#and little dim lights shone through them like fireflies

[everchanging-cryptid]

I went to Rainforest Cafe for the first time today

I would like very much to live there

[drewzeitlin]

Cross Stitch Stories: Ember’s Journey: The Fire Within Part 4

Part 4: The Fire Within

Ember stood his ground as the massive salamander loomed over him, its eyes glowing like embers in the dim light of the cave. The air was thick with anticipation, and the silence between them was broken only by the slow drip of water from the cave’s ceiling. Ember’s heart pounded in his chest, but he forced himself to remain calm. He had passed every test so far—he wouldn’t falter now.

The salamander lowered its head, its breath hot and humid, carrying the scent of earth and fire. "The first trial," it rumbled, "is a test of strength. Show me that you can withstand the force of the earth itself."

The ground beneath Ember’s feet began to tremble, and he stumbled as the cave shook violently. Cracks appeared in the stone floor, spreading rapidly toward him. From within the cracks, sharp, jagged rocks shot up like spears, threatening to impale him if he didn’t move quickly. Ember leaped to the side, narrowly avoiding a spike that erupted where he had just stood. He could feel the earth quaking beneath him, and it took every ounce of his strength to stay on his feet as the cave seemed to come alive, trying to crush him.

But Ember wasn’t just any newt—he was agile, quick, and determined. He darted and dodged between the spikes, his small body slipping through narrow gaps and finding footholds where there seemed to be none. The cave roared around him, but Ember focused on the rhythm of the tremors, learning to anticipate each strike. The test was not just one of physical strength, but of mental agility as well. As the final spike shot up, Ember jumped, twisting in mid-air to land safely on the other side.

The cave stilled, the ground settling into an uneasy calm. Ember panted, his body trembling with exhaustion, but he had passed the first trial. The salamander watched him with a flicker of approval in its eyes.

"Well done," the salamander growled. "But strength alone is not enough. The second trial is a test of wisdom. Tell me, little newt, what burns without fire?"

Ember frowned, his mind racing. The salamander’s eyes bore into him, and he knew he didn’t have much time to answer. What burns without fire? He thought of the stories the elders had told him, of the challenges faced by those who had come before. He thought of the glowing fungi that lit the cave, of the light that shone from within them, and of the firefly that had guided him by the stream.

"Hope," Ember whispered. "Hope burns without fire."

The salamander’s eyes widened slightly, a slow nod of approval following. "Indeed, young one. Hope burns bright, even in the darkest of times. You have shown that you possess not only strength but also the wisdom to see beyond the obvious."

Ember allowed himself a small breath of relief, but he knew the hardest challenge was still to come. The salamander straightened, its form seeming to grow even larger, more imposing, as it prepared the final trial.

"The third and final trial," the salamander intoned, "is a test of spirit. Are you prepared to face the fire within?"

Before Ember could respond, the salamander opened its mouth wide, and a torrent of flames erupted from its maw. The fire roared toward Ember, engulfing the entire chamber in a blinding light. Ember closed his eyes, bracing for the searing pain that never came. Instead, he felt warmth spreading through his body, filling him with a strange, almost comforting heat. The flames did not burn him—instead, they seemed to merge with him, becoming a part of him.

Ember opened his eyes to find the world around him ablaze, yet nothing was consumed by the flames. The fire swirled around him, crackling with life, and Ember felt a deep connection to it, as if the fire was an extension of his own spirit. He realized then that the fire within him—the fire of determination, courage, and hope—was what the salamander had been testing all along.

He stretched out his hand, and the flames responded, swirling around him in a protective circle. The salamander watched, its expression unreadable, as Ember took a step forward, the flames parting before him like a curtain. Ember felt stronger, more powerful than ever before. The fire within him was a source of strength, a beacon that would guide him through whatever trials lay ahead.

The salamander bowed its head, a sign of respect. "You have passed the final trial, young newt. You have embraced the fire within you, and with it, you are ready to face the greatest challenges of your journey. Go now, and remember: the fire within will always be your guide."

With those words, the salamander turned and disappeared into the shadows, leaving Ember alone in the now-quiet cave. The flames around him slowly dimmed, but Ember knew they would never fully extinguish—they were a part of him now, a part of his spirit.

Ember made his way out of the cave, the fire within him lighting his path. He emerged back into the forest, the roar of the waterfall behind him. The air was crisp and clear, the sky above a deep shade of twilight. Ember felt a sense of peace, but also a renewed determination. He knew his journey was far from over—there was still one final challenge ahead.

As he looked to the horizon, a distant mountain loomed, its peak shrouded in smoke and ash. The fire within Ember flickered in response, urging him forward. The ultimate challenge awaited him at the top of that volcanic mountain, and Ember knew that his journey of self-discovery was nearing its climax.

But as he set off toward the mountain, the ground beneath him suddenly trembled. The sky darkened as the air filled with ash, and Ember knew that the volcano was about to erupt. The final battle would not be easy—but Ember was ready.

The fire within him burned brighter than ever.

Come back tomorrow to find out what happens.

This story was brought to you by the Cross Stitch Pattern Animal Amphibian Eastern Newt With Story and Audio. Not only does this design look great, but it also tells a powerful story of coming of age, with an audio recap included. The hero of our tale, Ember highly recommends it. For more information, visit drewzeitlin.gumroad.com/l/newt. You can see all our cross-stitch patterns at DrewZeitlin.gumroad.com This is not your great-grandmother’s cross-stitch—it’s a multi-sensory experience! And one more thing: you get to choose the price. What do you have to lose? But how much do you have to gain?

[atlaese]

i broke my heart for you - m.m.

summary: matt loves three things in life: you, his faith and his city. *in no particular order. pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader tw: angst :) just pure angst, like no happy ending kinda angst, sorry :). talking about religion (catholicism). words: 1.6K a/n: yeah, i got this idea randomly while i was laying in bed stressing the fuck out for uni :). feel free to complain in the comments or in my inbox xoxo 💗 divider by @firefly-graphics

reblogs and comments are appreciated ✨💗

MATT MURDOCK MASTERLIST | MARVEL MASTERLISTS

The neon board that shone into the bedroom had been bothering you for the last two weeks, whereas it hadn’t done that the seven months before when you stayed over in Matt’s apartment.

Maybe it was because it was close to hitting five am and Matt still hadn't come home yet from his nighttime duties, already two hours past the time he normally came home. Or maybe it was because most nights you could overlook the flashing lights when you could bury your head in the crook of Matt’s neck, inhaling his musky scent as he held on a bit closer to you, cuddling you back to sleep as he inhaled your scent deeply, comforted in your presence.

He had been staying out later the past few weeks.

Every week it became a bit later.

Normally, he came back at around three am, bloody and battered but happy to have been of service to the city he grew up in. The city he loved wholeheartedly and without limits, as if it were a person, a damsel in distress, aching to be saved by him from evil forces.

Then one night it was three forty-five a.m. and he still wasn’t home, the chair he usually laid his suit on after a night out was empty and the lights in the kitchen were still dimmed. He turned those off once he returned. When you awoke in the dead of night and there was no more light shining through the slit under the door, you instantly knew he was safe and sound. It was a sort of unspoken agreement between the two of you -- you turned on the lights when you’d go to bed and he’d turn them off when he got home. It was as simple as that.

A few nights after that, he returned at five am, and the only way you knew was because he hadn’t turned off the lights, which made you jump out of bed to go check what was going on.

Matt was sleeping on the goddamn couch, the lights still on and his suit neatly folded on the kitchen counter, not aware of the way your heart was pounding in your chest, not out of relief that he was back at last, but because you could feel his love slipping from your fingers, like water steadily flowing further down the river, leaving you in a little lifeboat, unable to steer the whitewater.

After that, it only got worse.

You missed the nights where he had his arms wrapped around you, soft tufts of air escaping his mouth as you pressed a kiss to his bicep, happy to have your devil back in bed again.

After enduring two months of his antics, you decided to stay awake for the night, huddled up on the couch with a cup of coffee clasped between your hands and the tv muted, an old movie casting lights on your face as you stared out of the window.

The sun was close to breaking the dark shadows that loomed over the city, small streaks of light peeking out from under a deep blue canvas. Objectively, it was beautiful to look at. However, with Matt still not home yet, it felt more like a slap in the face. It meant that he was willing to risk being exposed, rather than to be with you wrapped up under the sheets.

It was a quarter to six when the door that led to the roof finally opened and Matt stumbled in, a satisfied grin on his face as quickly descended the stairs.

Once he got to the bottom stair though, he froze, his head tilting your way as the quiet returned to the apartment once again.

It took him a while to realize that you hadn’t woken up early to welcome him, but that you were still awake, nearly 23 hours if he recalled correctly. He could tell by the way your heart was fluttering, just a little more quickly than usual, accelerated by the amount of coffee you had, the scent still hanging in the air.

“It’s almost six. It’s three hours past your normal time,” the words came out much louder than you intended, which startled both you and him.

“You could have let me know,” you softly said, trying to counter the harsh words with softer ones, like pressing a feverish kiss against his cold skin, trying to warm him up after he ran through the cold night air.

“I’m sorry, I am,” he sighed as he crouched down in front of where you were sitting on the couch. “I lost track of time, I promise.”

Matt sounded so sincere, his brow furrowed as one of his hands came up to squeeze your ankle, another trying to get ahold of your warm hands to press a small kiss against your knuckles. How much you wanted to believe him, but it had been one time too much.

Matt knew it too, his soft brown eyes widening once he felt your body stiffen under his touch.

“It’s been over two months that you’ve been losing track of time, Matt.”

Matt dropped both of his hands from your body as you got up and stepped past his crouched form, disregarding the fallen expression that now graced his face.

“You can’t keep coming up with these excuses.”

“I-I am not though? Crime has gone up now-, now that the Russians are running all over the place, I can barely handle it on my own,” he stood up, his voice straining from being tired and from trying to get you to understand how important this city was for him. How important his home was.

“No one asks you to handle it on your own, Matt, especially not when there are superpowered people emerging from every goddamn nook and cranny in this town,” you turned around to face him straight on, your heartbeat accelerating even more as you tried to contain the tears that were on the edge of falling.

“It’s my city. I can’t just stand on the sidelines while they destroy it. I gotta fight for it.”

“Matt, I am yours, too,” you stepped up to him, cupping his cheeks as he basked in your soft touch, his eyes fluttering shut, “Why don’t you fight for me?”

It remained quiet on his end as he tried to think of the last time you had had a decent talk about his activities, or just life itself.

It was as you had read his mind, looked inside his mess of a brain right now and found whatever was floating in his mind and picked it right up to confront him about.

“You don’t even talk to me these days - you just go to confession and think it’s over and done with. I-I don’t even know who you are anymore. You don't need me.”

Your warm hands left his face, and as much as he wanted to chase the soft feeling of your hands, he knew it would only strengthen the wall you had built around you during the months he had neglected your presence, as you stalked off towards the bedroom.

Nevertheless, he followed the sounds of your footsteps as you pulled a bag out of the closet and started filling it with the stuff that had found its home in his closets and bathroom. Every single piece you stored in the bag, felt like a piece of him being lost in a tornado that was sweeping through his body and ravaging his heart.

“I knew you were a man who loved deeply and without limits,” you said, putting a sweater in the bag and zipping it closed. “And that's why I fell for you, too. But I thought you’d be able to draw a line between those loves, let them flow through each other like two rivers merging.”

“I know you’d never be able to choose between who or what you love the most, no one should, but it is very clear to me that I come after your faith and after Hell’s Kitchen,” you added, hoisting the bag over your shoulder as you sidestepped him once again.

“Are you just gonna leave like that?” Matt followed, his voice cracking, his brown eyes darting around the room, trying to figure out what your next steps were.

“You broke my heart without ever even making a sound,” you said, the door handle in your hand as you took a deep breath. “I just don’t know if you can fix this without shattering my heart like the noisy thunderstorm you are. I-I don’t know if I can handle this again, Matt. I’m sorry.”

In just a few minutes, the steady drum of your heartbeat got too silent for Matt to follow it through the city. For a second, he considered prowling over the rooftops, following you to your apartment, demand an explanation, demand just a few minutes of your time to at least talk about it.

But he heard the chatter of people running through the busy streets again, the steady honking of the subway and the horns of cabs as Hell’s Kitchen awoke again.

The devil had to go to bed, needed a deep slumber after the hellish night and Matt had to think about how his life had crumbled to pieces in a matter of minutes.

[cascadena]

Sunset Fireflies

Art and Fic by: Cascadena

(Rated: G; Words: 1385)

“She has been out on the veranda for quite a while now,” said Impa. Her wrinkle-framed eyes glinted in the flicker of the hearth behind her that Paya was cooking our dinner over. “Link, why don’t you go talk to her?”

With effort, I pulled my head away from the wall that I sat against. I had been fighting off the urge to nap ever since I sat down and would lose the battle if I sat for much longer. The Princess went out to Impa’s back porch shortly after our arrival at the Sheikah’s home, and we hadn’t spoken much since Impa’s caravan picked us up from Hyrule Field earlier that day. We were both bruised and littered with cuts, but somehow neither of us had sustained severe injuries. The final roar of Calamity Ganon as Zelda sealed him away still rang in my ears, and I suspected it wouldn’t go away any time soon.

When I pushed open the doors to the rear veranda, Zelda was facing away from me. She leaned over the guardrail, looking down at the trickling stream below. Her golden hair shone in warm hues of the sunset beyond the pine forest surrounding the village. She would stun anyone who would look upon her, despite the stains from a hundred years ago that still muddied her dress.

The Princess snapped her head around before her shoulders relaxed at the sight of me. “Oh, it’s only you, Link.”

“Were you expecting a monster?” I asked as I approached. I intended it as a joke, but the Princess turned away to look over the edge of the porch again, her mouth a hard line.

She groaned. “I’ve only had terrible monsters as my company for the last hundred years,” she mumbled.

I leaned against the guardrail beside her. What a miserable hundred years she had to have witnessed: watching the castle as it was overrun and looted as the fields beyond burned. Not to mention, she’d been holding off Calamity Ganon, the most fearsome beast of the land, the entire time. I’d had a long, lonely journey, but at least I wasn’t under a constant attack for a hundred years straight. “Hopefully my company is more pleasant than that of a monster,” I said.

She looked at me for a second, her brow raised, then returned her gaze over the side of the deck. A frog leapt from a rock and landed in the stream below with a splash. “You know, Link, you seem different,” she said.

My heart sank. I feared Zelda would think I changed a lot after losing and regaining my memories. I looked down at the planks of the deck beneath my boots. Small cracks where the wood had aged littered the edges of a few of them. “I’ve been told that by others I met on my journey who knew me before...” I said.

“It’s understandable. You had a long journey,” said Zelda. Her voice was almost a whisper, as if she could barely get words out. “I am still in disbelief that everything has been accomplished,” she said.

I nodded slowly. “It hasn’t really sunk in for me either.”

She didn’t say anything more for a few minutes. The setting sun slipped behind the cliffside and the light dimmed before she continued. “I could only watch as everything was destroyed,” She said, her voice breaking. “Waves of guardian and monster armies, fueled by calamity ganon, descended upon the land.”

She rubbed her eyes, and I realized she was crying. “Princess…”

“I will never be able to shake the guilt. If… If only I had tried a little harder at Mount Lunayru, maybe it would have awakened in time…” Tears fell down her cheeks. I felt a strange inclination to reach out and hug her, but perhaps she felt I had become too much of a stranger to offer such an act. When she shivered and rubbed her shoulders, I knew I couldn’t just stand idly beside her like the guard I once was to her. I unclasped my Hylian cloak from my shoulders and placed it over Zelda’s without a word.

“Thank you, Link,” she said through a sniffle.

“From what I remember, you worked very hard. You did all you could to save them, and it’s over now. You sealed Ganon away,” I said softly. She nodded, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hands.

“I just… I have no idea how I can bring myself to face this kingdom again after having failed my people…” she said.

We stood for a bit longer in silence as the sun continued to set. A bright green light suddenly blinked from the stream below us and then another flashed in the trees surrounding us. Then another, and another emerged as a bunch of small lights illuminated around us. “Look, sunset fireflies!” I said, pointing them out to the Princess.

“Link… this isn’t the time,” she sniffed.

“Come on, Princess, look!” I said.

Zelda’s looked up at the lights. She frowned. “From the research on them we once did together, I concluded that… they don’t live long,” she said flatly.

I huffed and waved my arm towards the trees. “That doesn’t matter, just look at them! Aren’t they beautiful?”

She looked up again and sighed, giving in to my request to observe them. After a few minutes, her tears stopped. She spoke again. “You’re right, Link, they are beautiful.”

We watched the bugs as they flashed twinkling lights that resembled constellations as darkness completely enveloped the village. It was a spectacular show that always happened in Kakariko on warm, midsummer nights.

The Princess clenched a hand to her chest as she looked up at the trees. “These fireflies… they glow only when the sun sets,” she said. “I believe this may be a sign to us from Hylia. Like the fireflies, our kingdom too can emerge from darkness.”

“Very profound, Princess,” I said. “I hope they inspired you.” She turned and offered a small smile. A wave of relief fell over me with her smile.

As the sky dimmed more, Zelda wrapped the cloak around her shoulders and leaned towards me, her arm grazing against my shoulder. The move might have been subconscious and due to her tiredness, but her touch sent a quick shiver up my side. She was warm now though, and I wanted to lean in to her too.

Whatever moment we were having ended when Paya called to say dinner was ready.

