#and yet resentful of his loneliness. It's a mix of being left behind and not being left behind

[longagoitwastuesday]

I actually like the last chapter. I think the ideas are very good. I have my qualms on how some things were managed, as I always do, but I think shonen authors get tangled in the expectations of a shonen to the point it jeopardises their writing, often even when they're not lacking in skills

[danosrosegarden]

Make up sex after Edward breaks out of Arkham and comes to see you? You’re both crying and when he first woke you up reader was all angry and beating on his chest saying you hated him.

i gave my trust, i shed my blood - edward nashton x gn!reader headcanons (slight NSFW) ౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚♡

{contents ♡ mentions of violence, angst/anger and fluff mix, reader gets touched (genitals not specified)}

{word count ♡ ~800}

♡ he did it for you. through every moment of ghostly, freezing cold loneliness, every second of heart-twisting torment, every time you tasted the bitter, gritty coat of betrayal on your tongue, you should know that this was the truth: he did it for you.

♡ life was laboriously stagnant after edward was gone, each day stuck in the same aching, dreary limbo. you wake up, sleep crusted in the corners of your eyes. you forget to shower, forget to drink water, forget to eat, forget to do anything other than stare at the walls in the dark and feel as empty and destitute as a voice called out in a raging winter storm. the world was too loud. your screams were too quiet. what's the point in trying anymore.

♡ you think of the laughter laced within the bumps in the wall, all the memories injected into the picture frames and posters. each snapshot of life with him felt waterlogged and disintegrated now. there was the table you served each other dinner on. he hid it all from me. there was his book of crosswords he'd spend hours lost in each night. he murdered, spilled people's blood, reveled in them pleading for their lives. there was the polaroid taken in the park on your anniversary. grinning, cheeks pressed together, the sun beating down on your faces. he let himself get stolen away from me. he robbed us of the rest of our lives.

♡ you went through turbulent, crashing waves. there were the moments where your heart pumped warm love into your bloodstream, the moments where you thought of his face with a longing nostalgia. there were the moments you wept with your face in your hands, your body quivering and your eyes reddened with the mourning tint of what could've been. there were the moments you'd scream in your pillow until your throat was raw and stripped, the moments where you wish you could see him again just so you had the chance to claw his eyes out and slit his throat. how dare you do this to me. did all i gave to you mean nothing?

♡ you'd had a couple months to come to terms with the fact that you'd only ever see edward nashton again in news reports, which is why when you wake one night to hear the window crack and feel your bed shift with somebody's weight, you scream.

♡ gloved hands smack against your mouth and for some unexplainable reason, you soften against the feeling of the intruder's fingers.

♡ "i can't stay long."

♡ the gasp that comes whooshing like a windstorm out of your throat is instantaneous. he's wrapping his hands around you. he's pulling you in close. it feels completely foreign yet altogether instinctual, the way you reciprocate, like uncovering a time capsule. you want to feel the anger melting away like snow in the sun, but all that's left behind is the slushy, gray resentment. you're fragile; not fragile like a flower, fragile like a bomb.

♡ you shove him off of you. get the fuck away from me. your voice crackles like a thunderstorm, breaks like a tree limb in the lightning. you already feel the warm, shameful tears welling up, the tight-knit knot balling up in your throat.

♡ you missed him. with every blood cell floating through your body, with every wrinkle in your brain, with every eyelash and strand of hair. you missed him with your entire being. but there was also something gnawing from within that wanted to hate. something that craved the snap of bones and the gush of blood. you felt the two collide and battle within you.

♡ above all else, you were tired. dizzyingly exhausted. of missing him. of thinking about him. of waiting for him to return...and here he was. you could finally freefall into an all-enveloping slumber.

♡ edward shushes you through your sniveling babbles. i missed you, eddie. i hate you, eddie. i can't live without you, eddie. please don't go, eddie.

♡ his gentle, trembling touch feels like home. there was that edward you knew; always so anxious to get his hands on you, eyes always so wide with twinkling desire and dazzling hunger.

♡ i can't stay long, he repeats as his hand slithers down between your legs. you can already feel the bliss blossoming from where his fingers brush up against you.

♡ you don't care how long this moment will last; the feeling of his warm, gloved fingers touching your most sensitive areas and the familiar sound of his sputtering gasps bring you back to those moments. the moments of domestic euphoria, the moments where you two were infinite. with those old memories flickering in your gut, it was almost as if this would go on forever.

[ephemerlskies]

thank you, colmar | myg

⇢ pairing: yoongi x reader

⇢ genre: drabble, established relationship, so much fluff it could be mistaken for a cloud...., very mild angst, long distance relationship, writer!yoongi

⇢ word count: 4.5k

⇢ warnings: explicit language, this is very PG to be honest

⇢ summary: long distance was a challenging feat to take on, though you and yoongi were sure you two would be the exception. since his leave, you had been counting down the days, hours, and minutes until you finally got the chance to visit him. little did you know, this visit was going to become the most memorable weekend of your life.

a/n: i can't even explain myself i'm SORRY.... but i am literally the softest yoongi stan ever known to man. it had to be done. this was purely for my own indulgence lmao. also yoongi? france? a concept.

Do you know the feeling of being outside during a sunset? Telling yourself, ‘I’m going to watch the sunset this time’ and being so sure that you won’t miss the sun’s gradual sinking beneath the horizon. Then, during the mess of dusk and life, you do miss it; the sky darkening before you can even realize the sun has already bid its farewell to the sky today. And, maybe if you spent less time ensuring that you would enjoy the sunset rather than simply enjoying it, you wouldn’t have to scold yourself to pay more attention tomorrow.

That’s how life felt with Yoongi.

You’d been caught up with existing, along with the countless sporadic surprises and thick responsibilities that came with it, and maybe you had taken the moments spent with him for granted, the moments you once promised you would cherish as they came. But what’s the good of regretting the past when it felt far less burdensome to just appreciate it all? Even when the time with Yoongi brisked by, as if it had somewhere better to be than right here with you, the memories were still there to cherish, retrospectively.

When you found out Yoongi had seized the opportunity to study abroad in a small, French city just a car ride away from the German border, you felt like you, again, had only been able to see the rounded edge of the sun before it ducked beneath the land; then it was gone.

You tried to be happy for him, you were happy for him, and you shoved your newfound resentment of France and Colmar, the city he’d be residing in for the next two years, into a shameful yet not so secret compartment of your brain. Your smile had worked against you, becoming transparently saddened when he told you the news.

Yoongi asked if you were okay with this, to imply that had the moral choice to say no. Any and every ounce of you would have thought it vile to keep him from such an accomplishing triumph towards his career as a writer. To you, there was no way you could take that away from him. And you told him that, to which he responded that no other thing in the world would tilt him away from what you wanted of him.

For some reason, that was painful to hear. You didn’t want Yoongi to say that, not because it layered more pressure on your decision but because he offered this as if it were no bigger of a compromise than cleaning spilled water and you despised the idea of being the reason he would put an end to his dreams. You wanted to be the reason he chased them. So, that's what you were. A martyr for sake of selfless love, marching into the battle of a long distance relationship.

Two years was tough, but it was something you were capable of. It was something that wasn’t going to be the final destination of your journey with him, just a speed bump to create some turbulence to happily ever after. Although, you believed happily ever after had happened the moment you met him.

But then again, the opportunity of visiting Yoongi in Colmar felt awfully similar to happily ever after. One fifteen hour plane ride, what felt like another fifteen hour car ride - though it was most likely only an hour or so, and a listless walk to the house where he was staying later and you released a guttural sigh that the hardest part was over. The anticipation of seeing him after each bi-weekly, late night phone and Skype call and far too much distance for your liking had passed, though slowly and just as lonesome as those five months apart from him. All you had to do now was walk into the door.

And again, seeing him with his hair a mess and dressed in the same shirt he’d lounge in at your apartment had dethroned yet another happily ever after.

The first embrace had your muscles feeling the most relaxed it had felt since the last gut wrenching farewell-hug at the airport. The long journey, the countless shed tears over missing him was not as heavy in your mind; his arms carried the weight of your body like none of the loneliness and worries were your burden to bear anymore and all you could give in return was to bring your wearied hands to run against his scalp, through his freshly-washed hair. The air of this French Summer night was meager, pathetic, compared to the warmth of Yoongi’s body. How his lips dragging kisses along your jaw and cheek made you want to mock how the Summer in France couldn’t possibly equate to his kind of amorous heat.

You and him walked hand in hand along the cobblestoned streets of Colmar. The Renaissance Houses, parked two rows on each side as far as your eyes could see, had decorated the riviera fittingly. Strangers of France glared with objection to you being here, and with Yoongi it had almost slipped your mind that the French weren’t fond of tourists. Maybe this short walk wasn't enjoyable in the slightest, the eyes of judgement and turned backs gripped your throat with discomfort. Maybe it wouldn’t have been worth it if you weren't hand in hand with the love of your life. But that was quite a hefty maybe.

The subtle brush of his thumb along the backside of your palm withered away every set of eyes that blistered against your skin into nothing but a lighter, less noticeable brush than his finger. As you moved through the town with him, your resentment of France and Colmar moved with you however quieter than it had before. It trailed behind, waiting to pass through and in front of you the moment you had to leave him again. As of now, you couldn’t resent France being ingested in its beauty, where your hand was being held by Yoongi.

He had pointed out every restaurant and shop that he planned to take you to and spoke of the kind family housed across the riviera, and how they’d been helping him with his French. Young children found it fascinating and esteemed to teach someone older than them; Yoongi had taken quite a liking to the excitement they would share while spouting random words in French during their almost daily lessons.

“Tu es mon amour.” With his rich, low voice he whispered some phrases that he said reminded him of you. This was thoughtful enough that it had you treasuring the intimacy of it all. It was his way of offering a little pocket of romance to feed your heart when it felt starved of him, which it often did; Yoongi had never been anything less than generous with his thoughtfulness.

“Miel.”

“What does that mean?”

“Honey.”

“Sucré. Sweet.” That resounding tingle in your stomach had nearly disoriented you, soon traveling to the soft of your cheek where he had left a warmer-than-Summer kiss. How could you forget that this was what it always felt like with him? Perhaps you were still too busy shaming the French Summer’s radiance as inadequate in comparison to Yoongi's lips and hand.

“Belle, doux, éternal. Any guesses?”

“Nope!”

“Beautiful, gentle, forever.”

You clung to his arm, feeling as though if you let go you could drift away into the black riviera, separating two halves of the same street. Now, you had been on the side with Yoongi. And the riviera had littered reflections of the stars and moon in its body similar to how Yoongi littered his delicious words along the streets of Colmar. Walking down and down, hand in hand with Yoongi and soon the first night together in five months had coalesced with the end of the road.

You fell asleep from the pure exhaustion afflicting your limbs and eyelids, without more than a ‘Goodnight’ and ‘I’ve missed you’ to Yoongi as he found his rightful beside you. Sleeping next to you, the light snore of your jaded breath was quiet compared to the deafening silence of his empty bed that dragged him into fits of insomnia. Your company had been consumed by his longing heart to full capacity and now he thought to himself he would never have to eat again because your presence had proven to be plentiful in feeding his hunger for this lifetime and the next.

Yoongi sealed the night with a loving kiss on your forehead before joining in your slumber, bodies touching to make up for five months of space. There was no need for space right now. Even though you had been all the way across the world just days ago, being a millimeter away from you now was far too straining and gaping of a distance. Through the night, there was never a moment when a part of him was not laced between a part of you, and even in a state of sleep he thanked the heavens for that.

---

The noise of the outside clamor, the argumentative honking of cars and utterances of pedestrians failed to tear you from your sleep. Neither the warm air leaking through the opened window nor the ripe morning sun piling over the bed sheets conspired in your awakening. It was the symphonic lullabies emitting from the record player that seeped into your dreams and lulled you awake with its gentle jazz music and had you sitting up. Then, it was the sweet mix of smells trailing from the kitchen that had you fully conscious and remembering where you were and who you were with, along with the all too apparent absence in the bed.

The riviera looked alive this morning. People walked down the streets joyfully like there was something other than your reunion with Yoongi to be worthy of celebration. As sunlight melted your skin to a light sweat, you pulled yourself from under the covers and inhaled the sweet, warm aromas from sources you couldn’t quite place.

Not long after you had awoken, Yoongi returned with a tray of food and a smile so wide it could be seen by everyone in Colmar. Unluckily for them, this smile surfaced just for you. He set the tray in front of your eyes and mouth that were both watering at the lovely little display of his work.

“How was your sleep, baby?” Spoken as light as the air and harmoniously with the music, he found a spot across from you and brought your hand to his lips.

“The best sleep I’ve had in five months. You?” The feeling of his smile against the back of your hand could have outdone the smoothest velvets and sleekest silks and softest wools in the world.

“Me too. Let’s eat.” The release of your hand had you groaning and crossing your legs to stare at the selection of food. “I got us some croissants from the bakery just a block from here, strawberry jam, grapes, and brioche bread with some brie cheese. French people know how to cook, that's for sure.”

“Yoongi, you got all of this today?” A mix of guilt and gratefulness churned in your head but he only laughed to mend the crimination against your own need for rest.

“Honey, you just got out from a long plane ride to visit me. It was the least I could do. Plus, I was up early anyway so I thought this would be a good use of my time.” From the looks of it, all the food was fresh. He implied this did not require as much effort as you thought, not nearly as much effort as enduring air travel.

It was then when the breach of emotional labor had been closed. You and him always forged your relationship through mutuality, whether that entailed trust, comfort, support, or intention, there was never a moment when one gave too much and one gave not enough. The never ceasing equity and balance filtered through the gaps you thought could never be closed. You were always enough for him and he was always enough for you; that had been your normal with him.

Sunday morning, in France, in Colmar, sitting in the sun kissed bedroom and watching the waters run down the trench, eating the sweet fruits and flavors of the town could have fooled you into thinking this could be forever. A brief moment strung together a temporary kind of eternity; your eyes were never seized for too long by the sights of France, your mind purged of the resentment towards Colmar as of now. Your soul had been enamoured entirely by Yoongi, and you refused to let yourself miss the sunset. Not this time.

