#fairy lights because i have a lot of them and ?! ALSO THIS STORM ack it would be lovely to cozy up against his chest and — and .. and like

[unriding]

COCO ᵒ̴̶̷̥́ ·̫ ᵒ̴̶̷̣̥̀ !!!! YOU — I HAVE NOT ( COHERENTLY ) BEEN ABLE TO RESPOND TO YOUR ASK AND DM YET, LET ALONE SOMETHING AS KIND AS THIS /POS !! um um i have a lot to say, but of course there is no pressure to read it all !!! i have lots of things to say about *you* but let me put those thoughts as a reply to your ask !! this reblog will literally just be me live tagging this as i read it a second time because — the first time i read it, i couldn’t finish it because i started crying so soon !! T T though i am losing my mind trying not to type a book length wall of text about how much i love you and how —

1/2

moevie 𓂃 evie ෆ moze

wee hours in the morn, coddled beneath layers of the storm-sound. the deluge outside, a soft singing hum, thunder creeping through the cracks lining the windowsill. the bedroom is lit dimly only by the warm light of muted fairy lights lining the wall, and a laptop screen. EVIE [sunshine kind, wildly enthused, a loose thread fraying off a sweater hem] sits cross-legged at the foot of the bed, a long-gone-cold mug of tea nestled in her hand. there are faint shadows beneath her eyes, growing ever so slowly by the day. they seep into her chest. 

her lover, MOZE [sun-shadowed, crow-brained, diamond-hearted], a light sleeper, especially so without evie in his arms, stirs awake at a particularly grating clap of thunder and the dull clicks from the laptop keyboard coming from the other side of the bed. 

moze keeps himself hidden for a moment, silently observing evie. the tired slope of her shoulders and the gentle upwards curl she’s trained to keep on her lips. darkly, solemnly, softly… over and over, night after night, it’s exactly this.

MOZE: [voice heady with sleep, and tender, as it always is when speaking to evie] evie. you’re still awake.

evie startles slightly at the unexpected voice, and turns to face her lover with a smile so quick and practiced that it nearly convinces him of its false genuinity. nearly.

EVIE: [hushed, brows pinched apologetically] sorry, did i wake you? there are still a few things for me to do, but i’ll come join you in bed soon!

MOZE: [tilting his head, studying her] it’s nearly 3 o’clock in the morning. you look tired.

moze takes note of how the smile she shares with him doesn’t reach her eyes as it usually does. with a sigh, he sits up from the bed, sheets rustling. the light from the laptop reveals the bout of concern etched into his features. it’s not so easily visible, coming from a man who has also trained himself to keep his countenance a certain way, but evie recognises it instantaneously. her heart patters and aches.

EVIE: [reassuring, giving him a thumbs up] it’s nothing, really! same old college grind, heh.

she watches, a bit dumbfounded as moze swings his legs over the side of the bed and walks around to her side, taking the mug from her hands and placing it atop the dresser on the other side of the room. 

EVIE: [curiously, quirking a brow] oh?

the two share a few blinks, before evie rises from the bed to retrieve her tea. moze is unyielding as he steps in front of her, blocking her path no matter which way she tries to step. she giggles at his behaviour, the sound reaching his heart and coaxing a weak smile unto his own lips.

EVIE: what are you doing? I want my tea, please.

MOZE: [quiet, but firm] what i’m doing is asking you to come to bed.

evie opens her mouth in a gasp, but her protest is swiftly silenced when moze slips the laptop off of her lap and places it out of reach.

MOZE: you’ve been running on empty for weeks.

EVIE: [playfully stern] moze—

MOZE: [gently, a soft command] evie, lie down with me. please.

there’s a look of dreadful love in moze’s eyes, his voice almost a plea. evie hesitates, the innate need to keep moving, keep smiling, keep doing— something, anything, for school, and for the people she holds close. she struggles against the pull of her lover’s words, but ultimately surrenders defeat when he takes her wrist in her hands, grip firm but reassuring. a shadow offering reprieve from the heat of the sun.

and when she wills her smile away into something more vulnerable, sincere… when she allows moze to see the neglected air of exhaustion, of softness, of longing, he can’t help but feel his heart spill open.

MOZE: [tossing the quilt over both his and evie’s bodies, offering her a pillow with the muscle of his arm] i see how hard you try. even when it’s breaking you.

uncharacteristically, she falls silent, unable to find the words to reassure him that she indeed really is fine. but moze sees it all. he feels it all. the silence is deafening. and so he holds her heart like a flower, lest it bloom and collapse, cradling it to his own as it opens up and scoops it out of the dark.