Zelda began towards the door to the inside, but then reached for the clasp of the hood to return it to me. “You can keep that, if you want,” I said, nodding towards her shoulders. “It’s from a shop in Hateno Village.”

She hummed. “It is very nice, though I don’t want to take yours.” She paused, before pivoting around to me and her eyes lit up. “Perhaps I can get my own, and a whole new outfit too. I want to get rid of this old dress and never wear it again. Oh, and I want to get a haircut.”

I laughed. “Whatever you wish, Princess.”

“And you…” Zelda continued, furrowing her brow as she looked over me methodically. It was as if she were inspecting me, and my cheeks unexpectedly started to burn. “You are not dressed for the dangerous, monster infested conditions of Hyrule. That old champion tunic is simply not enough to protect you. You don’t even have proper chainmail. No wonder you fell...”

“Hey, I am old enough to dress myself now,” I said, pointing a finger at her. “I even figured out how to put on pants after I woke up in the shrine of resurrection.”

“Supposedly a hundred and eighteen years still isn’t quite old enough,” she said with a tilt of her head. She bit her lip, only for a moment, then burst into a fit of giggling. I couldn’t help but laugh too.

A second later, her arms were around my shoulders in a hug. “I was wrong. You’re different, but still the same somehow,” said Zelda. “I’ve missed you, Link.”

Her hugs were not numerous in my memories, but her hold still awakened something familiar in my heart as I wrapped my arms around her. “I’ve missed you too, Zelda.”

✨

[guqin-and-flute]

85 the jiejies!! (Please be a happy or empowering song universe!!)

85. King of the Lost Boys by Sara Bareilles

[I'm going to assume you meant Wen Qing/Jiang Yanli because that's what came to my head first when you said 'the jiejies' 😁 This is modern times sometime. I also may have done a little...finagling because something was weird with the playlist and I lost count and maybe the song I landed on definitely wasn't happy and since you wished so nicely....]

"JIE!!" Jiang Cheng cannoned into Yanli's middle, nearly knocking her back before Wen Qing braced her shoulder. "Jie, there's a creepy noise!"

"Oof! A-Cheng--where, didi?" She wrapped her arms around him, letting him burrow into the shadow of her arms.

In turn, A-Ning ran back in his wake, eyes wide as he reached for her. Automatically, Wen Qing knelt down and gathered him up, surreptitiously checking for any crackling in his lungs or wobble in his gait.

Even as golden fireflies winked in the deep underbrush and the dark blue of gloaming rested lightly around them, Wen Qing felt a small sliver of anxiety. They were just 2 girls walking with their younger brothers through the woods as it got darker and darker. Nothing dangerous should be out here, their neighborhood was safe and there wouldn't be anything scarier than a stray dog. But still...the night, dark and far from any cool pools of streetlamps made it feel like anything could happen.

"There!" Jiang Cheng jabbed a quivering finger out toward the black, looming shape of a bush, just up the rise he had fled back down, a sharp hill up the path from them.

"Oh? What did it sound like? Where is A-Ying?"

At this, the boy seemed to pause. "I...dunno. Rustling and...like a ghost. Maybe."

Yanli smiled, sweet and patient. "What if I walk you over there and we talk to the bush? We'll find out together."

At this, Jiang Cheng let go and puffed his chest out. "No, I'll go, jiejie. I'll protect you."

In Wen Qing's arms, A-Ning shook his head frantically, as if warning Jiang Cheng against this plan, but he said nothing, still clinging to Wen Qing's neck.

"You don't need to protect me from A-Ying, silly!"

"If it's not! And...if it's a dog, I'll protect A-Ying."

At this, Yanli shot Wen Qing an amused look, making her grateful for the dark to hide the flare of flush that heated her face. She was so pretty, her hair whisping in the slight humidity of the night, her pale, flowing dress making her stand out against the shadowy backdrop of the forest, as if it was collecting the waning light, like the moon. "Okay, A-Cheng. You're so brave. You go tell that bush."

At this, the 6 year old swaggered off, chest puffed out. Yanli turned and knelt down next to them. "Oh, A-Ning, did A-Ying scare you? I'm sorry! I'll tell him to be gentler with you. He just likes to play pranks, sometimes, but he can go a bit overboard."

A-Ning turned his shining face toward her, the sun to his little flower of a head. Whether sun or moon, Yanli shone like some sort of celestial being in their life--all they were used to were bullying cousins and adults that had no business raising 2 orphaned children. Her kindness and gentle patience had made the both of them fall in love with her--though Wen Qing secretly knew it to be in 2 very different ways. "C-can I...?" A-Ning began, hesitantly, and Yanli tilted her head, smile widening as she waited for him to finish. And Wen Qing adored her for it. "Can I go see...too?"

"Of course, sweetheart! Do you want to hold my hand?"

A-Ning looked back up at Wen Qing, who raised her eyebrows at him, a warning but also leaving it up to him. He furrowed his brow thoughtfully, then chucked his chin up higher. "No, I...I got it."

Both girls stood as A-Ning bustled back up the path, following after Jiang Cheng through the light speckled dark. "Thank you for being patient with him," Wen Qing said quietly. "I really appreciate it."

Yanli blinked over at her, silver and pale blue in the dimness. "Hm? Oh, of course! I know how it is, sometimes. Words can be hard. And I just..." she faded off, making Wen Qing tilt her head back at her in invitation. "It's silly."

"Tell me."

"I feel like I spend so much of my time afraid...I don't want them to feel that. Of bushes or of speaking. Or anything. I feel like it's the least I can do."

A protective swell rose up inside Wen Qing, daring her to be bold, so she reached out and took Yanli's hand, ducking her head down as her cheeks burned again. "I don't want you to be afraid."

Her hand was soft and cool against hers--and she squeezed back. Wen Qing was blushing so hard, she couldn't bring herself to look at her face, but she would be willing to bet all her meager personal possessions that she was smiling. "I'm never scared with I'm with you, A-Qing."

Up the path, Wei Ying leapt out of the bush with an almighty howl, startling screams out of the two younger boys.

[lorelylantana]

Luminescent

Written at @hestuu‘s request

Oneshot Rating: G

Ao3

Link hated how his reputation was leveraged against the Princess. He hated how his name was twisted into a blade raised against the one person he was sworn to protect at all costs.  She had every right to be angry, to rage against the insults spat upon her by an ungrateful court. She didn’t deserve to be treated the way she had been, least of all by her own father.

He welcomed the bursts of outrage, the sneers and snide remarks made against him when they were out of the castle’s shadow. Link, of all people, knew how crucial it was to have an outlet for the tide of emotions she choked back when the court was watching. Her wrath was much easier to withstand than the quiet sobs that he heard much too often as he watched over her room at night. There was life in her rage. Power in her voice when she shouted her displeasure. A far cry from the defeated, weary gasps for breath that tore at his heart in the dark of night, anger gave the Princess strength. He was grateful for the force of Zelda’s fury driving her forward, even if it was away from him. 

So he was calm in the face of her frustrations, and his patience was rewarded a few months after he was assigned as her guard. She still didn’t hold him in high regard, but she had grown accustomed to his presence. Thus, he was thoroughly ignored while she went about her studies of Hyrule’s plant life. He couldn’t help but notice how different she looked out in the wild. It was difficult to notice when he just started as her guard, but the more time he spent with her, the more relaxed she became. 

That’s when he began to notice it. It was faint, and invisible in the direct sunlight, but when it was overcast or they walked under the shade of a tree Link could see this glow about the Princess. He could only catch glimpses of it at first, only when the stars aligned and she was content. These sightings were so few and far between that for a long time Link was convinced that they were mere tricks of the light. This phenomenon seemed to accompany a discovery of some sort, be it the perfect sample or a breakthrough in her research. This very observation led Link to cast aside the fanciful notion of a sparkling princess in favor of a much more reasonable explanation. Her expression brightened, nothing more. These moments stuck out to him for their rarity, nothing fantastical about it.

Looking back, it put into stark clarity how much pressure she was truly under. 

Things changed after that day in the desert, though he wasn’t sure why. He could understand how an attempt on her life might shake her up a little, but to have her demeanor change completely worried him. Perhaps the incident cut deeper than he’d originally thought. And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to regret the difference, because she began to smile more. She had a spring in her step, and her hackles no longer raised at his presence. This newfound ease fostered a friendship between them.

 Any doubts Link had about those little flickers of light, they were banished in short order. Freed of the suffocating disdain for the one person she couldn’t shake, the glow surrounding Zelda’s happiness became undeniable. He could see it filtering through the trees in the rare moment of separation when she walked ahead of him. Link brought a slice of fruitcake along one of their trips after a particularly harsh scolding, and she burned brighter than their campfire. People began to tell stories of a light spirit traveling the land, a beautiful young woman drifting through the woods and leaving sparks behind. The whispers insisted blessings awaited those lucky enough to glance at the shining maiden.

Link was inclined to agree.

Instead of being ignored, Link was sucked into hundreds of Zelda’s little inquiries while they walked the wilds together. Scientific endeavors were a bit out of his wheelhouse, but it didn’t matter. Zelda thrived simply by having someone to bounce ideas off of, turning to look at him with a glowing grin and a theory. Bit by bit, her smile began to chip away at his reservations, replacing his professionalism with a growing desire for her companionship.

Joy was a precious commodity in those years leading up to Calamity, tenuous and fragile and oh so precious. Indeed, any levity in those shadowed times was to be savored, but what Link coveted above all was Zelda’s delight. The Princess of Hyrule deserved every speck of happiness she could get her hands on, King and court be damned. It was hard won, but worth every effort to see her grin. Link pursued Zelda’s smile with the same relentless dedication that made him the youngest knight in Hyrule’s history, and he swore to do anything in his power to make her happy. Anything to see those rays shine around her.

It wasn’t long until Link’s rising affection began to overwhelm him. He began to crave Zelda’s light, spending days gazing at her. He told himself that it was only natural, because he was her guard and he was sworn to protect her. It had nothing to do with the flutter in his chest, that strange flavor of anxiety that drew his eyes to her like a magnet. A byproduct of almost losing her to the Yiga, surely. 

Link was mesmerized, he would go out of his way to make her smile. Not because of romantic interest, of course not, but because he wanted to name the elation that rose whenever he saw her in the light. He wanted to soak up as much of her luster as he could. One flicker of her sweet, gentle luminescence set him adrift in a sea of contentment and affection. It was intoxicating.  He’d bring her flowers, only because she was looking for specimens, and various odds and ends nicked from the Ancient Tech Lab, all to nurture the small bursts of incandescent glee that sent his heart pounding against his ribs.

They were sitting among the flowers when he succumbed at long last. She was trying to convince him to eat a frog. He wasn’t keen on the idea, but the pleading look of anticipation on her face was enough to make him consider it even as he recoiled in disgust. She leaned too far, however, and she tipped over, tumbling over without her arms to steady her. Link couldn’t remember the details, all he knew is that when they were still once more Link’s hands curled around her hips and her hands pressed into his chest, that wretched amphibian sitting primly between her wrists. They were frozen a moment, caught somewhere between confusion and embarrassment, before Zelda let out a stream of giggles that struck him down.

She had a smile like the sun, but when she laughed she was radiant. 

He watched her shine above him and realized that this is what it felt like to be in love. He understood, now, why she always seemed to brighten his day, how she sent his blood running hot to the tips of his fingers and toes. He loved her because who wouldn’t? Who could look upon this young woman so full of fire and compassion and not be awestruck? Who could hear her voice, an elegant stream of thought and wisdom, and not be weak? All the stars were in Zelda’s eyes and she still shone brighter.

Of course he loved her. It was only natural.

To bask in the warmth of her presence was a privilege he thanked all the gods for.

The light shining from Hyrule Castle cuts through any lethargy left over from the Shrine, replaced by a searing, deep yearning to see more of it. When night fell and she was silent, Link found himself wandering around, looking for any substitute convincing enough to trick his mind into ease enough to sleep. At first he slept surrounded by fireflies, but there were precious few places that were safe to sleep. Later he would keep a candle burning when he was in his house, and when he wasn’t he’d settle for clutching a star fragment to his chest. It could lull him into a fitful sleep, but it couldn’t banish the nauseating restlessness writhing in his stomach and constricting his heart.

It wasn’t enough, he wanted to bathe in that light, and if that meant wading through darkness then so be it. This sentiment drove him to complete all manner of miscellaneous, almost random tasks. It doesn’t take long for a pattern to emerge, however, after he learns more about the princess, either through stories or his memories. 

He learned that she’s most likely to shine when he wears his Champion tunic, so he rarely takes it off. He kept the ingredients for fruitcake on hand at all times, and has hundreds of wildberries tucked away. She liked to see Link swing the Master Sword, or watch him wield weapons Robbie crafts for him, so he does at every opportunity. Then, when Link was stronger, he began to hunt guardians down for their parts. She liked watching him clear Hyrule Field, perhaps it built her confidence in him. It didn’t matter why it made her happy, all he cared to know was whenever he’d dispatch a particularly troublesome guardian he could see her light reach out to him from the Castle Sanctum to wash away his exhaustion.

He liked doing these little things for her. It gave him a sense of normalcy that anchored him as he stumbled about Hyrule in search of who he was, and he couldn’t help but feel a deep, vindictive sense of satisfaction whenever he watched her light pierce the darkness swirling about the castle. Each glimmer from high in Hyrule Castle renewed his determination, sending him running towards the power he needed to slay the beast.

Link thinks she loves him, but he’s not sure. Or perhaps it seems too good to be true, and his doubts shield his heart from disappointment that would prove too much after the journey's end. He really hopes she loves him, because he cherishes every gleaming inch of her being. 

He notices what he thinks is affection in her eyes when Zelda smiles at him. He notices the little rays of light, precious and small during the first few days when she was tired and grief stricken, but there all the same. Then he set about cheering her up. Link was always a man of few words, so whenever he saw her dim and space out he would bring her back to earth with bits of fruit and give her the trinkets he’d gathered. Countless little gestures that made her glimmer against the desolation.

 It’s arrogant, but he thinks she shines brighter when she looks at him. The thought makes him grin for hours, which makes her smile in turn. They fed off of each other’s fragile glee. His touch sends sparks leaping off of her skin and sometimes he grabs her hand just to see her shine a bit brighter. One night, he holds a Silent Princess from Satori Mountain out to her, and rather than take it she takes his tunic in her hands and pulls him close. She kisses him, and he has to shut his eyes against the blinding light that radiated out when he wraps his arms around her.

There was not a single word in any of Hyrule’s languages that could properly describe the bliss of holding Zelda in his arms. The euphoric radiance when he grins down at her. Zelda is warm, and so beautiful, a living ray of sunshine tucked in his embrace. Link pushes a shining strand of hair behind her ear while she looks up at him, a smile on her lips. Link rests his chin on her head, finally at peace.

[bleepblopbloop56]

100 things to do under the stars

(Analogical, no warnings)

1: stargaze

  Virgil dragged Logan out from the warmth of the truck and into crisp fall air. They were in the middle of nowhere, it was nearly midnight, and the clouds were practically nonexistent. There wasn't a light for miles, aside from the still dimming headlights of Virgil's pickup truck. They had to be in someone's backyard or private property, but with a field so vast and expansive who would know to say anything. 

“Virgil-” Logan started before swiftly getting shushed by Virgil. He jerked open the door to the backseat, pulling out piles of blankets and pillows. 

  “Lo, i'm gonna need you to ignore how sketchy this looks and help me pad the bed of the truck, there's a meteor shower tonight and i want you to see it.” Virgil tossed him some handfuls of quilts and stuffed animals. It seemed as if he found every even remotely soft thing in his apartment and shoved it in the car. They passed the truck bed and Virgil hoisted him into the makeshift bed, before bracing the side of the truck and hoping for himself. 

 They stayed silent as they got comfortable, that was Logan's favorite part about their friendship, they could just exist around each other without any pressure to perform social cues like small talk.. They could just be. Logan reached down and intertwined their hands, making virgil's heart skip a beat. 

“Thank you,” he mumbled, shifting closer to his friend “I needed this” Virgil swallowed roughly, laying his head closer to Logan’s as they watched the stars 

7: contemplate existence + 11: drink coffee

 “Do you think there's something else out there?” Virgil asked after a long stretch of comfortable silence. This time, they sat on the roof of the truck, coffee in hand and feet dangling off the edge of the truck. 

  “Be more specific.” Logan took a sip of his coffee, bringing it to his mouth with both hands. It provided a nice warmth against the chill of the night, something his black wool coat was vaguely failing to provide.

   “Life.. do you think we're alone here?” Logan wanted to say no with a definite certainty that Virgil was looking for, but that would be irresponsible to answer with a certainty he didn't have. 

   “Arthur Clarke once said ‘Two possibilities exist: either we are alone in the Universe or we are not. Both are equally terrifying.’” he settled on instead. Virgil grimaced and pulled his legs up to sit cross-legged and turned his body to face Logan. He tried to make eye contact with him, but Logan continued to look up into the abyss.

  “That's not what I asked,” he said “I wanna know what you think.” Logan took another slow sip of his coffee to stall. Eventually, he brought it away from his mouth and turned to face Virgil

   “I dont know..” he admitted “it seems.. impossible that there's an infinite universe beyond our capability of comprehension that is simply empty. I don't believe there will ever be certainty on our end, so,” he put the coffee down and laid down, putting his eyes back on the stars “i'd rather not worry about it.”

32: question your own mortality *

   “What do you suppose the point of it all is Virgil?”  he had become rather acquainted with the empty field he and Virgil spent nearly every clear night in. They hadn't even got out of the car this time before Logan started their nightly talks.

