#best thing I've ever done cringe culture is so dead

[kakyogay]

fnaf movbie best movie to ever be a movie...

[spectralsleuth]

🧩🎨☁️🏜️❄️🍬💌🥑

WHOAH WE GOT A BIG ONE HERE

🧩 ⇢ what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately?

Disclaimer: every piece of fanfiction is a gift from an angel. I love it all, because no matter how cringe or silly it is, the alternative is that fic NOT existing and that is unacceptable to me. That goes for any art.

Okay salty little hater time: Who the fuck started saying "greenette" or "pinkette" to stand in as an indicator for a person with a certain hair color. It is the new "orbs" in fanfiction. I literally have backed out of a fic, walked around a bit, and then gone back in resigned. It's so funny and I actually think of it really fondly, because it's a symptom of fandom the same was all the old fic tropes back in the early 2000's were. But god it even hurt me to write out. Weird formatting and paragraphs breaks I can adjust to pretty easily.

🎨 ⇢ link your favourite piece of fanart and explain why you like it

THIS TAROT SERIES FROM KAYSON (@tangledinink) They picked all of the series perfectly for the cards, they didn't just half heartedly pick the aesthetics that fit, and every single one is absolutely GORGEOUS. The style fits in with the other art/fics perfectly while still having that special little background/detail flair that Kayson likes to use. Fantastic. ('Strength' for LSoW Yoshi was an inspired pick as well. Love it.)

MATCHING BEST IS THIS COMIC by @cool-chocolatebouquet A whole comic! On one of my fave parts of mine and @alicat54cwriting's crossover??? So funny and good.

☁️ ⇢ what made you choose your username?

My username was 'spectralsleuth' for a while because I had thoughts of making a webcomic series about a detective who is dead, and was brain rotted by Homestuck naming conventions. (Which in itself was a satire of early 2000's internet culture, only dramatized.) That never happened, but the name stuck for all my accounts because I'm too lazy to think of a new one.

'audioEidolon' was what I started with on discord forever ago, and I wasn't ever planning to talk to anyone on voice chat because I was shy. (Thus the 'audio eidolon' name.) But I made some really good friends playing DnD and we talk almost every day, and have done for almost seven years now. So I guess my internet nickname will forever be 'Audio' or 'Audi'.

🏜️ ⇢ what's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work?

I love comments that pull out a line they specifically liked, or struck them. Maybe it's selfish, but I like seeing the specific things they liked because THAT'S the kind of comment that you think about while writing and forever after. (Despite how nice and easy as generalized comments are. I love all comments!) I even prefer comments that pull a specific line to say they didn't understand it, or noticed it was a little weird or out of place over generic ones, because it shows that they're invested and actually internalizing the writing. In this day and age of bots and AI, it's nice.

❄️ ⇢ what's your dream theme/plot for a fic, and who would write it best?

MAN THIS IS A TOUGH ONE. Every time I think, wow I wish that fic existed, I generally write it myself! I really can't think of anything I've wanted that I haven't at least started to write myself.

🍬 ⇢ post an unpopular opinion about a popular fandom character

Oh man I don't know if I even HAVE an unpopular opinion about a popular fandom character? My 2003 Leonardo opinions are surprisingly rare I think, he's one of my favorite TMNT characters of all time, and I think he and ROTTMNT Leonardo actually have the MOST in common between their counterparts. I never understood those crossovers where Leo and Leonardo were so bewildered by each other.

💌 ⇢ how many unread emails do you have right now? 

ZERO BABEY. So I actually have OCD and notification stress me out really bad. Like make my tummy hurt and I dream about them. This is the notifications for all three of my main email accounts:

Ignore the ranchers I'm too lazy to crop, the photo widget has like 100 pieces of fanart I really like for all my fandoms. (Natural evolution from printing pictures at the school library to put in your see through binder cover)

🥑 ⇢ you accidentally killed somebody, which mutual(s) do you text for help?