MOZE: [drawing closer, tip of his nose dusting hers in a gentle coax] you can let me take care of you.

EVIE: [weakly, on the verge of tears, a little broken] i’m sorry. i don’t want to be extra weight.

heartbreakingly selfless, and heartachingly concerned about the welfare of others. the perennial woes of a girl who offers up the moon but would never ask for in return. it grinds the gears in moze’s mind, that she gives so freely that it nearly bleeds her dry. he tucks his free arm around her, as if to shield her from not only the world, but her own mind.

MOZE: [resolute] don’t say that.

and he opens his mouth to speak, but promptly purses his lips when he hears a sniffle muffled into the junction of his neck. there will always be other times to remind her of her worth; to not marry it with her success at school, nor the things she can do for others. for now, bit by bit, day by day, he’ll be content being the little crow that picks up the shiny chipped pieces of her heart and fuses it back to its rightful state.

MOZE: [tenderly, voice honeyed, running a soothing palm along her head] rest, evie. close your eyes. even if it’s only for a short while. just…. let the world spin without you for a moment. let me be selfish and keep you to myself.

— happy (very late very belated... so sorry! TT) birthday to my eviepup 🩶 @unriding please think of this as my love letter to you... i know despite all the smiles and laughs you share with us, these months are hard for you... and with school coming up, i know how you tend to wear yourself thin trying to do everything!! so, when that time comes around, i hope you might be able to read this and seek some comfort in it 💌 because you bring all of us A Lot of it < 333 you are cherished by so many! please never forget this ꒰ ˆ ꒵ ˆ꒱ ‧₊˚ 

[starshineskyandthepowerofrock]

The First Step

Part 2 of Starshine, Sky, and the Power of Rock.

Wow. Just... wow. I'm gorgeous. I run my hairbrush through my lavender hair one more time, mostly just to savor the smooth, silky texture under my manicured fingers. Just looking at my hands, you'd never guess they were callused from playing guitar. I close my eyes one at a time, and as I gaze into the wall-sized mirror in my walk-in closet, my glossed lips tug themselves into a little smile, because my cosmetologist really didn't have to go that hard on my lids, but he did. Speaking of my favorite servants, I think my tailors have hit a new high because this dress has a beautifully layered skirt with the perfect amount of poof, and they knew how well midnight blue goes with my tan complexion. I roll my right wrist, something I'm prone to do since the tiny silver bracelet my parents gave me when I first got adopted is a lot tighter on fourteen-year-old me than it was on six-year-old me, but I'm not gonna not wear it! My fuzzy cat ears twitch as I place the finishing touch between them: a gem-encrusted tiara, the center gem of course taking the form of my favorite shape, a star. No points for guessing why that is.

I'm not always this well-dressed... Well, okay, I'm always well-dressed but today especially so because it marks one of the most important days of my life. I'm not supposed to go out there before I'm called, but now that I'm ready, the urge to make a premature entrance is incredibly strong. But I can't do that, it would throw everything off-schedule! So, I'll just have to make do until then. Eight years of being my only consistent friend in this behemoth of a palace has left me really, really good at entertaining myself.

I exit my closet, cross my bedroom, and seat myself at my desk. I open my journal to a fresh page, and close my eyes to sit in my thoughts for a minute, only for a minute to turn into a half-hour, because the palace is moving abnormally fast in order to pick up kids from all over the kingdom in just one day, and the sound of the air rushing by my window is far too interesting. Deciding to write whatever comes to mind, because there's a lot of thoughts right now, I pick up my pencil and get to work. Every few minutes, my stomach drops gently until the distinct thud of the palace's base touching the ground comes. The stream of graphite thoughts pouring onto the paper is stoppered each time, and I stare past the wall in front of me to imagine what the kids from this province will be like. My head turns to the glass double-doors leading to my personal balcony, and I take in the clues as to where I am. Elegant mansions framed by lush plant life signal we've reached Hillside, snowflakes in late summer indicate the Frostlands, streets paved with rock candy mean we've reached Dulcet Falls, and so on. At one point, all I can see is a featureless field, and the rumble of a spaceship landing means the kids from the Lunar Alliance must be here. With each landing, a new burst of voices bubbles up from floors beneath me. My longing to see new faces, finally the same age as me, finally in the same class as me, grows greater and greater each time. I truly can't believe this day will be the day I-

A knock at my door sends my heart into a frenzy. I stand up and snap my journal shut in one move. I take one last look out my window, and see the stormy Isle of Isolation separated from me by miles of shimmering blue ocean, which means we've landed on the East Shore. The kids from Saline Deep are here, and they're last on the list, which means it's time! I stop in front of the mirror for what is supposed to be a quick wrinkle-check on my dress, but I guess I'm a second too long because the servant at my door speaks up.