   “I thought it scared you to talk about things like that.” Virgil jokes to mask that he didn't have an answer. He jerked open the door but didn't get out. 

    “Do… Do you ever question why we're here?” Logan knew the answer to that, and Virgil constantly thought about his life and his purposeless existence. Virgil took pity on him when he noticed his big brown eyes sparkling in the light the car turned on. So mundane, and yet Virgil had seemed to romanticize the smallest things around Logan.

    “Get out, I wanna show you something,” Logan followed wordlessly. “I think..” Virgil continued, once they were out of the truck and on top of it “that it's different for everyone. For me, I just want to spend my short existence here experiencing life for what it is. Good and the bad, mostly good.” Virgil smiled softly as he laid down on the roof “ look at that… all the stars feel so close i could touch and yet impossibly far away. I can't see a horizon from here, it feels like I'm in the middle of all of them, here with you.”

    Logan laid on his side beside him, still not fully getting it. “You think you were put into existence to look at stars?”

    Virgil hoisted himself up on his elbows, craning his head back to continue looking at the abyss. “I think that's what i'm choosing to do with my existence, what are you choosing to do with yours?” Logan stayed quiet for a long time, just looking at Virgil and thinking before he jutted his head forward and kissed him. Virgil pulled back, heart beating  a million miles a minute. 

“Logan?” he whispered.

“If we get to choose what we do with our lives then i wanna spend mine like this, with you, and i've wasted too much time thinking.” he almost had tears in his eyes as he leaned forward again, letting Virgil close the gap this time. 

* (+ 53: have your first kiss) 

65: and your second

72: and third

83: and many many more

99: propose

    They continued going to their favorite spot for years, when they got older they bought the plot of land that they called theres and built a tiny cabin on the edge of the field. And one night, after 5 years of dating, virgil pulled logan into the middle of the field, walking this time. Fireflies and the moon are their only real source of light so far out in the field. 

Logan giggled as he attempted to keep balance while Virgil swung him around 

“What's got you in such a good mood?” Logan laughed, getting pulled into a nervous kiss by his boyfriend 

    “Virgil!” he smiled a little wider, “what's the occasion?”

   “Look up, and name all the constellations you can see,” Virgil asked quietly, hands fisted in his jacket pockets. Logan looked suspicious before doing as he was told, listing all he could remember the name of. Just as he was getting to the end of his list, Virgil cut him off. 

“Hey Logan?” When he looked back, Virgil was kneeling on the ground with a small navy blue box in his hands. “Can I ask you something?” 

Logan did not consider himself overly emotional, he nearly prided himself on it, and yet he couldn't seem to stop the hitch in his breath and rush of tears to his eyes. He wordlessly nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

    Virgil opened the box and revealed a ring with a simple diamond in the middle of a black band with stars engraved into the side. He stayed silent as the tears started cascading down his face. “Do you remember when you said you wanted to spend your life with me under the stars?” Logan  had to pull his hands to his mouth to contain the sob of happiness he couldn't. Virgil was also crying, a wide nervous grin on his face “will you make that official with me?” 

    “Yes!” Logan choked out, nodding profusely and collapsing into Virgil's arms when he stood up to hug him. He pulled back and kissed him, he kissed him for the millionth time with all the passion and love of the first. He pressed his forehead into Virgils, having to bend a little to accommodate for the height difference. 

“I love you” he mumbled, tears starting to end their freefall, even if only for a minute. “So so much”

100: get married.

    Roman bustled around their small cabin with the kind of nervousness more reserved for the grooms than the best man. He had been preparing this day- well, night- for months and had been more of a bridezilla than either of the actual men getting married. Guests were starting to arrive just after the sun went down and the stars were starting to peek through the darkness. Fairy lights shone just enough to allow the guests to find their seats without hassle, but not too much as to outshine the stars. 

    “Are you sure everythings ready?” Roman asked Logan once again, meeting a hard eye roll with an exacerbated grin. 

    “Yes Roman, I'm positive.” He couldn't help the feeling of joy riding in his throat when he checked his watch. He was getting married… to the most beautiful man on earth, under the stars, in his own backyard with all his friends… holy shit

    “Logan!” Patton called from the doorway, excited to be helping even if he'd been there since noon “its time! Come on “ 

    Virgil was…. He couldn't think of the right word.. Gorgeous, ethereal, amazing, perfect, genius, beautiful, unreal, indescribable… Logan felt in his heart as he was walked down the aisle by the designated group dad friend. He wore a velvet deep purple suit with black trims and converse sneakers, hair freshly dyed from a week before, and on top of his head sat a small crown with diamond stars. As much as he despised wedding traditions, this was his “something borrowed” generously lended by Roman to tie in the night theme. The wedding was small, neither of their families even invited to attend, and their friend group tiny but close knit. Patton bounced down the aisle with Virgil's arm intertwined in his, Logan didn't think the concept of “handing off the “bride ``'' was appropriate here, but neither of them could deny Patton's puppy dog eyes. 

The rest of the night went off without a hitch, dancing, kissing, crying, a small potluck with a modest red velvet wedding cake, and in the center of it all was stars. The decorations, the rings, the vows and the night sky, all of it was perfect. When all the guests left, and Virgil and Logan were finally alone, Logan pulled out a wedding present he had gotten for virgil. 

“What's this?” he asked, still riding the high of “Holy shit i'm really married” 

“Open it.” virgil undid the navy wrapping paper, and opened the box. Inside, there was a book titled “100 things to do under the stars, by Logan Cade” 

Virgils heart jumped when he realised logan had used his new last name.  

[aka-indulgence]

Your Nightmare

Commission for the amazing @someseriousthot!

Thank you for commissioning me >u<

Ao3 Link!

Warning: Kidnapping, and some *close call* stuff... Think “Lime”. (More specific warnings tagged in ao3 because I don’t want the platform to get mad at me -v-)

(Nightmare Sans/Reader)

You’re an ordinary human. A decent person, if anything. Kind, and gentle.

He should’ve hated everything about you.

But... he doesn’t. The fact couldn’t be further away from that.

He’s obsessed with you, and he lets you know through the countless nightmares he feeds you every night he visits.

And soon... You’re going to become his.

It was dark.

Darker than the night, darker than black.

It was void where you stood. You can’t move. You don’t know where you are- but it feels like you’ve been stuck here forever. You try to move your legs, your hands- tried to look around, call for help, anything- but you couldn’t so much as to wiggle your fingers. All your efforts only seemed to succeed in making you tremble. You try to breathe, but it felt like a ton had been weighed on your chest, struggling to get air in you. The fear seeped through you as you realized…

You were paralyzed.

You stand there, struggling until you see something- someone forming in the distance.

There… Appears a figure that had been haunting you, one that fills you with dread every time they revealed themselves. If you weren’t already paralyzed where you were, you would’ve felt like you’ve frozen when you saw… him.

A skeletal figure materialized before you, his whole body black- somehow darker than the void you were in. Black like the emptiness of space and worse, save for one blue light illuminating his left socket. Tentacles were writhing behind him as he watched you, a wide, eerie smile plastered on his face, devoid of kindness or mercy. His entire body is drenched in with what looks to be black sludge, covering his right eyesocket completely, the ooze dripping off his tentacles as they continued to twist and turn behind him.

Your nightmare begins.

He stares you down, and when he takes a step forward, the instinct to flee immediately takes over you, breaking yourself out of your paralysis. You twist your body away from him, quickly breaking into a sprint. Your breath escapes you too fast, and you feel tired, your chest still feeling as if something’s constricting it.

Every movement you make felt like it needed so much effort, and though it looks like you were running in a vast emptiness, it felt like non-existent walls were closing in on you.

The figure doesn’t even have to do much. When you look behind, you see him walking at a leisurely pace, yet every step he makes brings him closer and closer to you. Your desperate running feels like it’s taking you nowhere. The closer he gets the more excited he looks, that blue eye of his glowing brighter, almost electrically so, while his tentacles start to move rapidly, making increasingly excited movements.

You start to scream.

———————————————————————————————————

Nightmare stands by your bedside, staring down your sleeping form. A single inky black tentacle is imbedded into your head, making soft, wave-like movements as he fed his nightmare into you. Even though he’s out here in the waking realm, he was also inside your nightmare, watching you as you desperately try to escape him, his grin widening both in nightmare and reality as he closes in on you.

It always was exciting the closer he got to you, to have you tangled up in his tentacles.

You toss and turn in your bed, an occasional whimper escaping you. His blue light dilates while his grin sharpens sadistically.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the view.

This is a common scene in Nightmare’s day-to-day. He’s been quietly feeding on the negative emotions of humans and monsters alike, visiting them in their sleep and giving them nightmares to feed on their fear and horror. But for some reason… he’s been especially drawn to you, and Nightmare keeps finding himself standing in your room like he is now, pleasuring in your listless, restless sleep.

By all means, Nightmare should be repulsed by you- your soul glowed the brightest in the area around you. You were happy, pleasant, gentle. Always looking for the best out of life, a smile always seeming to grace your face. You saw the best of people. Everything good Nightmare could list was a part of you.

You were brave, fair, kind, patient. You had a stable and strong moral ground, and you persevered when life gets you down… Determined to go through your life as a decent person.

It was everything that Nightmare hated.

Yet…

Somehow… Those were the exact reasons he found himself so drawn to you. Pull him in to keep coming back again and again to your room, where you were sleeping peacefully in his absence.

And when he entered your dreams and turned it all into a nightmare… He’d revel when that peaceful face of yours turns into that of agony and panic.

Every time he inflicted his nightmares on you… It’s the most thrilling nights he ever has.

When he first found you, he hadn’t directly made an appearance in your nightmares. He was just a shadow- creeping along the edges of your consciousness, letting you feel his presence. Watching every one of your reactions as he twisted your dreams into something horrifying.

But even from the first night, already Nightmare had become curious about you. And as he became more and more interested, the thought of letting you see him… It made him excited like nothing else. To let you meet the entity that terrorized you so, to see your eyes on him, and only him- unable to look away out of sheer terror.

It sent a pleasurable shiver down his spine.

He’d appear to you in the dream, forming out of a puddle of black in the ground, slowly making himself apparent. Sometimes, he wouldn’t appear immediately. Creeping around, letting you get more and more anxious as you traveled the dreamscape, unable to shake off the feeling that you’re being followed. When you notice him, the fun begins- your face contorting to panic once you see him. If Nightmare had a heart, he’d say it was pumping hard while he chased you down through the abstract architecture that formed his nightmares.

Sometimes, he’d give you a head start. Letting you run away for a while after you’d see him. It always brought a smile to his face when he sees the look of terror in your eyes, suddenly seized by his squirming tentacles, having appeared directly behind you.

Whenever he chased you through your dreams, something predatory seemed to awaken in him…

There was a thrill whenever he chased you down- his prey. He’d play around with you, make you think like you could escape him, only to let you know that you couldn’t escape his nightmare. Every time he got closer to you he could feel his smile widen while his tentacles swerved and turned- craving to have you in them. Most dreams he’d let you go- leaving right before he got to you. But sometimes he’d catch you, and he’d take sadistic glee when you find to your horror that you couldn’t wake up from your nightmare.

Being able to turn someone with so much positivity in them, who’s soul shone like a bright light in a sea of others, into such a fearful and anxious little thing gave him a sense of immense power. He felt so much control over you, it was addicting. So satisfying to turn someone’s joy into fear, and yours was particularly delicious to him because of how drastic the change was.

But it wasn’t just that sense of power that’s brought him back to your room night after night… It’s exactly your glowing soul that’s got him hooked onto you.

Nightmare is an entity of darkness- someone who’d get hurt if he was exposed to the light. Even if it didn’t, it was in his nature to be disgusted by it, to have the urge to extinguish it.

But…

Because of the nightmares he inflicts on you, all that powerful positive energy could be turned negative. And so, he could spend time with you without having that urge to snuff out your light. And even when your nightmares ended, your soul turning back from a dim, fearful one into that soft glowing light, like a firefly in the night… Nightmare found himself drawn to it.

He doesn’t understand why. Maybe because he’s gone so long without the light, always filled with the need to get rid of it whenever it’s near, that when he finds something… Someone that didn’t repel him, Nightmare isn’t willing to let go. He’s spent so long without the light, he’d forgotten about why it was such a good thing in the first place.

And he basked in your light.

Nightmare takes a deep inhale, groaning as he feeds. You were screaming in his nightmare, and it’s then that he’s had his fill. He retracts his tentacle, a shlorp audible as it finally pulls out of your head.

After a few more gasps and whimpers of you collecting yourself, you calmed down. You returned to a peaceful slumber, breathing in relief when you realize the nightmare is over.

Because you had so much positive energy that Nightmare could convert into something negative, he’s always able to satisfy himself in one night from feeding on your fears alone. And so Nightmare could spend some time just with you for the rest of the night.

He didn’t need anyone else.

Your soul slowly starts to gleam again, filled with relief and calmness.

Nightmare doesn’t just find it tolerable… He finds the soft glow of your soul beautiful.

Now that his nightmare is over and Nightmare’s had his fill, he should be able to retreat to the darkness and rest himself.

But he just couldn’t tear his eyelight away from your sleeping face. The way the moonlight made it look like your skin glowed… That silky hair.

You look so calm and serene… Oblivious to his presence.

So innocent… So pure.

He wanted to touch your light, keep it to himself.

He gives in to his temptations, and slowly, he peels the blanket off your sleeping body, curled up from the fear that took over you in your nightmare. Now, you’ve considerably relaxed, no longer clutching onto the blanket, your muscles lax. The nightgown you wore draped over your body in such a way that made his breaths quicken, make him want to run his hands up and down you, feel every curve and inch of your skin. Two tentacles move forward, circling around your chest and your legs, gently lifting you off the bed. He slides into it, right where you slept with his back to the headboard, and slowly lowers you on top of him.

He exhales as his tentacles retract, placing your head on his chest while your legs laid between his. So close to you, he could smell your hair, a soft sweet scent.

Vanilla? Or… Caramel?

It was the scent of home. Of morning sun in your hair.

Whatever it is, Nightmare enjoyed it, taking deep breaths of it. He put his skull on top of your head while he smelled more of you, his arms coming around to embrace you. One hand rested on your waist while the other came up to your cheek- hesitating for a moment before he ran his phalanges along the soft skin, sighing as he leans back. His tentacles come closer, instinctively drawn to you, to your warmth. His breaths start to slow as he pulls you closer, pressing you in the slightest to his chest as he buries his face in your hair. His tentacles tenderly wrap around you without his conscious thought.

One winding around your arm up to your wrist, another twisting around your waist, down your left thigh, to your calf. Another climbed up your right leg, and another circles around your chest drawing near your center, above your soul.

He gently cups your cheek as he presses his skull to your crown, reveling in the closeness, the intimacy of your position on him. He could feel your quiet breaths brush against his neck, a pleasured rumble building in his chest.

He always enjoyed whenever he managed to have you to himself in these quiet nights. It was many nights ago that Nightmare had found himself staring down at your sleeping body, having no intentions on leaving so soon. He watched your glowing soul, his eyelight roaming all over you, tempting him to touch you, pulling him into your bed, to entwine himself around you.

Nightmare found himself addicted to yet another part of you- the softness of your body against him, your face so close to his when he holds you.

He was at ease when he held you… And it had a calming effect on you too. You didn’t fight him off when he picks up your sleeping body, nor did you flinch when his tentacles wrap around you. It filled his chest with a feeling of want, like you weren’t afraid of him, that the sensation of his tentacles and sludge against you didn’t disgust you. His breath comes out shakily at the thought. He holds it when he feels you nestling up against him, unafraid, unaware of the sinister entity that was holding you.

He lets his phalanges slide down from your cheek to your neck, stroking it thoughtfully. You make quiet whimpers and mewls as his phalanges traces over your skin, sounds that excited him. Make him want you closer- to cover you up with his inky black gunk and claim you as his.

There were no nightmares. No fear, no anxiety. He’s just… Resting with you, letting himself roam over you, feel you- his leg brushing up against yours. Just a quiet moment that Nightmare could indulge in. He never had quiet moments- something was always going on. Whether it’s causing corruptions in a universe so he could feed, or fighting off those intervening Star-Sanses, Nightmare had always been on the move. And so he savors these quiet moments.

Just him and you. One small human in his embrace as he rests through the night. Something… Someone positive he could indulge in.

During the nights when he’s in your bed like this, his tentacles coiled around you… He gets the most tempted to just take you, to bring you back with him. He’s become obsessed, with this human that wouldn’t seem special to anyone else. A normal human in a mundane universe.

His other hand trails down your stomach down to your leg, slipping under the gown to touch your thigh. Feeling the warmth on his phalanges, his breaths becoming heavier…

He wants to take you back to his domain, his pocket dimension where his castle resides. He’d be able to keep you all to himself, where no one would disturb his time with you… Where he could spend as much time as he wanted with you.

He’s wanted to do that as soon as he realized he’s become obsessed with you. But he grits his teeth, knowing he can’t do that just yet.

The irritable Star-Sanses had driven him away from his territories, managing to have the upper hand recently. They managed to take Killer away from him- one of the most useful members of his group, someone who had no emotion and could kill easily because of it. They somehow got way too close to his “kingdom” for his liking, and it drove him to hide away. With his castle under “surveillance”, the so-called Sanses looking for him to turn up again, he couldn’t return to it lest he gets pulled into another battle with them.