@heckitall honestly? Not because we are besties (WE ARE) but I think Heck would have genuine logical knowledge and together we could figure things out and how to hide the body. (Heck hmu I got a job for you.)

[marlo-noni]

Thank you @cynosurus for asking if I've ever written about my Mandarin learning journey, because I haven't, and I have stuff to say about it!

So, why and how did this middle-aged white lady learn Chinese? Here's the first part of that story, which focuses on why and how I started, and gets pretty introspective.

First of all, I was born and raised in the suburbs of Vancouver, Canada, and I've lived in Vancouver proper since 2003. We have a very large Chinese-Canadian population. As of 2009, about 30% of people in Vancouver have some Chinese ancestry.

I've always been really into languages. In my first year of university, I studied Latin, and the grammar was so difficult that I wasn't motivated to continue studying a dead language.

So in my second year, in 1999, I started studying Mandarin. I thought (1) it would be a challenge, (2) it's a very useful language to know in Vancouver, (3) I grew up around a lot of overt anti-Asian racism and wanted to combat that, and (4) I wanted to learn more about the Chinese culture that was always around me but that I knew practically nothing about. It also helped that my grandmother, always a free thinker, had been practicing tai chi since 1980 (the year I was born), and my grandparents went on a trip to China in the mid-90s and came back with interesting photos and stories.

I think it also must have been in the zeitgeist in the 90s that Asian culture was cool, and white people wanted to appropriate it. I was certainly into J-pop and anime by then, and I actually wore a qipao to grad (Canadian equivalent of senior prom) that I bought in Chinatown. If you've seen or read Scott Pilgrim, which takes place in Toronto (which also has a very large Chinese population) in the 90s, that gives you a bit of an idea of white Canadians' relationship with Chinese-Canadians at that time.

I say all this just to make it clear that although very few white people in my community studied Chinese back then, and one of the reasons I started studying it was anti-racism, I wasn't some galaxy-brained politically pure being. I had good intentions, but I still lived in that time and did a lot of the same ignorant stuff other white people did. I had Chinese friends, but I cringe when I think of some of the things I said to them and did back then. It has been a decades-long learning process for me.

I'm also very lucky that my university (the University of British Columbia, aka UBC) has an extremely robust Asian Studies program. My Chinese* classes were very intensive - 2 hours long, 4 times a week, with language labs on top of that (I can't remember anymore how long). We got 6 credits per semester instead of 3 because it was double the coursework and class time of a regular class. Because I intended to minor in Chinese, I also took Asian Studies classes, including a general overview of Asian history (2 semesters long), modern Chinese literature in translation, and early Chinese dynastic history.

I studied Chinese in university for 3 years. UBC had two Chinese language streams - one for "non-heritage" speakers, and one for "heritage speakers". They interviewed all the students beforehand to decide which stream we should be in. Being in the non-heritage stream made it nearly impossible to minor or major in Chinese, simply because it takes so long to learn. I would estimate we were only at HSK 2, approaching HSK 3, by the time my third year was done. But the fourth year, the last year, placed all the heritage and non-heritage students together, and the fourth-year classes were reading Chinese literature. One girl in my class, who'd lived in Taiwan before and was the best student in our class, went to speak with a fourth-year professor to ask if she could take his class because she wanted to minor in Chinese. He basically told her it would be impossible. I can understand the university's dilemma, though. I don't know how they teach it now - if they've ever come up with a solution. I think now there are probably more non-heritage students who studied Mandarin in high school. That simply wasn't an option when I was growing up.

The other thing is that I wasn't a great student in university, because I hadn't yet been diagnosed with depression and wouldn't be until my 5th year (I was also working part-time, so I did fewer classes and attended for an extra year). University was slowly making my mental illness worse until I finally had a breakdown in my final year. So my first year of studying Chinese, I got pretty good grades, but by my third year (fourth year of being in university), I was getting C+'s.