"Your Highness, ten minutes to showtime."

An involuntary yelp escapes my mouth. "Coming!" I reply, and soon I'm speeding down the spacious halls as fast as my high heels will allow. The next few minutes are a whirl of knots of excitement in my stomach and vocal warm-ups and warm honey-lemon sprayed into my throat at just the right angle as to be effective without making me cough. The music of the Band of Light rolls from the stage, and my heart beats in time with the drums. The first chorus is almost over, and then, just like we practiced... then... then...

"And now, students of the Royal Academy of Rock," the announcer's voice booms, "the moment you've been waiting for..."

Yes...

"The Heir to Light..."

Yes, that's me...

"Your destined savior..."

Yes, yes, yes...

"and your future queen..."

Yes, very accurate, we're so close...

"Her Royal Highness, PRINCESS! STAR! SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINE!"

I bound onstage, right to my designated tape X, and a wave of adoring screams nearly knocks me over. My hips, my arms, my everything moves to the beat. I'm one with the music, analog yet pulsing with electric power. This is the auditory paradise of rock. The lyrics flow from the depths of my belly, clear and controlled. The only thing I'm princess of right now is the stage beneath my decorated feet. My euphoria numbs the pain in my cheeks from endless smiling at my adoring subjects, who, starting tomorrow, will be my adoring classmates. The controlled storm of perfect noise climbs to a glorious climax and falls to silence, which is soon broken by another wave of cheers.

"Hello, everyone!" I mean to say but end up shouting into the mic. More cheers make my heart do a back flip in glee. "I'm... SOOOOO excited to get to meet you all! From now on, I'm your classmate, Star, so let's have an amazing four years and train to OFFICIALLY join the Band of Light!"

The stage melts into fairy dust beneath us. The accompaniment and I are lowered to the floor of the throne room. I curtsy and nod and make joyful greetings my whole way down to the three gem-encrusted thrones on the other side of the stage. My parents are already there, dressed in gowns practically spun from sun and moonlight. My mom, Queen Diamond Shine, smiles serenely at me as I make my way over to them. My mama, Queen Sunshine, rises from the center throne and wraps her arms around me in a delighted hug, which I return. My hands stop at her shoulders as usual, because if they tried to reach her back, they'd run into her golden fairy wings. Her tightly curled, yellow hair is cornrowed on one side and set free on the other and her deep skin sparkles with flecks of gold. She kisses my cheek and we sit down.

"Ohmygoodnessohmygoodnessohmygoodness," I rave to them. "I. Can't. BELIEVE this is happening!"

"Believe it," Mama says. She takes Mom's hand and gives it a squeeze. They exchange proud smiles, which makes my smile only widen.

The announcer next to my throne removes a sizable scroll from his pastel jacket, signaling the First Year Introductions are about to begin. This has happened at every Orientation Day I've been to since my first year as a royal at age six. Every year, I got but a taste of the students of the Academy, because at any other time during the school year we were "distractions to each other," so my contact with them was as limited as possible. But now... now I'm meeting kids I'll know for years to come. I'll grow with them, I'll learn with them, I'll-

"STAR, OH MY GOODNESS, HI!" a certain flame-haired catboy shouts before pulling me into a hug.

Okay, so my friend count isn't zero, stop taking everything so literally. But Citrus was my friend in the orphanage even before I was a princess, so he was an easy one when he started going here last year. But it's been a lot harder to make new friends since I moved to a palace that doesn't stay in one spot for longer than a few days.

"Hi, Citrus!" I say, returning his hug but immediately pulling back. "The Introductions are for first years, and you're a second year."

Citrus' eyes flick from the announcer, who looks a bit miffed that he's been delayed, back to me. He blinks, then smiles. "Oh, you're right, we'll catch up later!"

"Oh, no, don't let me scare you away!" I say. "Here, sit. Help me break the ice." I pat the arm of my throne, which is broad enough for him to sit on. And sit he does.

Most of the kids greet me the way you'd expect people to greet arguably the most famous person alive. High-pitched laughter, clumsy curtsies and bows, not knowing what words are right so settling on not words but incomprehensible wails. They'll get used to me. My joy comes from guessing how they'll be once they've regained the ability to speak. I am able to strike up a couple brief conversations, with help from Citrus, but they are few and far between. Par for the course, all of it, nothing to get upset over.