He’d jump from universe to universe, eventually losing their pursuit, when he found your universe. There was nothing outwardly special about yours, which was exactly why it was such a good place for him to hide and lay low for a while. Biding his time, storing his energy… When he meets them again, he’ll give them one hell of a fight.

Soon, however… He’ll be able to take you. Something else is happening in the multiverse, causing corruption and destruction. Another universe-hopping entity running amok. The Star-Sanses had stopped looking for him, their attention pulled away. Soon, Nightmare will be able to return to his realm.

And when he does… He’ll bring you along with him.

He holds you for a bit longer, letting his tentacles smother you, his phalanges stroking your chin. He closes his socket, savoring the moment… When he notices the first few rays of sun reaching the floor of your room. His calm grin turned into a frown, his phalanges curling up around your face.

It was time to leave.

Reluctantly, he pulls back all but two of his tentacles, picking you off of him, gently laying you back down once he’s gotten off your bed. His tentacles linger for a few moments longer before finally unwillingly pull back from you.

Night after night, his urge to have you grows.

Nightmare remains where he was beside your bed, his single eyelight watching your restful face, the morning light bouncing off of your skin.

Even though he always took pleasure in your pretty, fearful face… When your face isn’t distorted by fright, peacefully resting like this, you look beautiful.

He pulls the blanket back onto you, tucking you in. He wanted to make sure you’ll have a comfortable rest.

Because soon, you might not have anymore of those.

He leans in near you, putting his teeth close to your ears, and whispers.

“Sleep well, my dear… Soon, we’ll be able to meet.”

———————————————————————————————————

The sound of scrubbing filled the air as you brush your teeth, spitting the foam into the sink soon after. You cup your hands under the faucet and splash your face with water, feeling the droplets trickle down your chin. You wash your face and spray more water, looking at the mirror as the suds clear away from your face.

… You look horrible.

You hadn’t had a restful night in a long while. You couldn’t- you’ve been having nightmares lately, and they only seem to get worse. They all had one thing in common- a dark skeletal figure, oozing with darkness, with twisting and thrashing tentacles that looked like they were always searching for you.

It was always the same. As soon as you notice, you were running. You’d run as much as you could, hid the best to your abilities, desperate to get away from him (you always assumed they were a he…). But he was relentless. Every bit of running you did never seemed to deter him, and there was always a way for him to stay on your heels while his tentacles reach for you. Sometimes you’d wake up right before he got to you, or when you manage to fall into a pit.

Then there are times when his tentacles would find you…

Thinking about it just gives you shivers. It’s as if you could feel the ooze on your skin as they squirmed all over you- grabbing you by your leg when you were hiding somewhere, screaming as you were lifted into the air, face to face with your captor. The figure had a sadistic smile present whenever he heard you screaming, struggling to free yourself of his bonds. His laughing only got louder and more manic as more of his tentacles grabbed you- and you couldn’t stop screaming. You’d think that you’d be able to wake up once he’s caught you, but there are times where you’d stay in that position for so long. Where all you do is try to break out of his hold, only to have more of those dripping black tentacles cover over of you.

… It was always the worst when he caught you.

Sometimes he’d speak to you. His voice was deep, something dark lying underneath it. Like the devil trying to coax you into giving him your soul. He’d taunt you as you were running, telling you to

“Run away, little girl. Run away from your monster.”

It sounds as if he spoke to you both from where he was and inside your mind. It reminded you how no matter what you did… He was always behind you.

He spoke to you while he caught you as well, his voice dripping with false sympathy, saying how “What a poor thing you are, trapped and hopeless…” while you struggled to keep his tentacles away from you.

You started to dread going to sleep. It used to come by every week or so, then it became twice a week, then every other day, and eventually every night… You would be visited by a nightmare. When night falls you’d get anxious, and you wonder… Why was it always the same entity that appeared in your dreams? They were the most vivid dreams you’ve ever had, feeling every inch of his slimy, horrid tendrils when you became entangled in them.

You’ve told your friends about the recurring nightmares and even went to a psychologist once. You told them about the skeletal figure that chased you relentlessly throughout your nights, making your mornings feel tired and restless. You don’t know where he came from- you’ve had uncomfortable dreams before he suddenly appeared, and he kept returning ever since. It always felt so real, and you were terrified of him.

But most of them have told you the same- it was just a dream. “He’s not real,” They’d say. “He can’t hurt you,” They’d say. It may be a form of something bad in your life turning into something awful in your mind when you slept. He can’t get to you.

You laughed it off then- feeling like a child. It was just in your dreams, in your head. Probably some kind of manifestation of your subconscious. You might be having terrible night terrors, but he isn’t real and he can’t catch you when you’re awake and conscious.

… But… Sometimes, late at night when you’re in between sleep and consciousness… When you peek out of your eyelids, you swear you could see a shadowy figure in the corner of your room, watching you unblinkingly with that glowing blue orb as you fall asleep. And every time you managed to jolt your self awake, searching for him- he wasn’t there.

You don’t know what to believe- sometimes you fear that you might be going insane.

But as much as you dreaded those nightmares, you knew you needed sleep.

You’ve tried avoiding it once. Try to keep yourself awake, sitting in your bed, only to end up falling asleep anyways. You had the nightmare again- but it felt worse. Even in the dream, you felt lethargic and weak, and your anxiety felt ten times worse. The skeletal figure had again appeared and had easily caught you, pulling you close to him and laughing at you when you can’t even struggle against him, wishing for your nightmare to end.

You couldn’t avoid it, so you didn’t try to anymore. It was just something you had to go through your nights now.

You slip into your nightwear, walking towards your bedroom. You do your best to ignore the uneasiness creeping up on you as you enter, locking the door. You turn off the lights and slip into bed, thinking of good thoughts to calm yourself down, preparing yourself to sleep.

As you slowly slip silently into unconsciousness, your mind is suddenly alert when you see him. A dark corner of your room, grin flashing on his face.

You’re lying on your side, an arm dangling off the bed when you saw him. The dread you felt earlier comes back with a vengeance as you try to scream, but your lips barely move. You try to get away, to hide, but your utmost efforts only bring a twitch to your finger.

You’re in sleep paralysis.

The realization hits you like a truck, and through your unmoving eyes, you see him start to come closer. Your heart hammers in your chest, your mind screaming for you to move but your body doesn’t obey. You feel your breath quicken as you’re forced to watch his approach. Eventually, you manage to get your dangling arm moving, throwing it on top of the blanket. You grab it and with what little control you have, pull it up over you, hiding you.

You try to control your breathing as you peek out of the blanket.

He isn’t moving anymore, and when you look twice- you notice he hadn’t even moved from the spot in his corner. Your eyesight wavers and the figure just turns into static shadow in the corner of your room. Your heart continues to thump in your chest as you stare out, fearing if he was going to return, but you don’t see any movement. Eventually, you tell yourself that this is enough, giving in to your exhaustion, and your eyes close.

…

You’re… Somewhere else.

You were still on a dark landscape, but standing in front of you was a black castle. Darker than the rest of where you were, reminding you of him.

But as you turn around, looking in all directions, searching… He was nowhere to be seen. And something you noticed very quickly was the fact you could move at all.

Having nothing else to do, you walk through the entrance, grand, reminding you of royalty. As you moved through the black hallways, running your hand along the walls, feeling its smoothness, you wonder.

Why are you here?

It didn’t feel like your usual nightmare. It felt more like a surreal, weird dream. You could think much more clearly, and you didn’t feel fear building inside of you. But even so, something about the castle made you uncomfortable. Like something’s not right.

… Like you’re being watched.

You spend what feels like hours just exploring and turning around the winding hallways, climbing up and down ebony stairs, when you finally reach an opening in what seems to be the heart of the castle. Its entrance is grand as well. Not as big as the one you used to enter the castle, but it felt more… regal.

When you enter, you see two chairs pressed to the wall.

This is probably the throne room.

One of the thrones is huge- tall and imposing, fit for a ruler. Somewhere where they would be able to look over the room and address anyone in it. Next to it is a smaller throne.

Even though it was smaller and black like everything else, it was adorned with decorations. Some patterns swirled and winded along its back and top.

You couldn’t stop staring at the smaller throne. It felt… Right, for once. It set your chest at ease. You wanted to keep looking at it, feeling an inexplicable draw to it, like you were being pulled towards it. A voice inside your mind tells you

Sit. Sit on it. You want to sit on it, it looks so pretty and nice. You want to sit on it.

Without making conscious effort, your body obeys, your feet bringing you closer to it step by step. It felt like it belonged to you… It felt like you belonged there. Like that’s where you’re supposed to be. It brought you a sense of rightfulness and a sort of strange joy in you.

A smile tugs at your lips as you approach.

You want to sit on that throne.

But as you draw nearer… You stop yourself, your smile falling. Where are all these feelings coming from? It is a beautiful chair, especially now as you stand closer you could see more of the intricacies on the patterns that adorned the throne- but you don’t understand why you felt so drawn to it.

You stand in front of the throne, thinking- only to start screaming a moment later when abruptly, tendrils shoot out of the throne, grabbing you by your limbs. You get tossed and turned, and you lose your “breath” when you’re yanked into it, your back hitting the throne with such a force that you cry out. You shriek as the black tentacles coil tighter around you, fighting to get out of the seat. To your horror, you realize the familiarity of the black appendages holding you down, reminding you of something… Someone else. Your efforts in struggling doubles, shutting your eyes as you pulled against the tight grasps, managing to stand up a bit- screaming again when a pair of bony hands clamp down on your wrists, jerking you back.

You immediately open your eyes. The castle’s gone, and you’re back in that void you’ve become so familiar with- with the same entity that had been haunting your nights. He holds you to him, his head next to yours, watching you with one electric blue orb. His grin is sharp and wide, so close to your face as you cry- he’s tightened his grip on you, and it’s starting to hurt.

“You can’t run from me anymore, (Y/n).” His voice spreads throughout the void and booms in your head, full of mania. “You can’t run away from your Nightmare.”

“No! No- let me go, please!” You shout and sob, but no one else hears you. He only laughs in your face and you start to drown in his black sludge as it fills the void. It rises with an alarming rate, coming from your legs up to your chest and neck, finally reaching your face. It covers you and spills into your mouth, and you start to choke-

…

You gasp as you shoot straight into sitting position, throwing your blanket off the bed. You pant and gasp for air, your eyes wide with fright as you look around the room frantically. You could feel beads of sweat rolling down your temples, the damp cloth sticking to your back.

… That’s new.

Your frantic breathing eventually turns quiet, and you take a deep breath, swallowing thick saliva.

Another nightmare.

But this one felt… Different. It was always somewhere dark where the nightmarish entity chased after you, and it certainly wasn’t the first time he’s caught you- but you’ve never seen that castle before. It sounds silly considering it was a dream, but usually, you were running on that vast plain of darkness that threatened to swallow you whole, or someplace with abstract shapes where he’d play “Hide and Seek” with you. You’ve never been somewhere with clear-cut features.

And you’ve never had a moment of calm before your nightmare. It always started quickly- as soon as you were there, the figure would make himself apparent to you, and his hunt would begin.

This… This was something new.

Tick… Tick… Tick…

But still, it was another nightmare.

You look to your side, to the clock hanging on the wall of the room. 3 AM. You could still go back to sleep. You felt groggy, sluggish, tired- and afraid. So, so afraid. But now that you’re awake, knowing it was just another nightmare, you feel your nerves settling, feeling the cool air on your skin.

You spend some time just gathering yourself. You breathe long and deep, pressing your palms to your face, giving yourself a moment.

It’s ok. It’s just a nightmare. You’re ok, (Y/n).

You gave out a loud exhale, emptying your chest of air before breathing again, staring at your room. It’s quiet, the air only filled with the sound of your ticking clock. Your eyes wander to your window, hanging ajar. The curtains flew gently in the wind, and as you look longer at it you think the moon must be full because it lit up your floor a soft blue. You enjoy that your room wasn’t pitch black- something that’d remind you of the void in your mind. You smile, yawning, filling your lungs with cool, soothing air, feeling drowsiness creep back into you. You blink your eyes tiredly, deciding to go back to sleep.

… But then… You see something moving in the shadows.

Your eyes move from your window to the floor, where the shadow of your curtains moved along the wind.

… There’s something else that peeked out of the corners of your room, slowly swaying.

A shadow of one lone tendril, waving in the air. Your breath gets stuck in your throat, and your eyes widen. Your mouth turns dry as your eyes trail up to the tentacle casting the twisting and writhing shadow on the floor, glistening under the moonlight.

You follow along the tentacle, and you see more, moving in similar patterns, curling and uncurling as if they were restless.

Time seemed to stop when you see a grin in the shadow, one blue orb glowing above it, slightly lidded.

… No.

His eyesocket widens and the orb glows brighter when you make eye contact. He takes a step out of the shadows, and you see him- A skeleton with a jacket and shorts, glistening and drenched in what looks like black sludge, taking slow step after slow step closer to you.

… No no no!

This can’t be happening! You’re still dreaming, it’s not real!

“Oh, but my dear…” He speaks, his grin turning malicious, apparent that he’s enjoying the look of terror that must be on your face. “This isn’t a dream…”

“I am your Nightmare.”

Your heart pounds in your chest, clamming up once you’ve heard him speak. But as he gets closer and closer, whatever spell you were in breaks and you quickly turn your body away, jumping off your bed and heading for the door- when black tentacles grab at your arm and legs. You squeal and kick as you’re picked clean off the ground, the slimy members coiling around tightly until you couldn’t move more than a jerk here and there. You’re abruptly pulled towards him, pressed chest to chest, feeling the inky black substance cover your skin.

Your breathing turns rapid and shallow, realizing you can smell him. He smells damp and musty, like something old and forbidden. Of untouched crypts, of rain on hot tarmac. He smelled bad, and not in the sense that he smelled bad- He smelled wrong, like a bad memory tugging on your mind, of something bad that’s about to come.

In all your nightmares not once have you smelled him.

This is real.

Your nightmares had always felt scarily real, but when you feel his tentacles now, on your arms and legs, feeling its slime rubbing off of you and soaking you… Your heart feels like it’d jumped when you come to the terrifying realization that this is real.

He is real.

You immediately open your mouth to scream, but just as quickly, a tentacle wraps around your head and covers your mouth. The skeleton laughs darkly as you feel another tendril slowly glide around your neck, staring at him with wide eyes.

His blue eye lights up with glee as he sees you fight against his tentacles, your sounds of struggle muffled by them as it felt like more and more of his tentacles kept wrapping around you. His sludge covers up every surface of your body until you’re completely drenched in it, save your eyes.

His manic grin takes up all your attention as a skeletal hand cups your face, almost tenderly so, surprising you. His sockets lid while his smile starts to look drunk, the blue light of his eye dilating. “No more running away, (Y/n)…” He murmurs, eyelight watching you unwaveringly.

The expression on his face turns intense as he seems to lose solidity, losing his form and sinking into the ground, taking you with him.

“I’ve caught you.” He growls, “ And you’re mine.”

He sinks into a puddle in your room, as more of your screams are muffled, your tears pooling in your eyes as you try desperately to escape. One hand manages to reach out of his muck before he grabs it. He pulls you down with him until you’re completely engulfed by his slime, disappearing into the floor, leaving no trace behind.

…

Tick… Tick… Tick…

The clock in your room continues to run, the curtains gently swaying in the wind. Your room is empty with only a messy bed while moonlight filters into the room… It’s as if you weren’t even there.

Your nightmare begins.

[theaterism]

14: a special memory / for fox!!

memory asks - accepting

The freight train had slowed and juddered to an early stop. The children didn’t know the reason behind the delay. Repairs, most likely — a malfunction in the train itself or an issue in the railroad tracks ahead — but freighthopping required secrecy, so they couldn’t ask. For a while, they stayed hidden in the boxcar amidst the crates and the square bales of hay that made them sneeze if they stayed too close to them.

They still cracked the door of the boxcar open for some fresh air. The train had stopped beside a field. Long grasses swayed in a gentle breeze, and the late afternoon sunlight gilded the landscape in gold.

Time passed, the sun dipped closer to the horizon, and Adeline and Henry chose to venture out on their own. They’d spotted a station beyond the field, and they wanted to search for food. The dimness of the evening offered cover. James asked to join them — his invisibility could prove useful, after all — but they refused. Something about fewer people drawing less attention. The reason made sense, but it still left a hollowness inside James. They promised they’d be careful, and before he could protest further, they slipped out the door and vanished into the field.

The boxcar fell into silence.

Maybe, James thought, they feared he’d panic or tune out again. Maybe they’d telepathically decided he’d only slow them down. Maybe they were right.

James stifled the sting of rejection and sought distractions to pass the time. He performed various coin tricks for boxes and hay bales. Finding them a poor audience, he balanced on them instead and leapt between them. When he grew tired, he sat on the floor with his back against a crate. He tried to hear people talking outside — the engineer, perhaps — but only caught birdsong and the rustle of grass.

He waited.

He couldn’t tell how much time had passed, exactly, but it had grown darker. His siblings hadn’t returned. Worries swirled in his chest. His fingers traced the gauze wrapped around his left forearm. It itched. He wasn’t supposed to scratch it, but he still rubbed his knuckles along the bandage absently sometimes, or clutched his sleeve as a weak alternative.

Nearly a month had passed since they’d fled. They’d freighthopped several times along the way. Time had gotten a bit strange for James, though — it stuttered in odd places, his memories fuzzy or missing pieces altogether. But he was trying to stay present. It had gotten a little easier. Focusing on his surroundings helped — on the uneven wood beneath him, on the chill evening air, on the tickle of hay dust in his nose and along the back of his throat. He sneezed.

