#including my favorite fruit. i nearly cried

[wilhelmina-murray-harker]

tbh i dont think theres much i could appreciate more than people being cool with my adventures with food and being accommodating and respectful about it

[skellebonez]

You like soulmate aus? 44 with a soulmate au where there are countdown timers for important events and if you concentrate you can see the lifespan of your romantic and platonic soulmates except immortals. MK realizes he can see Red Son's life countdown and he only has 1 year left

ANON I WANT YOU TO KNOW THIS WAS THE SADDEST PROMPT I HAVE EVER BEEN GIVEN AND I HAD TO TAKE IT OUT OF THE WAIT LIST TO FILL IT ASAP. Just. Damn. You came for my heart and crushed it. @kitkat1003 you helped make this sadder so I wanna make sure you see this.

WARNING: I mean, look at the prompt. It's gonna be a depressing read regardless. Read the tags for a major spoiler if you want to know about the end in advance.

The Lunar New Year special is mentioned in passing but NO SPOILERS.

Why are you still awake?

MK never made it a point to concentrate and look at his soulmate timers unless he really felt he had to, tempting as it may have been. Especially not their life countdown timers. The colors one saw differed from from viewer to viewer, some people even saw only one color in varying shades, and no one knew why the colors were chosen the way they were for each individual. But to MK the timers were a whole swath of colors.

It was easy with Mei, her platonic bond with his allowing him to see the bright green (green for all platonic bonds, not just Mei) countdowns to major events (some bad but usually good, like a major race being announced or taking part in a game tournament spontaneously). The familial blue bond he had with Pigsy and Tang went much the same, as well as Sandy's own platonic bond. He didn't learn that immortal beings had their own color, brilliant gold tinted in whatever the proper bond was until he met Sun Wukong, his gold-green timer slowly changing into a gold-blue bond of family found.

It wasn't until Red Son that MK realized his romantic bonds were a brilliant red (which, in retrospect, could have been seen as funny), shining brilliant and bright and almost blinding him when he caught sight of him properly from far above him (and it nearly made him fall before Wukong forced him to, the traitor). He'd mistaken it for some kind of antagonistic bond before he learned that that was also a type of platonic soulmate. So that was something he shoved deep deep deeeeeep down inside to think about later, especially since a lot of people now a days rarely went after their first romantic soulmate and instead waited for a platonic to change in time.

He never told anyone.

It also wasn't until he tested concentrating on timers with Wukong, for fun and out of sheer curiosity if he really was super immortal, that he realized that immortal's life countdown timer just looked like a mass of rapidly changing numbers screaming in confusion and he decided to never do that again.

Until... the Lunar New Year celebration.

He was curious, scared, and Red Son was there and he let his curiosity get the better of him. He wanted to see if Red was still immortal and if his timer did the same thing.

361 days, 17 hours, 8 minutes, and 42 seconds.

That couldn't have been right.

He tried again.

361 days, 17 hours, 7 minutes, and 30 seconds.

And again.

361 days, 16 hours, 56 minutes, and 45 seconds.

And one last time, after everything was over.

361 days, 12 hours, 1 minute, 29 seconds.

Red Son... had less than a year left to live. Red Son, The Boy Sage Prince, the one who almost defeated Sun Wukong on his journey and eternal thorn in his side... was going to die.

MK hadn't ever really imagined that he could die. He had believed that Red Son was immortal, and maybe he still was. There were ways to kill immortals who weren't all powerful Monkey Kings. But he'd always imagined that, maybe, eventually, they could possibly at least work things out and get to know each other eventually after what happened with WBS.

Now he was plagued with the thought 'what if I'm the one who kills him' and he couldn't handle that so he made up his mind then and there and before Red Son could leave he grabbed him by his jacket collar in front of everyone and changed that thought to 'fuck it' and kissed him and pulled away and looked DBK in the eye and announced "I've known Red is my romantic soulmate since day 1 and I am not wasting anymore time with stupid feuds".

Apparently that was just enough to startle the other man into not attacking and to send Sun Wukong into a frenzy of cackling "I KNEW IT"s.

Red Son turned as red as his jacket on his cheeks and just looked at MK in awe. They had-

361 days, 10 hours, 2 minutes, 16 seconds.