Little by little, the food had been eaten through the morning. Through the small, delightfully insignificant topics discussed between you and Yoongi. This was what you missed the most, you thought. Being with him, talking about the small things no other would ever think to mention, and those small things became more important than a necessity. He dusted the shallowness from your ‘small things’ and made them meaningful through his genuine care. So, how could you stop yourself from sharing with him your whole world?

“I have a new hobby.”

“And you’re just telling me now?” He tossed a grape into his mouth in suspense of your answer with a tone that made it seem like it had been some sort of life line kept from him.

“Well, I wanted to surprise you with it.” The suddenness of your leap to retrieve said surprise had further drawn from Yoongi a desperation to know what you had been talking about. After a bit of digging in your suitcase, a victorious smile followed when you found it.

Yoongi felt his arms move to pull you onto his lap by an unknown force generated well beyond his own will. As if his body was now governed by his love for you, his love to be near you and hold you, rather than his own mind.

“I make little clay figures now. And before you say it, yes I am losing my mind just a little.” In your hand laid a miniature bear, slightly deformed from a lack of skill and inexperience with these kinds of things. “I have to do something because you’re not around to bother when I’m bored!” It wasn't perfect, in fact it was far from it. The body was unsymmetrical and the limbs had been a bit misshapen more sausage-like rather than arm-like, and nonetheless Yoongi took it between his index and thumb finger with the prudence and excitement of one who was holding the most precious gem in the world.

“___, this is the dumbest and cutest thing I’ve ever seen.” He rotated the little bear between his fingers, memorizing each painted detail. Imagining you impulse buying loads of supplies and binging tutorials on instructions to make these had his stomach burning from his eruption of sweet laughter.

His other hand was hooked around your waist and his chin sat on your shoulder. The blend of jazz in the morning and Yoongi’s laughs induced you to a state of entrancement, nodding off in his loving muse of physical affection. Finally being able to touch him and hear his voice unencumbered by low quality microphones of video calls was something you could easily re-assimilate to, but at the same time you were afraid of the comfort this had sheltered you with; you knew that being in France would only last a weekend before you had to leave this asylum from solitude. Then, it was back to muffled conversations and fingers stroking the pictures of him on your phone’s screen rather than the plush of his cheeks and arms.

“Please tell me there are more of these.” The whispers lovingly grazed the nape of your neck so that you reattached to reality. You tried to hold in the tears and the fact that you were already missing him, feeling like another sunset had drifted from your grasp.

“There are, but I brought this one for you.” He thanked you with a warm kiss, you returned your welcome through a soft caress of his cheek and pushed his lips deeper into you. You hoped maybe his kiss would imprint into your skin; that during moments of the day where you couldn’t come to distract yourself with work or friends and when you would lie awake at night from the harrowing torment of the missing body in your queen-sized bed, you could touch your hand to your cheek embedded with the memory of his lips and that would somehow requite this aching as if he were really there.

“I love it, thank you. What should we name him?” Yoongi hadn’t removed his lips from the side of your face, knowing you longed for him to never pull away, and that this unsaid desire was mutual as everything always was.

“Yoongi Jr. has a nice ring to it, don't you think? He certainly takes after his dad!” You held his hand and moved it next to his face to compare the two. “The resemblance is uncanny.”

“Mm, no he’s too cute. He definitely takes after his mom.”

“Looks like we’re at a standoff.” You said with the interest of getting your way.

“What about a compromise?” Your nod of agreeance to this suggestion had struck him with inspiration. “What about Miel? You know ‘cuz bears like honey?”

“Babe, you don't have to explain it.”

“I was just making sure you got it!”

God, he was so cute.

“Yoongi, what would you do if I told all your friends that you're secretly a softie?” In a fit of bashfulness, he fell back onto the bed with a chuckle. You had sprawled out over him, legs woven in with his and hands tugging the soft shirt over his torso. The rise and fall of his chest had your head, resting over it, rising and falling. Your head didn’t rise and fall back home without him. It was stagnant, miserable, waiting to rise and fall with his chest again.

“I think I would have to kill you.” He joked while pulling you in closer.

“Okay, okay, your secret’s safe with me. And Miel is a cute name for our little child.” Yoongi had been in a league of his own when it came to sweeping you off your feet. You couldn't specify when it happened, but the gradual notion of assurance that he was something of a forever presence in your life had become the only thing in the world that stood entirely unequivocal. This certainty solidified through every moment you spent with him, especially this one.

“Well, Miel! Welcome to our little family.” He said as he waddled the little figure along his chest in front of where your eyes laid. You smiled as Miel pranced before your rising and falling head.

It might be illogical to try at a long distance relationship that was only subdued with sparse and abbreviated visits. The nightmarish idea that only once every five or six months could you afford to visit him for less than a week had made it more than sensible to end it before the pain had grown too immense. On paper, that was the rational choice. But when he held you, when he bestowed an endless supply of kisses, when he did cute things just to see you smile, there was no stopping yourself from exempting all reason and rationality.

“You are the love of my life, you know that?” This had taken him by surprise. If it were possible, Yoongi was sure he had fallen in love with you all over again. The way you carried yourself with such conviction turned him from someone who could never quite settle on any decisions or beliefs to someone who had the strength to be sure in every step he took and that you and him would make it through two years of Colmar; that you and him would always make it.

“___, I- I need to get this off my chest.” He sounded hesitant, withholding of some secret. Your worry came to a peak, your mind brewing a cluster of doubt that maybe he hadn’t felt like all this pain was worth it. His breathing halted, along with the rise and fall of his chest and your head. Swallowed in the pounding of your heart, you sat up in hopes this would help obtain grounding for what was about to come.

Was this it? Was this visit the last before a goodbye that would turn the empty space in your bed into a permanence? Had you been teetering on the last of your relationship, and is this him finally stepping away for you to fall to the end of it?

But it slipped your mind in this moment. That unmistakable habit of Yoongi’s to always, without fault, sweep you off your feet.

He'd been fumbling over himself to get to his desk drawer which wrung out more suspense from you. You, still drowning in your own self-pity and imagination, were choked with tears and the rock now lodged in your throat, wishing he would just get it over with.

A part of you hoped it was because he met some beautiful French person that earned his affection because it would be unbearable to hear that it had been you that just wasn’t enough for him anymore. That your love wasn’t worth the endurance and the pain of missing you.

Anything but that, you prayed, let it be anything but that. You hated France and Colmar and writing now more than ever.

He interrupted your wallowing with an arm hidden behind his back that seemed unable to hold steady due to his shaking, effectively turning your attention to this oddly nervous behavior.

“Wh- What is it…” This came out less as a question and more as an urge for him to get on with the heartbreak that you had played out in your head about a hundred times since he said he needed to ‘get something off his chest’.

“I um,” He cleared his throat and sighed like the abundance of warm air in Colmar was not sufficient in giving nearly enough oxygen to thaw his frozen lungs. “I love you so much, ___. And I know we haven’t even finished college yet and I have over a year left in France but I don't think I can continue without doing this right now. Every bone in my body has been bruised for not doing this sooner.”

Oh god, here it comes.

“Will you marry me?” And just like that, he’d bulldozed you to pieces and not in the way you’d expected; never in the ways you’d expected. One would think you would be able to predict this pattern of behavior from him, but you laid on the floor, defenseless, in shock, and absolutely swept off your feet - again.

“What…” If you could go back and slap the sense into yourself to say yes, you would have. But life doesn’t give you those choices. It gave you a dumbfounded expression and a measly ‘what…’.

“Before you say no!” He opened the velvet lined box to reveal a simple ring with a marquise cut opal jewel and two round diamonds on each edge of it. The stone of your birth month, again his thoughtfulness had you tumbling over and over. “I know spending our first month of engagement halfway across the world is dumb. To literally anyone else it is stupid and horribly timed. But not me.”

“Yoongi-” Lowered onto his knee, he fondled your hand with his; the same one holding Miel who was now clasped between the two hands. Your hearts beat in a perfect synchronicity, more so than the jazz music playing in the background and the sun’s waltz with the ripples of the riviera.

“Being here, without you, has made me realize something. It put into perspective what life would be like without you. And, God, it’s nothing compared to what I imagine a life without writing. Hell itself looks like paradise compared to all the heavens without you, ___. And when you call me or text me or send me pictures of what you’re eating for lunch, that just…” He blinked away the wetness threatening to leak from his eyes. You, on the other hand, had thrown all restraint to the wind as streams were now trickling down your face, dampening the clothing beneath your chin.

“You have no idea how much your effort means to me, baby. How kind and understanding and patient you have been has pushed me to stay here. You don't know how often I fear you think I chose writing over you. Never- I don’t. I choose you. Every time I will always choose you. I will choose the forty eight hour visits and the five months of being apart and the spells of monumental loneliness. I would choose to live ten, hundreds, thousands of lives if that meant I could spend at least an hour with you. But that’s not the case, is it? I have the chance to spend this life with you, so I’d be damned if I let that go to waste. I love you, ___. No, I’m in love with you and I didn’t realize the two were any different until I met you. I want to be with you forever. I know this to be the only truth I can confidently place all bets on. So again, will you, ___, marry me?”

His lips, tongue, and body had again not moved from his own will, no; he finally realized it had to be influenced by something far more powerful. With you, because of you, Yoongi moved through life by love. Although he had the mind of a writer, with every word at his fingertips and the ability to stack one on top of another in a way that could move the masses, this proposal was not of the mind of a writer. It was driven by the love of a lover. All of his words were a medicine to cleanse your ears diseased of shameful distrust in his love. The love that just devoted the rest of its life to you.

“Yes.” You announced to the world, but not the world of Colmar. To Yoongi, who was your world now. “Yes, fuck. Yes, yes, yes, yes.” In the midst of your repetitions, he scooped your body in his arms and held you against him tighter than ever before and he noted that moving through love had that effect; holding tighter, kissing deeper, speaking kinder.

“I love you. I love you, Yoongi.” Now through sobs, he couldn’t bring himself to resist how you had been beckoning the affection from his heart.

Would it slip out of his chest and seep into yours? Would his affection ever translate with the same intensity that it had ridden his heart? It did more than that, unbeknownst to him; it convened with your affection of identical fervor and flooded the riviera of Colmar above the length of the trench, above the cobblestone streets alongside it, above the rooftop of the renaissance house surrounding you, flowing all the way the sunset that seemed to be the only thing you could see right now. In your eyes, there was the most beautiful sunset and there was Yoongi.

“Je t’aime, mon amour.” He slipped your fourth digit on your left hand through the ring. The cold metal encasing your finger was a new sensation, the first and last promise on this chaste finger. The only one that felt perfectly fitting and destined to be there.

And suddenly, your resentment for Colmar and France and writing had been inflamed by a tender appreciation. For being the place where you had been engaged to Yoongi and giving perspective to both of you, that distance has nothing to be discouraged of and instead, it would forge a bond of unparalleled resilience. For anointing your heart with a riviera of pure and true love, and vowing a lifetime of vibrant sunsets to witness. To that, all you could say was:

Thank you, Colmar. Thank you.

[eachainn]

Not Even That (Wangxian Week Day 8: Free Day)

“Do you know that hawks and wolves mate for life? The Bishop didn't even leave us that... not even that.” -Ladyhawke

---

“Have you heard the news? The Yiling Patriarch is dead.”

“Dead?!”

“Yeah, the four major sects set a siege to the Burial Mounds to root him out.”

“I heard about that. My cousin was in Yiling at the time. He says they brought every member. Only half of them came back.”

“The Yiling Patriarch is truly fearsome.”

“Idiot! Some of them could have remained behind to purge the place.”

“Mm, that’s what some of them did. But my cousin was roped into helping them carry out the bodies. There were a lot, maybe as much as during the Sunshot Campaign.”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“That’s just what he said.”

“The sects must be decimated again.”

“More than that.”

“I heard that Wei Wuxian’s shidi killed him.”

“That’s true. “

“As he should after all he did for Wei Wuxian. And look what happened! Their shijie dead, the young Jin boy orphaned. And after the Jiang sect took him in.”

“The dog bit the hand that fed him.”

“Wei Wuxian killed Hanguang-Jun too.”

“No.”

“You’re lying.”

“It’s true. After Sect Leader Jiang struck the final blow, Wei Wuxian fled and Hanguang-Jun followed to stop him. Wei Wuxian’s evil cultivation kept him alive long enough to kill him.”

“Horrible.”

“Unthinkable.”

“Sect Leader Jin confirmed it himself.”

“Then it must be true.”

“What a waste.”

---

Wei Wuxian gasped back to life during a sunset that stained the world red. He clawed at the ground, staring at his fingers as they worked in wonder. It had been a day, but it was still a miracle. The part of his brain that was still crow chittered about what he could do with them, what fun he could get up to, and what they would be useful for. There were many things that he could do, like pluck the shinies that had caught his attention during the day, or the white fabric that he was not allowed to touch under any circumstances.

He groaned and pressed his face against the ground. It wasn’t mud, which meant that they had gotten away from the worst of the storms. Those had been miserable, curled under soaked robes and hoping that they would stop. And then there had been the howling…

Wei Wuxian shuddered, pushing himself away from the ground. He reached out, patting the ground as he searched out the robes that had been thoughtfully placed there for the last twelve years. He smiled to himself as his fingers brushed over fabric, huffing a laugh. “Good boy, looking after your poor father.”

He pulled the robes close, staggering awkwardly to his feet. His body still remembered flying and hopping rather than walking. Although Wei Wuxian doubted that he would have been able to fly all the way to wherever they were this time.

Wei Wuxian tugged the robes around him, tying them messily in place as he looked around. Camp for the night had been meticulously set up, a familiar and homey touch, even if it was all the lonelier for it. He swallowed, stumbling over to where two swords rested against a tree, dragging his fingers over them. Once, he would have been able to feel the spark of energy from them, but now there was nothing. He gave Suibian a rueful smile and tapped his fingers against it. “Wake up, lazy.”

There was no response, there never was. Chenqing felt livelier. Wei Wuxian looked at where the Qiankun bag was tucked underneath the swords. Only a fool would try to steal them away from two spiritual swords. Then again, Wei Wuxian didn’t think that anyone would be so deep in the forest except for him.