So by the time I was done university, I'd say I was at about HSK 2 level, and it was time for me to start working. From then on, any Chinese study I did would be self-study, and like many people's hobbies, my interest waxed and waned over time. More on that in future posts.

(*)at that time, UBC didn't teach Cantonese, even though the vast majority of the Chinese diaspora in Vancouver spoke it. I think that's been historically true for most West Coast cities in North America, although that has been changing. So the only option at that time was Mandarin. Also, we learned simplified characters.

[eryiss]

Ship: Freed x Laxus

Rating: Teen

Prompt: Late Nights, Early Mornings.

Summary: Long distant relationships are difficult, made worse when it's between two men in different colleges. But Freed and Laxus will make it worse, and if secret phone calls late in the night are what's needed then that's what they'll do.

Notes: This was day three for my admissions to Fraxus Week. It's hosted by @fuckyeahfraxus, who you should check out for more Fraxus content.

Links: Event Masterlist ||| Archive of Our Own, Fanfiction

Four Ways to See the Dawn

Year: 1982

Location: Washington DC, USA

"Hey."

"Hey."

Laxus murmured the word, quietly fiddling with the cord to the phone as he glanced at the sleeping man in the other bed. The stranger seemed to be sleeping soundly, snoring without a care in the world, and so Laxus felt pretty confident that he had privacy. So long as he didn't make too much noise, he could speak without being overheard.

Good, this was going to work.

It wasn't ideal. It was nearing two AM, and Laxus had found himself fighting sleep as he'd waited for his roommate to pass out. The guy was apparently something of a party animal, and he was fully taking advantage of the many frat parties, drinking nights and mixers that filled the first weeks of college. Laxus had avoided them all – they were all too loud and rowdy for him – but he understood the appeal. He couldn't be angry that the man was so unpredictable; Bickslow would hardly know that he was stopping Laxus from his phone call with Freed, after all.

Freed didn't have the same problem. His college, which was half way across the country, didn't have roommates to worry about. He'd promised that he'd be waiting by the phone for him whenever he was ready to call, and he'd answered the moment Laxus had rung.

"You sound tired," Laxus teased. "Didn't wake ya, did I?"

"No, but it was close," Freed chuckled, and the sound was incredible. "I missed hearing your voice."

"Me too."

They'd promised themselves that, for the first two weeks, they wouldn't talk. College was a big thing, and they couldn't fuck it up, so decided they need to fully submerge themselves in college culture instead of becoming shut-ins who only spoke to one another. It was the right thing to do, they both knew it, but Laxus had been missing Freed's presence every day, and no amount of taster classes, tours around campus, and bottles of tequila would remove that.

Freed had always been there. They'd grown up on the same street, played on the same sports teams, and attended the same house parties. Jokes had been made that they were attached at the hip, and that they might as well be inseparable with how much time they spent together.

Laxus had to smirk at those jokes. If only they knew.

It had happened quite randomly, really. Laxus had broken his leg in the last year of high school, and he'd had to sit out on the final game in their baseball tournament. Freed had ended up hitting the home run that won their team the game, and had been rightly commended. Laxus had stumbled into the locker room on his crutches when everyone was left so he could congratulate the man in private. Freed had clearly noticed that Laxus was more melancholy that joyful, and forced Laxus to admit it felt shitty to miss the final game of his high-school career, even if they did win.

Freed had waited for a moment, thinking of what to say. Then, with his thigh resting against Laxus' non-broken leg, he quietly whispered 'I won it for you, you know. Not for the team.' The words were packed with years' worth of friendship and passion, and they were forever imprinted on Laxus' mind.

He'd kissed the man without thinking. Freed had kissed him back.

What followed was a summer of making out, going to the romantic spots around Magnolia under the pretence they were still just friends, and, on the last night before they left for college, they'd slept together for the first time. It had all been incredible.