A lifetime ago, when they still lived in the mansion, the children had sometimes discussed running away from home together. They’d never mentioned this dream around other people, of course, especially not around their— a sharp-edged memory; James suppressed the thought and shifted his focus to the adventures they’d imagined. Sailing and mountain-climbing and jungle expeditions. It was an amusing dream, a fantasy explored with crayon drawings and embellished with the knights and dragons they’d encountered in fairy tales. Homesickness had never appeared in these plans. It had never even occurred to the children. They’d never stayed away from the mansion before, never experienced it themselves.

James didn’t know whether he was homesick. He just knew there was a dull ache in his ribcage that deepened when he was alone and a brighter memory flitted into his mind. Their games of hide-and-seek; the comfort of their bedrooms; the times they’d read together beneath a willow tree in the garden — or rather, the times Henry had read aloud while James and Adeline acted out pieces of the story.

On one hand, he never wanted to return to the house. He wanted to shove the past behind him. On the other hand, he wanted to return and see it one last time, though he couldn’t pinpoint the exact reason why. It felt important. But he couldn’t go back.

There was no mansion to return to.

His eyes stung and tugged him from his thoughts. He’d been staring at the floor. He blinked to clear his vision and realized the boxcar had plunged into darkness. Night had fallen — only starlight and faint lights in the distance shone through the crack in the door. At least an hour had passed without James noticing. His siblings hadn’t returned. He was alone.

Icy dread coiled in his stomach. His heart raced as possibilities darted through his mind. Adeline and Henry could be in danger — they could’ve gotten caught or hurt or worse; the train could leave without them. And he was simply sitting in the boxcar, waiting, useless. He couldn’t lose them too.

The boy reached to tug open the door, but then— footsteps, which stopped just outside. James jolted back and pressed himself against the crate again.

A beat of silence.

“James?” Adeline, whispering through the crack.

Relief washed over the boy. She sounded okay. His own voice came out soft and shaky. “Yeah?”

“We’re back, but— right, so this’ll sound silly, but you’ve got to close your eyes before we come in.”

“Why?” he whispered, baffled. His heart still thrummed in his chest. His relief had grown, though — ‘we’re back’ meant Henry had returned as well.

“Just trust me, alright?”

He took a breath and squeezed his eyes shut. The boxcar vanished into velvety blackness.

“Are your eyes closed?”

“Yeah.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Alright. I’ll tell you when to open them. And no peeking ‘til then, or I’ll steal your coins.”

The door creaked as it slid open. The floor trembled beneath him as his siblings clambered inside. A burst of hushed muttering ensued — James couldn’t decipher it properly, but he got the sense Adeline had bumped into Henry, or perhaps the other way around. The door rattled closed again. Crinkling sounds. Soft thumps somewhere in front of him; his siblings had sat down, he guessed. His restlessness sharpened as the suspense stretched. His knuckles rubbed his bandaged arm. But he didn’t peek.

Then, another sound. Quiet and faintly metallic. A familiar sound, one he’d heard many times in the mansion, one he’d never forget: the sound of lids unscrewing from jars. His heart skipped a beat.

Silence for a full minute. James didn’t dare to break it, though he longed to speak. He realized he was holding his breath. He inhaled softly, exhaled softer.

“Right, okay, it’s— okay.” Eagerness laced Adeline’s whisper this time. “Open your eyes now.”

James opened his eyes.

His siblings sat across from him. Adeline beamed; Henry had a softer smile, though no less sincere. Empty mason jars rested beside them. The darkness had receded enough to see clearly. Dozens of small lights floated around the boxcar, surrounding them, casting a flickering golden glow over everything.

Fireflies.

Pure wonder flooded through James, warm and light. The sight stunned him into silence. Before he knew it, Adeline had pressed another jar into his hands, the glass cold and smooth on his palms. Lights swirled within. The metal lid had tiny holes pricked into it.

Adeline settled herself beside Henry again and gave James an encouraging nod. “C’mon, then, open it.”

Thrill danced across the boy’s shoulders. His hands shaky, he slowly twisted the lid open and set it aside. The fireflies drifted upward from the jar to join the others. Some settled on the walls and floor, on the crates and hay. Some lingered in the air. One landed on his hand, a glimmer of warmth on his skin.

“Oh,” he breathed, finding his voice at last.

The syllable proved enough for Adeline’s excitement to spill over. “The station had food, so we took some”—a nod toward a pile of snacks—“but they had jars as well, so we nicked a few ‘cause we’d spotted fireflies in the field. But we still had to put holes in the lids. Rather tricky, that part.” A firefly landed on her knee. She gently cupped the bug in her hands, then released it into the air again. It floated away.

“We figured it out,” Henry added. “The holes. Found a hammer and nails. We returned those, afterward.”

Adeline nodded. “The engineer’d gone to get tea at the station, and we heard him say the train would be stuck a fair bit longer. We really thought we’d be back sooner, still, but it— it took a while to make the holes and catch enough bugs and everything.” A note of genuine apology softened her tone. “Sorry about that. We just— we wanted to keep it a surprise ‘cause we caught fireflies at home once and it made us all happy, and you haven’t been feeling well, so—”

Her words evoked a strong sense of familiarity, and nostalgia swept over James as a clearer memory returned to him. They had done something similar before, in the mansion. He remembered padding down the halls together one night, sneaking out into the garden, catching fireflies in jars, releasing them beneath a blanket they’d draped between two trees.

Adeline took a much-needed breath and grinned at him again. “Surprise! D’you— oh, don’t cry!”

“’m not crying,” he mumbled, rubbing tears from his eyes. The firefly that had been resting on his hand drifted away. “’s the hay, got in my eyes.” He set the jar on the wood beside him. The floating flickers of gold still blurred along with his vision. He bowed his head and covered his face with his right forearm.

“D’you like it?” Henry’s voice, soft and hesitant.

A shaky breath of a laugh escaped James. He inhaled and nodded, feeling a soft smile on his face. “I do, yeah. Really, it’s— it’s brilliant. Thanks.”

“D’you, um— feel any better?”

The ache in his ribs had lessened; the fuzziness in his mind had eased; the wariness that had laced itself into his frame had faded. He didn’t know how long it would stay that way. But he did feel better.

So he nodded, and honesty rang in his voice. “Yeah.”

—

The freight train shuddered back into motion soon afterward. The children cracked the boxcar door further open to give the fireflies more freedom to fly away, to vanish into the darkness of the night. Many stayed within the car for a while longer, though.

The wheels rattled along the tracks, and the boxcar shook, but a gentle warmth lingered in James’ chest. The golden lights had imprinted themselves on his mind. He still saw them when he closed his eyes. In the company of crates and hay and fireflies and his siblings, he slept restfully for the first time in weeks.

[frostedfaves]

His Firefly

Pairing: Jake Peralta x fem!reader

Summary: High School AU

Warnings: angst with fluffy ending

Word Count: 1.3k

-

He called to her from the ground, watching as she lifted her head from her book and smiled at him. She shoved it into her bag and held tightly to the straps as she took the bleacher steps two at a time. Laughing as she overestimated her speed and crashed into him at the bottom. He caught her with a shy smile, hoping his hands wouldn't choose this moment to sweat.

"Hey." Soft-spoken as he usually was around her.

"Hi." A matching tone, slightly gaining volume as she continued. "Are you gonna stay for dinner today? Dad said he's almost done making lasagna and I know it's your favorite."

"Is that even a question? Come on, firefly." He grinned at the sight of her rolling her eyes and turned to start walking in the direction of her house. She quickly caught up and looped her arm through his, rattling off about the plot of her latest book.

As she told him tales of forgotten loves and broken promises with her fingers curled into his sleeve, he couldn't help but admire. Carefully so as not to stench the heavy flow of words spilling from her tongue or dim the lights in her eyes as she recalled every detail that had her eyes running from page to page. He kept his glances to a minimum because God forbid she sees just how much he paid attention to her.

He was grateful for once that Gina wasn't with them. She wouldn't have been able to stand Y/N talking for this long about one thing, and she also would've made a point to call him out. Something along the lines of 'being in love' and 'stop being a pussy and just ask her out already'. Despite only being sixteen, he wasn't new to the game of dating. You don't just ask out a girl like her.

Maybe you do, if you're certain she looks at you, too. But Jake had no way of knowing for sure. Gina said there were signs that she was into him, but he always found himself abandoning his investigation and simply imagining already dating her. Doing their usual activities but knowing that they were in love, or at least on their way. He couldn't be sure that he loved her, but he knew he was navigating the proper route.

Dinner with her father went as pleasantly as usual. He was an amazing cook and always made sure to be home in time to have dinner with Y/N and her best friends, especially since Jake and Gina's mothers often worked late.

"Where's Gina?" her dad questioned as he sat plates in front of the two teens, smiling in response to their gratitude and joining them at the table.

"It's her mom's birthday and she managed to get off work, so they're spending the day together," Y/N responded before shoving a forkful of lasagna in her mouth. She caught Jake's eye across the table and giggled when he mocked her with his own bite of food.

"Well I was hoping to tell you all this but I'm sure you'll get the message to her." He sighed and brought his eyes back to his plate as he sat his fork down.

Jake noticed the shift in his appearance, shoulders slightly drooped accompanying a frown he hadn't seen on his face in years. "Sir, what's going on?"

"Well...I'm being promoted."

"That's great, right?" Y/N's smile vanished just as quickly as it came. "Or is it?"

"It's a great opportunity but the position isn't open here. I have to be transferred." He met eyes with his daughter and his shoulders dropped impossibly further. "We have to move to D.C."

Jake let his fork fall onto his plate, not even flinching at the horrid sound. He couldn't bring himself to look away from his half eaten dinner, his heartbeat pounding against his eardrums and drowning out the sound of his name being called from nearby. It wasn't until he felt her gentle hand on his arm again that he broke free, pushing the chair behind him violently as if it was the cause of everything. He found himself turning to the doorway, snatching his bag from the floor and throwing the front door open all at once.

"Jake, where are you going?"

He didn't dare look back as he crossed the threshold and slammed the door behind him. His feet carried him faster and faster until every passing thing was a blur. Colors blended together and the only sound came from his footfall on the pavement and his bag recklessly swaying against his jacket.

"Jake."

The first time he'd heard that soft, melodic voice in hours. Or maybe minutes, he wasn't sure. It'd been dark for quite some time, but the days were shorter now anyway. He watched her approach the tree he sat under with a lantern in her hands, wiping his cheeks and quickly realizing there weren't any tears left to clean away. She finally sat in front of him and it was just quiet enough to hear his heart breaking. The ball of light between them was bright enough to see that her tears were still going strong.

"I'm sorry."

The look of confusion in her watery eyes somehow made him feel worse. "Why?"

"I left you and you needed me. Isn't that why you're crying?"

She shook her head, closing her eyes for a second and causing two more cracks in Jake's heart, one for each tear that dropped. "I'm crying because I have to leave you." She paused and ran her thumb across his cheek slowly. "And because I can tell you've been crying too."

His cheek filled her palm as he leaned into it, allowing his eyes to completely close. "I don't want to lose you. Ever. I love you, firefly."

"I love you, too." He forced his lids back open and noticed her eyes shone a little differently, a small smile creeping up just below them. "You never told me why you call me that."

"What, firefly?" She nodded, smiling a little more when he took her hand from his cheek and held it between his. "Because being with you feels like having a guaranteed light in the darkness."

"So you're basically calling me the butt of the firefly?" He laughed and shook his head.

"Well, you do act like a butt sometimes."

"Ha, ha." She slipped her hand away and wrapped her arms around his neck instead, pulling herself onto her knees and resting her head on his shoulder. "I have to come back for the holidays," she spoke muffled tones into his jacket.

"Yeah." His arms curved around her lower back.

"And I think there's a train I can take some weekends." He tightened his hold as if she would disappear right then. "Can I try something before I go?"

She felt him nod against her and pulled away as much as he would allow her. Before he could question it she came back toward him, this time pushing her lips against his. They stayed that way for as long as their lungs could bear, and when she finally pulled away he came right back for more. Tongue was only added to the moment for a second before it ended completely.

He only barely realized that she was now sitting in his lap, too caught in her gaze to notice anything beside the dried tracks on her cheeks or the way her eyes darted between his lips and his eyes as if she wanted more. A sign, Gina might call it.

"Please don't forget me."

He blinked in surprise at her words, a smile finally coming to his lips.

"I can't forget my firefly. Especially when she kisses me like that."

[feverinfeveroutfic]

chapter twenty-six: sweet mother love

Without a moment's hesitation, Marla called Zelda and told her what was happening, but the only problem was the three of them were told that they would arrive home in New York City at around three o'clock in the morning given they left East Midlands almost two minutes before midnight.

It felt so strange that she had established a relationship with Joey, and yet Sam had to fly back home with an empty seat next to her on the red eye. She nestled down in the seat by the window: for the first forty minutes of the flight, she gazed out there to the blackness that blanketed the British Isles. Every so often, a small cluster of golden lights emerged from the darkness like a flurry of fireflies, but then they disappeared away with the nightfall. Within time, she was met with the vast stretch of black nothing was the Atlantic Ocean as it loomed underneath them in every direction possible. Every so often, she took a glimpse before her to the faint slivers of clouds, lit up ever so faint despite by the darkness: far off to the north, she caught those glimmers of the rich neon green near the northern side of the ocean.

She thought of Cliff right then, and she wondered if one of the last things he got to see was in fact the northern lights. The aurora. Aurora Borealis. She hoped that Aurora and Emile would return home soon enough themselves.

Meanwhile, in the seat right in front of her, Marla's crown of cherry red hair shone under the soft dimmed lights on the ceiling overhead. She had gone through a few of the Polaroids she had taken over those few days and then she tucked them away into her hand bag. Sam hoped that the negative of Joey would stay within the camera because she couldn't bear the thought of Marla finding out that she had spied on him in Austin. If she had a scoff at a joke about Sam daydreaming about Alex, then surely she would have a fit at the thought of Sam gazing on at Joey. Belinda had sank down with her arms folded across her chest the whole entire trip; thus Sam had time to herself and only herself. Every so often, she took a glimpse to her left at the empty seat.

She thought about drawing something before she fell asleep, and yet she couldn't hardly bring herself to it.

She had had Joey's flesh right in her hands, right in her mouth as well. An itch she couldn't quite scratch and yet she felt the need to scratch it, and yet she couldn't bring herself to it, either. She closed her eyes and pictured Alex right next to her. He leaned back against the seat with his guitar case propped up right next to him and the plume of gray over his brow strong and bright against the soft lights overhead.

She kept her attention fixed on his side profile, on the prominent aquiline shape of his nose. His deep eyes were closed part of the way, and he sat there with his arms folded across his chest. His soft lips pouted a bit. Soft like a young boy and yet stoic and serious like an old man.

“Are you awake?” she asked him in a soft voice.

He raised those thick dark eyebrows for her, but he never opened his eyes. Those dark eyelashes formed a deep shadow around his brow. He seemed to fade in and out of the shadows around him.

“Alex?” she whispered to him. He shook his head. The mysterious man, especially once he opened his eyes for her.

“What do you think I should do?” she asked him. He gazed hard and deep into her. He parted those sensual lips as if he beckoned a kiss. She moved in closer to his face, to the deep shadows that surrounded his full face: he resembled to the full moon, complete with the gray plume at the crown of his head.

“Alex?” she whispered to him the softest of whispers. The shadows cleared up into the pale skin on his cheekbones and he returned to her. He opened his eyes, and his face was soft and gentle, like a little doll. More of a doll than Belinda.

“What should I do?” she breathed right into his ear.

“Please—don't unwrite me,” he begged to her, and he closed his eyes again. She then pressed her hands to either side of his face and she set her lips onto his.

“Please don't,” he begged to her again.

“I won't—I won't, I promise.” She kissed him again. He tasted like nothing, but she could taste him regardless of it. He tasted like the dream she never wanted to end.

“Please—Sam—” he begged to her a third time. She gazed right into his eyes, baffled by that. He always called her Samantha up to that point.

“Sam, wake up,” he said to her in a broken voice. His dark eyes seemed to grow darker with the incoming night. The man of her dreams, about to swallow her whole.

“Huh?” she asked him, puzzled.

“Sam?” And she opened her eyes, and Belinda hovered right above the vacant seat next to her: her long blonde locks dangled down from the side of her head much like Joey's jet black curls. She looked on at Sam with an expression on her face that said that she had not slept at all during the flight and yet it never bothered her for a second.

“Sam, we landed,” she told her in a voice otherwise broken by sleep. Indeed, Sam peered behind her to the bright amber airport lights right outside of the window. The tarmac outside was covered in a fine layer of rain water, and she knew that Zelda had to be sound asleep at that moment, given she offered to care for Genie while she and Marla were overseas. She then rubbed her eyes and stretched her arms over her head.

“Okay—okay—I'm awake—”

“You got your art stuff with you?” Marla asked her as she picked up her purse from the seat next to her.

“Right here, yeah—” Sam gathered her things and then she climbed out of the seat. The three of them filed down the narrow aisle to the front door of the plane and the terminal gate. The airport stood vacant but bright lit despite it being almost three o'clock in the morning. Almost three o'clock in the morning and yet Sam and Belinda both were wide awake.

“Want me to drive us back?” Belinda offered.

“If you could, Bel,” Marla told her with a rub of her eye. “I don't really feel like doing much of anything right now if I'm honest.”