He shivered and took a step back. There was wood set up for a fire, but he didn’t feel like starting it, not yet. He wanted to wait until he had gotten himself all the way back to human, not still some part of him lingering as crow.

He scratched at his nose, scrunching it to enjoy the feeling of it being able to move. He flexed his fingers working the joints one at a time carefully as he circled the camp in robes that were too big for him. He hadn’t been in the best shape when he had started this, and twelve years on the run and cursed hadn’t helped things much. Wei Wuxian still didn’t know how it worked, he had never heard of anything like it, but he wasn’t sure if food he ate as a crow counted for when he was a human or vice versa. It was hard to make those observations when he lost half the day.

Wei Wuxian sighed, feeling the familiar weight settle on his shoulders. It wanted to stick there, clung to with the force of twelve years and resentment. It was easier now to sink down into it, if he wasn’t so tired and hungry.

He hiked the robe higher over his shoulders, holding it close for the warmth. Night was falling rapidly, and soon it would be cold. It would be smart to start up the fire, or at least stir up the coals that had been left behind, but he found himself just staring.

The campsite was quiet, which was something he wasn’t used to. Everything was set the way it should have been, their swords, the Qiankun bag, the fire banked, and his bowl waiting. Wei Wuxian picked up the bowl, cradling it in his hands. Whatever was inside was still warm, Wei Wuxian taking a deep breath. Whatever it was, smelled like meat, which was a rarity for them.  And it could only mean one thing considering the state of their finances.

He sighed and pressed his head against the lid over the bowl, taking shallow breaths to keep from diving right in. It meant something, this. Clothes and a camp ready for him, dinner waiting for him and still warm, which meant that it had been timed. Wei Wuxian swallowed hard. These were the things that made him more human, and he loved them.

And hated them. Sometimes, it might be easier to remain a crow. At least there he didn’t have to remember everyone that had died because of him.

Wei Wuxian hissed through his teeth, curling his fingers against the old bowl. He didn’t want to remember them. That was almost worth being a crow again, but that wouldn’t happen for hours. And that would mean forgetting them. They didn’t deserve that.

He pressed his forehead against his bowl for a moment longer before drawing away. He fumbled for the chopsticks that had been left for him. Wei Wuxian took the top off of the bowl, digging into the food. He would be better once he had eaten; it would be easier to chase away the shadows that clogged his mind then.

He kept up a steady pace, every once and a while glancing around. Wei Wuxian knew their pattern, that they would find a place far away from the road and safe to spend the night, but he wasn’t used to being alone for long. Besides, Sizhui knew better than to wander far and wide. Twelve years might have been long enough for people to stop seeking out the Yiling Patriarch, but there might be someone who would know.

It was a strange fear, because there was nothing about Sizhui that screamed Wen. He looked just like any other poor teenager wandering the roads. But that wasn’t the point. The point was that he was wandering while it was dark.

Wei Wuxian slurped the last of the broth from his bowl, giving it a long look before putting it aside. He would get up to wander and search for a stream to clean out their bowls eventually, but the more pressing need was to figure out what had happened. It was not like Sizhui to leave without some sort of notice.

He scrubbed his hand through his hair before tottering to his feet. His legs felt more human now, less wobbly and like they would fail him. It felt good to stretch them, although he could only assume why. Nothing remained with him from when he was a crow, and that was on top of his already unreliable memory. Wei Wuxian purposefully kept his gaze away from the swords leaning against the tree. They had been comforting before, but now he could feel the pull of the resentful energy.

It was easier to bear without the Stygian Tiger Seal, but that led to more thoughts that Wei Wuxian didn’t want to indulge.

Twelve years and he still didn’t know if it was whole or where it was. The last hazy memory he had was it slipping out of his hands as something had ripped through him…

He shook his head, waving his hands through the shadows that had been creeping closer to him. He didn’t want them at the moment. The night was long enough without them making the ever-present whispers in the back of his mind, he didn’t need them now.

Wei Wuxian flexed his hands, staring at the ground for a moment before refocusing himself. The sun was well and truly down now, which meant that he had to get moving.

He leaned over to poke the fire back to life, holding his hands out to warm them. It felt better than the cold touch of the night or the shadows. It also lit up the surrounding area of the camp, letting him see it better. He scanned over the small area, his gaze catching on a scrap of bark that had been stuck under his bowl. The thought of food had distracted him enough not to see the note written on it.

Wei Wuxian bent down to pick it up, tilting it into the light to better see what was on it.

It was written in the ink that they could easily make, taken from the ashes of the fire and mixed to a watery grey. That along with the crags and uneven surface rendered the writing awkward, but it still kept is careful manner. It was nothing more than he expected for Sizhui, all things considering.

He sighed and glanced up at the top of the piece of bark. He glanced at the words without really seeing them. If they were using fire ash and bark, then they were down in their funds again. That alone might explain why Sizhui wasn’t in camp.

Wei Wuxian took a deep breath, trying to quell the worry that he could feel rising. The boy had to be independent because of their situation, but Wei Wuxian drew the line at letting him night hunt by himself. Sizhui wasn’t ready, at least not for going it alone. And, since they tended to keep away from nearly everything, it wasn’t likely that he would run into any cultivators who would be willing to help him out of a tough spot.

He rubbed his thumb against the edge of the bark, looking around. They would have stopped before sunset, long enough to set up camp and eat. Sizhui could have been long gone by the time the sun set and he was human again. He wouldn’t even know where to start looking.

Wei Wuxian muttered a curse under his breath and looked at the note. There would be a clue there. Sizhui hadn’t taken after him entirely. The kid was very responsible, far too responsible.

He glanced over the note, tipping it to take advantage of the firelight. His gaze caught on the elegant calligraphy at the top of the note, reaching up to drag his finger over the last letter. It smeared slightly, which made him frown. It wasn’t like he had nothing, but having the writing was easier than digging everything out of the Qiankun bag, and that would keep him there until the sun rose, searching for warmth and for someone that was no longer there.

Wei Wuxian pulled his thumb away staring at the smudge on it before focusing on the note itself.

The first word made him go cold, Wei Wuxian staring at the place name.

Lanling.

He nearly dropped the scrap of bark. That was the last place that they should be. Twelve years was not enough for people to forget about him, not when he was the reason that the young master was an orphan. If any of the Jin sect ran into him, he would probably be hauled off to be executed. Only Yunmeng would be a worse choice to stay.

He shifted closer to the fire to be able to read the rest of the note as it continued in a different hand.

Xian-gege,

Do not worry when I’m not in camp. A-die says you will, so I made sure to put it where you would not miss it. We are in Lanling, but far away from the Koi Tower on foot. Not by sword or wing, and this is on purpose.

They say that Lianfang-zun has the best collection of cultivation texts outside of the Cloud Recesses. Even better, he has your notes as well. It follows that there must be something there since our other options are the Cloud Recesses or the Lotus Pier, both of which the two of you would refuse. This is the safest option, even though I am sure you won’t agree.

I’m bound for Koi Tower and have told A-die this. The best plan would be to stay in the area and try to find night hunts. I’ve been told that this is an area that the Jin cultivators rarely visit, so the two of you will be safe.

Xian-gege, please do not try and come for me. I’ll be perfectly safe. I only intend to remain long enough to search for our options before leaving.

Stay safe.

Sizhui.

Wei Wuxian stared at it for a long moment before huffing and tossing the scrap of bark in the fire. It popped with the addition, Wei Wuxian nodding at the fire. “This kid, right?”

There was no response except for the crackle of the fire, not that Wei Wuxian needed one. He leaned back on his hands, staring up at the star-studded sky. He addressed his complain to the stars and moon. “Who does he think he is, running off to try and solve this? He isn’t even involved. He should be here, practicing his sword and…Oh, I sound old.”

He scrubbed his hands over his face, groaning into them. “You pick up a kid and suddenly you sound ancient. Now I know what Old Master Lan sounds the way he does. He is charge of so many. Twelve years I’ve had him and he’s already aged me thirty years. That kid had better be careful, I don’t have a golden core to ease away the wrinkles. So ungrateful to his poor, suffering father.”

Silence dropped back in quickly, Wei Wuxian shaking his head. He was used to it, the way the silence weighed heavily on the time between, or how his voice sounded so small in the darkness.

He sighed again. What he was tempted to do was to storm after his wayward son. It wouldn’t take much to sneak into Koi Tower, there was no need for it to be on alert now. He could just hop over the wall, find his son, tuck Sizhui under his arm, and then scramble back over. The only hard part would be doing it before the sun rose, or else he and Sizhui would be plummeting over the wall as a crow tried to hold up a fifteen-year-old boy.

Wei Wuxian rolled his shoulders. He wouldn’t remember the pain if he attempted that, but he could imagine the momentary strain before his mind did whatever it did when he was a crow.

He rubbed at his nose, taking a deep breath only to pause when he heard the bone chilling sound of a howl.

Wei Wuxian scrambled to his feet, lunging to grab at the swords and bag to drag them close before he was aware of what he was doing. He dropped them all in a safe place before unsheathing Suibian. The blade shook as he held it out, Wei Wuxian scanning the darkness around him.

In the distance, he could hear more howls, a pack. He jerked in place before he stopped himself. Wei Wuxian swallowed and steeled himself to stay in place. The pack was far enough away that they wouldn’t get to him. It was still summer, and they had had mild enough weather that prey would be plentiful. They were not the problem.

The lone howl rose again, Wei Wuxian feeling the hair on the back of his neck rise. That one was closer, too close. It brought back memories of constant hunger and fear, of sharp teeth and barking.

Wei Wuxian felt his knees wobble, one actually buckling before he caught himself. He swallowed and readjusted his hold on Suibian.

The howl came again, this time closer. Wei Wuxian pivoted towards the sound, seeing something move through the woods. He swallowed, holding his breath as the thing slowed to a trot and then a stop. It remained in the darkness deep in the trees for a moment longer before stepping out.

Its white coat made it stand out even before the wolf stepped into the weak circle of light that the fire threw. It was only one step, because the wolf didn’t dare get closer. It was a little bit of a relief, but it was still a creature larger than a dog and it was staring right at him with golden eyes.

Wei Wuxian felt a shriek working up the back of his throat, but it caught in his dry throat and died there. The only thing he could do was stand and shake.

The wolf seemed just as struck by his presence. Its ears pricked forward, Wei Wuxian watching as its muzzle raised slightly as it sniffed. It probably smelled the fire, him, and whatever was left in his bowl. He wished that he had gone to clean it earlier. Although, there was every chance that he could have run into the wolf in the woods.

If that had happened, he would have been dead.

He swallowed; the motion painful. It must have made some sound because the wolf cocked its head. It hesitated for a moment before taking a cautious step forward. When Wei Wuxian did nothing, it padded forward a few more steps.

That brough it too close for comfort. Wei Wuxian wanted to scream, but he didn’t want to scare it off, not even as the wolf circled around the fire. The better idea would be for him to just run, although that wouldn’t work either. He had seen the wolf run, and it was faster than anything he could achieve. Demonic cultivation didn’t do much for enhancing his abilities like having a golden core had done. The most he could do was send corpses at the wolf, or stab it with Suibian.

But he would never do that.

Wei Wuxian swallowed again, hoping to stabilize his voice to the point where it wouldn’t shake like the rest of him was shaking. He was sure that it would break and squeak, but that didn’t matter, just as long as he didn’t start screaming. He didn’t know what that would do, either make the wolf run away or towards him, so it was better to keep quiet, still and ready to run if he had to. After all, the wolf wasn’t his pet despite the fact that it was always around. It was still wild.

The wolf finally came to a stop, raising its muzzle to sniff once more. Some of its wariness seemed to disappear, the wolf cocking its head to the side. It stayed like that for a moment before it wagged its tail. It wasn’t much, just a single side to side movement, but Wei Wuxian locked onto it. It might be a good sign, but he had gotten good at dog body language. He had to be to survive as a kid. A wagging tail could still be bad.

He took a step to the side, intending to circle around the fire. The movement seemed to trigger something, the wolf whimpering and dropping into a crouch. It moved forward, practically dragging its belly on the ground as it moved towards him.

Wei Wuxian knew what it meant, but that didn’t stop him from scurrying around to put the fire between him and the wolf. The fire between them didn’t seem to stop the wolf either, although it made it cautious again. It took two more steps before coming to a halt, staring fixedly at him.

Wei Wuxian swallowed and raised Suibian, not quite sure what he was going to do with it. He didn’t get the chance to decide. The howls from the distant pack started up again.

The wolf stood up, turning its head to look in the direction that the howls would coming from. Wei Wuxian saw its sides bell out as the wolf took deep breaths.

The howls stopped, leaving only the crackle of the fire. It was a horrible hanging moment, Wei Wuxian watching the wolf with wide eyes. It wasn’t looking at him, and that wasn’t acceptable, even if he was terrified of it.

The wolf turned away from him completely, going still enough to be a statue. With its raised head, it looked regal, the paragon that he was supposed to be.

But he was here, in some forest in Lanling.

Like this.

The wolf leaned threw his head back and howled, the distant wolves quick to answer. Wei Wuxian couldn’t tell if there was invitation or warning in the sound, he only knew that it made him shake and take a step back.

Even his movement didn’t get the wolf’s attention. He remained staring after the sound before huffing and walking away.

The sight of the wolf heading away with a purpose was enough to get him to stumble forward. Wei Wuxian stopped just in front of the fire, reaching out with his free hand. “Wait!”

It was either his sudden movement, volume, or the crack in his voice that made the wolf startle. Whatever spell that had kept it interested was broken, because the wolf’s lips peeled backwards into a snarl. Wei Wuxian stumbled back at the sound, instinctively raising Suibian. And that was the end of it.

The wolf bounded off with a huff, Wei Wuxian staring at it for a moment before he hurried around the fire, trying to keep up even as the wolf bounded off into the undergrowth and out of sight. Wei Wuxian still reached for it, dropping Suibian somewhere behind him.

“Wait! No, don’t! Lan Zhan!”

