”

“You’ve got it! Keep going!”

He smiled at the encouragement and pressed again with his first foot, and then again with his second. Marinette was still mostly responsible for keeping him from falling, but he slowly began to circle the perimeter of the park. A part of him was anxious that others would be watching, but the thrill of the bushes and trees passing by him was too exciting to let himself get distracted. He was riding a bike! “I’m doing it!”

“You’re doing great, Adrien!”

The smooth walking path made pedalling easy, and he started to pedal faster. Marinette shuffled, then began to jog to keep up. “If you go faster I can’t hold on,” she yelped, stumbling over her feet as he went around a bend.

“I’ve got it, I’ve got it! Let go!”

She laughed and finally released his shoulders. Without the resistance the bike flew forward. Adrien was filled with glee as he spun around the last curve in the park and began making his way back toward the entrance. Marinette had been right, it was easy enough once he had built up some momentum. He could hear her running behind him now, still cheering.

“Look at you! You’re riding a bike!”

“I’m riding a bike!”

He took one more lap around the park and then decided to stop before he pressed his luck too far. He shifted his hands to reach the brakes and pressed them. Like Marinette had promised, his bike began to slow but didn’t jerk him to a stop. The handles tilted wildly under his hands for a moment from the grab, but he quickly righted himself. Marinette had caught up at this point and was gesturing toward his feet. “No brakes!”

“Right.” His feet hit the ground harder than he meant for them to, but the friction of his sneakers against the pavement helped him slide to a quick stop. The bike came to rest right before a bench where a couple was sitting. They smiled at him and gave him a thumbs up. He returned it.

“Adrien!” There was a tight squeeze against his abdomen and he looked down to see Marinette giving him a strong hug. He smiled and awkwardly patted her arms while extracting himself from the bike. It loudly collapsed to the ground, but neither of them cared. “That was so awesome! How did it feel?”

“It was… really nice! I definitely need to practice more before going out on the roads or anything, but I’m glad you convinced me to try this. You were an excellent teacher. Can we try again some other time?”

“Absolutely! Now are you ready for our picnic?” She flashed him a mischievous look. “I want to introduce you to one more thing.”

-

Marinette whooped as they flew down the path lining the Seine. Adrien’s grip was almost painful on her shoulders, but she could hear him laughing behind her as well. They had dug up her mother’s old helmet to double-up on the bike. Marinette was steering and Adrien was holding on behind her with his feet on the back wheel hub. He had been anxious at first, but now they were both dizzy and elated as the river sped past them.

“Up there! Up there!” Adrien yelled in her ear. His fingers were still tight on her shirt, and she assumed that he didn’t feel sturdy enough to lift a hand and point. She scanned the area ahead and found a small bench and grassy area right next to the river bank on their right.

“I see it!”

The bike zoomed over and she began to squeeze on the brakes as they rolled down a slight hill. Adrien held her closer as the momentum shifted but was silent as she slammed her shoes down to break their slide. The bike tilted dangerous to the right as they turned, but it gradually rolled to a stop in the grass. Adrien slumped over her shoulder. “Marinette, oh my god. That was so much fun. Why don’t we do that all the time?”

She booped his nose. “Because of a certain mothman we hate. But we can do it more often! I didn’t know if you would like it or not, and honestly I had forgotten I had a bike. I should really start riding it to school again.” Their food had somehow remained in the basket, and she passed the bag to Adrien as he hopped off the back of the bike. “It would keep me from having to sprint after sleeping in.”

“You know, you could just not sleep in.”

“Yeah, but what’s the fun in that?”

They spread the blanket out on the grass and set up their lunches- plain baguettes, small salads, and an orange to split. Plagg and Tikki were content to stay in the bike basket and hang out, and Marinette didn’t disturb them. She enjoyed being alone with Adrien. Well, as alone as they could be with two tiny gods always keeping them company.

Adrien had already scarfed down half of his lunch, moaning in delight. “I don’t understand,” he grumbled, mouth full of food. “Why would you ever leave your place to get food? You could eat this great all the time. I’d never stop eating.”

Crumbs trickled down his shirt and she reached over to shake the fabric and knock them off. “You have a chef. And you’re going to choke if you keep eating like that.”

“At least I’d die doing what I love. Eating food made by the Dupain-Cheng’s.”