There are a few things nagging at me through all this, I will admit. See, early on in the long list of first years, the announcer called out an "Ack... dah... ler, Sky...laaar..?" a name that simply did not sound like a name – at least not the kind I was used to hearing – and also a name to which no one responded. I expected the unfortunate bearer of this name to approach timidly, explain that the pronunciation was wrong, and be too embarrassed to ever speak to me again. Instead, no one came, and so Introductions continued. I'd turned to my parents at this moment. Mom was leaning towards Mama, whispering confusedly into her pointed ear. Mama wasn't concerned, though, so neither was I. I haven't forgotten that, though...

The other thing is that, every year, the palace takes off the moment all the students are safely inside. It's usually a big deal. But now that I think of it... I'm compelled to raise to my feet.

"Is something wrong, Star?" Mom asks.

"I'd just like to look out a window for a second," I say. And I go to do just that, with Citrus right behind me.

"What's going on?" Citrus asks.

But I'm already at the nearest window. "I knew it," I say. "What are we still doing on the East Shore?"

Citrus gives a small frown of confusion. "Good question," he says.

With night falling, the Isle of Isolation stands out much clearer as the towns or whatever monsters live in begin to light up. Now I remember why I don't like landing on the East Shore. Those monsters can practically see us from their houses! Just because I was destined to defeat them doesn't mean I'm ready to face them today! I march back to my throne.

"Why are we still on the ground?" I ask my parents.

Mom adopts her serious face. "I've been meaning to ask that question myself," she says, looking at Mama.

Mama inspects her gilded nails. "There's a straggler or two. We can't leave until everyone's here," she says casually.

"Uh, yeah," I say, "But there's a point when a straggler becomes a no-show."

Mama smiles. "Trust me," she says. "Anyone with what it takes to get into here is not a no-show."

Mom raises an eyebrow, but leaves it be. So I do the same.

I've managed to miss a couple letters' worth of surnames during my time away and we're now approaching the G's.

"Oh no," Citrus whispers. "More Glades, I bet."

I flip my hair over my shoulder in disapproval. "Citrus, the Glade bloodline has served the royal family for generations, we can't go disrespecting them like that," I say loudly. Then, I drop my voice to an undertone. "A set of quadruplets came in last year. Why would they want to deal with a fifth one?" We giggle behind our hands.

"Glade, Gossamer!" the announcer shouts.

We stop giggling. Five elf girls, four familiar and one new, sashay my way. Each sports an impressive volume of bouncy forest green ringlets. Breezy, Aspen, Dewdrop, and... ugh... Summer Glade have this new girl flanked on all sides. They're all decked out in typical Hillside flair, with flowing fabric and dainty jewelry and oh, so many flowers. This introduction is supposed to be about Gossamer, mind, but Summer is the one to speak up before this girl so much as opens her mouth.

"This is Gossamer, I'm sure you've heard," she says, placing a ringed hand on her sister's head. "We know she can't technically be in our band, but she's basically going to be with us, so... you know..." She gives me a simpering smile.

I look her up and down, not changing my expression. "What do I know?"

Summer fails to hold back a scoff. "Oh, you know how far back our families go... even if you're adopted... So, why not extend some of that, ah, specialness to our little sister here?"

I raise my eyebrows, as though I only now understand the implications, despite them being the same implications she's been dropping since exactly a year ago when she pulled this exact shtick for herself. "Oh, I see, yes!" I giggle. "Well, Summer, I assure you your sister will be recognized as just as special as you four."

Summer smiles brightly, triumphant.

"...Who are all just as special as everyone else here," I say, unblinking.

Summer's smile decays into a barely concealed scowl. "Okay," she says, and pulls her sister away with the rest of her little crew.

Citrus leans towards me once more. "How can you even stand talking to her? Remember when she dumped chili in my shoes?"

I smooth my skirt, not looking up. "Of course I do. But I'm in school now, and I can deal, honeybun. Stick with me and you'll be fine."

A few more nervous greetings later, and yet another cause for concern arises. This time, a guard comes. He's soaked. I'd hardly realized it's been raining outside. He leans towards Mom and whispers in her ear. If he's only telling her, it must be a safety concern.