If the wolf heard him, it showed now sign. And Wei Wuxian couldn’t see it anymore, even as a distant, ghostly shape in the trees.

Wei Wuxian stumbled to a stop, staring into the dark forest, trying to pick out any sign of movement. He reached up to clutch at his robes, listening to the howls. He dropped into a crouch, pulling the white robe closer to him. It didn’t smell of sandalwood anymore, but it still smelled faintly of Lan Wangji just beneath the smoke. It was a comfort, but not by much. But it was all he had.

It was all he had had for twelve years.

It wasn’t enough against the pressing loneliness that came at night and the realization that he had forgotten what Lan Wangji looked like.

All he remembered was the wolf.

[darrowsrising]

May I request your opinions on the little jackal clone and how being raised by Lilith and not in the Augustus household will change his character? Ps I love and and give your fur ones snuggles from me please.

First of all, all my fur ones love you very much:

Second of all, hope everything is ok with you!Third of all, I love it that you call her Lilith, because it's Lilath and she deserves no respect whatsoever.

And lastly, I think that the clone is being raised to be what Lilath thought Adrius was. And although she has this sort of fucked up mix of love for him - she loves him as her god, her son and her beloved all into one and it's all individually disgusting, it's disgusting³ - it's obviously going to get fucked up results.

I don't think Nero actually was coinscious that he was making Adrius into a monster. He obviously has antisocial personality disorder, that can be said even by me, who is by no means an expert. But his behavior was fueled by the indifference and lack of love he felt around himself after the only person he actually ever felt unconditional love from killed herself. Mustang buried her feelings after her mother died, of course Adrius' coping mechanism did him much worst, because we all know Nero at least reached out to his daughter if only to tell her that the mourning time is over, but I doubt he even checked on Adrius. Nero simply wasn't interested in Adrius, so he didn't care how that affected the kid.

While Lilath actively tried to raise a psychopath, she had a different approach, she raised him to know his worth, his superiority, his station in life. He showed him how he should see people, as sacks of bones and meat. She and the Boneriders tremble at his every displeasure. He was raised hidden and isolated which contributed to his loneliness and with only the messages that the original left behind of course his mind is rotten.

Adrius, though, the real one, isolated himself on purpose, he prepared himself and learnt all by himself how to be the best and punished himself when he proved himself inferior. He had a huge inferiority complex that pushed him to assassinate his own brother. He always felt he wasn't good enough, he felt humiliated and mocked at every turn and that fueled his spite and his resentful nature. The real Adrius hated to displease his father, because he wanted his approval. Adrius truly saw people as sacks of meat and bones, he didn't need any prompting from an abattor visit.

This clone is truly half an Adrius, he will never be on the real Adrius' level, because he lack the right (or wrong) influence. Raising him with a superiority complex is inaccurate to his true self who has seeked validation all his life. That is why after killing Nero he wanted absolute power, so that no one would ever question him and they feared and respected him. Nero did jot give him love and he came to forgive him, but he couldn't forgive other people mocking him.

The Jackal was made quite naturally and unintentionally, yet the clone is trying too hard to be something he isn't - an original. Because Adrius went to the Institute, killed an innocent and then, when trapped, he killed and ate his housemates to survive. When Darrow impaled his hand with a dagger, he didn't care much about discarding it.

But the clone? The guy never went outside much, yet he tried to fucking get Pax for his Passage. Not only was that cheating, but also an overestimation of himself. He also cried like a baby (well, he is a kid after all) when the neurotoxin flower bit into his hand and had to have Lilath cut his hand off.

As Virginia said, the real Adrius would have a field day after conquering Luna, filled with debauchery and violence and he would enjoy making chaos, because that made him feel alive in some ways, expressing his power and lording over everyone, without needing to adapt or conform or pretend, he could just bask in his genius.

The vlone is tired and quite bored.

The clone still ashed all the non-Gold Howlers and made the Gold ones watch it, they evenbhad to kneel, a thing Howlers never do. And using an iron wolf, making a mockery of them.

I think that Adrius is indeed a result of nurture, not nature. Yet, it's hard to say his clone can be a better person than his original. I do think he has stashed other clones for immortality purposes out there, though.

Howl on and thank you for the ask!

🐺🤗

[mikotyzini]

Earth to Echo - CDAD oneshot

As the title suggests, this is NOT a RWBY oneshot!  It’s based on this story I read a few months ago called Charon Docks at Daylight written by @mezoereed, which was...basically, zombies, gay girls, and angst.  (I recommend it!  And you can read it here: https://www.fictionpress.com/s/3095130/1/Charon-Docks-At-Daylight)

“Echo!”

The sound of her name drew her gaze away from the book she’d been reading in the lobby of the med center.  Spotting the young girl rushing towards her, she smiled and set the medical textbook beside her.

“Hey Kara,” she replied before reaching out and greeting the tail that never left Kara’s side.  “Hey Wolf,” she said before turning back to Kara.  “What’s up?”

“You wanted me to let you know when they got back and...they’re back!”

Echo’s heart jumped at the words, and she immediately stood up.

“They are?” she asked, more out of surprise than questioning Kara’s information.  When Kara nodded, however, Echo felt the girl’s infectious smile spread to her lips.  “Let’s go greet them then.”

While Kara accepted the invitation with a big smile and nod, Echo tried not to let her own excitement get the best of her.  Genevieve had been gone for several days on a mission - several long, lonely days and even lonelier nights - but Echo didn’t want to be that person.  The one that couldn’t stand a few days apart without becoming a clingy mess.

Still, she struggled to control her pace so as not to leave Kara and Wolf behind while hurrying to the front gates.  The moment they rounded the corner, she saw the Strykers parked just inside with soldiers unloading supplies and equipment.  And when she saw Genevieve, her heart did an embarrassing jump that she’d never admit to.

The next second, however, confusion mixed with her overall happiness.

“Oh!” Kara exclaimed, adding a small hop for emphasis.  “They found people!”

Based on the strangers talking to Genevieve and Blake, as well as the crowd of onlookers, Kara was right.  Echo couldn’t remember the last time the squads found survivors and brought them back to base.  From what Genevieve said, finding survivors was growing rarer and rarer, and, on top of that, sometimes the people they found had no interest in joining the base.  If they’d survived this long on their own, they were comfortable taking their chances from here on out.

It was a group of two - a middle-aged man and a girl around Echo’s age - both with backpacks around their shoulders and weapons strapped to their hips.  From that fact alone, Echo knew they must be friendly, or at least friendly enough that Genevieve didn’t view them as a threat - a remarkable feat considering her propensity to be overly cautious with people she didn’t know.

“Wow, she’s pretty.”  

As soon as Kara made the remark, Echo felt a twinge of dislike pull at her lips.  But the new girl was pretty.  Tall, with an athletic build and blonde hair falling just past her shoulders, she looked like she belonged in a mall more than a military base.  And she was looking at Genevieve with an intent smile that Echo didn’t particularly enjoy.

“Thanks, Kara,” she said, sparing a smile for Kara and ear scratch for Wolf before joining Genevieve, Blake, and the newcomers.

“ - you should see April for your injuries,” Blake was in the middle of saying before gesturing to a long cut on the man’s forearm.  “She’s in the med center.”  Turning around, he pointed out the building Echo had just come from.

“Thank you,” the man replied with a nod of respect.  “And what about our belongings?”  

Before Blake responded, Echo took the opportunity to catch Genevieve’s attention and pull her away from the conversation.  With Blake handling all the talking, she wasn’t needed for this anyway.

“Hey,” Echo said in a low voice once they moved several feet away.  She couldn’t stop the smile that appeared as soon as Genevieve met her gaze with warm brown eyes and a hint of a smile.

“Hey.”  Genevieve’s gaze went to Echo’s lips, but she quickly looked away and shifted her weight between her feet - almost always the consummate professional in public.

“Looks like you guys did pretty well.”  When Echo turned towards the Strykers, she caught the new girl’s gaze before pointedly ignoring her and nodding to the bags of supplies being carried towards their ultimate destinations.

“Surprisingly well.”  After glancing over her shoulder at their haul, Genevieve finally smiled.  “It helped that Layla and Tim locked the supply cabinets years ago.”

“The new people?” Echo subtly nodded towards the newcomers, whose conversation with Blake was wrapping up.

“Yeah, they’ve been holed up inside for years but were willing to help once they heard what we were doing.”

“Is that why they got to keep their weapons?”

If Genevieve heard the slight resentment in Echo’s tone, she didn’t acknowledge it while shaking her head.  “We got attacked by a group of Ferals while loading up.  It was either let them keep their weapons or risk our lives trying to keep them safe.”

By now, Echo knew better than to question Genevieve’s judgment on missions.  It just sucked to remember that she’d had to earn the right to carry her weapon while these people got the opportunity through circumstance alone.  Before she could respond, however, she caught sight of the new girl - Layla - walking over to them.  

Echo couldn’t put her finger on it, but something about the girl bothered her.  Her tall, lean figure.  Her too-bright hair.  

It wasn’t until Layla smiled that Echo figured it out.  It was that look.  The look she hadn’t seen in years but still immediately caused a visceral reaction of dislike.  The look that brought back so many memories she’d rather forget, yet here they were again.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Layla said before turning towards Genevieve with that charming smile still in place.  “I just wanted to say thank you again.  For letting us come back with you, but also for taking on that Feral for me.”

“Oh.”  Looking genuinely surprised by the gratitude, Genevieve smiled and nodded once.  “Of course.  That’s kind of what we do.”

“Taking on full grown Ferals with nothing but a knife is what you do?” Layla restated before laughing and shaking her head.  “Pretty sure I’ve never met a girl like you.”

No one heard Echo’s jaw snap shut, and she ground her teeth together when Genevieve glanced her way.

“Uh, thank you.”  It didn’t look like Genevieve had more to say than that but, fortunately, Layla gave a small wave and headed after her companion.

“I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, see you.”

In the short silence that followed, Echo knew she shouldn’t say it.  She knew she should keep her mouth shut, but she just couldn’t.

“What was that about ‘not risking your lives’ for the new people?” she asked, hearing the agitation in her tone.  And, from the way Genevieve sighed, she heard it too.

“We were trying to make it out of there quietly - you know how it is.”

“I knew how it was…” Echo grumbled.  Once again, she was reminded of how much she hated being left behind.  Not only did she get restless on base, but the idea of Genevieve fighting Ferals without her put a ball of terror in the pit of her stomach.

“Hey.”  Feeling a hand gently touch her cheek, Echo looked up and found warm, patient brown eyes locked onto hers.  “We went through this...we knew it would be more than a day trip, and with your headaches…”

“I know.”  Cutting Genevieve off before she launched into another spiel about safety, Echo leaned into the hand on her cheek.  “I just...hate being left behind…”

“And I hate leaving you behind…”

Hearing that simple admission, Echo felt better.  At least if she was stuck here missing out on all the action, someone else felt bad for her.

“Well, what are you going to do now?” she asked as a subject change, preferring to forget her self-pity for now.

“I need to debrief the guys.”  When Genevieve walked over to the door of one of the Strykers, Echo followed.  “But I’ll see you at dinner?”

Echo wanted to argue for more time together.  Instead, she watched Genevieve haul a large duffel bag out of the Stryker and set it comfortably atop one shoulder.  If Echo had to guess, the bag probably weighed a good eighty pounds, but Genevieve treated it like it was nothing.

“You know…” Echo said, taking a step closer and setting her hands on Genevieve’s hips.  “Pretty sure I’ve never met a girl like you.”

“Oh stop.”  Gently pushing Echo’s shoulder away, Genevieve shook her head but failed to hide a smile.  “Just make sure you’re at dinner on time - I have stories for you.”

The casual comment caught Echo’s full attention.

“What kind of stories?” she asked, but Genevieve simply waved over her head while walking away.  Watching her go, Echo sighed in pure, genuine relief.

With Genevieve back on base, Echo was happy.  She’d be even happier if there weren’t so many responsibilities preventing them from spending every second together, but dinnertime would roll around soon enough.

Until then, she busied herself the best way she knew how - mindlessly patrolling the perimeter of the base while searching for any potential weak spots.  Not that she needed to check - the official patrols checked every inch of fence regularly - but she felt better seeing their security with her own eyes.  It helped her sleep at night.

Fortunately, the fence looked the same as it always did - sturdy, unbroken, and humming with electricity.  Nothing to report there.

Once her extended stroll wrapped up, she headed to the cafeteria right away.  Normally, she’d go to the barracks first to meet Genevieve and walk over together, but tonight they were meeting there instead.

With dinner just getting underway, the line wasn’t long and the tables were predominantly empty.  After grabbing a bowl of food - another vegetable stew - she spotted a familiar face and headed across the room to join them.

“Hey Micah,” she said while sitting down across from the boy.  “How’s it going?”

When he merely raised the book in his hands as a response, Echo nodded and said “gotcha” before falling silent.  Apparently, he’d decided to read rather than participate in conversation tonight, which was fine with her.  At least he tolerated her presence now, just like he’d promised to do if she found Genevieve.

She would’ve gone to the ends of the earth looking for Genevieve anyway.  Earning Micah’s somewhat-forgiveness was just an added bonus.

While Micah read, Echo mindlessly ate dinner and scanned the cafeteria for Genevieve.  It wasn’t until the room was nearly full - people talking and laughing after another hard day’s work - that Genevieve walked through the doors and immediately caught Echo’s gaze.

Just looking at Genevieve reminded Echo of how long they’d been apart.  Three whole days...and she felt every second in the look Genevieve gave her.  Being apart for a few hours felt like too long sometimes, but three days?  Too much could go wrong in three days...which was why she’d worried practically nonstop.

Part of her believed that Genevieve felt the same because, instead of getting in line for dinner, she walked over to the table and dropped into the chair beside Echo with a sigh.

“And you told me not to be late,” Echo teased while bumping Genevieve’s shoulder, silently rejoicing in their proximity.

“I’m sorry.  I got caught by basically everyone I passed.”

“Must be nice to be so popular.”

“I don’t know if I’d put it like that…”

“Micah,” Echo said, gaining the boy’s attention.  “Isn’t your sister popular?”