Red hadn't left his parents, not immediately, but the sudden relationship that have been revealed between the successor to the Monkey King and the son of the Demon Bull King had forced everything to a standstill. DBK wanted revenge, PIF wanted her husband to be happy, Sun Wukong wanted to be retired, and all three of them were too stubborn to not insist the two men court each other anyway because tradition dictated that when a romantic soulmate pair revealed their bond no one could force them apart.

352 days, 14 hours, 34 minutes, 18 seconds.

MK felt back constantly checking Red Son's timer, but he didn't want to waste a single second. They had less than a year. He'd seen just how smart and resourceful and, as much as he didn't want to admit it at first, protective and caring for the people he had grown close to he was.

By the end of the month they had moved into Red Son's apartment (he had an apartment?).

322 days, 2 hours, 28 minutes, 50 seconds.

MK learned that Red Son was a fantastic chef, on par with Pigsy even. His food was spicy but over time he learned that MK would suffer through food that was hurting him just to try his food and make it less so. Just for him.

315 days, 2 hours, 45 minutes, 34 seconds.

They kissed for the second time well after they had moved in together. Despite rushing into this they had both been too nervous and flustered to do more than hold hands and sleep side by side in different blankets.

They started sharing a blanket by month 2.

292 days, 8 hours, 1 minute, 12 seconds.

DBK was still pissed at Wukong. No one thought his grudge would ever fully disappear. But he and PIF had stopped attacking. For now. For their son. The best thing they had ever done for him was let him be with his soulmate without fighting.

MK never felt more guilty than when he realized he was never going to tell them. He tried once, after they moved in. After he had truly fallen in love with Red Son. He'd cried too hard to get the words out and PIF had looked torn between telling him to leave and comforting him before she put a shockingly gentle hand on his shoulder.

He could never tell them.

267 days, 18 hours, 59 minutes, 2 seconds.

Red got along amazingly well with Mei and Sandy. The three of them together were a mechanical nightmare for anyone on their bad side and the most amazing team for anyone they made anything for. Red was also the new favorite among Sandy's cats. No one was surprised.

He and Red ended up adopting a little one eyed kitten they found outside Pigsy's Noodles. They named her Bao-Bao. They loved her.

245 days, 7 hours, 29 minutes, 34 seconds.

Naturally nothing was going to be calm for the Monkie Kid. Eventually demons far and wide came to attack either him or the city. The only difference was that, now, he had Red Son by his side.

Every time Red took a hit MK felt no fear. He knew that would not be the hit that killed his soulmate. His soulmate had-

208 days, 19 hours, 78 minutes, 21 seconds.

Red and Tang were fast friends. Red and Mei and Sandy were faster. It had taken longer for Pigsy but he came around fast enough.

Sun Wukong, though. Even after 5 months he was still slightly tense and terse and short with Red. But he had been coming around, slowly. Just like with everyone else, Wukong was hard pressed to open up to anyone who wasn't MK.

They visited Flower Fruit Mountain from time to time, and it was one day when Red had wandered off to enjoy the scenery at MK and Wukong had heard the pained screech of a small monkey in the distance.

When they saw Red calming the little one down, tending to it's wound as best he could, MK saw Wukong properly smile at him for the first time. Soon they had-

157 days, 22 hours, 28 minutes, 59 seconds.

There were still fights. DBK and Sun Wukong didn't get along. But things were better.

There were family game nights. Red and Pigsy and Wukong cooked together. Bao-Bao had grown into a beautiful Tortoise Shell cat (with tortitude included). Everyone promised to try to get along and things were going well. Red Son and MK were truly in love, it seemed. At least MK was. He was certain Red was as well.

That's why MK asked him to marry him that night.

Red said yes.

140 days, 19 hours, 34 minutes, 34 seconds.

Was 7 months too fast? Yes. Did MK care? No. Did anyone object?

Only the demons that showed up to fight. They were taken care of quickly. DBK was not entirely happy about how fast things were but for his only son it seemed he would not allow anything to ruin the day.

He'd changed over the 7 months. Not entirely, not enough for MK to completely forgive him for everything since he had awoken. But seeing him punch a demon into the stratosphere for Red Son was a pretty good marker of how much he was trying.