Okay, hold on, calm down. Mom will have it taken care of. I avert my eyes from them, trying not to eavesdrop, but the guard has severely underestimated the hearing ability of cat people and I can't help picking up one word: vampire. Citrus heard it too. We look at each other with concern, then both turn to my parents. The guard hands Mom an iridescent envelope. It looks like an acceptance letter to the school. Mom turns it over in her hands, brow knit. She stands, clearly ready for action, but Mama grabs her arm.

"May I see that?" she asks.

Mom hands her the envelope, and Mama inspects it herself. "Describe them," Mama finally says, not looking up.

"Adolescent female. Black cloak. Uh, yay tall," the guard says, gesturing to about the height of his shoulder.

"Does she have albinism?" Mama asks.

The guard blinks confusedly. "Uh, I'm no doctor, but probably?"

Mama smiles. "Oh, it's her!" She scoffs. "And you had me worried! Bring her in."

The guard stares for a moment, then leaves.

This whole conversation makes absolutely no sense to me, but I figure Mama knows what she's doing. Mom, on the other hand, seems apprehensive.

"Why don't I just go check things out real quick?" she asks, gathering her skirts.

"That won't be necessary, Diamond," Mama replies.

Mom hesitates for a moment, but relents. "Okay," she sighs then sits down, leg clearly bouncing beneath her gown.

Everything is seemingly normal for a few moments, but the great doors to the throne room suddenly begin to creak. A sliver of light forms between them as they open, and a cloaked figure stands in the center of the doorway. Beneath the shadowy hood, all I can make out are two glowing pupils, burning white hot. The stranger, trailing rainwater from their worn combat boots, makes their way across the now silent throne room. All eyes are on them as they trudge forward, straight for me. Is this... Is this the vampire they were talking about? But, no, that was impossible because what would a vampire be doing in our school? Plus, vampires have red eyes. These eyes are more of a very pale blue, which I suppose is slightly less unsettling. Nevertheless, I shrink back into my throne until my back is flat against the seat back.

The person now stands before us, not bowing or anything. I turn to Mama. Her smile hasn't faded during all of this.

"Ah, Skylar Acdalur, so glad you could join us. I understand you've had a long journey?" Mama asks, as though this person isn't dripping all over the freshly polished floor.

Skylar, apparently, nods.

Mama takes a quick glance at their cloak before remaking eye contact. "I can have someone take your cloak for you."

Skylar's eyes widen. "Oh!" they say. Skylar quickly removes the tattered cloak, revealing an incredibly pale, skinny girl underneath. And when I say pale, I mean you could lose her in a snowstorm because her skin, her hair, her everything is ghostly white, save her eyes, which are still blue, though no longer glowing. The pointed ears protruding from her messy hair make me initially think her a diseased, abnormally poor elf. But then too many points click. The sunken, glowing eyes... the fact that we're right next to the Isle of Isolation... I look down at her mouth...

Fangs!

[wlwinry]

it’s a wonderful life

hi, @flowerdrunk! im your fma secret santa! heard you liked royai and modern aus, so have some fluffy modern au royai to keep you warm for the holidays. hope you like it!

-------------

There were, Riza reflected, a lot of good things about sharing interests with the person you loved. It made sharing experiences that much easier, and made making connections infinitely easier as well. Hell, she’d only met Roy due to a shared interest in performing, and the rest had followed naturally. Which really meant with only minor difficulty and rom-com level shenanigans, mostly thanks to Jean and Rebecca’s enlistment of two underclassmen in “Operation: JD And Veronica, But Like, Sane”. Things had worked out, though, and their names had become something of a pair in the performance industry. They could talk about nearly anything, watched most of the same shows--it was wonderful, really.

    Though it also meant that things could get…interesting. And a bit tense, because her idiot boyfriend had just watched the entire final episode of Netflix’s The Dragon Prince while she was at rehearsal for the Broadway production of Six. Hours were a bit wacky for both of them, especially given that she was in the final weeks before opening night (Anna of Cleves was an intense character to play, and channeling that much “B.D.E.”, as Ed liked to put it, could be exhausting), so it wasn’t like she hadn’t expected him to watch some of the shows they usually watched together, but--seriously! The finale?

“You’re dead to me,” she said flatly, even as she threw herself down on the couch beside him. Roy, who could be a complete bastard one second and a total sweetheart the next (though most of the time it was some bizarre mix between the two that made people either generally fond of him or as vengeful as Olivier Armstrong), only grinned over at her and threw the electric blanket over her lap. She gave him a grateful look despite her irritation and draped it properly over her lap, relaxing with a sigh as heat soaked into her sore muscles. “I can’t believe you watched it without me!”