“Gen, you’re one of the most popular people on the base.”  When Micah rolled his eyes, the corner of Genevieve’s mouth lifted with humor.

“Since when do you side with Echo?”

“Since she’s right.”  When Micah stuck his tongue out before going back to his book, Genevieve huffed in amusement.

“It’s not a popularity contest.”

“But if it was,” Echo butted in.  “You’d be winning.”

For a moment, Genevieve looked like she wanted to argue.  Then she laughed and leaned into Echo’s side.

“Whatever you guys say.  I’m just happy to be back.”  When Genevieve reached across the table and ruffled Micah’s hair, Echo smiled and felt her heart hum with content.  Unfortunately, the feeling evaporated as soon as she noticed an unfamiliar yet all-too-familiar face heading towards them.

Though Echo narrowed her eyes, Layla didn’t appear to notice.  Or, if she did, she wasn’t at all deterred from tapping Genevieve on the shoulder.

“Hey Genevieve,” she said, smiling when Genevieve turned her way.

“Oh, hey Layla - how’s everything going?”

“Pretty good.  Tim got that cut cleaned and stitched up - April said he’d be better in no time.”

“That’s great.”

“Yeah, it is.”  Pausing for a second, Layla thought about her next words before finding another winning smile that made Echo dislike her even more.  “But, uh, Blake told me I should have someone show me around base.  And I thought...who better to show me around than the girl who can take on a Feral with her bare hands?”

Genevieve chuckled at the compliment, but Echo’s brow furrowed even further.

“Ok, sure.  You want to go now?”

Of course Genevieve agreed.  She was too helpful to turn down that type of request, especially when paired with a compliment like that.

“I can introduce you to the kitchen staff first,” she added while standing.  “When you’re deciding where you’d like to help out, that’s always an option.”

“Where do you help out?” Layla asked while turning to leave with Genevieve.  The feigned innocence in the question wasn’t lost on Echo, who watched with a growing frown while the two headed towards the kitchen.  

An ugly feeling was brewing in her chest and, unfortunately, she had a name for it - jealousy.  

“You’re really going to let her get away with that?”

Surprised by the question, Echo turned and found Micah shaking his head at her.

“What do you mean ‘let her get away’ with it?”

“I’d never let someone try to steal my girl like that.”  When Micah’s eyes slid towards the end of the table, where Kara was in the midst of an animated conversation with Mal, Echo raised one brow.

“You better not let Dugan catch you looking at her like that.”

Immediately turning red, Micah focused on Echo instead.

“I’m just saying...all that girl talked about in the clinic was how amazing Genevieve is.  I know Gen’s awesome, but she’s not worth that much praise.”

“Don’t let her hear you say that, either,” Echo replied with a huff, but her gaze slipped to the doorway of the kitchen where Genevieve and Layla were talking to one of the cooks.  Layla stood needlessly close to Genevieve, their shoulders grazing in a way that looked too coincidental to be an accident.

“You have to show her that Gen’s taken,” Micah added.  “Stake your claim.”

“‘Stake my claim?’”  Saying the words out loud, Echo emphatically shook her head.  “If I ever said something like that around your sister, she’d kick my ass.”

When Micah sighed and picked up his book, Echo thought he was finally giving up.  And he might have been, but then he shook his head and said, “She played soccer too.”

That pushed Echo over the edge.  And, before she knew it, she was stalking over to the kitchen to interrupt the pair.  Like hell was she letting Layla win Genevieve over with some nice smiles and conversations about soccer.

“Hey, Gen, sorry to interrupt, but I need to talk to you.”  Gently taking Genevieve by the elbow, Echo pulled her a few steps away before letting go.

“Echo?  What are you doing?”

Now wasn’t the best time to figure out what she wanted to do.  All she knew was that she needed to break into the conversation somehow.  Now that she had, and now that Genevieve and Layla were staring at her, she needed to come up for a good reason for the disruption.

“I thought I could help you give the tour,” she offered with a forced smile.  “You know, give some pointers and stuff.”

It was the best way she could think of to keep the two from flirting all night, but Genevieve’s eyes immediately narrowed at the suggestion.

“...why?” was all she asked while studying Echo with an intensity that made her scuff her foot on the floor.  

“Just...trying to be helpful,” she mumbled.  

The answer wasn’t good enough - she knew that the moment Genevieve shook her head.

“It’s ok.  I know how much you love giving tours.”  After giving Echo one last searching expression, Genevieve smiled and patted her shoulder.  “But I’ll see you later tonight, right?”

That wasn’t the answer Echo wanted, but she knew better than to force her way through Genevieve’s decision.  Before she left, however, she had to try one last time - she had to remove a bit of the desire and want from Layla’s eyes.

“Right,” she replied with a flimsy smile.  “But uh, before you leave.  I uh, I was hoping for a kiss.”

Eyes widening in surprise, Genevieve looked around the cafeteria - filled with people - before turning back to Echo.

“Right now?”

What she really meant was right here, in front of all of these people.  Echo didn’t care so much about the other people, but in front of Layla was exactly what she wanted.

“Yeah, just a short one?”  She knew it would reassure her if they kissed right now - that it should ‘stake her claim’ and send a clear message that Genevieve was off limits.  Unfortunately, that plan hinged upon Genevieve saying ‘yes.’  And, from the confusion and borderline discontent in her eyes, that probably wasn’t going to happen.

“Layla, can you give me a minute?”  When Layla nodded, Genevieve pulled Echo far enough away that they could talk in private before dropping her arm.  “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.  God forbid I ask for a kiss from my girlfriend…”  Echo knew she was laying on the guilt pretty thick, and it immediately backfired when Genevieve frowned.

“Ok,” Genevieve replied in her ‘I’m trying really hard not to get annoyed but I still am’ tone.  “How about this?  You figure out what’s wrong, and I’ll see you later.”  

When Genevieve turned to walk back to Layla, Echo let out a disappointed breath and felt jealousy consume her.

“Fine, whatever.  Have fun getting hit on by Soccer Barbie.”  

She barely made it two steps away before Genevieve grabbed her by the arm and spun her around.

“‘Soccer Barbie?’  What the hell are you talking about?”

“The hot blonde who keeps hitting on you?” Echo replied, feeling her jealousy spill over as agitation.  “You know, the one who can’t stop making eyes at you and telling you how amazing you are?”

“That’s not what she’s doing -”

“Uh, yeah, it is.”

It looked like Genevieve wanted to argue.  Instead, she furrowed her brow then shook her head.

“Well who cares, anyway?” she retorted.  “It’s not like it means anything.”

“It means something to me!”  

Echo immediately regretted the force behind the words.  But she’d already said it, and Genevieve’s eyes had already widened in surprise.

“Echo…” Genevieve tried again, in a much softer tone this time.  “What’s going on?”

Running a hand through her hair and sighing out loud, Echo suddenly wished she hadn’t walked over here.  She should’ve just left it alone and dealt with her issues how she normally did - mainly, by hitting something.

“It’s nothing -”

“No, it’s something,” Genevieve interrupted.  “I can see in your eyes that it’s something.”

Since when could Genevieve read her eyes so accurately?  Echo didn’t know when the change had happened, but now it was almost impossible to keep her thoughts and emotions from being picked up.

“I just...don’t like people hitting on you...” she muttered towards the floor, knowing she had to give Genevieve something.

“But why?  Imogen hits on you all the time, and you don’t see me pouting about it.”

“That’s different.”

Genevieve crossed her arms at that response.

“How is that different?”

Not having an answer that didn’t sound completely hypocritical, Echo sighed and hung her head.  She understood why this bothered her so much, but she really didn’t want to say it out loud.  Unfortunately, Genevieve deserved to hear an explanation for her behavior.

“It just...reminds me of before.”

Looking up, Echo watched Genevieve mouth the word to herself before realization sprang into her eyes.

“You know…” Echo continued.  “Before all of this.  When the hottest guys in school tripped over themselves for you while I was...nobody.”

She’d hardly turned towards the floor before a hand tilted her chin up and lips met her own.  The kiss was firm, open, more loving than she deserved, and gone before she could reciprocate.

“I love you,” Genevieve whispered, her brown eyes willing Echo to believe.  “No one can take me away from you.”

And between the kiss, those words, the look in Genevieve’s eyes, and the way she still held Echo’s chin with one hand, Echo smiled.

“Not even if they played center field for the Olympic team?” she joked, feeling lighter than air now that Genevieve had put her fears to rest.

“Midfield,” Genevieve corrected her with a smile.  “And no.  Not even if they were a midfielder on the Olympic team.”

Sensing that the window was still open, Echo leaned forward and stole another kiss - this one soft, lingering, and filled with the emotions she could never put into words.  But she was...grateful...that Genevieve put up with her insecurities.  Not only put up with them but knew just what to say to make her feel special and loved.

“Ok,” she said while patting Genevieve on the hip.  “Have fun showing her around.”

“You’re ok now?”  

“You’ve convinced me I was being immature.”  When Genevieve huffed, Echo responded with a playfully serious look.  “But I expect more reassurance later tonight.”

When the simple sentence lit a spark of desire in Genevieve’s eyes, Echo couldn’t help a smirk from appearing.  

But “we’ll see” was all Genevieve said before returning to Layla, whose expression had completely changed after witnessing that interaction.  Gone was the intent to pursue.  In its place, confusion and just a little chagrin that she wouldn’t get what she wanted.

“Such a tease…” Echo replied with a shake of her head before walking back to the table.   

Even though she’d said it earlier as a joke, it was true - she’d never met a girl like Genevieve.  And she wasn’t letting such an incredible person go without at least...staking her claim.

[jerrykatt]

Voltron/Percy Jackson Xover Part 2

Here's part one. I'd recommend reading it before coming back to this.

And so, now we know that Leo was rejected by his mother's family, his own aunt labeling him a diablo, a devil. We know that he was shunted off into the system with little sympathy and even less kindness. We know that the memory of his mother's death haunts his steps like an eldritch phantom. But now another death plagues him with suffocating guilt. The death of the man who chose to be left behind in a firestorm, knowing that his death was mere moments away but willing to face it head on if it meant he could save one small fledgling life.

He didn't remember much in the aftermath, that much was certain what with the shock that set in.

The fire giving one last heaving roar, reminiscent of a dragon's destructive fury. The unnatural explosion of force rocking the building. A woman's silhouette, standing tall and sinisterly pleased with her spiteful vengeance, throwing one last malevolent sneer in his direction before sinking into the earth below her feet.

The ringing in his ears and the ladder being blasted backwards.

Falling and screaming. An unmerciful impact with the pavement and his vision going black.

Waking up in a hospital, alone and unwanted.

It was all too much of a blur for Leo's young mind to comprehend in his traumatized state. But one of the things he did remember, besides the hole in his life where his mother should have been, was finding out the fireman's name. Or at least, the last part of it.

Kogane.

(That's where we see Keith fit into this chapter of Leo's life.)

Like Leo, Keith was also unfortunately placed into foster care. I haven't decided yet on how they meet after the fire. Perhaps they were sent to the same group home? Maybe they ran into each other after running from their respective foster families, sleeping under the same freeway overpasses? Either way, they might've become friends for a short time and then the classic reveal happens - Leo finds out Keith's last name, and ultimately the fact that his father was Fireman Kogane.

Leo can't face him anymore, not with the knowledge that he was reason his friend's father went up in flames. His flames.

He runs. And Keith? Well...

His mother's glaring absence, His father's death, and now his friend's unexplained rejection.

Each cut into his chest like a knife, as sharp as the blade he kept strapped to his belt.

The same blade that gives him a goal. A purpose.

To find his past. To find some answers.

(Anything to distract from the gnawing resentment, the aching loneliness)

So yeah. Keith takes it hard. But this is the perfect place to pause and explain EXACTLY why I chose Krolia to be Aphrodite in this AU. And, ultimately, why I thought Keith being the son of the goddess of love made SO MUCH SENSE. AND ALSO LETS NOT FORGET SEASON SEVEN ADDING MORE SPICE TO THE MIX

Let's start with Krolia. Krolia and Canon!Aphrodite have... little in common when it comes to personality. At least with the depictions I've read in PJO where Canon!Aphrodite apparently approves of her children breaking hearts (It's apparently a rite of passage in Aphrodite's cabin if I remember correctly). And the fact that her negative traits could be summarized in how one of her demigod children turned out (I'm looking at you Drew). Anyways here's where my idea comes in.

Sit up and away from your computer screen and take a look around at the world. Times are changing, standards are being shattered and rebuilt with each passing day. The concept of beauty itself is being torn into different directions. We have people who still prefer the classic hourglass figure, the full lips and sultry eyes, the flawless skin and the soft spoken nature of a damsel in distress. People who want the pretty princess bride, the stay at home wives.

Not necessarily weak in some aspects, but definitely not at the strongest potential either.

Still, it is the usual form that Canon!Aphrodite takes with little difference made when approaching each potential lover.

And on the other end of the spectrum, we have people who are attracted to independence, intellect, and strength. They want someone as either an equal or more than that. They like big biceps and thick muscular thighs.

We especially have people who don't care for what their precious people look like and end up adoring every part of them anyway. These people are muddled in the middle of the spectrum. They want something more raw, more real. It doesn't matter if the person is thick or thin, hairy or bald, or if they're missing a limb or two. A big nose? Bad breakout of zits? Trust me, for these people, it only adds to the charm.

I'd imagine in this turbulent world where opinions of beauty were being bounced around like a particularly ill aimed bouncy ball (one that would more than likely smack you in the face rather than land safely back in your hand), Aphrodite would end up having an identity crisis.

God's and goddesses have a sustainability that is based on mortal's worship and the strength of their domain. Aphrodite had enough mortals immortalizing her presence in art and literature to keep her remembered, that certainly wasn't the problem. Neither was the concept of love. Love was universal, the goddess of love understood that more than anyone. The problem was that Aphrodite's physical form was constantly fluctuating due to her the part of her domain pertaining to beauty being... constantly reconstructed? Stretched thin? I'm not sure how to describe it. All I can tell you is that Aphrodite ran from Olympus as she felt her powers getting out of hand. Maybe Haggar/Gaea and Zarkon/Uranus had planned to amplify the effects of what a changing society can do to a godly being? Perhaps Aphrodite was chosen to be a test subject to see if such a thing could be used as a weapon?