She swatted playfully at him before digging into her own lunch. They mostly ate in silence, taking in the moment. The sky was beautiful and the park they had found was surprisingly clear of tourists. They were sitting near a bush of flowers she found absolutely lovely, and they had sat as close to the river as possible. It would have been nicer without the gates blocking them from falling in, but she still appreciated being near it. Adrien seemed to catch her gaze. “Wonder if it’ll ever be clean enough to swim in?”

That made her laugh. “I’d say when pigs fly, but that might actually happen with some of the weird akumas Papillon has made. Still, it’s pretty. If it wouldn’t definitely give me E. coli, I’d jump in.”

“I’ve never gone swimming anywhere that wasn’t a pool,” Adrien admitted. “Not saying that I’d swim in the Seine- that’s nasty. But it would be cool to find a lake or something and get in. Nino’s family goes rafting a lot at Cergy-Pontoise. It sounds fun.”

Marinette felt a pang of sympathy in her chest. “You didn’t get to do much fun stuff as a kid, huh? Or now.”

“I mean, I hung out with Chloe some. We would go shopping together or goof off during big social events. That was fun.”

“Yeah, but that’s not…” She sat up straight, grabbing his hands. “Have you ever used roller blades? Tried using a pogo-stick? Jump roped? Climbed something you weren’t supposed to?” He frowned and wiggled his ring finger. “Obviously not as Chat Noir. Like I used to try and climb this giant tree in the park across from my house. I wasn’t supposed to but I did it anyway, and I ended up falling and breaking my arm. Anything like that?”

He paused to think. “Hmm. I was allowed to go ice skating some, but not much. And I did fencing. That’s about it.”

“That’s it, then.”

“What is?”

She stood up and brushed fake dust off her pants for the dramatic flair. Her hands slammed on her hips and she puffed out her chest. “I have decided what our next few dates will be. You and I will be giving Adrien Agreste a childhood. And we’ll start with rollerblading.”

“Really?” Adrien didn’t get up, but he looked overjoyed. She really did get lucky. He was so cute. “Can we really?”

“Really really. Hold on, I have some paper in my purse.” The notepad was resting next to the two kwamis in the bike basket, and she waved at them before reaching in to grab it. “Let’s come up with a list of things you’ve always wanted to do but never got the chance to. We can go ahead and write down riding a bike, and put a check next to it.” She sat down next to him and started scribbling in her lap. “What else would you like to do?”

“I love you.”

“Okay, I love y-” She stopped writing, realizing what he had said. Her cheeks were probably burning. It didn’t matter how long they dated, he always took her breath away when he said that. And he was giving her such a soft look, how could she not turn into a romantic puddle in front of him? She smiled. “I love you, too. What was that for?”

Adrien scooted closer. “Nothing. I just love you, and I like to say it.” The peck on her cheek was unexpected and she felt her face grow hotter. “Plus you’ve been showing off all day; it’s fun to make you blush.”

“I’m not-!” He was already laughing at her. “Okay, hot-shot. For real, we need to make this list.” She pushed forward onto her stomach so that she could write on the ground, and she used her legs to shove him over. “What do you want to add?”

He wriggled over next to her and leaned closer to see what she was writing. “Alright, alright. I was thinking we could add…”

[agameofme]

Hiraeth

There’s writing that you have to do--as in, you’re obligated to do it--and then there’s writing that you need to do, as in, it’s just sitting there inside you, weighing you down, gnawing at the inner walls of your mind, needing to be expunged so you can do the writing that you have to do.

This is writing that I need to do so that I can get back to the writing that I have to do.

On a recent afternoon I got off BART at the stop near my home and there were Girl Scouts outside at a little table, selling cookies. In an instant an entire scenario played out in my head. I walked up to them, smiling, expressing enthusiasm about getting to buy some cookies, maybe making a comment about how much we all love Thin Mints, though I bet they hear that all the time. I bought a few boxes, wished them well, and went on my way. But none of this actually happened. Instead I just turned away and started walking toward my apartment. Reason being that I figured if I did, in actuality, approach them with the intent of buying cookies, the fact of my obvious transness might, perchance, have made one of the girls noticeably uncomfortable, or perhaps a parent of one of the girls, and I would pick up on this and then I would feel uncomfortable for having made them uncomfortable, and then the whole exchange would be tinged with awkwardness, and I’d just want to end it as quickly as possible to relieve their discomfort at me and my discomfort at their discomfort, and I’d walk away regretting that I’d put any of us through that. Of course I realize that there’s a chance that these particular young people and their present parents are perfectly comfortable around trans people, that there’d be no fleeting “How do I explain this to my daughter later?” flicker across a mother’s face, no girl hesitating awkwardly, caught in a moment of uncertainty about how to address me. But I can’t know for sure, and so even if I tried to approach the situation with the casual, carefree attitude that I wanted to, the fear of the possibility of things becoming awkward would be rattling around in me so loudly that I couldn’t hide it, and my fear of potential awkwardness would awkwardly poison the whole interaction regardless.