The vast bright corridor stood still and silent with the middle of the night all the way to those big sliding front doors. A heavy dew was falling in the wake of a strong rain some time before then. Belinda took to the driver's seat while Sam slid in the passenger spot next to her and Marla lay down in the back seat. She had fallen asleep once they had reached the airport driveway.

“So what're you gonna do once we get back to your place?” Belinda asked her as they reached the first stoplight.

“Like what do you mean?”

“You gonna call your parents and tell 'em we got home safe and sound and in one piece?”

“Of course. They told me to call any time, so hell to the yes.” Sam then turned her head in her direction. “Why? What'd you have in mind?”

“Kinda hungry,” Belinda confessed as the light turned green. “That airline food just isn't very good.”

“No, it's not.”

“When we get back to Hell's Kitchen, I'll get you and me some pizza if you'd like.”

“Pizza at three o'clock morning sounds excellent.”

Within time, they reached their apartment in Hell's Kitchen overlooking the harbor. The windows of the building all beheld the darkness of the night, and Sam thought of that morning that she and Cliff had Mexican hot chocolate together. She even pictured Zelda and Louie on the corner up ahead of them as well.

Just so long as no one found out about them then she would keep their secret locked away under the proverbial lock and key forever.

Marla had a difficult time in climbing out of the back seat but she managed to climb out of there: the amber light from the street lamp next to them shone down on her cherry red hair such that she resembled to a literal sunrise there on the sidewalk. She rubbed her eyes as she unlocked the front door and propped it open for Sam and Belinda; she yawned and then she trudged over to the far corner of the room for the mail. It took her a few tries to slip the key into the hole but she finally did, and she took out a full stack of mail out of its hiding place.

“We'll go through this stuff tomorrow,” she told Sam as she shut the door and locked it. “I'm just too beat right now.”

“Makes sense,” Sam assured her with a shake of her head. The elevator brought them up to the third floor, and Marla almost fell asleep standing up right there next to Belinda. But they made their way back to the apartment and Sam offered to unlock the front door for her.

They were met with total darkness except for a small night light plugged into the bathroom: through the shadows, Sam could see that Zelda had stretched out on the couch, sound asleep and with the back of her hand pressed upon her brow. Genie had curled up right down by her feet, but she lifted her head once Sam and Marla had come into the room; indeed, once Marla switched on the lamp, she had pinched her eyes shut even more in adjustment to the sudden bright light.

Sam stooped over Zelda's face and set a hand on her shoulder.

“Zelda?”

She breathed heavy with sleep, and thus Sam shook her harder.

“Zelda?”

She stirred and groaned in her throat.

“Hey—hey—hey, Zelda—”

“Huh?” She rubbed her eyes and she looked at the three of them with bloodshot eyes.

“We're home,” Belinda told her.

“I can tell—wow.” She propped herself up on her elbows, but Genie never budged from her spot. “I didn't think you guys'd get home until much later.”

“We were told of our flight plan after the fact,” Marla told her, and she yawned a second time. She set the mail down on the kitchen table, and then she doubled back down the hall to her bedroom. Sam and Belinda then turned back to Zelda.

“Long flight?” she asked them as she ran her fingers through her short black hair.

“Eh, could've been worse,” Sam assured her.

“Yeah, you could've been flying out to California, too!”

“How'd she do?” Sam gestured to Genie, who finally stood up from her spot next to Zelda's feet and climbed up onto the arm: her black fur glowed in the light from the lamp.

“Excellent. She always ran up to the door and meowed at me whenever I came in. She always rubbered on me whenever I even so much as went to the bathroom. And last night, I decided that I better just come on over and spend the night with her. I think she gets lonely.”

“She's an outdoor cat,” Belinda told her.

“An outdoor cat who didn't really have a home, either,” Sam pointed out.

“She's a good cat, too,” Zelda continued as she reached over to pet her head. “The first night I came over, you know I sat with her and petted her, and she was purring the whole entire time, too. Just this full, loud, real content purr. And at one point, she looked up at me with real sleepy eyes and then she bumped her head right into my face.”

“Aw,” Sam tilted her head to the side at that.

“One time when Louie and I were together, and we went to a pet shop together, and there were these cats on one side of the room. We couldn't get a pet together because we were hurting for money, you know? But there was this one black cat who came up to me and rubbed on the grates of the cage and was just meowing at me the whole entire time. A couple more did, too. Louie told me it's because they know someone's true to themselves, but who knows really.”

Zelda swung her legs around the edge of the couch and stretched her arms over her head.

“What time is it, by the way?” she asked them with a yawn.

“Three in the morning,” Sam replied.

“Shit. Don't really feel like going home, though.”

“Don't blame ya,” Belinda told her, “are you hungry? I'm not tired at all and I was about to go up the block and get us something to eat.”

“Oh, yeah! The whole late night rituals that just follow anyone who's on tour. If I'm honest, that's a habit that's gonna follow me until I drop dead.”

Sam chuckled at that, but Belinda adjusted the strap on her purse and then she bowed back out of the door. Genie slunk up to the back of the couch and curled up on a spot right behind Zelda's head.

“I gotta call my parents,” Sam told her.

“At this hour? Sam, I knew you were nuts, but not like this.”

“They're three hours behind us,” she pointed out as she doubled back into the kitchen for the phone.

“Oh, I see.”

“My mom's bit of a night owl, too—if nothing, she'll be up.”

As she made her way into the kitchen, she thought back to when Cliff was alive. The three hour time difference and the fact that it was late at night. It all felt so familiar to her as she dialed her parents' number and held the receiver up to her ear. She peered over her shoulder at Zelda, who stood to her feet and ducked behind the dividing wall between the kitchen and the front room there. Genie stayed in her spot on the back of the couch as the phone rang once, twice, three times—

“Hello?” Esmé's voice crackled onto the other end.

“Hi, Mommy—”

“Oh, hi, Sam! I was just thinking about you.”

“Marla, Belinda, and I all just got home from England. Oh my god, it was beautiful there. One of the most beautiful places I've ever seen.”

“That's fantastic! Well, your father just went to bed, I'll have to tell him about it in the morning.”

“Marla got a couple of Polaroids, too, so we can share some good things with you, too.”

“Wonderful! Oh, my little girl went overseas the first time with her friends...”

Sam then thought about that journal in her desk all the while, the one with the drawing of the mysterious man from when she first started dreaming of him the two years before. Two years later, and she still hadn't finished that drawing. But at least now she could give him a face and a body.

It was three o'clock there in New York and therefore midnight back on the West Coast. It dawned on her right then. She was alone with her mother. Joey stayed in England to tour with Anthrax. No one else there with her in that kitchen.

“So, um—you also didn't answer my question, Mom,” she said with a clearing of her throat.

“What's that?” asked Esmé.

“When Joey and I were at the house a while back with Marla and at one point, you told me that he reminds you of Dad.”

“No, I said he reminds me of someone whom I went out with before your father entered the picture, Sam,” Esmé corrected her. “I was about to tell you that, too, but—I never got the right time to do so when the three of you were with us.”

“Well... I've got time right now,” she pointed out, to which she lowered her voice as Zelda returned to the couch in front of her.

“And I have little bit of time, too, even though it is late at the moment,” Esmé added, and then she fetched up a sigh. “I was ready to call it a night, too, when the phone rang. To be frank, I had a feeling you would ask me about this at some point, but it was only a matter of time. But—” A brief pause on her end.

“Okay. I met your father while we were still in high school but we never completely hit it off together by the time we both had graduated. We always took our time with each other, especially since—you know, he's a little bit younger than me, and thus I had to wait a little bit for him. A year's sabbatical between me and him, and even after that we took our time. But I was willing to take my time with him. My mom—your grandmother—always told me that love is patient. Love knows no boundaries and is willing to wait until Death herself comes. Love knows no distance, either. But what happened was I met another boy about my age during that sabbatical year, and he resembled almost exactly like Joey. Almost—he was a little bit taller and not as thin, either, like he had a little bit of weight on his body. But he had the long lush black curls down past his shoulders and with the dark brown skin as well.”

“Did you go out with him?” Sam asked him as she pressed her back to the wall.

“Oh, yeah. We went out many times while your father was in school, but I never told him about him. I couldn't, either. I never told either of them about each other. And the reason why is because it got ugly a few times by the time your father came into the picture and saw me with this other strange boy.” And as the words left her lips, Sam thought about Joey and also Alex. The fact Alex didn't like Joey and he didn't like the idea of Sam being around him all the while; the fact Joey didn't like Alex for whatever reason.

“So what'd you do?”

“Well, I remember I cut the boy loose a few times but he kept coming back, though. Just by a matter of fate—very strange, as if we were destined to be together. He always came back to me whenever I least expected him to, too.” Sam closed her eyes and she held the phone receiver away from her ear. It was almost as if her mother had just described her own personal life.

“—I remember the first time we were intimate, too,” she continued as Sam held the ear piece back to her own ear. “It was several years after we got together, which is why your father and I weren't your age when you were born. And coincidentally, it was the day before your father proposed to me. He just—lay down with me. We got down outside of the bathroom door—”

Sam rubbed the bridge of her nose as she thought of Aurora and her encounter with Mark Osegueda before the wedding.

“And then your father proposed within mere hours later,” she finished.

“But you—you actually—”

“Yeah. Yes.”

The silence fell over Sam's apartment and over on Esmé's end as well.

“Were you—” Sam started.

“I actually didn't find out I was pregnant until we started planning our wedding. But it was interesting because—I worked it backwards and I figured that you had been conceived right around that time.”

Sam raised her eyebrows and gaped at her even though Esmé couldn't see her. “So—as far as you and I both know,” she continued, that time in a low whisper of a voice, “Ruben Shelley may not even be your father. It would explain why the two of you always seem so different from one another. Why he was always doting to you, but there was this odd disconnect between the two of you. Like not how a father and a daughter should behave together.”

“Well—why didn't you say anything?” Sam sputtered as Zelda giggled at Genie: she craned her neck and saw Zelda played with her with a piece of string. Genie's golden eyes were big and wide but she moved about in lethargic fashion. Not in a mood to play at such a late hour.

“It's not really something that you talk about until you're ready, sweetie,” Esmé explained all the while. “And, well—you're twenty two now. You are old enough to understand these things now. Although I would have said so when you were in high school or when you planned on moving to New York, but I could never seem to find the right words, or the right time for that matter. There was just so much to do to get you prepared for life.”

She fell silent once more for another few seconds; the only sound came from Zelda's giggling and Genie's deep purr in the next room.

“If he comes on over with you again,” Esmé spoke again, “you have to be careful with him because Ruben—I mean, your father, might go bananas on him.”

“Why's that?” Sam asked her.

“Well, after the three of you left, he had quite the bone to pick with Joey. Like as soon as you left, he was quick to criticize him. I had to leave the room because it was bothering me some. I told him after the fact how it upset me because it seemed so unlike him to gossip like that, and so he apologized and he made up with me. But I can see it in his eyes whenever I mention you and him, and your friendship. Just so long as he's not eighteen, I don't think the reaction will be any worse than that.” Sam grimaced at the thought of her father meeting Alex at the sound of that.

“You guys are still just friends, right?” Esmé asked her, and Sam turned towards the wall so Zelda couldn't hear her.

“He asked me to be my boyfriend,” she whispered into the mouthpiece.

“Aw—what'd you say?”

“I said 'yes'.”

“Oh, my,” Esmé remarked in a breathy voice. “Two boyfriends already. But I'll make sure not to tell your father straight up yet. He has to get friendly with him first.”

“Oh, yeah, yeah.” Sam then stopped right in her tracks. “Well, how do you think he'd react to that little boyfriend announcement?”

“I'm not sure,” Esmé confessed with a clearing of her throat. “In fact, I'm not sure as to how to break that to him. At least not yet, either. Although I will say this, Sam.”

“What's that?”

“When children or any kind of innocence gets involved, that's when it becomes harrowing.”

It was as if she had described her social life and also read her own thoughts all the while. She pursed her lips together at that and then she sighed through her nose; she thought of Alex at the word “innocence.” Still just a boy, and Joey was, too.

“So—you have a good night, okay?” Esmé concluded. “I'll tell your father that you all got home in one piece. Don't stay up too late, okay? I've had jet lag before even just from traveling across the country, it's not something to trifle with.”

“Of course! Good night, Mom.”

“Good night, baby.”

They hung up at the same time and Sam let out a long low whistle. She returned to the living room for her things right as Zelda walked into the kitchen herself right then. She opened her overnight bag, and there was her journal nestled down in a safe spot against the heavy canvas. She opened it to those old pages, and there he was right before her.

When the morning came, she figured to run the edge of the graphite along the outline there on the paper. The mysterious man from her dreams now had more than a face, and it made sense to bring him more so out of her dreams.

“I have him now,” she whispered aloud to the paper. She tucked the journal back into its hiding place and she returned to the kitchen for a glass of water. Zelda stood over the kitchen table at the little stack of mail.

“Looks like you got something from school,” she told Sam.

“Oh?”

Zelda handed her the heavy white envelope and she was quick to open it. She remembered she hadn't received her grant as of yet.

“What's it say?” Zelda asked her.

“I got on a short list to head out on assignment as part of our senior project,” Sam announced. “I'll have to talk to Bill about it when school starts.” She then stopped in her tracks. “Hang on—I'm getting notified about our senior project now? I'm not even a junior yet.”

“Wonder if Marla got on the short list as well,” Zelda muttered.

“But she's already in her senior year, though,” Sam pointed out.

“Yeah.” Zelda then knitted her eyebrows and frowned at that. “Yeah, I wonder what he's got in store for you. That's kinda strange.” She then moved a few more envelopes out of the way, and she gasped at what rested there at the bottom.

“A red envelope—sent from some guy named Eric Peterson in the Bay Area—” Sam picked it up and opened the back: the envelope felt heavier and thicker than the previous ones before then. She took out a small pressing, one that reminded her of when Spreading the Disease came out and she and Aurora were treated to the first pressings of that. She turned it over and there, written in neat penmanship in thick black ink—

“Live at Eindhoven!” she declared, and Zelda threw her arms around her. The buzzer went off behind them, and Sam knew she had to let Belinda in. Three o'clock in the morning or not, it couldn't have been a better time to celebrate things.

[5-falsehoods-phonated]

Overgrown Metal

Series Summary -  Almost two decades ago, the fae rose up from beyond the veil with technology far surpassing the human race, quickly taking over after laying waste to nearly everything in their wake. Now eight paths cross to right the wrongs on both ends, working to uncover secrets that would have rather stayed hidden.

Chapter 2 - Camping

Wrapping his cloak tighter around himself, the young man grumbled quietly to himself as he scooted closer to the small fire. Two cans of mini raviolis sat nearby, cracked open slightly and heating up just a foot away from the flames. He let out a quiet curse as his stomach grumbled loudly, making more noise in a couple seconds than he had in a week.

'What the hell is taking you so long?' he thought at his still absent companion. The water of the nearby river was freezing, it shouldn't be taking this long to clean. He would had heard if the other was attacked. Even if the attacker was silent Roman typically wasn't, their overly dramatic battle cries carrying over fields if they so chose them too. Maybe they fell in? Again, he would have heard the yell...unless the shock from the cold rendered them nonverbal. Or something had dragged them in. Maybe while cleaning off their weapons their hand had slipped and they had sliced themself open and was currently bleeding out and he wouldn't know because he was being too stubborn to leave the warmth of the fire. What if they fell and cracked their head open on a rock? What if-

Crunching footsteps interrupting his racing thoughts and he breathed a quiet sigh of relief. While he was getting better at not having to check on Roman every few minutes to make sure they were still around, it didn't stop his thoughts from quickly spiraling when the thought of him being alone again filled his head. Roman plopped down beside him having deposited their pack with their other belongings nearby, leaning forward to carefully take the cans away from the fire and depositing one in front of each of them before procuring spoons from God-knows-where but he was hungry so it didn't matter.

He growled low as he snatched the utensil, ripping the lid the rest of the way off and shoveling the ravioli with essence of tin in his mouth regardless of the heat.

"Slow down, dark and stormy gremlin, you're gonna choke!" He didn't even spare a glance at the scandalized face as the last of the sauce was scraped up and eaten in less than a minute.

"Was hungry." He mumbled out, hands disappearing back into the cloak as he burrowed further into its warmth.

The other eyed him fondly. "Honestly, Virgil I can't take you anywhere. I get a spot at the nicest pasta joint in town and this is how you behave? I really can't take you anywhere."

They frowned as they only received a soft huff in response. "Are you alright? I'm sorry I was gone for so long, that oil takes a while to work out in cold water."

Virgil shook his head. "....that."

Catching only half the mumble, Roman set their own empty can down and scooted closer. "Can I ask you to repeat that or is it a signing day?"

Virgil squeezed himself tighter in the fabric and lifted his head up towards the other. Roman's eyes shone with concern even in the dim light of their small campfire, the effect only slightly ruined by the dark curls drying in the humid air making them puff out in a fluffy halo around their head. The image made him smile lightly and duck his head back down to suppress his giggles.

"Hairs messy."

He only giggled harder at the offended gasp. "I'm offering you a damn heart to heart here and I get insulted!" Roman grimaced as they felt what state their hair was in, ruing their days as a traveler if only for the fact that hairstyles were rendered useless on an adventure. They were still bitter over The Great Hairspray Debacle of 2015, having to give the space up in their pack for "actual necessary supplies, Roman".