But the summer had to end, and they could hardly keep going as they had. Magnolia was small, and their friendship was known well enough there for nobody to question how much time they were spending together. Now they lived in different states, a long and expensive train ride away from each other. The making out and the dates and the sex would have to stop, because it didn't make senses for it to continue. All they had left was quiet phone calls late at night where nobody could overhear them talking.

It wasn't perfect, but it was enough for now.

"You, erm, you done many classes yet?" Laxus asked, cringing at the awful question.

"No, they start on Monday," Freed answered, and shifted slightly. Laxus idly wondered if he were in his bed or not. Freed looked good in bed, curled up in a dressing gown with a book. If Laxus was there, he'd content himself by running his hand through his hair. "You?"

"A few taster things, just tryin' to find out what I wanna major in, y'know," Laxus all but scuffed his feet. He hadn't expected this to be this awkward. "Guess you don't have that problem."

"No," Freed agreed. He was training to by a surgeon, Laxus was at college mainly because he didn't know what else to do with his life. "How's your roommate?"

"He's good. A little weird but seems harmless," Laxus glanced at the sleeping man, who was stretched over his bed and drooling. "Seems to be out at parties most nights, so maybe I'll be able to call ya earlier in the night. Not force ya to stay up so late."

"It's worth it," Freed said without missing a beat. "I've missed you, Laxus."

"I missed you too," Laxus whispered.

Neither man spoke for a moment, and Laxus wished he knew what to say. He wished he had a ridiculous story of his fun, interesting college life that he could use to break that layer of awkwardness and entertain Freed with. But he'd done nothing; college was much less interesting than he had been led to believe. He couldn't think of a thing to say, and the electric humming of the phone was getting on his nerves.

Freed must have felt the same way, as Laxus could hear him fidgeting across the phone. Laxus wished he could just pull the man into his arms, as he often had in their quiet nights alone over the summer. But he couldn't. For months, he couldn't.

"It's gonna get easier, ain't it?" Laxus asked. "Doin' this?"

"It will," Freed said, and he sounded sure. "It'll take some time, but it will."

"Fuckin' better," Laxus mumbled more to himself than to Freed.

"It will," Freed repeated. "And thanksgiving is only a few months away, and we'll be able to see each other then."

"Guess so," Laxus nodded, trying to feel encouraged. "You still doing thanksgiving with me and Gramps?"

"If he'll still have me."

"He will," Laxus replied immediately, and then forced a smile onto his face. "And I promise it'll be more successful than last year."

"More successful? Is that possible?" Freed asked sarcastically, and Laxus chuckled.

"You saying that me and Gramps getting into a screaming match, the turkey ending up in the cat's litter tray, the two of us getting covered in cranberry sauce, and the neighbours making a noise complaint wasn't successful?" Laxus scoffed, smiling as he remembered the night the previous year.

He also remembered how, just before Freed drove back to his own home, he'd confessed that it was one of the most enjoyable thanksgiving's he'd had.

"You seem to not realise that, with long hair, pureed cranberries really have a lot of space to hide in," Freed chuckled. "A problem you don't seem to face."

"I'll aim for your face this year then," Laxus grinned.

"That's all I ask," Freed was grinning too, Laxus could hear it in his voice.

The situation wasn't immediately remedied, but they found themselves talking about the ridiculous shared moments they'd endured in Magnolia, and Laxus felt the awkwardness seeping away minute by minute. It was nowhere near as good as driving to the mountains, lying on his car's roof with Freed curled against him, but damn if it wasn't the best couple of hours he'd spent since arriving in Washington.

He didn't remember falling asleep, but he did remember waking up sometime later in the morning. The phone was clutched against his chest, the line dead, and the sunlight was fluttering under the curtains. He smiled privately, and closed his eyes, phone in hand.

---

"Freed, you okay? It's four in the mornin'?

"Hey. You're awake. Hi."