Regardless of the cause, the goddess fell to earth. She crashed outside a certain fireman's house and when she woke, her form had settled into the one we all know and love - Krolia's. Yep, purple skin, dual toned hair, pointed ears, claws, inhuman eyes, the whole package. I'm not kidding. Also I'm pretty sure if she hadn't sustained a concussion (and hadn't been so... pleasantly distracted by Kogane nursing her back to health) she would have screamed bloody murder at her reflection. She's at least grateful that she managed to keep her mile long legs (even if they now had her towering over most mortals) As it is, her powers are temporarily rendered useless because of the strain of her transformation.

Also the panic attack that she had once everything registered didn't help. Thankfully Kogane managed to calm her down, with a soothing voice and gentle rough hands.

Things settle. At first when they make introductions, she mixes up two of her usual aliases "Kristine" and "Olivia" and ends up blurting out "Krolia" instead, much to her horror. And after an awkward minute of panic she also reveals more than what she was intending to bargain for. Oddly enough, the goddess reveals her true nature right off the bat and Kogane takes it in stride just like he did with the whole Canon!Alien issue. Usually she keeps her lips smartly sealed but.... right now? She's doesn't have the confidence that comes with her preferred, perfect yet almost plastic form. She's disoriented and confused and homesick and a little fucked up in the head right now.

Kogane helps her through it. And with him guiding her, she discovers new things about herself, and is reminded of the better parts of who she is and who she could potentially become.

To no ones surprise, they fall in love. And to Krolia's surprise, she ends up WANTING to stay, even -ESPECIALLY- after giving birth to this man's child. His son. Her son.

Their son.

But monsters from Tartarus have always lied in wait. She leaves just like in Canon. Because of one too many close shaves with beasts and traitorous gods alike trying to snatch away her new found happiness and self discovery. She leaves to protect the person she loves most.

Their son. Keith.

((Again I'm on a tight schedule (needing two jobs sucks sometimes) so I'll wrap this up and talk about Keith))

Now you may want to ask why I chose Aphrodite? Why didn't I choose Hades to be Keith's godly parent? It would have matched his basic demeanor, the basis to his character - the loner (also awesome undead powers would've have been a plus!!). Why didn't I chose Ares? Keith is a phenomenal fighter! Why not Zeus? His fighter pilot skills makes him second to none in the skies!!!

My answer is this: Keith has an unfathomable AMAZING capacity to love.

Think about it. Remember that the reason that he rejects people is because he knows just how much he's risking when he's putting his heart into someone's hands. You only see that in a person who's had their heart torn to pieces by the unspoken consequences of abandonment.

Finally, Look at what this guy has done for a dying man. IN CANON TO BOOT.

Look at what he's done for Shiro even back before his feelings evolved into what can be interpreted as romantic, when his relationship with the man was purely platonic in a mentor/student dynamic level. He SUPPORTS Shiro. He doesn't pity him. He doesn't coddle him. He doesn't look at the fact that Shiro most likely has only a few more years left in him before his body breaks down. He sees his friend that has every right to pursue his dream instead of wasting away on a military base that cares more for its fucking reputation than it's actual students (I resent the Garrison for lying about the mission, make no mistake. THEY EVEN TOOK THE SIDE OF THAT SHITTY BRAT WHO MADE SNIDE REMARKS ON KEITH PARENTS!!! WTF?!!).

This is the man that's promised to never give up on him. The one who reminded Keith that, most of all, he can't give up on himself. And Keith? My Defensive, prickly, hold-everyone-at-arms-length son? What does my firecracker boi do?

He takes it to heart. He fucking takes it to heart.

Now fast forward again - we have Keith beautifully beating the crap out of Iverson and other "high ranking" officials who essentially now see Shiro as a liability, as someone who cannot be let free with his new found knowledge on extraterrestrial life. We have him basically breaking multiple laws to get Shiro out and onto to his bike so he could drive them and their Tagalongs to safety. We have Keith running to Shiro AGAIN AND AGAIN. It doesn't matter who stands in his way - Zarkon could suck on a lemon and those wild beasts on that remote planet in 'Across the Universe'? They can Quiznak right off because He will never give up on Shiro. Enough said.

And one last thought. I'm sure you guys have seen the leaked scenes of Keith staying by Shiro's side while he's in the healing pod, his vitals showing that his conscious is not assimilating with Kuron's body. I'm sure you've seen how Keith pleaded with Allura to think of a way to help them. You probably heard Allura regretfully admit that there wasn't anything she could do to help anymore than she already had. You saw Keith in his disbelief, in his grief. You saw him slam his fist onto the healing pod, head hung low wand pleading to the man within to fight. To stay.

"You can't do this to me again"

And miraculously, Shiro wakes.

I didn't plan on giving Keith Charmspeak. I only planned on giving him an IMMUNITY towards other Charmspeakers. And even now I still stand by my decision on NOT giving him such a power. Because it makes this scene, when adapted into my AU, have THAT much more significance. He didn't need any godly gifts to bring back the man he loves, his own voice, rough and raw and full of desperation.... it was enough. It was MORE than enough.

"Keith you saved me." "We saved eachother"

[junhuiste]

[ wonwoo - table for one ]

⌦ fluff, valentine’s day au bc i’m a slut for corporate america milking us dry for a heteronormative holiday, sweater + wholesome + soft feelings for wonwoo, cynical st8ments from reader about being a single pringle 

⌦ lover birds are overrated

⌦ words: 2131

Heaving what was intended to be a sigh of waves of relief, had come out to be a somewhat tornado of mild shame, as you bid a measly attempt at holding your head high, jaunting through the massive doors of the restaurant.

Struck by an endless playlist of the same songs that belted out “you are my only one”, pairs of lovers scattered throughout, and the never ending, pricking sight of dozens upon dozens of hands tucked into one another for comfort or for show that were just enough to throw you over the brink and cause disgusting discomfort in your stomach, nothing but a faltering mumble fell out, “Y/N, and party of one.”

Instead of thrusting pity upon yourself after catching sight of the waiter’s parabolic smile flatten out to what resembled a woeful wince, you chuckled to yourself and reassured the waiter that it was truly okay that no one bothered to ask you out even though you kinda looked “hella cute” yesterday but that’s okay because not everyone can win at love!

Singles empowerment, you thought to bolster your slowly sinking mood. What had you in such a melancholy mood, you internally slapped yourself for, because goddammit this was supposed to be a “treat yourself” night but alas, you wallowed only to drown in self-pity. Okay, so maybe a hot date could’ve made the night better, but Christ, you were about to have a plate of steaming hot food instead, which was indeed ten times better than having to make eye contact in order to revive a conversation towards a partner across the table.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart!” chirped an overly bubbly woman to her husband, who both had just entered the restaurant. 

Sigh.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart.” you mocked her to yourself, an ugly, ugly green snake of envy slithered closer to your brain.

It wasn’t that you were an extremely resentful person, just so filled to the brim with an abysmal hate for every single goddamn person on earth, actually you were completely the opposite, but as you were on every February 14th, nothing could milk you dry of cynical statements and the putrid odor of annoyance. Of course, corporations would take advantage of this day, proposing billion dollar campaigns to dump buckets and buckets of pink and red everywhere but your heart.

As your turn to be called neared, any coveted thoughts induced by this godforsaken holiday started to leave you. You had better plans in mind than being sent over the edge for some overrated mind blowing orgasms, like the ones your roommate said she’d be receiving tonight, blegh, but instead losing your mind over a damn good drink and one hell of a good hot meal for yourself and you only. 

The thought of that big ass plate being delivered to you surely did turn your frown upside down, because sharing, like orgasms, was overrated.

If there were one person, though, an intruding, spontaneous thought pervaded its way upon your train, that you’d want to take you out, what was the best answer out of A.) the cute boy that always scrunched his nose in the most adorable manner when he laughed B.) Jeon Wonwoo, C.) someone that could hold a powerful gaze and was shy and delightful (did you mention cute in an option yet?), or D.) the boy who just walked through the restaurant door with the gently yet menacing look and whipped his head around when a somewhat younger-ish looking version of him called “Wonwoo, come on.”

Wait–

The younger boy, who you assumed was Wonwoo’s younger brother, walked to the waiter to leave his name and party number, as the older stayed behind, hands in pockets, seemingly miserable and not wanting to be whacked by the knuckle of the Valentine’s day atmosphere.

Curiosity sprung upon you, wondering why Wonwoo took his brother to this restaurant, but you concluded that yes, he was just as quiet and sweet as that tiny Hershey’s Kiss your roommate threw at you like he seemed in your biochemistry class. He treated his younger sibling out to a nice dinner, and hat you really appreciated, though having only assumed, because he embraced the family part of love, and did not fall into capitalism’s dirty tricks of romance and didn’t bring a date, which sort of caused a stir within you, which really shouldn’t have because you weren’t a jealous person, but only for tonight–“Y/N, party of one!”

The part where corporations spent billions of dollars on splashing every nook and cranny with pink and red? Yeah, your cheeks were included, as you were seized up in utter humiliation in front of the rest of the customers patiently waiting, though all they wanted was good food and a good orgasm for later, but nonetheless, the world now knew how fucking lonely you were.

Before taking even one step, you spun your head out of worriedness to see if Wonwoo had heard that you were Single McFucking Pringle, and much to your dismay, what normally would’ve caused orange-winged monarchs to quiver around in your stomach instead provoked bees (as much as you wanted to save them) that left tiny little pricks of pure embarrassment.

You met a warm pair of dark brown eyes that held a certain tranquility, but you quickly turned back around to cover your flustered self.

“Come with me,” the waiter cordially lead you to a table and you could’ve tripped on air in response to the lack of dignity you had in this moment, but by the grace of the universe, which you barely trusted at this point, managed to get to the table without toppling over your sad self.

As soon as you were seated, eyes scoured the environment to search for those same pair of brown eyes that had met yours for a short second in time before you descended into disgrace. They were nowhere to be found for now, as Wonwoo and his brother were still in the waited seating area of the restaurant.

Maybe a tall glass of a little something special could’ve helped you get over your blunder and loneliness, which brought you here in the first place, but sure, a glass of water, I’m driving home tonight, no ice please worked just as fine.

Pouting a taut pair of pillows, you breathed in a pathetic pocket of air and sipped as the sight of the waiter leading only Wonwoo’s brother to a table. Perhaps Wonwoo had gone to wash his hands free of sin, but what sin did this boy commit, who you deemed a shy angel in your eyes, or maybe he’d gone and only dropped his brother off as a you owe me bro solid in exchange for a punch on the shoulder.

Maybe Wonwoo had a date of his own tonight, but the bare thought of that sent tiny bubbles into your straw, because you were getting caught up in the mere thought of this certain Jeon Wonwoo, who you’d just noticed was clad in an attire opposite his brother, who wore a button up rolled up to his elbows and slacks--a navy blue sweater paired with jeans and sneakers.

Who you’d just noticed…

Push, push these thoughts out! Goddammit this was your treat yourself night on the night of singles over doubles, celebrating you for some capitalistic reason, where that big plate would show up to your table anytime soon, but a faux smile from the waiter who wrongfully deceived you in the greatest act of treachery brought two plates to the table next to you.

Well shit, at least you’d get a look at Wonwoo again, who was seated with a ghost across the table, fiddling with his thumbs, to which you found extremely endearing because Jeon Wonwoo was an incredibly wholesome boy that you just really wanted to laugh at, with his nose scrunch, at your excruciatingly corny jokes.

Wonwoo’s eyes behind his specs found yours once again, as you continued to stare off into the realm of nothing while reevaluating your current life choices, but immediately deterred to this hands, thus you found yourself in sheer chagrin for the nth time tonight.

It’d be a few minutes before your food would arrive, so you left your trench coat on the back of the chair and trod to the restroom.

An eagle soaring over the vast region, eyeing its prey, your frenzied overlook at the restaurant was maybe more for the fact that your food was just being delivered to your table, or that Wonwoo kid.

Your heel felt entirely uncomfy but it was nothing that a minor tug on your shoe could fix, and while running a hand over your head trying to regain stability, you wobbled slightly but stood up straight after. Oddly enough, your mind was fixated on those two aforementioned things, ahem, someone, hence your dumbass to sort of stumble but not fall to the point of oh my fucking god you idiot into a dark-fabric covered shoulder.

Right before smoothing out you outfit, “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention, Y/N,” rang in your ears for quite some time.

“No, no, don’t worry about it, um...Wonwoo! It’s my fault, I was just too excited that my food came,” you tried to play it cool and brush it off your shoulder, but all there was was dust, mixed with your confusion and distress.

Wonwoo’s hand reached up to tousle his side swept, charcoal colored hair and he chuckled, emitting an unmitigated radiance you’d only ever found to shine for him.

The stiff tension wasn’t fraught, somehow you found it to be quite natural, and the genial tone between both you and Wonwoo was very evident. He took a small breath in, “Um, no offense, really...I  don’t want this to sound rude, so please don’t take this the wrong way because I don’t intend for this to come off the way it sounds but,” Wonwoo shifted his glasses a little.

It was Valentine’s Day, and it felt like being punched in the guts February 13th when someone cackled in your face at the thought of them taking you out, so you didn’t really know what to regard as rude anymore. For all you cared, Wonwoo could sock you in the face for being a stumbling idiot and you would fall to your knees and thank him.

A pause invaded the scene once more, and you clung onto Wonwoo’s words, wanting to know in what possible way he could be rude to you.

“Why are you sitting alone? I’m not judging by all means, but it’s the most barf-inducing yet “romantic” day of the year, and you managed to brace this face of not caring about this ludicrous holiday.”

You didn’t know what to expect with Wonwoo, no one ever did, as he was in a corner one day, to clapping his hands in laughter the next. If this was his definition of rude, anything you’ve ever done would be sinister.

Wonwoo was nothing but wholesome. And you reveled at the mere thought, well, you had the embodiment of precious in the flesh at your sight.