Virgil's laughter died down as the nervous feeling began to creep back into his thoughts. Roman noticed the sobering mood and sat back slightly, willing to wait for the young nervous wreck to gather his thoughts.

"Town's coming up."

Roman nodded. They knew there was a town with an underground market a few days travel away from the last time they had come through this way. They hadn't had time to stop before, but this time around they needed to empty out their packs of the items that had been piling up for a few weeks now and their supplies were getting low enough that they would have needed to stop to stock up anyway. They gestured for Virgil to continue even though they knew what the source of anxiety was going to be.

"What if..." Virgil growled in frustration as the words stuck in his throat, the rolling anxiety in his stomach and mind making him struggle to not shut down. Long, pale fingers twisted and bunched the fabric around him until with a frustrated huff they darted out and flipped out a quick gesture.

"Recognized?"

Roman nodded in understanding and he sighed in relief. He knew not being able to speak most of the time had to be annoying for his companion but thankfully they never seemed to mind, only waiting patiently for either words to be forced out or hands to jerkedly spell out what little bit of sign language he knew. He made up a lot along the way and most of the time he was able to be understood. With no internet to look up the language, books being a Society privilege and a general distrust of people making it difficult to ask anyone for lessons, even though they never stayed in one place for long, official sign wasn't something either of them were good at.

"That's why we have the cloaks and hoods and even the masks if we feel like we need them. We're pretty far away though, I doubt anyone we would know would be around." Roman took up a stick and poked around the fire a bit, stirring it as the embers began to die down for the night. "Nothing has ever happened at any of the towns we've been in, and I've heard this one is particularly...underground, so to speak. No one who would recognize us would be caught dead near there. We'll go in, sell our parts, grab supplies and get out. Next stop after that will be that abandoned city-town-place wherever that we heard about a while back. It'll be fine, Anx."

Virgil smiled at the old nickname, something Roman had taken to calling him when he refused to reveal his name the first few months they began traveling together. His shoulders relaxed the tiniest bit as the name ironically released some of the pent up anxiety, fingers releasing the cloak and instead splaying on his ripped black jeans to try and wipe off the accumulated sweat.

They both sat in silence for a while after that, watching the fire die down completely as the late evening faded into complete darkness, the clear sky allowing the stars to be on full display with no threat of light pollution to obscure their giddy twinkling. Crickets chirped quietly in the long grass, fireflies answering back their call with lazy winks of light. Even the river was hushed, water seeming to lap quieter at the shore for fear of breaking the rare tranquility the nearby travelers were soaking in.

With the world this soft and still, Virgil could pretend for a moment that this was merely an extended camping trip. Maybe they were on their summer break and were hiking for the fun of it. Tomorrow they could trek through a forest like it was nothing, sunlight streaming through normal tree branches as untouched wildlife teemed around them. All of their gear and supplies could be innocent in nature, the heaviest thing in their packs could be a small camping stove rather than their extensive collection of foreign trading parts. Their supplies were running low, so they'd soon start heading back the way they came, finding their car and laughing at some dumb play argument they had on the way back while they reloaded everything and climbed in the front, laughter turning to more bickering as they fought over what music they'd listen to first. Roman would drive first since Virgil only had his permit and wouldn't feel comfortable taking the wheel until he recognized the roads they were on. They'd get to Virgil's house and it would be coming onto late evening so he'd let Roman stay the night, knowing his dad-

Virgil furiously scrubbed at his eyes, snapping back from his thoughts. His dad wouldn't care of a friend stayed over. He didn't care about anything. He didn't even care when - no. Nope, not tonight. Rubbing absentmindedly at his arms he scooted backwards away from the now dead fire and laid back to watch the sky, Roman following soon after. They didn't say anything as he turned and wrapped himself around the other tightly, for which he was grateful. He smiled as he felt lips touch the top of his head and careful arms lay themselves across his back. Surrounded by safety and warmth it wasn't hard for sleep to find him.

-------

".....an."

"Come on, Ro....."

"Princey, get up!"

Roman shot up, blinking rapidly to clear the lingering sleep from their eyes and shaking their head to try and whip the tangled curls away. Glaring in response to their brothers shit-eating grin, they settled for flipping him off while they rubbed at their eyes, getting a water bottle thrown at them in retaliation.

"Too early." They mumbled as they fumbled with the lid.

Virgil laughed. "Try again, Sleeping Ugly, it's almost noon. I've had camp packed up for hours now."

Offended at the nickname but grinning nonetheless, they downed half the bottle in one go and dragged their pack over lazily. Virgil was always the early riser in their party of two, despite the late nights he often kept as a sleeping schedule. Roman however, was happy to spend the day hitting the metaphorical snooze button unless they had actual plans. Which, unless another Mech Beast was spotted this close to a town, which was highly unlikely, this was supposed to be a day of resting.

Looking over at the other however, their irritation softened as the ball of anxious energy went from task to already done task trying to keep himself busy. Though it seemed he'd be more talkative today than he had been that didn't mean his nerves weren't soaring to the sky with how close they were to people again. They knew they should both take a break today, but if moving would help...

Mind made up they stood, swinging the pack around to rest on their shoulder and picking up another to carry first for the time being. Different pieces of metal and containers holding strange substances clanked together inside, securely wrapped in paper and fabric to prevent them from breaking or getting scratched. They'd make Virgil carry it later on but they figured since they got extra sleep it would only be fair to carry the heavier pack first.

Trying one last time to fix their hair back into a reasonable shape Roman turned towards Virgil with a smile.

"Ready?"

Hoisting up his own pack he nodded and kicked at the already severely scuffed dirt, rising up on his tip toes as he began to walk.

"As I'll ever be."

This work is also available on AO3!

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[solaneceae]

EGOTOBER DAY 2 - Trap

Jump, fall, grab, swing, let go, turn, fall again. 

The cold night air whistling in his ears, catching on the edges of his suit. The smell of asphalt and smoke, of cosy coffeeshops and dirty alleyways.

The cacophony of people walking far, far below him, of cars honking and tires shrieking, of thousands of lives happening all around him, each one the protagonist of their own story.

To those citizens, he is but a bright red blur in the corner of their eye. A cameo. An extra. He’s okay with that.

Grab a windowstill, push himself up onto a rooftop, run, jump, fall head first into the void, eyes closed. An ecstatic grin pushes his mask up his nose, the street’s neon lights reflecting in his bright blue eyes.

In this moment, when time seems to stretch and stop, when his heartbeat synchronizes with the busting and thrumming of the city, his city... Jackie knows freedom. Pure, unconditional freedom.

Then, as fast as it started, the moment is over; a shrill scream from somewhere below reminds him of his mission, and his elated gaze turns steely and focused. He twists his hips to reposition himself, grabbing a street lamp in his fall. He lands before two struggling silhouettes in the dim, sickly lights of your generic shady back alley. 

A quick glance tell him everything he needs to know: male figure manhandling a smaller, slimmer one. His body has moved before he knew it, ramming his fist into the larger form’s stomach with a vengeful grunt. The figure is shoved backwards, crashing down on a pile of dry cement, sending greyish dust flying everywhere.

Jackie huffs, and straightens up a smirk growing on his tanned, fleckled face. “Didn’t yer mom tell you not ta lay hands on a lady?”

Only a dazed grunt rewards his taunt. Seemed like the guy wouldn’t get back up anytime soon. That was easy, he thought, brushing dust off his arms before turning to the woman. “Are you al-”

He barely had time to register the metal pipe coming his way before pain exploded across his skull. He let out a startled gasp, the impact sending him flying; his vision swam, tiny fireflies dancing all over the alleyway. It hurt.

His back slammed against a wall as gravity took its hold on him, and everything went dark for what seemed like a second. He blinked back into awareness, a pained grunt clawing its way up his throat; his mouth filled with a metalling tang; he must’ve bit his tongue at some point.

“Shit, the bastard’s got a mean right hook.”

The hero looked up, his features twisting in pain and growing confusion; the male had gotten up and stood tall above him, scowling down at him. His arm clutched at his stomach. “Hear that, asshole? I’m gonna feel that punch for a week!” the man snarled before kicking the red-clad ego in the ribs. 

Jackie’s eyes widened, curling up in an attempt to protect himself. God, it hurt like a bitch. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see straight, his thoughts were all over the place and his reflexes shot to death… what the fuck was happening?!

“Frank, enough.”

He froze. The new voice was quieter. Softer. Colder. Through his blurry vision, he caught sight of a smaller figure standing next to the man. Indubitably feminine. And holding a metal pipe.

It finally clicked, and he cursed himself for his recklessness. A trap. This whole “aggression” had been a setup to catch him off-guard. He groaned, straining his muscles in an attempt to get up, despite the growing nausea threatening to make him lose his lunch here and then. Fuck, he probably had a concussion.

The woman tutted, her voice dripping with false sympathy. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” The vigilante bit his lower lip, not gracing her with a response, and rose up a few inches. His action was rewarded by a heavy foot slamming into his chest, slamming him back on the asphalt with a sickening crack.

Jackie’s nerves went alight with overwhelming, white-hot pain. Someone was screaming, though that was probably him. The shock sent him into a coughing fit as his brain switched back and forth between duty and basic survival instincts.

get out get out run get out FIGHT STOP THEM run run run run get away GET UP get away-

“You see,” the woman started, her voice muffled by the cotton surrounding his head, “we’re trying to run a business here. We can’t have you swinging around where you don’t belong, beating up our men and ruining everything we worked so hard to achieve, now, can we?”

Jackie didn’t see what or who exactly she was referring to, but he decided that, in this moment, it didn’t matter. Those guys obviously planned on getting rid of him, and given how fast the alleyway spun and how bad his skull pounded… He spit out a mouthful of blood onto the grey asphalt. As much as he loathed to admit it, he was in no shape to fight them off. So the next best thing would be…

“Heh.” the man smirked, crouching down in front of the fallen hero. “That looks like it hurts.” he taunted, reaching out to roughly poke at his ribcage -the green-haired ego managed to stay silent this time, only a hissing intake of air betraying how he really felt. The criminal’s eyes shone with malice. “Guess you won’t be running around messing with out plans no more, huh?”

Jackie coughed again, more blood dribbling down his chin. He hoped he hadn’t punctured his lungs again, the doc would never let him hear the end of it. He braced himself for what was to come next, clutching something on his utility belt. Please work, please work, please work for the love of god.

He looked up at his foes, his cut up lips stretching in a crooked smile. “Maybe not.” He fixed his gaze somewhere above the man’s head. “But they will.”

When the two turned to look behind them, their faces twisting in surprise and rage, he pointed his grappling hook at the sky and pressed the button. The metal grip shot up, further and further from the ground. C’mon, c’mon-

The telltale clank of the hook catching on metal filled him with relief, and before he knew it he was airborne, angry screams echoing in the alley below him. He ignored his burning arm, the possibility of a dislocated shoulder, the pain radiating from his chest. He ignored his darkening vision, his growing nausea, the sticky warm liquid running down his temple and soaking his hair and beard.

He ignored it all, letting his body fall into the flow of familiar motions, rehearsed a thousand times and more. Swing, let go, catch, fall, land, run, jump. Again, again, and again. Tripping on a loose wire, falling, getting up. Running.

Get away. Get back. Get home.

His thoughts scattered, his world becoming foggy and distant. Time, space it no longer mattered. Just the colorful lights flying past him -or was he flying past them?- and gravity grabbing and letting him go over and over in a soothing rhythm, like a heartbeat. 

Up.

Down.

Up.

Down.

Up…

***

Henrik run a hand down his face, reclining in his seat with a weary sigh. Finally, his shift was over. Like every thursday night the ER had been packed with drunken teenagers carrying in their comatose friends. He should really stop covering Edward’s shifts whenever the other ego decided to disappear god-knows-where every now and then.

He got up and left his office, gruffly saluting his colleagues on the way out. He couldn’t wait to go home and pass out on the couch, granted the thing wasn’t already claimed by either a drunk Chase or a territorial Anti.

He shook his head, stepping out of the clinic and into the cold night air. His own family were a handful by themselves, between them and his dumbass patients it was a miracle he hadn’t gone insane yet.

The walk back to the house was uneventful enough, the distant rumble of an oncoming storm soothing his nerves. But as he climbed up the stairs to the front door and shoved the key into the lock, he froze.

As a legitimate, respectable, 100% real doctor, he was familiar with the sterile, chemical scent of hospitals; hell, he’d been inhaling it for so long he barely noticed it anymore. But one smell he could never really get used to was the distinct, heavy tang of blood. A smell he’d just caught a whiff of.

He frantically turned the key and pushed the door open, the emotional man overtaking the calm and calculating doctor. This was his home, his kin, this was different-

He rushed inside, flicking the lights on. There was someone laying on the couch alright. Cladded in bright fabric and leather, wild green strands escaping his hoodie, framing a light blue mask.

Covered in a lot more red than what was considered normal, even for him.

“Scheiße, Jackie!” Henrik called out, rushing to his most reckless brother’s side. Said brother stirred and looked up at him, a cocky smirk displaying his blood-covered teeth. Fuck, this looked bad. The hero raised a hand in greeting. “Hey doc-” he croaked out, before a wet cough cut him off.

“Verdammt Jackie, shut up and don’t move an inch!” Schneep ordered, kneeling in front of the couch. He gently -well, gentler than with his usual patients at least- grabbed the hem of the vigilante’s hood to get a clear look at him; the left side of his face was coated in blood -dry, good, so he wasn’t bleeding out from here at least- and his gaze were clouded and unfocused. Henrik frowned, taking his phone out of his lab coat to shine the light in the hero’s blue eyes, making him wince.

“Pupils aren’t behaving normally. Concussion.” the doctor mumbled. Jackie chuckled. “Ah- yeah, that’s a thing. Shoulder might be fucked up a bit. Also pretty sure I broke a few ribs. ”

“WAS?!” the older ego shrieked in disbelief “What the hell? What were you doing out there? Taking down a drug ring?!”

“Shhhh,” Jackie hissed, lifting his hand in a placating gesture, “Tone it down doc, you’ll wake up the others.”

“Tone it- are you joking? You’re hurt!”

“Please, just…”

The hero grimaced, averting his gaze. “I… don’t want the others to see me like this. Especially Robbie.”

Henrik stopped, considering his little brother’s words. They seemed to mostly come from a place of pride, but there was something else here. Worry. Last time the youngest member of their household had seen one of them injured, he’d been inconsolable. Jackie was right; bringing the others into this would only cause more chaos and distress.

He sighed, surrendering before the other’s pleading expression. “Alright. We’re going to your room, I’ll patch you up and take care of those stains on the couch. But I swear, if you move around while I’m gone, I will pump you so full of sedatives you’ll be out for a week!”

Jackie let out a painful wheeze and smiled. “Sounds fair.”

------

@tabbynerdicat @lilakennedy (cuz this one has your dad in it :D ) @egopocalypse @humblecacti

dm me if you wanna be added to the taglist!

[iamnotbrianmay]

The A Experience

Okay before any of you say anything... I'm sorry for taking so long!

This story has just been my baby for so long and I was so scared to mess it up in the last few chapter so I'm sorry sorry sorry! Also I have such a big audience with so many people that are enjoying this story that I don't want to disappoint ANY of you!

So sorry for being a chicken and not posting this earlier <3

Also! I'm sorry if I haven't been answering your comments but the response to this thing has been phenomenal and right now I have about 441 notifs on my inbox so yeah that might take a while to come back to you! However, know that I love and appreciate every single one of you and your comments, some of them have even made me cry!

The taglist goes as follows: : @seven-seas-of-why, @twotitsjohndeacon, @dancindeaky, @gee-uloser, @mozzarellamazzello, @mozzie-s, @deracine-dogma-deux, @shutupanddontjudge, @warping-reality, @demianhill , @zodiacal-dust-and-curls, @hersked

❤︎

By the time night falls, the house is full of people. Brian realises that half of Roger’s family looks a lot like the blonde, which means that he is now the only brunette in a house of seemingly perfect blue-eyed, blonde, angels. The only one other person who is not blonde is little Anthony, who is currently gurgling in Brian’s lap while munching a cookie his mother had given him.

He wished he could give the kid much more attention than what he was getting at the moment. However, Roger’s family was very interested in the guitarist at the moment, leaving him unable to play with the toddler.  

“So you placed an ad? In Tinder?” Oliver, Roger’s twenty-something-year-old cousin asked, and Brian scrunched his nose up.

“It was hardly an ad,” Roger interrupted, “that would imply that Brian offered to pay me anything.”

The whole family laughed, and the blush Brian was sporting spread from his face to his neck, “Not something I’m proud about now that time has passed.”

Winniefred wiped the corners of her eyes and smiled at Brian, “Don’t be ashamed, darling. It has to be the cutest story I’ve ever heard.”

Most of the family members agreed, and as Roger sat down beside him, the conversation focus changed from Brian to the stories of the rest of the family members. His boyfriend snuggled up to Brian’s side, “I think they like you a lot.”

Brian smiled, “Good, that’s good. I was scared shitless that they would think I was annoying or something similar.”

“I don’t think anyone could find you annoying.”

“You say that now,” Brian mumbled, placing a kiss of Roger’s hairline, “wait until we get back to the studio.”

The blonde laughed and agreed with Brian almost immediately. The guitarist let the conversation of the rest of the family wash over their silence. He admired the way that they had made Brian feel more than included in the few hours that they had spent together. From the moment that Roger’s cousin Charlie and his wife Rose had arrived. To the moment that Roger’s grandparents had smiled at Brian and enveloped him in a warm hug.