Laxus forced his eyes open, groggy and sleep deprived. He blinked a few times, sitting up. The ringing of the phone he'd just answered seemed to still be blaring in his mind, and the overly loud, inelegant words that his boyfriend had just near yelled into his ears made Laxus wince. It was nearly four thirty in the morning. Why the hell was Freed awake?

"Course I'm awake, phone's fucking loud," He complained, sitting up and leaning against the wall. "Why're you awake?"

"Ever and Mirajane," Freed said, as if that answered anything. Laxus waited a moment before he realised that was all Freed felt he needed to say.

"What about them?"

"I told them that it was my birthday tomorrow – or, well, it's today now, isn't it. But it was tomorrow when I told them. Well, technically it was yesterday when I told them, but in the context of me telling them about my birthday, my birthday was tomorrow, which is now today," Freed spewed the mess of words out, and Laxus could hear him frowning. "They said I needed to go out drinking. They wanted to take me out for my first legal drink."

"Yer turning nineteen, not twenty-one," Laxus deadpanned, though smirked.

"Oh yes, so I am," Freed was frowning. "I broke the law many times tonight then."

"Sounds like it," Laxus chuckled. "You only just gettin' in? It's pretty late. Or early, I guess."

"No, we left the club at about one. We've been in the dorms for a few hours, Cana knows someone who can get us beer cheap, so we kept going. Someone made me brownies, but I wasn't allowed to eat them because apparently they had pot in them, so Mirajane slapped the guy and said she'd report him to campus security because we only found out when Jet and Droy started talking about the walls having a face," Freed laughed heartily, and Laxus smiled, imagining the man's expression as he did so. "Why do people always put weed into brownies? It's so overdone. Why do you never hear of a pot carrot cake or banana loaf?"

"Brownies are easy to make, I guess," Laxus grinned.

This was uncharted territory for Laxus. Freed wasn't exactly a total rule follower, but his parents were strict and so alcohol was something he'd never risked. Laxus had always wondered what a drunk Freed would be like. Apparently, he rambled and was happy. It was a nice side of him to hear.

"You think brownies are harder than a banana cake? You know nothing about baking," Freed laughed at him, and Laxus smirked. "Do I have time to bake a pot filled gateau, do you think? It might make mother's book club interesting at last."

"Don't spike your ma with drugs Freed," Laxus instructed, and Freed laughed.

"Yes, it sounds bad put like that," Freed agreed. He was quiet for a moment, and Laxus heard the sound of something hitting the floor. Perhaps one of his boots, given the clunk. Laxus had become something of an expert at figuring out what Freed was doing by the sounds he made. "It'd serve them right. Rather see you than them."

"Come on Freed," Laxus sighed. "They're your parents, they wanna see you."

"Well they didn't on parents' weekend, or at thanksgiving, so why now?" Freed huffed, fabric shifting now. He was probably getting into bed. "They're taking me to dinner, and I saw the place. It's got five stars, Laxus. That means it'll be stifled and pretentious. They won't know what to say to me, so we'll just eat in silence and we'll all want it to end because we know we don't have anything in common and they're only coming because it'll look bad if they don't," Laxus wished he could deny the claim, but he knew Freed's parents and that was probably true. "Would've rather gotten the train to Washington so I could see you."

"Shouldn't I be coming to yours?" Laxus asked, trying to change the subject to something less maudlin. "It's your birthday."

"You saw my campus when you drove us home," Freed dismissed, and Laxus supposed he had. They'd driven back to Magnolia together for some time alone, as Laxus passed Freed's college on the drive back. "It's my turn to see your place. Your classrooms, your student lounge," He paused, and was clearly smirking when he spoke again. "Your bed."

"My bed, huh?" Laxus smirked. "What were you gonna-"

Laxus would have continued, but an airborne pillow slammed into his face. It took his sleep-lagged brain a moment to understand what had happened, and he slowly looked towards his glaring, very much awake roommate. He probably should have realised that the phone would have woken them both up, not just Laxus.