This happens all the time. This is how I live my life.

Last month, Bruno Ganz died. I love Wings of Desire, and his performance in it. Like his angel, Damiel, I sometimes feel like I’m observing life, but not really participating in it. I exist at a remove, wondering what real closeness and connection and participation in life are like. I know they can be wonderful. 

“I wish I could see your face, just look into your eyes and tell you how good it is to be here...to smoke, have coffee, and if you do it together, it’s fantastic.”

The film punctures the lie that time heals all wounds. For many of us, the waiting and waiting and waiting is the wound. 

Bruno Ganz was only a few years older than I am now when he made Wings of Desire. I don’t know why thoughts like that so often occur to me, but they do. I think maybe it’s because I’m so aware of time slipping away from me, time that I never get back, and I really want to start living before I die.

Today, and yesterday, and the day before that, I woke up starving for touch. Often the first thing I’m aware of when consciousness comes to me is a kind of ache in the body, like my skin is the frozen surface of a lake, and there’s warm water far, far below that could bring such relief, but it needs a warm touch on the surface to bring it floating up through the cold, to infuse my skin with life once again. This is one of the ways I am wounded by time.

Anyway, I want to tell you a story.

(Bionic Commando, NES)

It’s actually not about the person I met when I was young, though I wish it was. I’d have only very kind things to say about them, but to write about them would not be a kindness. And so, like so many stories that purport to be about someone else, this is actually a story about the person telling it, and the effect that the other person had on me.

Was I young many years ago, when this story I’m about to tell you happened? I don’t know. I mean, yes, I was, and I am. I’m very young. Young like Yorkie in San Junipero. Her body may be 60 or so, but she’s not really 60, because she’s experienced so little. In the virtual world of San Junipero, she has the freedom to be herself, a young woman looking to form connections and find love for the first time. Even there, her complete lack of experience surprises the woman she clicks with, but still, with Kelly she finds acceptance. She can let her walls down and be honest about who she is, what she’s missed out on her whole life, and what she needs now.

Now I’m physically 42 but really I’m no older than Yorkie. I go on dating sites like Bumble and I can’t help but be extremely aware that I’m very different from most of the queer women on there, not just because I’m trans, and visibly so (though that certainly significantly limits the pool of people who might want to even meet me for coffee), but because I’m so inexperienced, and so guarded, and so aware that it takes a special kind of person to make me feel safe, and able to be honest and real.

Of course, I have had long, close relationships before, but that was before I transitioned, and despite all my efforts to pretend otherwise, there was always a barrier between me and my partners, because those relationships were all predicated on a fiction, the role I tried so hard to play while gender dysphoria carved up my insides. I was profoundly uncomfortable with my body, and didn’t really inhabit it throughout all those years. It was as if my soul was hiding away, trying to make itself as small and as removed as possible from the anguish of reality, possibly curled up into a tight little ball in my left pinky toe, barely present in the real world, always seeking escape into books and songs and movies and video games.

Now I’m uncomfortable with my body for an entirely different reason: it seems to prevent people from seeing me for who I really am. I’m definitely in less pain having transitioned, and there’s a relief in living with the integrity of being honest with the world about who I am, but still, the world can’t see me clearly. I’m misgendered constantly, and because I know I’m not clearly seen by the world, fear factors into every decision I make. I’m never free of it. Do I dress the way I dress because this is how I want to dress, or do I dress the way I dress because I’m trying to make myself invisible, because I’m afraid of drawing potentially hostile attention to myself? I don’t know, and as long as fear remains present, I can’t know.