He hadn’t told Roger yet, but he had been scared that his family wouldn’t welcome him in, not because of his personality, but because he was a man. He knew that his own family wouldn’t be as accepting as Roger’s. That his grandparents would refuse to meet the blonde and that his parents would be rather adamant that this was only a fling. That Roger should enjoy Brian while he found a suitable wife and fell in love, really in love.

“What are you thinking about, Brimi?”

Brian turned towards Roger and found that the blonde was looking at him with wide and inquisitive eyes and his usual pout. He wanted to kiss the blonde senseless, but held himself back for the time being, “Thank you for bringing me to meet your family.”

“Of course,” Roger said, “I think it was time, I’m not planning on letting you go for a while.”

Brian blushed again, “Really?”

Roger didn’t answer, but instead looked around his family and met his mother’s eyes.

“I’m going to take Brian to my spot.” Several wolf whistles rang around the room, and Roger rolled his eyes, “Oh, get your mind out of the gutter. I want to show him the stars.”

It was only after several lewd comments and a few minutes of laughter that he finally managed to follow the blonde out of the house. The English countryside was breathtaking at night.

The air smelled of sweet Night-Blooming Jasmine, the breeze was soft, ruffling both of their hairs gently, and the chill that set all across the countryside seeped into their bones. Fireflies buzzed all around them, making the ground seem like an extension of the night sky.

The Taylor property seemed to extend for miles. Hills of green grass and tall trees which seemed to blend into the darkness of the night littered the place, making it look like something out of a movie rather than real life.

Roger grabbed his hand so that the taller man wouldn’t get lost in the darkness. The blonde seemed to know the terrain so well that he didn’t need the light of the sun to guide his way, “My cousins and I used to play every night out in the open. I don’t know how none of us ended up with a broken bone.”

Brian chuckled, “A miracle.”

“Now I can walk through this place without tripping, but there used to be a time in which my knees were always scrapped.”

The taller man looked around once again, taking in the view, “It’s quite beautiful.”

“You haven’t seen anything,” Roger said, “just wait until we get to the seaside.”

As Roger promised, the seaside was breathtaking, to say the least. The coast extended as far as the eye could see, bringing in the salty air and the soft rumbling of breaking waves. The sand was thick, sticking to the side of Brian’s shoes and even managing to get inside his socks.

Roger dragged him to a place on the beach where they could see everything from the old farmhouse to the farthest point in the coastline and made them sit down. But most definitely, the most beautiful part of the whole ordeal was the stars.

They were scattered across the night sky, lighting up the place and making the most beautiful sight Brian had ever seen. He had never seen as many stars as he saw now, and the mere thought of how many more he could see if he were farther away from the city left him breathless.

He could see everything from Orion to Aquila, even bits of the Milky Way if he strained his eyes hard enough. He wanted to thank the younger man, but he couldn’t find the voice to do so. It was… well, Brian didn’t have the words to describe how he felt as he watched the night sky.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” Roger’s voice sounded quiet in the vastness of the night.

“I haven’t seen anything like it,” Brian whispered back, “Ever. It’s the most beautiful thing in the world.”

The blonde chuckled, “I knew you’d appreciate it. Not many like the place as much as I do.”

Brian frowned, looking down at the younger man and trying to make out his features in the dark, “Who wouldn’t like this?”

“Oh, you’d be surprised.”

Silence washed over them, the wordless spaces being filled by the soft sound of the breaking waves and the faint whistling of the air. At some point his best friend curled around him, tucking his head into the crook of the guitarist’s neck and nuzzling into his soft hair.

“You know, I wasn’t kidding.”

Brian turned to look at the mass of blonde hair, “About what.”

Roger turned towards him, and in their proximity, Brian could make out his features entirely, “About wanting to keep you for a long, long, time.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

There was a short silence in which Brian tried to map the entirety of Roger’s face in the dim light of the stars. His boyfriend looked so incredibly pretty that for a second, he missed what Roger was saying, however when his brain finally caught up, his breath was stolen from his lungs.

“I’m also not kidding when I say that I’m more than ready to start everything I have been stalling.”

Brian blinked twice, “You mean—?”

“Yes,” Roger said, “I mean Kissing, snogging, groping, even— well, everything we haven’t been doing for the past eight months.”

Brian leaned back out of Roger’s, admittedly crappy, eyesight, “Okay, not that I’m not extremely excited for this new development but, you have to remember that this will be my first kiss ever.

“Well, unless you count that one time after our date at the restaurant, which was not really a kiss since it lasted about one second, and you didn’t even fully kiss my mouth but just the corner of it. So I’m sorry if the kiss is sloppy, or too slow or—”

Roger placed a finger against the guitarist’s lips, making him stop his adorable rambling, “Can I kiss you now?”

Brian's eyes widened, then he slowly nodded, too stunned to say anything. The blonde slowly lowered his finger and looked into Brian’s eyes. Needless to say, they were both terrified.

Roger took a deep breath, willing his beating heart to stop beating so wildly while Brian tried to swallow down his rising panic. The blonde leaned forward, and the guitarist closed his eyes, waiting for what was about to come, but Roger hesitated a few centimetres away from the other man’s face.

The stars shone down from the bright night sky, the waves crashed into the seashore making a soft, rumbling, back noise, the wind whistled softly as it passed between the countless blades of grass and tree branches, and Roger pressed their lips together.

❤︎

I hope you enjoyed that! Next chapter will be picking up right where we left off!

Big thanks to my lovely beta Rose, I love you a lot darling!

Comments, Kudos, and Feedback is always appreciated.

[svtthename]

same time, same place

this is for the @filthiarn who wanted some vernon x reader angst and fluff. again, i apologize for the almost year long gap in between your request and me posting this. i hope its not too late for me to post this and i hope you’ll still enjoy it. again, i'm really really really sorry. i hope you’re feeling better, vernon and i love you so much and we will always be cheering you on, i promise!

i also kind of got carried away this one, i related to it a lot so sorry if some parts are a little specific/not what you wanted. 

genre: fluff + angst

word count: 1,586

warnings: some sad feelings but that is it

Today hadn’t felt like your day. Neither did the day before, or the day before that, or the day before that… Maybe it just wasn’t your week. Every day was becoming more of a struggle, but it wasn’t like there was anything in specific that was upsetting you. All you knew is that your heart was holding less and less light and happiness every day. All outcomes seemed bleak, nothing felt like it mattered. It was the lowest you had ever felt, and you didn’t know how to communicate that to your friends. The only thing you could think to do at the time was cut yourself off, maybe just for a few days while you dig yourself out of this pit. That way, they wouldn’t worry about you. Maybe they’d even be happier without you.

You knew it had gotten extra bad when even your favorite music didn’t even speak to you anymore. Your favorite group in the world, the 13 wonderful people whose music had always been part of the soundtrack of your life, barely even made you smile anymore. It broke your heart even more. One night, the restlessness that encaptured you was growing out of control, so you decided to take a walk. Out of character maybe, but perhaps it would help. You didn’t bother changing out of your pajamas, so you pulled on some tennis shoes, grabbed a sweatshirt and your keys, and headed out. You wandered around, taking in the noise of the summer cicadas, the passing cars, the occasional music playing from an apartment. A couple stars shined through the clouds, but not many. You continued to walk slowly, without a purpose, until you came upon a path on the side of the Han River. It seemed like a bike bath, with occasional benches on the side. Dim street lamps lightly illuminated the path before your, creating an eerie, but calm feeling. Your heart felt a bit lighter seeing this peaceful atmosphere, but you still felt heavy with stress and sadness. A park bench seemed to call out do you as you slowly trudged over to it and sat down. You let your head tip back, allowing you to stare at the stars as you let out a sigh.

Maybe now would be a good time to organize my thoughts… Pull it together a little bit. I’m too tired of feeling like this. I want to feel better. You thought.

Fireflies glowed in front of your eyes, bringing a soft smile to your face. Suddenly you felt overwhelmed with emotion. While the past few days had been rough, you didn’t cry. Your heart wouldn’t let you. But now, suddenly, tears gathered in the corner of your eyes and threatened to fall. Your lip trembled for a moment, before thinking screw it and letting them roll down your cheeks. You pulled your knees into your chest, burying your face. Still feeling as if you were the only one there, you let yourself cry,

And cry…

And cry…

Sobs tortured your body, making your shoulders shake and your head hurt. You let the past days of hurt, pain, and stress out of your body through your eyes. You let it all pour out of you, every minute you wasted staring into space, every hour you wasted laying in bed thinking about nothing in particular other then how you felt, every invitation you turned down from your friends, every regret you had in the way you treated the people around you. You wailed, letting all of the hurt out of your system.

While you sobbed your eyes out on this park bench, a passerby paused on his nightly walk to clear his own head while listening to your cries. He was shy, nervous, and too afraid to approach you, but he also knew that sometimes people just need a hand to hold during hard times, his best friend had done the same for him not too long ago after a large fight between the two. His palms suddenly felt sweaty, and he felt weird just standing there and staring at you, a stranger.

“Excuse me?” He asked quietly. “Are you alright?”

No response. He stepped a bit closer, realizing that you probably couldn’t hear him. Your arms covered your face as they laid folded on top of you knees. He lightly placed his shaking hand on top of your forearm. Your head whipped up, eyes wide, red, and puffy. You looked like a deer caught in the headlights. The stranger mumbled something, but you still couldn’t hear it. He wore a beanie and a mask, so only his eyes were visible. Still, something looked strangely familiar about him. He spoke again, louder this time.

“Is everything okay?”

Why would I tell you, stranger. You thought. Such a familiar voice though…

“I’m fine.” You replied shortly. He took his hand off your arm and carefully sat down next to you.

“Alright. Do you mind if I sit here?”

“I don’t know, I guess not… I’ll be on my way out anyway.”

“Wait, wait. I’m worried about you.”

“And I don’t know you.” You pulled out your phone to check the time. Your cheerful Seventeen lockscreen illuminated the space in front of you, and he glanced over.

“You like Seventeen?”

“Yeah.” You sat still, not wanting to leave since you had nowhere else to go. “You?”

“Yeah, I love them.” His eyes lifted and wrinkled up a bit, and you could tell he was smiling. “Who’s your favorite member?”

“Vernon for sure. What about you?”

“I don’t know if I could choose really, ya know?” He said, talking casually. “You seemed very sure that he’s your bias though, you answered pretty fast.”

“Yeah, I really love him- everything about him. He’s incredible and a huge inspiration and light in my life. I’m not great with words but… I really love him.”

“I can tell.” He said smiling again. You studied his face, and suddenly his hand flew to his mask, as if he was nervous about something. “Listen, I probably shouldn’t do this, my manager would yell at me if he knew but-” he stopped himself as he pulled down his mask and shocked your entire being. He stuck out his hand for you to shake. “Hi, call me Hansol.” You gave him the same look as before, the wide-eyed “deer in the headlights” look. You barely managed to raise your hand high enough to shake his. “Don’t tell anyone I’m out right now, okay? I’m supposed to be at the dorms.” He said with a laugh.

“I… I won’t. I don’t even know who I would tell honestly.”

“What do you mean?” He asked. You let your head fall back again, once again staring at the few stars that shone through the clouds. You laughed nervously.

“You don’t want to hear about that, trust me.”

“Yes I do.” A hush fell between you. “Is that why you were crying?” You groaned and buried your head again, of course you cried in front of your idol. “I’m sorry. If you don’t want to talk about it I totally understand. I just know that sometimes holding it in… makes everything worse. If you just need to vent and cry it out, I promise, there will be no judgements and everything will stay between us. But sometimes things are too personal, and I totally get that. Whatever you choose, I understand.” You hesitated momentarily before turning toward him and taking a deep breath before beginning your story of how awful you had felt for the past week. You poured out your soul to him, all of your woes, and he focused only on you, listening intently. Eventually you ran out of words and energy. He held your hand, squeezing it gently. You looked into his eyes and saw a kindness, and a gentleness that put you at ease, and you burst into tears again. He stood up and you panicked, thinking that he was just going to up and leave you there, but he didn’t. He extended his arm out to you, helping you to your feet while thick tears still rolled down your face. Once you joined him in standing, he pulled you into a tight hug. Without hesitation you hugged him back, letting yourself literally cry on his shoulder. You had never felt safer in your entire life. He rubbed your back slowly, keeping his arms comfortably wrapped around you. Your body shook with sobs for the second time that night, but with Hansol, you felt a bit better. Even though he didn’t say anything, you knew he understood how you felt. Once your cries quieted, he slowly pulled away from you just enough to see your face.

“Do you feel better?” He asked softly. You nodded.

“Thank you.” You said hoarsely, your voice tired from crying.

“No problem, I’m happy you feel better. Really, I am. I swear. And things will get better for you, I know it. It may seem like you’ll be stuck in this darkness but you aren’t, I swear. And if you ever feel like you are there again, let me know.”

“What do you mean?”

“I walk this path pretty much every night, unless I’m on tour, which I won’t be for a little while. If you ever need someone to talk to, or cry on, or hug, and just chill out with for a little bit, meet me here.”

“Same time, same place?”

“Same time, same place. I promise.”

[wwefamilyoffear]

Fireflies

- - - A Recollection from an Unknown Child, Years After, Unknown Date, Meeting with “The King of the Fireflies” Bray Wyatt - - -

     There was something about these lightning bugs that were different. Their lights were bright, as if a ball of fire was trapped in that small body. They flickered into dimness, but never fully went out, embers still lasting. Orange shone through yellow, with a golden tint of spark coming to life from their bodies.

     My curious eye was caught immediately by these wonders of life. I just wanted to hold one, catch hundreds; feel the heartbeat of something so small. My short, small fingers reached out to grab it, but it dashed away. I tried again and again, but these glowing insects always seemed to vanish in my finger tips. However, I was persistent.

     Quickly, I took myself after these elusive creatures, wanting to understand their mystery so badly. Soon enough, I didn’t know the path I was on or where I was, how long I was running or what time it was. The fireflies suddenly dissipated and all I felt was the cold breeze. I was alone in the bayou, the humidity finally coating me. I felt the tears slowly come to my eyes, the burning in my chest unpleasant to say the least.

     I wanna go home... My small voice was shaking, sobbing. I slowly crumpled onto the ground, curling up to keep myself warm, despite the marshy soil beneath me.

     I don’t know how long I cried there... it couldn’t have been that long. I was alone out there, or at least I thought I was. My vision was so blurry; I didn’t see the shimmering sparks of electric blue beginning to return to the air around me.

     Are you lost, young ewe?

     The dark voice scared me, making me spin around in confusion, fear controlling most of my actions. The little speckles of fireflies began to catch in focus around the one who spoke to me.

     The man was broad-shouldered, strong built, and towering over six feet tall. He looked like a man who always worked... like the type of man who built his home and 80 others. He wore brown-striped pants, which his dark, metal-tipped boots hid beneath. A leather brown, canvas-like apron sat around his waist. It held many unrecognizable trinkets and tools, the only thing discernible to me being a golden ring filled with different keys. His wide chest and belly were hidden under a black top and a jacket made up of fabric scraps sewn together on his shoulders. There were clear tears in his fragmented jacket, patched up with jean-like material.

     His bright cerulean eyes shone down at me, but they were filled with a large amount of worry. His mouth was hidden by what seemed like an ocean of chocolate waves, and those waves were scraggly trimmed. His cheeks held dirt, but were rounded and seemingly always happy. Much of his hair was hidden beneath his veil of patchwork, but I could see a different chocolate ocean shaping dreaded hair, laced with red, black, and gray strips of cloth.

     I looked up at him, in a strange disbelief, frightened out of my mind at the prospect of never going home again. Momma warned me about the Bayou Men and to never speak with them. They were strangers after all.

     Little ewe, are you lost? He repeated this again, taking a few steps closer to me. I was frozen solid, staring at this behemoth of a man before me. Finally, I saw the beauty that resided in his hand as he kneeled down in front of me, placing it at his side.

     A gorgeous scene lived within the lantern he carried with him. The lightning sparks I had been chasing were trapped within the confines of the lantern, crawling about inside it. In awe, I spoke, shakily, They are real...

     The man looked to where my eyes say, his own eyes softening as he stared down at the fireflies. I assumed he had caught them, meaning it wasn’t impossible. His cheeks rounded into apples as he smiled and let out off a soft chuckle before moving the lantern to sit between us. The Wisps of the Bayou... controlled and drawn by the wonder of a child.

     My mouth was hanging open in that wonder he spoke of. My fear had left me, and this ‘Bayou Man’ had turned out to be very nice. The glitter around us never fell out for a moment. I gave a smile to him and finally answered the question he had been seeking, the realization of being last coming back to my young brain, Um.... y-yeah. I’m lost...

     My fireflies whisked you away from home, and I apologize for such. They never mean any harm. He stood, taking his lantern in one hand and running the other over it. In his hand now sat a small huddle of insects, flickering into dimness. The bugs sparkled like flame, shimmering in blues instead of yellows. He extended his large, calloused hand to me, and I reached for the life blinking inside the palm. As I reached, the fireflies jumped to life, flying upward and circling me. I laughed, excited about the bright creatures.

     Now, my lamb, let us get you home. He smiled down to me, outstretching his hand to me. I wrapped my hand around his first finger, and we walked off, him leading the way with his lantern. The lantern illuminated the black bands around his wrists, nice wraps. He also had gorgeous ink on his arms in my eyes, making me smile greater.

     I never learned his name, and whenever I told Momma about my story of him, she said it was just a dream. Whoever he was, he was no Bayou Man; He was the King of the Fireflies.