They looked at each other for a moment, Bickslow unblinking. Laxus wanted to speak, but no words came, and Bickslow was the one to fill the silence.

"Look, you know I'm cool with you two being together. Probably been to more of the marches than either of you two, so be as gay as you wanna be," Bickslow's voice was croaky and hoarse. "But don't phone fuck when I'm in the room. It's just bad manners."

"We weren't gonna-" Laxus cut himself off. He couldn't be sure of his words, so instead he said a guilty, "Sorry."

"Don't worry about it," Bickslow shrugged. "Just give me my pillow back and we'll call it even."

Laxus did as he was told, and Bickslow took it, hooked it around his head so it covered his ears, and turned to lie facing the wall. It was as close to privacy they could get in the small room without either of them leaving, and Laxus appreciated the action. When he spoke again, his voice was more of a gentle whisper.

"You should probably get to sleep," He instructed, and grinned when he heard a yawn overpowering his words. "Make sure you drink water before you crash, okay? And don't bother with yer classes, you'll either still be drunk or too hungover to take anything in."

"Yes, I suppose I will be," Freed agreed. "I'll call you once my parents leave."

"Okay," Laxus nodded. "Happy birthday, baby."

"Thank you," Freed said softly. "Goodnight. Love you."

"Love you too."

Laxus hung up the phone, curled himself back under his covers and closed his eyes. Just as he was about to sleep, he heard the grinning words of his roommate as he said, 'you two are so damn cute.' Laxus' retort of 'fuck you' was only slightly less threatening because of the smile he couldn't shake, and the yawn he couldn't hold back.

---

"Don't talk, I need to say something."

"Laxus? What's wrong?"

Laxus was jittery. He'd been jittery all day. He'd had nervous energy throughout the night, and it kept waking him up and he did whatever he could to get to sleep but nothing had worked, and he'd found himself stressed, awake and jittery. He couldn't stop moving. Couldn't stop bouncing his leg or taping his fingers or flexing his arms because he needed to do something with this energy, but he didn't know what.

At six AM, after a night of awful, interrupted sleep, he'd decided enough was enough. He'd changed into running gear, pulled out his Walkman and stormed from his dorm room. He'd ran for however long, and yet the jitteriness didn't go. If anything, it made things worse.

Calling Freed had been a last resort.

He hadn't returned to campus yet, instead finding a phone booth to climb into. It had started to rain as he'd run, and he was dripping wet as he rang Freed's number. The cold and the wet were the last things on his mind. He just needed to get on the call with Freed, just needed to hear that thing's would be okay and that he was making a big deal out of nothing. Freed was a smart guy, and he wouldn't bullshit Laxus about important things. No; Freed would make things okay.

"Dad's court case was moved forward," Laxus spluttered before he could stop himself.

It was supposed to be in the autumn. It was supposed to be months away. That would give Laxus time to prepare himself, to know what he was going to say. To get out of his own head so that he could focus on taking the bastard to jail. It was not supposed to be next damn week!

Laxus was a character witness. In the trial itself, he wasn't all that important, but he knew that the media would love to know what he thought about his father. Ivan was a well-known businessman, and his scandal had been national news. He'd made many enemies over his years working, and people were relishing in his downfall. Everyone wanted to hear how not only was Ivan a bad businessman, but a bad father too. Laxus wasn't ready for the attention, he wasn't ready for anything.

Freed took a moment to think before he replied.

"Where are you?" He asked. "Are you in your dorm? I can hear the rain."

"Erm, no," Laxus shook his head, looking around. "I'm near a park. Not sure where."

"Right," Freed murmured. "What do you need me to do?"

"I need," Laxus faltered.

He needed to be told that everything was okay. That the court case would just be a single day in his life, and he could get past it and move on. He needed to hear Freed saying that he would get past this, and that his life would return to normal. He needed to see Freed's warm smile, the one he seemed to show only to Laxus. He needed…

"It's nothing. Sorry if I woke you."