Whether or not it’s true, I feel as if I exist entirely outside the marketplace of desire as a queer woman, and that the only times people want me are when they see me as something I’m not. One woman I dated briefly repeatedly misgendered me and even admitted to me once that she fantasized about me being a man. One woman made a pass at me by saying that she saw me not as a woman or a man but just as a person. How can I be present in a relationship if I know that I’m being seen and desired expressly as things I feel like I’m not, and not as who I am?

Loneliness is hallmarked by an intense desire to bring the experience to a close; something which cannot be achieved by sheer willpower, or by simply getting out more, but only by developing intimate connections. This is far easier said than done, especially for people whose loneliness arises from a state of loss or exile or prejudice, who have reason to fear or mistrust as well as long for the society of others.

--Olivia Laing, The Lonely City

So. Let’s talk about Alex. 

I’ve written about Alex before. I don’t know if i’ll write about Alex again. Some writers are fond of saying that all of us who write essentially write the same story again and again and again, but I’d like to have a new story to tell. I know Alex wants that for me too.

It was several years ago now that I met them. I was in a weird place at the time, having just gone through an intense defrost cycle on my heart. After focusing on transition and not giving much thought to relationships for many years, I’d had an encounter that made me painfully aware that finding love, closeness, and connection was supremely important to me.

There’s a great deal I can’t tell you about Alex that I wish I could tell you. What I can say is that they just had a particular kind of sincerity about them that put me at ease. Very few people can do that. I didn’t feel the anxiety around them that I feel around so many people. I didn’t mind just existing in silence with them. Time with most people drains my batteries. Time with Alex recharged them.

Alex did and still does things that I admire greatly, and I find them fascinating as a person, and I wanted more than anything to engage in the endless process of getting to know them. In the 1990 Hal Hartley movie Trust, a character asserts that respect, admiration and trust equal love. I don’t know if it’s as simple as that, but I do know that all those ingredients were there.

I could tell that Alex knew what suffering was in their own way, and that they struggled sometimes, which is essential if I’m going to be able to relate to someone, but Alex wasn’t wounded in the same ways or the same places that I was wounded, which is also essential. If you put me next to someone who’s like me, there’s just a chasm between us. All we can do is spin our wheels. Alex was someone I could relate to and understand, and also learn from.

Anyway, it eventually came to pass that Alex knew how I felt, just as I knew that Alex would never see me the way I wanted them to see me. The circumstances of this dual revelation would make for a more symbolically fraught movie scene about the anguish of a lifetime spent feeling invisible than anything I could concoct in a work of fiction, but I won’t go into the particulars. Suffice it to say that the next night, Alex and I met, I guess in the hopes of clearing the air. We sat on Alex’s couch, and Alex put their arm around me.

I suppose that’s the sort of thing you might do if you grow up in a somewhat healthy family that teaches you that your love has value.

The effect it had on me was the feeling of years and years and years of ice melting away, warm water rushing to the surface, my skin and my soul awakened in a way they never had been before. I simultaneously wanted to kiss Alex and to fall asleep in their arms. I wanted to sit there talking and laughing quietly while letting phrases like “I love you” slip out of my mouth, and I wanted to cry, to let loose all the grief that I’d carried around with me for so long and had never been able to share with anyone. I actually did laugh at the sheer wild luck of it all, of finding myself in that moment, and I laughed, too, at the wonderful surprise of discovering, after spending all my life in moments that I couldn’t fully inhabit, that really being there, right there with Alex, was the easiest thing in the world.

If I died tomorrow, and it turned out that, like in Hirokazu Koreeda’s film After Life, I had to choose just one memory to take with me, that would be it, the time I spent in Alex’s arms that night.

When I left, it felt as if the whole world was vibrating. That’s not an exaggeration or some kind of metaphor. I mean that it felt to me as if everything was humming, as if all of existence had become charged with life, or perhaps as if all of existence were always charged with life, and for the first time I could see and feel it, because for the first time I was part of it.

Maybe this is what Sam meant in Gone Home when she said she felt like a shook-up can of soda. Maybe almost everyone experiences something like this when they’re young, and they learn that they can be loved. But I still haven’t learned that. I’m still waiting for my first mutual experience of it. I don’t expect love to mean undergoing a massive spiritual experience every time the person I love touches me. Not at all. I want to get to a point where being held by someone I really like doesn’t feel like winning the goddamn lottery. But when you’ve waited for it for as long as I have, it’s powerful, when it finally happens. I don’t expect love to be grandiose. For the most part, my time with Alex wasn’t grandiose. It was low-key friendly get-togethers, conversations over drinks at bars, playing games together, or just working quietly on our own things in the same place at the same time. That was all it had to be.