6 days, 37 hours, 8 minutes, 12 seconds.

Everything was amazing for those few months together. They fought demons. They kissed. They spent time with their family. No longer two families but one family.

Then Macaque came back.

MK had thought he was gone for good, he had been so quiet. But apparently he was planning something the whole time.

Something to kill an immortal.

That was when MK learned he was immortal. And wasn't that ironic?

Macaque had meant to stab him. MK didn't move in time.

Red Son jumped in front of him and there was red.

Macaque wasn't seen again after what MK did to him.

They bandaged the small wound in Red Son's shoulder. They would find a way to fix this. They had to. MK knew what would kill Red Son now, it wasn't that he wasn't immortal it was whatever poison had been meant for him. He knew people had beaten death clocks before.

He had to try.

5 days, 12 hours, 29 minutes, 56 seconds.

5 days, 12 hours, 29 minutes, 55 seconds.

5 days, 12 hours,. 29 minutes, 54 seconds.

That was what MK saw when Red Son coughed up blood for the first time.

4 days, 1 hour, 12 minutes, 13 seconds.

Sun Wukong found out where Macaque had gotten the poison.

There was no cure.

Red coughed more red and MK screamed at the Monkey King to look again. Do something. Anything. Anything...

They didn't see him or DBK for over 2 days.

1 day, 17 hours, 34 minutes, 14 seconds.

1 day, 17 hours, 34 minutes, 13 seconds.

MK watched the countdown timer tick down.

"Why are you still awake?" Red Son had asked him as he held his head in his lap.

"I don't want to miss any more seconds with you," MK answered softly.

"Am I going to... die?" Red Son asked softly.

"Not if Monkey King does what I know he can do," MK answered again. "I know he'll be back soon. I know it. I-"

"MK! MK I'M BACK!" Sun Wukong yelled through the apartment, bursting into their room looking disheveled and like he hadn't stopped moving since he left. But smiling. DBK looked much the same as he came through the door behind him.

"I think we found something!"

1 day, 17 hours, 32 minutes, 2 seconds.

MK prayed that Sun Wukong was right. He was Sun Wukong. He had to be.

1 day, 17 hours, 32 minutes... 3 seconds.

[ciggylungz]

Miss Ginger

Miss ginger

Blurb night- 2.5k

(request: can you plz do something about Harry being all soft with his kids?)

 -----

Harry had always been a family man. Ever since he was a little boy he dreamed of having his own family, couple of kids, a nice family home with a big back garden for the little ones to run around in and him and his wife to attempt to grow some fruits and veg and maybe a few sunflowers or daisies. Simple, modest, pure and quaint but most of all, happy.

The day Harry met Y/n he knew she was special. She had this aura that he wanted to wrap himself in like a blanket. A laugh as pretty as song birds in the morning, a heart of gold, quick wit and full of talent. He knew she was going to be his wife someday, and he swears the day she said yes when he got down on one knee his heart grew 3 times its size.

The pair planned their wedding to be an intimate, beautiful event and with the help of Harry’s lovely mother Anne and Y/n’s combined work they were able to pull it off. They had decided to invite their parents and siblings, their closest friends- which included Harry’s former bandmates who made sure to embarrass the newly wed man during their best man speech- and all of Harry’s god children as well as their parents.

Harry wasn’t shy about crying when he saw his bride walk down the isle towards him, her dress was a simple silk fitted gown with delicate trimming of lace. Y/n chose to wear the same pearl earrings her mother had worn at her own wedding and a diamond necklace Anne had gifted her for the occasion. He really couldn’t help the waterworks making their way down his face as he took in her beauty, he stayed weepy through the entirety of their vows a huge smile across his dimpled face when he finally lifted the vail over her head giving her the first kiss as a married couple. She was his, and he was hers and the pair couldn’t be more smitten for each other even as they stand where they are now nearly 4 years into their marriage.

Over the last 4 glorious, joyful years of being fully committed to each other, sharing a surname and living as a unite the pair had welcomed 2 beautiful children into the world. Alfie who was nearly 3, he was conceived only around 6 months into their marriage yet they couldn’t have been more elated to find out they were expecting. The second was their little girl Rosana that they affectionally called by her nickname ‘Rosie’ and she was now coming up on 10 months old, she was starting to become increasingly mobile already such a bubbly happy little girl who had her dad wrapped around her tiny chubby finger.