“Wonwoo, don’t apologize for that,” you said, “and evidently I don’t have a valentine, so I decided to treat myself out to dinner tonight. I mean, who cares about lover birds when you could be a lonely bird?”

A simper played out on lips, and thankfully it didn’t convey pity.

The thought came up in you, similar to what Wonwoo had just asked you and deemed “rude”.

“Wait, but Wonwoo, now I have a right to ask why you’re here by yourself?”

He almost looked like he was caught off guard, but shook his head assertively, “My younger brother has a date tonight and asked if I’d drop him off, then uh, I got hungry so I just had to stay and eat–”

It wasn’t a date after all, and you hated that you went out on a limb. But shit, your food had been sitting there for a good 2 minutes whilst you were getting caught up in your mutual loneliness with Jeon Wonwoo.

Wonwoo gaped his mouth a tad bit open to recollect his thoughts, but you were almost impatient because you had a fine ass boy in front of you, wanting to tell you everything, yet you felt like you were interrupting him with your gestures, and you had a plate back at the table.

“And then I saw you here, which compelled me to stay more than their Valentine’s Day dinner discount,” had left his mouth, come again?

There were no feelings of complex emotion coursing raw through your veins, you were simply dumbfounded and delighted.

“Y/N, can I join you at your table?”

bruh so my school’s broadcast/news televisor/tv did a segment on being by urself on valentine’s day yesterday so i rushed to the fucking library to write it asap and usually it takes me a week to plan out the plot but i wrote the plot for this in half a lunch period and wrote it last night and today

imma cry it usually takes me months to write a fic and i have one sitting in my drafts that i started in september and it ain’t even halfway done but i managed to whip this one up JUST FOR THE SAKE OF PUBLISHING ON VALENTINE’S DAY BYE

[oopscupcake]

Darkness - Part two

PART 1.

WARNINGS: Cheating. Pretty sad.

“Harry?”

Everything around them drops to a dead silence. She is in front of him. Y/n is in right front of him after a whole month of just seeing her in his sleep, in his daydreaming, in his loneliness. She didn’t seem real in any of them, neither does she now that a few steps interpose between them.

The mist flowing past her lips in the tired call of his name hits him, it is colder than anything he’s felt before. She oozes distance, hollowness.

Harry can’t believe he is the author of such a tragic destruction.

Where is the gleam of her gaze? Where did the chubby of her cheeks go? When did her sweet smile turn bitter?

It was outrageous the fact that he knew all the answers to those questions. It was unforgivable that he was the one who wrote that fate.

He not only disappointed her, he let himself down, and even if she forgave him, he’d never see himself as he used to.

“I’m so sorry”

A consuming burn seizes his chest and crawls down the pit of his stomach. He’s mute. There’s so much boiling underneath those miles of vulnerable skin, yet his mouth can’t out anything.

He knows a simple I’m sorry won’t change anything. It won’t tell her the mess he is. It won’t get to her heart.

But at least it’s a start.

“I’m sorry for what I did; for having been so selfish; for being a coward. I’m sorry for everything”

His heart is pounding inside his chest, pumping everything he wishes he could say. His apologies flow in the air among them, not daring to reach her, to reach her feelings. The thumping of his heartbeat is everything he can hear, and it’s deafening him. His hands curl up into a fist, bitten nails dig in the dry flesh of his palms, trying to hide his uncontrollable shaking.

“You didn’t deserve to be treated like I treated you. I should have realised you were hurting sooner. I should have done something to fix the mess I made. But I didn’t, and you don’t know how much I regret it” He pauses, trying not to gag on his words “I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. I- I can’t even think straight because everything in my head reminds me of the piece of shit I am”

Y/n stares at him with hollow eyes, her mouth remains shut, as closed as all of her.

The silence is killing him. A month had gone without her voice feeding his senses. A month had gone with uncertainty stuck on each of its days, and now that he’s in front of her, he’s begging for something, anything, to come out of her mouth. He needs to hear the poison he created in her. He needs her to vomit all the hideous thoughts he sowed in her mind with his mistakes. She’s the one innocent in this crime, if someone had to suffer, that was him, he deserved it

“Y/n, please, say something, insult me, yell at me-just... do something… please”

He clamps his eyes shut and bites the side of his mouth, preparing himself for the sharp words that are about to crash on him.

But none of that happens when she opens her mouth

“You had me begging for what you offered me the most, your love”

because her voice discovers itself in a dim murmur, yet it has the power of the worst of the disasters. As a tsunami, it frantically sweeps over the shore his system is, destroying what was left of him. As a hurricane, it takes all his hopes and flies them away.

He did that. The suffering he caused her got to the extent where it became great enough to numb any other feeling. Anger, resentment, hatred; everything mixed inside her and ended up in that: void.

And that was crueler than any insult.

“Do you have any idea of how I was? At the time where I needed you the most, where I was feeling the most miserable, you weren't there. You claimed I could always be myself with you, yet I had to swallow all my problems because I thought they were getting to you and I was stressing you out. I had to go through the worst of the feelings on my own and fake always a smile because I thought that way Harry, my Harry would come back”

Her voice cracks. For the first time of the night -for the first time in a month- she expresses any kind of emotion.

“I cried myself to sleep every single night because I was so fucking confused, I didn't know what I had done to force you to become so cold. I knew you were aware I was awake when you came home late. I knew you heard the sobs I couldn't stifle just because I was becoming mad about what could possibly have gone wrong between the two of us. You know how bad that hurt?”

He doesn’t dare to look at her in the eyes, his head sinks in his shoulders with every word.

“Harry, you left me. When I needed you the most, you left me”

Her gaze drills on him as she gives voice to the sour taste his visit has arisen on the tip of her tongue. It hurts to hear the words roll out of her mouth, they bring back to life those memories she considered as already buried; yet the heavy weight on her chest eases as she utters each of them.

Maybe this night was necessary, for both of them.

“Y/n, I hate myself for it, you don’t know how much” He says in a breath.

Realisation crawls up in his system, invading all of him. He is being selfish. Again, he’s putting himself before her. To find a way back to her heart is what he wants the most, it’s the cure to his pain, the medicine he needs;

but not hers

and because he loves her he has to understand it.

“That doesn’t matter, not anymore” She mutters, wiping away the silent tears that slide down her face.

In the jet black night, the only sound alive is the wind hitting on their frames. The flickering lamp post above them had been witnessing their last moment together, until then, when it gave its last blink before it finally died off.

Harry can hear Y/n waking back to the door, distancing from him, this time forever.

“I’m sorry” Is the last thing she hears from him.

The click of the door shutting behind her is the last thing he hears from her.

Not my gif, credits to the owner.

A/N: Okay guys that is the end of my first angsty series! A massive thank you to all the lovely people who sent me comments about it, they REALLY helped me through a bit of a tough time I was having regarding my writing :) Hope this was worth the wait!!!

I’d really appreciate it if you sent me feedback on how this was, it’d really help me through this new path my writing is taking.

Nothing else, thank you so much for reading it. I love you xx

My writing.

[artificialqueens]

Love me tender - Part One (Shalaska/Pearlet), by Lavish

A/N: Grown-up AU in which Alaska is a stressed adoption lawyer struggling in her marriage, Violet and Matt are the teen parents of a watermellon baby, and Sharon is their not-so-conventional nurse. Set in sunny Cali. If you enjoy this, please let me know by dropping a line for me here. Love always, Lavish.

High heels clicked against the hard wood floor in a rhythm that didn’t really follow the lounge music coming from the over-head speakers. No, these heels stomped in a hurried run, which were not that rare in hospital scenarios. Alaska reached room 701 of the Dr. RuPaul Charles Institute of Medicine and checked the time, pausing to collect herself and catch her breath. 11:03. She hissed, realizing she’d been late. Again. This was her last appointment of a very troubled week, in which she had managed to be late for six meetings and one court hearing. This wasn’t typical of Alaska, since she took pride in being extremely professional, but it had been happening very often. As often as she left the house after a fight with her husband Tom, that is – the type of occasion she was getting rather accustomed to. She looked down at her nails, analyzing the bits she had nervously picked on the way.

Shaking her head lightly, as if it would make her forget all about it, she decided to put her issues aside and deal with the matter in hands. Alaska brushed down her pantsuit, allowing the black fabric to accommodate to her modest curves. She knocked timidly on the door and put her head inside the hospital room. A fed-up looking, very pregnant teen was laid on the bed, with an equally young boy to her left, and an odd nurse to her right, facing the wall, apparently taking some notes. Alaska didn’t have the time to analyze the scene before the girl opened her mouth, sounding more like a teenager than Alaska expected by the looks of her mature makeup.

“Um, yeah?”

“Hello. Sorry I’m late, there was traffic.” The same lie she told in court rolled down her tongue in her desperate need to always justify herself. It didn’t even occur to Alaska they might have not even noticed her 3 minute fail. Blaming it on the traffic of a sunny day in LA seemed to make more sense than to gush around about the actual reason. She made her way to the bed. “I’m Alaska… I’ll be your adoption lawyer, I believe you contacted me on Tuesday…?”

At that, the nurse turned around, looking blushed and curious. The blue uniform didn’t do much for her, but Alaska could tell by the shapes beyond it she had a beautiful, lean, figure. Her eyes were wide and inquiring, but transmitted some kind of shame. Trying her best to be discreet, the nurse kicked what looked like a can of PBR under her table before speaking.

“Hi! I’m Sharon! I’m Violet’s nurse, and potential adoptive mommy.” She gave a tiny smile and Alaska noticed an adorable gap between her front teeth. Mixed with arched, thin brows and gorgeous black hair, it made her look human, but not less astonishingly beautiful. They shook hands, and Alaska instantly felt hyper conscious of her cold fingers. She withdrew from the handshake and proceeded to the bed with an unsure smile.

“Hi, Violet. It’s very good to meet you. How’s the baby?”

“It’s whatever. I mean, it grows everyday, it’s healthy and all.” She rolled her heavily lined eyes before pouting slightly. “It’s really adorable actually, we have a picture already. Matty, show her the Mellon.”

The boy, Matt, took out a square of paper from his wallet. Alaska felt her heart break while watching the kid. It seemed very clear to her he was the least inclined of the two to give it up.

“This was at 24 weeks. We’re at 26 right now.” He pointed to the date, his sandy blonde hair falling down blue eyes, covering what seemed like tears. Alaska patted him on the shoulder and offered a hand, shaking with confidence and trying her best to exude comfort.

Behind him, Violet whimpered quietly and extended a hand towards Sharon, who made her way to the bed and held it tightly. Alaska felt like she was stepping in the middle of a three-way family, given how established and comfortable they were around each other, and it made her hurt for them even more.

“We’ve been calling him-slash-her Watermelon, you know, because they get so big.”

“That’s lovely.” Alaska spoke from the heart. She knew first-hand how much one could get attached to child, no matter how long – or how little – you bared them. “Well, since we are all gathered here, shall we start discussing terms? If you’re okay with it, of course, dear.”

The lawyer knew better than to jump to signing papers all of a sudden. She made sure every word she chose was with care, as to not increase their suffering any further. Alaska was good at this, she understood people much better than she understood herself, and therefore it was much easier taking care of their needs than it was her own. She glanced at Sharon, earning a nod of her head, indicating to proceed. Taking a seat close to the stretcher, she asked:

“Let me know you two a little better, will you? Tell me about yourselves.”

“Well…” The girl lifted herself with care, showing off her 6 month baby bump. Alaska felt a sting of pain to her heart. She had no kids of her own, not for lack of desire, nor for lack of trying. “I’m seventeen. I’ve moved in from Atlanta… when was it, Matt?”

“Uhm, 2015.” He didn’t have to really think about it. The fact he seemed to be the most grounded between the two made him look older, despite his camo shorts and over sized jumper. He seemed like a man when he spoke about his girlfriend.

“Yeah, that’s it. I was 15 back then, and I joined the Visage School for Girls. That’s how I met this dork, he attended my very first dance at the School – the only event we ever host that welcomes boys. Since then, we’ve been together. I’m a model. Well, was, I haven’t had any gigs since this happened.” She pointed to her bump, with a somewhat displeased look on her face. “Listen, miss… Alaska, was it? I can’t have this baby right now. It’s not like I don’t want it, though. I don’t want it, but I don’t don’t want it. I’m just… not ready for this yet. Neither is Matt, by the way, don’t let him lead you otherwise.”

Alaska found herself smiling as she listened. Violet seemed like a good kid, but she could agree with that part: she could not have a kid at this moment.

“Don’t put words in my mouth, I’ve told you this before.” He seemed resented, and turned his back on Violet, who crossed her arms and stuck out her tongue. “I really want this kid. I’m 20, I have a job, I could provide for her, and for the ki-”

“Matt, you work at a pet store! Do you want to feed dog biscuits to my baby? Because you will NOT.”

“Vi, just let me talk! You always do this, you are completely out-”

“Ok, ok, big fella!” Sharon, the nurse, intervened. She stood between the couple, while Violet hugged her belly fiercely, as if she thought Matt would snatch the baby out right then and there, and would take it to the pet store to bathe with the puppies. “You two quit the shit fest and sort your stuff out while me and lawyer here go for some coffee. Do not open another beer while I’m gone.”

At that, she took Alaska by the wrist and escorted her out of the room. She held the door for the blonde, offering a smile as she walked by, and closed it behind them as they walked to the cafeteria.

“So, I hear you’re this big shot lawyer, right? I really hope you can help us.” She looked at her and, in her smile, Alaska could also detect loneliness. It made her want to hold the nurse’s hand, but she contained herself to a discreet smile. Sharon placed their orders: two espressos and a chocolate muffin – she said here they served the best and, for some reason, Alaska easily believed it.

“I hope so too. There is no reason not to work this out between the three of you, they clearly are not ready to welcome another life into their own. My profession forbids me to hand the baby to an unstable couple.” The lady behind the counter handed back two steamy mugs and the small cake. The pair sat face to face in the empty cafeteria.

“I am not a stable couple but I would like the child.” Sharon was humorous, but the need in her voice made it sincere. “I, uhm, I live alone, but my apartment is all safe, I have no weapons at home and I, I have a steady job that could suffice, and I really like PBR but I would definitely give it up for Mellon bec-”

Alaska stopped her, holding Sharon’s hand, now a little more sure of herself.