Of course, I knew even as I was sitting there with Alex, being brought to life by their warmth and their presence and their touch, that they didn’t mean for it to affect me so profoundly. They were just trying to comfort me, their friend, in the hopes that it might be easier for me to let go, to move on, to just be friends. The next day they texted me and asked me if I was feeling better. What could I say? That the night before had changed my life, that it was the most incredible thing I’d ever experienced and that I was, if anything, more full of yearning than ever before, that all I wanted was to hold them and be held by them?

I said that yes, I was feeling better, and left it at that. That was years ago now, and in all the time since, I haven’t met anyone else yet who has felt like a chance to me the way Alex did.

Sometimes some of my friends say that monogamy is bullshit. The people who say this around me, though, are always attractive people for whom love and affection and touch are widely available around the city in or the planet on which they live. When people ask me if I’m poly (as they occasionally do, I suppose because I’m a queer-identified woman living in the San Francisco Bay Area), all I can do is laugh. I can’t even find one person I like and who likes me who I want to know deeply, with whom I feel safe, with whom I can be vulnerable, with whom I can take my time to form a bond of closeness and trust. If my life were completely different, if the world taught me to move with confidence rather than fear, if the world taught me that I was seen rather than invisible, would I be poly then? I can never know the answer to that. We are all shaped by our experiences within the world, the messages the world sends us about ourselves, and if the world sent me different messages about myself, I’d be a different person. But I do resent the attitude among some that polyamory is inherently more enlightened or radical than monogamy. I think that in this world, where people so often use other people and then dispose of them, there’s something radical about ordinary devotion to one person, between two people who know each other deeply, trust each other completely, have seen each other at their worst, and still support and rely on each other.

The other question I get, I guess because of my lack of experience, is whether I might be asexual. But I’m not. When things are firing on all cylinders, I’m definitely sexual. But I really need to feel safe and seen with someone, seen and desired as the woman I am, and the world doesn’t make me feel that way, so it takes time for me to feel that way with an individual. Over and over again on the dance floors of life, I see people seeing each other, desiring each other and being desired, and I feel invisible, and I’m still dancing on my own.

Alex felt like home. I’m still looking for home. Not the exact same kind of home that Alex felt like. Everyone’s love makes a different kind of home. Just a home, one where I feel safe and seen, with someone I trust and respect and admire and can learn from and have fun with and be myself with, a home where I’m inclined to let down the walls that I have spent so long building up. In a world where everything about my life is complicated, feeling the way I did about Alex was the simplest, easiest thing. I know it doesn’t stay that way, but it seems to me like a good place to start.

[trixcuomo]

Sunfury Brand, 1

((A little naughty fun with Trix’s inglorious, yet beloved booty tattoo. Separate from “Slay Trixany”, in three parts. Also featuring Trix’s lover, the now very glamorous Lord Sunthraze, from the My Life for My Prince series. 15 min. read, NSFW, 18+))

Leather was tight. She pushed hands up into her hair, desperate to get cool for at least a moment before going through the unfun ritual of taking it all off.

Trixany Cuomo stood before her dresser and the oval clam shell mirror leaned there. The scalloped edges were speckled rose gold and made of something pinky pearl, really too much. Actually, it was a tacky piece but it brought an irresistible sense of fun to Trixany’s studio flat in downtown Silvermoon. One room, but plenty of sass.

Trixany’s apartment home for now was punctuated with a few kitschy objects. A commentary on how she was—that people probably expected silk and laser lights or something, and a simultaneous challenge for her to rise above  and ‘make it’ someday. Accomplished Blood Knight always on Liadrin’s hit list, Kaja-Cola Girl, great—but that’s just some Goblin soda company… Trixany didn’t like to think about how she wasn’t sure which direction she was going in on some days.

Strip tease sessions in front of the siren princess mirror made up for that.