He laughed, but squeezed her hand apologetically. She gave him a sharp look, but squeezed back with a huff as he queued it up and waited for it to start. “Sorry. I just had to see what happened with Janai and Amaya--”

“Oh my god, if you spoil it, I will break up with you.” She didn’t mean it, of course, but she couldn’t help shooting him a sharp look. He was snickering behind a hand, eyes bright with glee, and she elbowed him. “Roy.” 

“Riza,” he mimicked, and she reached up to flick his forehead. He yelped and recoiled, before huffing sulkily and slumping back against the couch cushions. “Fine. No spoilers, I promise. Not even about--”

“Roy. Mustang.”

He wilted, grabbing for the bowl of popcorn set haphazardly on the ottoman and nestling it between them--or attempting to, before nearly spilling the bowl with a yelp as Black Hayate sprinted in from the other room with a shrieking, warbling howl, and launched himself into that tiny wedge of space between them. “Ack!” She couldn’t help laughing as the puppy laid his head in her lap, tail thumping on Roy’s leg. He shot her a betrayed look, even as a hand gently scratched at the dog’s head. “He hates me,” he said mournfully.

“He doesn’t hate you,” Riza soothed, patting his hand absently as the recap for the final episode played. The Final Battle, huh? Bit on the nose, though it’ll be interesting to see how they do this… She loved epic battle scenes, whether animated or live-action, in one-on-one or two clashing armies. Roy, she knew, was just in it for the (admittedly cute) romances; for all that he pretended to be charming and clever, he was the biggest, most softhearted romantic she knew. “He just likes me better.”

Roy grumbled wordlessly, even as he slipped an arm around her shoulders. She rested her head on his shoulder absently, wondering when she’d become so used to this affection. Not in a bad way, as though it had gotten old, but to a point where she felt…comfortable. This glowing thing between them, it wasn’t butterflies and fireworks and shooting stars. It was the warmth of a glowing hearth, warm blankets on a winter morning. It was…home.

Roy Mustang was home to her now, and she to him.

It was a strange realization--a good one, but strange all the same. She’d never imagined any of this in her future, even after declaring her major--hadn’t thought twice about walking into that acting course, hadn’t predicted being paired up with another (really, really gorgeous; she’d been forced to admit to herself even then) first-year who had wild, boundless enthusiasm and not a lick of common sense. She hadn’t foreseen herself getting roped into his friend group within the span of two classes, nor how quickly those cheerful acquaintances who couldn’t comprehend personal space would become the strongest, most loyal support network she’d ever had in her life.

She certainly hadn’t thought that she’d wind up getting pushed into trying out for Veronica in their university’s production of Heathers: The Musical. Or that she’d get the part. Or that Roy would be playing opposite her as J.D., or that their chemistry would be so intense that Rebecca and Jean would end up pulling their entire circle into a scheme to get the two of them together.

Or that she’d mean it so much as Riza when she kissed him for the first time, even when she was supposed to be Veronica Sawyer.

It took her another year to realize he’d meant it just enough. From there, things had just…snowballed, from supporting each other through auditions and finals to moving in together in the heart of New York City, to…to dating. From being together to being together, hand in hand, moving forward as friends and colleagues and partners. They could stand apart from each other, but together, they were an overwhelming storm, a force of nature. Dangerous separately, but infinitely stronger when working in tandem.

Her future, when she thought about it so many years ago, hadn’t ever looked like this. Hadn’t looked like music and spotlights and laughter, hadn’t been wild friends and long nights of wandering lamplit streets and singing terrible songs. Hadn’t looked like an apartment with a crappy view covered in fuzzy blankets and fake sheepskin rugs from Pottery Barn catalogues with fairy lights strung over their secondhand TV stand. Hadn’t been coaching a snarky, short-tempered third-year through his Music Theory class over mugs of hot chocolate as he argued with his little brother over what chord progressions they were supposed to use and how to analyze which pieces. 

Hadn’t been this…good, or filled with light and friendship and wonder. Hadn’t really been a life at all, now that she thought about it, had been so much less than the wonderful existence she had now.

She had a part in one of the year’s most anticipated musicals, she’s dating her best friend, and she found family in the place she least expected it. Life was good.

She squeezed Roy’s hand gently. “I love you.”

He glanced sideways at her, before smiling--shockingly sweet, and so beautiful it made her heart hurt. “I love you too.”

So simple, so sweet--and completely, utterly true.

And right here, right now, it was all she really needed.