“You will be an amazing mother. I will have to check your apartment and look out for potential threats and make sure you are no psycho, but other than that… It’s great that the parents know and trust you.”

Sharon closed her eyes for a second, the security transmitted by Alaska making it’s way into her soul, just as a tear made it’s way down her cheek. Alaska only noticed she was crying as well when Sharon leaned in to wipe it. The eye contact was intense, and Alaska felt numerous feelings travelling from their touch through her body. In Sharon’s eyes, she saw a confident woman reflected. A smart woman who would actually help them. She dared say beautiful, in spite of her messy chunks of blonde hair pointing in every direction due to the running earlier. Some kind of life saver. And she saw Sharon too, a goddess of beauty, with a smokers voice and a gigantic heart, all soft to the touch and so incredibly caring, though she may look tough on the outside. Alaska felt a smile curl the sides of her mouth, at the very same time as Sharon smiled back. Some sort of connection downed on them. They never let go of each other’s hands, and only then, when the metal became a little warmer, did Alaska realize she still had her wedding band on.

Manifesting their connection again, both knew to let go. It wasn’t awkward, it didn’t feel uncomfortable, it was mutual. Sharon cut their muffin in half, and ate a small piece of it.

“We’ll have to discuss giving alcohol to minors, tho…” Alaska joked, still keeping eye contact with the nurse, quickly warming up to her presence. Normally she would condone that, but somehow she felt as if Sharon was this cool motherly figure to the young couple, in a very Mean Girls kind of way. That made Alaska like her even more.

“I think you should know now Mellon will be attaching cans of PBR to his baby bottles by the time he learns to grab.” Her smile was sincere, from her unlined teeth to her big eyes, and it made Alaska wish she could snap a picture right at that moment.

For the first time since they sat down, Sharon broke their stare, trying to look at an imaginary thing on the ceiling.

“Can you hear? I love this song, does that make me a loser? Oh my God.”

“It’s, um…” Alaska tried to concentrate, adjusting her ears to capture the tune. “Something by Elvis, ‘Tender’ something? Help me out here.” She squeezed her eyes, laughing at her poor memory. She remembered her parents listening to it while she grew up, a vivid image of her small lawn in her head, and the familiar beat. She opened her eyes, still lost in memories, and nibbled at the small cake. She looked up at Sharon with a pleased look on her face – the delicacy was indeed fantastic.

“It’s ‘Love me tender’, how could you not remember that? I swear, by the time this process is through you will know it by heart. It’s pretty rare to listen to anything besides Elvis and the Bee Gees here at the hospital. If I didn’t like this song it’d be complete torture.”

“God, I can only imagine.” Alaska drawled out her words, allowing her face to contort in sympathy to the nurse. “I don’t really have a working playlist or something of that sort, but you can bet your ass I get tired of listening people saying basically the same things every day.” She took a deep breath, searching for Sharon’s eyes again. “To have a case like yours where in everything is just so settled is extremely refreshing. Which reminds me, should we go back…?”

“Yeah, I think those two must have had some time to settle in their agreements.” Sharon stood up, collecting their used mugs and handed it back to the cafeteria lady with a quiet ‘thank you’ and a smile. Alaska pretended not to see when the lady behind the counter looked at her, then back at Sharon, and winked in the nurse’s direction.

They walked back to the room, and already from the hall Alaska could hear Violet’s bubbly laughter. They seemed to be in a good place right now, and upon entering the room, Alaska felt her heart fill with joy as she saw two healthy smiles.

“Shar, do you think the baby will look more like me or him? Can you imagine if the baby had Matt’s face? It’d look so fucking over it from day one, like it’s too cool for the nursery or something.”

The three laughed and Alaska watched in awe as Sharon tossed her head back from laughter. God, she was gorgeous. It wasn’t typical of Alaska to pay that close attention to anyone, really, but Sharon wasn’t typical at all, nor were Violet and Matt. She felt like she was stepping into something very special here, and that made her glad to work with bringing families together. She felt something vibrating in her pocket, and upon inspecting her phone, she saw the name and the face of the only person who could burst that bubble of happines. Tom calling, read the lit screen. She let it go to voicemail, shoving her phone deep into her purse.

“Well, I think this went pretty smooth! We can meet again next week, if you’d like. How’s Friday for you guys?”

“We can do Friday.” Matt answered for him and Violet, helping her stand. Her belly looked even bigger opposed to her small frame. She fluffed up her hair, leaning in to embrace Alaska in an unexpected hug.

“Don’t get used to them, she’s just more amicable because of hormones.“ Offered Matt, seeing the look of surprise in Alaska’s face.

“Fuck off.” Was the only answer she gave him. Violet whispered to Alaska: “I really like you, Miss. I think you can actually help us.”

“That’s what I came to do, darling.”

Violet let go of her, moving towards Sharon. She let the nurse pet her bump, listening with care to her recommendations about vitamins and resting time. At that, Alaska shuffled closer to Matt, offering a smile which he responded with a smaller, sadder one.

“She’s taking my baby from me.” Was all he managed to say, calmly and quiet, but with enough honesty to set Alaska’s heart ablaze. “Violet will take my kid.”

“She’s not, love. She’s doing the best for the kid, I promise you. We all are.”

“I guess.” He looked down, sadness washing over his young appearance from moments ago. It became clear to the lawyer that, every time they discussed names, the sex, or who the baby would look the most like, it was a blow to his heart. Matt still had hope him and Violet would raise their little watermelon.

“We’ll figure it out, ok?”

“Ok. Thanks, Alaska.” He looked up again, trustful. Alaska could not express her gratitude with how much those three individuals, so different from every other client she’d had, managed to get to her in so little time. It all just clicked.

Lastly, after Violet and Matt left, Alaska said her goodbyes to Sharon.

“Should I attend next week too?”

“Of course. You’re part of this, Shar.” The nickname formed itself on her tongue without warning, but it felt right to say it. Sharon smiled, grabbing her hand again. Alaska let her, surrendering to the warmth of her palm against her.

“Thank you, thank you so much. You have no ide-” Sharon was cut off by Alaska’s phone buzzing once again. She turned to look at the nurse, nervous she had ruined the moment. Still, Sharon’s smile didn’t shake. “We’ll have time to talk this over next week. I look forward to it already, Lasky.” She finished, putting emphasis on the nickname. They laughed, and Sharon squeezed her hand.

Tentatively, Alaska went in for a hug. Sharon embraced her, lingering a little longer, and resting her head on the lawyers shoulder. Again, Alaska was overcome by the terrible feeling Sharon was struggling with loneliness, and was overwhelmed by her own desire to fix that. She felt like, now she was given the opportunity, she was determined to color Sharon’s sterile, gray and white days spent in those boring hospital rooms with a baby’s rosy skin and light hair. She had to.

“I’ll see you on Friday, Alaska.”

“Till then!” Alaska said, with a dramatic exit. She could hear Sharon’s laughter from outside the room.

She walked much slower to leave than the had to enter the hospital, heels clicking on the hard wood floor in the rhythm of a familiar song in her mind.

Love me tender, love me sweet, never let me go…

[sa1ntj]

They say that I am lucky.

I’m studying in an exclusive school, I have a car, and living independently. They say I also have the face that could get what she wants; a face that would make doing a favors easy. 

Yet, what they didn’t know was the hollowness from deep within, burrowing my soul and leaving me nothing but ashes of the burning memories of happiness. The nightmares that kept me awake and just cry in the middle of the night.

Nobody asked if I ever wanted to have this life.

All they ask is: “Why don’t you get yourself a boyfriend?”

What they didn’t know is I am so broken within that nobody will love these cracks that are hidden from the naked eye.

And whenever I tell them that, I was rewarded by a laugh and “You can’t possibly be depressed. I’d give anything to have your life.”

What they didn’t know is that this life they’re trying to have is a life of lies and betrayal. A life that has feared living and commitment.

When did it start, you may ask? I am not sure. I just woke up one day that I realized I feel so empty. 

I was 8 when my parents fought in front of us about issues we still cannot understand—at least that’s what they said. They were screaming and crying and throwing hurtful words at each other, words they never really meant. Then there would always be the agony of choosing between either of them, and it was always a torture, seeing the pain in my mom’s eyes whenever I choose my dad.

I was 9 when I heard my father admitted an affair with other woman. “She makes me happy,” his voice still echoes in my ears. “She was the one who was there for me when all you did was argue and point out my flaws.”

I didn’t understand. I was still young. I was supposed to be an innocent young girl with dreams and fantasies and fairytales, but all those were shattered into several pieces.

Everything fell into a flashback—about how he told us his story as a child who was abandoned by his parents and he well never let us feel the same pain of loneliness; about how I waited for him every night to come home with my favorite chocolates, and ended up sleeping on the couch. He’d kiss my forehead; carry me to bed, and the next morning I’d lie awake magically in my bedroom.

I was 10 when he eloped with his other woman. All of a sudden, he stopped coming home. All of a sudden, my mom would wake me up and tell me that I should go to my room because it’s past two in the morning and he’s not coming back. He won’t be there to carry me around or bring me chocolates or buy his promised toys.

Nights became weeks and weeks became months. I got tired of waiting. I stopped waiting. I forced myself to get used with his absence, with every school event that he’s not there, with every morning that he won’t drive us to school, with every night that he won’t be sleeping with us.

God knows how hard I prayed for a father when the wind was whistling and the storm became stringer. When the flood went rushing inside our house and there was nobody to assure us that everything would be alright.

He was the first man to break my heart.

Who would’ve thought that that event would lead to more.

I was 16 when I started seeking for the attention I’ve lost; when I first had a boyfriend. All he did was to make me feel important and make me feel loved, yet it was so foreign, it scared me. We broke up because of my inability to stay fully committed.

 At that age was when I fully realized that I was afraid of getting married, to be of burden to someone, to break my future children’s heart.

I was afraid.

I was miserably afraid.

I was 17 when my dad took us back with the promise that he will stay with us. I was filled with hope, finally I can see a light.

He lied.

He forced me to meet his new family—the person who destroyed my life in a snap of a finger. The person who took everything from me—freedom, happiness, right belongingness… family. She was enjoying it all when it wasn’t really hers to begin with.

 He was there when they were celebrating birthdays, Christmas, New Year and all the special events that should’ve been celebrated with me and my brothers. 

I was given the responsibility to look after my little brother. All the frustration of not being able to go to college of choice because of my responsibility. The lack of belongingness in the home of my own family, the jealousy towards my friends living a life of their own choice, the betrayal of my dad’s words, the longing for love… for a family. I wanted to end this bullshit of a life.

Trust me, I attempted to. A lot of times.

Now which one is better, to be able to feel the pain, or to feel indifferent when you know something is wrong. 

I was 18 when everything changed. I met this guy. It felt natural…magical even. With a few words, we instantly clicked as if we were really meant to happen, as if I’ve known him for a very long time. For the first time, I considered it love. For the first time, I really opened myself up to someone, showed him how vulnerable I am, trusted him with what was left of me.

I believed that he was the one of the good people that I need to treasure. He helped me in my growth and educated me about the things I do not know about. He helped me decide what kind of career I want to build, and gave me new pair of eyes. He encouraged me to find a therapist to treat my mental health issue. 

For the first time, I saw a man in my future.

You’ve been hiding in fear all your life, I once said to myself. Now’s the time to risk.

But then, same old shit. Life fucked up.

I was on the verge of exploding with different strong emotions;

Loathing.

Self-hatred.

Resentment.

Antipathy.

Vengeance.

I have kept myself together for years, and every fucking time I try to give myself a chance, they take advantage of my vulnerability.

Death was the only thing in my mind. Thinking about it gave me peace, happiness, and odd satisfaction. I was so determined to die, but never wanted to break my mom’s heart because of my desire for tranquility.

I am done with my life. I am done with respect. I am done with trust and I am done with love.

And love? Love is bullshit. It’s an illusion human created just to believe there is something worth living for.

My life is in no direction.

“Just fucking kill yourself,” another voice whispered in a dangerous tone. 

It was a soft whisper that mixed with the whistling of the wind. And that voice… was mine.

All at once, the voices stopped. There was nothing but deafening silence. Exhaustion was running after me and finally caught up, making my legs feel numb. This is the part I hated the most, because in this silence, I wasn’t sure if I was still alive. I wasn’t sure if I still want to be alive.

Living with depression allowed me to master how to keep my emotions inside me, to wear a mask of difference every single day when I am really dying, to smile without showing a bit of anxiety. 

I can keep my emotions inside me, I can wear masks of different expressions but you wouldn’t know how dead I already am.

I was slapped of that reality. I was stuck here - stagnant. 

Dead. But not really.

Just in between of living and dying.

They call my soul unholy, but I burned willingly in the arms of each of my sins and exhausted steam out of my loneliness.

I am now 20 years old, and the only difference is I am an emptier person. I have endured everything in my past, but what happened to me in the past year, I cannot endure.

How do you save yourself from you? How are you supposed to tell someone what’s wrong when you don’t know it yourself? When there are a lot of voices inside your head?

I’m an empty soul trapped in a broken body.

I wish I could just shut my mind down, for a second, a minute, even a whole life time. Because then, I’d stop. That’s the thing about it, you no longer control your thoughts. They control you. And that’s something not everyone understands.

It’s easy for others to say, “You’ll get over it.” or “You’ll be fine, just stop thinking about it.” when they don’t know how badly you want to stop thinking about it. How badly I want to be okay, to say the least.

I never wanted to be a burden to anyone, so as much as possible, I avoid them. My emptiness is contagious; I’m afraid people will start seeing the world the way I do. Aside from that, I am so afraid of being left behind, which is ironic, because I didn’t want to have anyone.

That’s where I’m good at anyway, to push people away just to save my own.

Depression isn’t about being sad. It’s about being empty and not knowing how to stop. And I honestly don’t know which is worse. It’s easy to wake up every day when you’re looking forward to something. When you see the end of the sea, when you see your direction in life, and when you know which way to row; but if the sea is blurred with clouds and thunder and lightning that your mind produces, it’s hard to even breathe, let alone live.