“Dark leather, silver zipper. Pull the silver ring to glide down my curves…” As she did so, Trixany attempted to roll her bare shoulder and pull her arm out. It was stuck. “Ho, boy. This is the part where leather catsuits tend to imply you’ll have a hot date who wants to help prise you out. But no, it’s the middle of the afternoon, on a Sunday…” After squeezing biceps up against her chest, to try and bring the other arm over and pull, she snarled in her magenta lipstick and managed it.

“Woo! Wait, where did that go…”

Trix left the slinky sleeve hanging around her naked hip, along with the left half of her top. She winked at herself in the mirror, gently peeled down the right side. Her arm came more easily out of the other side, with a neat ‘vwhip’ of the leather when she reversed the sleeve.

Okay, so it was pleather.

No need for a bra with this type of outfit. Trixany stood there half undressed for a while. Catsuit peeled down to her naked hips, brow knit. The candlelit apartment was very quiet then. Intense, intimate silence. Like someone out there was watching.

Trixany stood alone, inspecting one of her painted fingernails. Was it chipped enough to get them done all over again?

The Blood Elf woman then met her own eyes in the mirror. Lifted her chin, let arms rest at her sides. Arched her back, slightly, to stand up straight.

Yes it was a horrid, trashy mirror alright. But whatever insecurities she felt about the day, or herself, they went away with her smile returning. Lovely, awful mirror. But the woman framed in the clamshell looked pleasant, healthy. Glad to have made it back home. Glowing with another of her signature jokes blooming in her mind. Or another song.

And her breasts were being fun at the moment, taking up a lot of the mirror. She stretched and indulged a showy lioness yawn, then pretended to lick the inside of her wrist like a kitten and wash her face. The candles all over the apartment cast every hint of her musculature in dark gold shadows, aroused every rose blush.

She looked down and wondered if her toenails needed re-painting too. Her breasts were large enough that she couldn’t really see anything past her belly unless she had a seat and looked down from there, or peeked at her toes while sitting up in bed. The bed was way across the room, so she took a chance while standing there. A hint of red in about the right shape on all her little toes? They were probably fine.

“Hokay, next part.” Trixany backed up and began to wiggle out of the pants.

Done, perched on the dresser edge. Little bottles of polish and perfume and a pile of flashy but otherwise nondescript costume jewelry were edged to the side so she could fit her derriere up there.

Roommates or a significant other would have asked Trixany what the heck she was doing and stopped her from such a long session of indulgent preening. And she knew that, how she was sort of missing that, and defiantly chose to enjoy being in only underwear for a while.

She looked over her shoulder at the mirror, eyeing a golden two-headed phoenix tattoo on the right side of her butt.

This was a standard issue Sunfury brand. Many patriotic Blood Elves who served in Outland had one on their right bicep. It was also meant to be practical, in a place easy for allies to spot. The even more fiery, butch broad that Trixany had been in those days pointed to the spot and informed the man doing it that ‘he was f-ing putting it where it belonged’.

She’d survived Arthas’ attack on her homeland, she’d made it to serve Prince Kael’thas Sunstrider in Outland. She’d trained as a Blood Knight. She was young, and she was still beautiful. She was determined to have plenty of admirers and enjoy herself, whenever that was possible. To honor her youth and her life. A lot of Sunfury soldiers in those days had faced death and were doing wild things to show they weren’t going to waste another day of their lives.

In those days, the ones she trusted, respected, admired in that way, those able to get so close to her body, they were allowed to enjoy seeing her devotion. She wanted there to be rumors that she was badder than most. She wanted people to be shocked or afraid. She wanted her lovers to have to deal with it. She wanted to tease them with it. It was patriotic and naughty all at once.

After a few months in Outland, the infamous ass tatt also enabled her to do spywork since she wasn’t so obviously branded as other Sunfury; an unexpected benefit.

But today? There were hardly any ‘I bleed black-and-red’ Blood Knights anymore. And, it had landed her in an awkward conversation over coffee which also left her wondering if she should remove it from her life entirely. What did any of it mean now? Everyone has something on their body that they may not be so proud of. Trixany no longer saw it and got the excited rush that she used to, that she was so brave and fiery to have gone all the way and put it where she meant it, too. Today she felt dull, worried, when she looked at it. Not that she hated that part of herself, at least she hoped that she didn’t. More like she never really lived up to it.

You could either or remove or embellish a tattoo. So... remove? Or, embellish?

The decision was starting to panic her.

“Really? All these… feelings over an ass tatt?”