"Go back to your dorm, I'll be there as soon as I can."

"What?"

"The trains start running early. I can probably be at yours by ten," Freed mused aloud. "I want you to go back and try to sleep. You mentioned that Bickslow has hypnosis tapes he uses to sleep, borrow one."

"Freed, you don't need to come here," Laxus tried to argue, though he didn't want to. "You don't have the money."

"I'll find it," Freed dismissed. "The next train leaves at seven, I believe. I'll be on it."

"Freed."

"Laxus."

Anyone who thought that Laxus was the more stubborn one out of the two of them clearly didn't know Freed.

"You really don't need to come," Laxus whispered, the rain pounding on the small box he sheltered in. "I'll be fine."

"You deserve to be better than fine, Laxus," Freed whispered back.

Silence hung on the line, and at that moment Laxus' world only persisted of the small phonebooth, the rain clattering down on it, and the man on the other end of the phone. He closed his eyes, clenched them shut, and tried to focus on the soft sound of Freed's breathing. Freed was coming. He was coming to make things better. As much as Laxus wanted to protest more, because Freed couldn't afford it and he was going to miss his classes, he just wanted his boyfriend in his arms. He just wanted him there.

"Are you sure?" He asked in a shaking sob.

"Of course," Freed assured him. "Go back to your room and sleep, I'll be there soon."

Laxus did indeed return to his room. He showered off the rainwater, ignored Bickslow's questions as to what happened, and curled up into bed. The white noise tape that Bickslow gave him cleared his mind, and as he assured himself that the clump of blanket he was clinging to would soon be replaced with Freed, he felt everything become just a little more manageable.

---

Sun hit Laxus' face, a gentle warmth that woke him up. He smiled as it happened.

A roadside motel was hardly the most comfortable place to wake up, but Laxus couldn't think of anywhere better to be at that time. No amount of bitter coffee, cramped showers, awful breakfasts, and itchy sheets would stop that. Not when he was waking up with Freed in his arms.

It was Freed's graduation day, the final nail in the coffin of their shared college experiences. Once today had finished, there would be no more dorm rooms, no more phone calls, no more long distance. They just needed to get through the ceremony, and they would be free to spend as much time as they wanted together, without the looming dread of being split apart by the oncoming semester that had previously seemed ever present.

It was over. They were done with college and free to love each other fully and wholly.

They'd found an apartment they could afford. They'd gotten an odd look when their realter had seen two men wanting to live in a cramped, one bedroom apartment, but they didn't care. Three years split apart was over, and they felt they deserved their own place no matter what other people thought about it. They'd more than paid their dues in being apart; they were owed time, and a home, together.

It worked out well. Freed's career meant he needed to continue studying, and he'd found placement in a hospital on a partial scholarship in New York. Laxus, over his time in college, had decided sports journalism was where his passion lay, and he'd been shortlisted for multiple internships in the city. It was all perfect.

Speaking of perfect, Freed made a small mewling sound as he woke.

"Mornin'," Laxus smiled.

"Morning," Freed croaked. He leant up and pressed his lips against Laxus', resting against his body. "You're awake early."

"Excited to see you get yer degree," Laxus shrugged.

"Excited to see me leaving the dorms, more like," Freed chuckled, resting his head against Laxus' chest.

"Can you blame me?" Laxus asked as he ran a hand down Freed's side and kissed his crown.

"Not at all," Freed hummed, contentedly.

Laxus hummed, watching as the new morning sun filled the room. Flashes of a future where this would be his every morning, where Freed would always fall asleep in his arms and wake up beside him. Freed would be his, and he would be Freed's, as they were always supposed to be.

Their love story was quiet, made up of fleeting moments and late-night phone calls. Not the stuff of fairy tales, but, for them, perfect.