__

Harry was currently on a break, just finishing his first solo tour finally getting some downtime to be home with his family and he couldn’t be happier. He loved every part of fatherhood, he enjoyed getting up in the morning and starting the little ones routines. First Harry would go downstairs, putting a kettle on while taking some breastmilk y/n had pumped from the fridge to warm up, when both of those were taken care of he’d migrate back upstairs into his sons room where he’d usually find his little guy sitting up in his new big boy toddler bed playing with one of the various stuffed toys on his bed as he waited patiently to be gotten up. Harry adored the way his son would perk up when he walked in, opening the toddlers curtains to let the sunshine in giving him a nice morning cuddle before taking him to the bathroom to change out of his pullup into his new big boy underwear since y/n and Harry are finally reaching the tail end of potty training their first born. It had been a struggle, yet every time their little boy danced around with a sticker on his shirt for going on the potty it was worth every bed wetting incident, and all the terrible two’s tears that came with the teaching. After he had him changed, he tried his best to tame the boys hair. The little tyke inherited his fathers chocolate curls unlike his sister who wore a head full of ginger ringlets.

After all of the hygiene tasks were complete, he’d serve the boy his breakfast, steeping his wife and him a cup of tea using the remaining warm water to heat the breastmilk in for when Rosie decided to greet the day. Harry didn’t mind giving his girl a bottle feed so his wife could get a little extra sleep in the mornings, opting to nurse during the day and before bed pumping whatever’s left to hold Rosie over till her mother wakes up.

Unlike some people, when Harry heard the baby monitor start to go off with the cries Rosie gives when she first wakes up he smiles instead of groans. He didn’t get angry when his kids cried, he was actually good at reading the cry’s instead of getting frustrated which always helped calm it down quickly and his little girl would always have a little cry when she’d wake up and think she’s all alone.

As soon as her daddy opened her nursery door the little girl stood up in her cot, balancing herself by gripping the railing to get a good look at who was coming towards her. once the morning light was shining in from Harry opening her curtains the tears stopped and a sniffling nose and big gummy grin was shining on her face, a contagious smile at that.

“Good morning sunshine!” the man raised his voice a few octaves, a big grin on his face as he picked her up from her bed giving her a nice hug as he swayed back and forth. “Did yeh have a good sleep, miss ginger? You look very beautiful this morning my girl, always take your shirt off when yeh sleep don’t ya’ silly girl? I get it girlfriend, sometimes you gotta let it breathe babe. C’mon think it’s time for a nappy change and a bottle hmm?” the little girl giggled at her father, bouncing in his arms and babbling incoherently whilst her dad cleaned her up and got her ready for her morning feed.

Harry set the baby in her bouncer, putting the milk into her bottle checking the temperature on his wrist before giving it to the still topless baby. It was easier to just leave it off during the morning snack, she was a rather messy little girl since she always wanted to hold her own bottle now often letting it dribble onto her tummy as she removed the nipple from her mouth to babble at her father. She always had a lot to say, even if no one but her knew what she was on about, no one had created a baby talk translation app yet so until then her passionate rants wouldn’t be understood.

Alfie was at an age where he wanted to be independent more, he reminds everyone how he’s a big boy, whenever he puts his own dish in the washer or screws the top onto his sippy cup by himself. Both his parents found it absolutely adorable and humorous as well.

__

When Harry heard the pitter patter of his wife coming down the stairs around 45 minutes after he’d got the kids up, a soft smile etched itself onto his face. He swears every time he sees her, no matter what state she’s in he still finds her breathtakingly gorgeous. Angelic even. Even when he had pulled Alfie out of her as she pushed, he still found her beautiful. Nothing would ever change the love and attraction he felt for his wife.

“Mornin’ love, sleep well?” the man brought his wife into his arms, giving her a warm hug and a kiss on the crown of her head. “Mhm, thank you for gettin’ up with the kids so I could get a few extra minutes of rest. Love yeh h.” she stood on her toes to peck his lips, this far into a relationship and being parents a slightly morning breathy kiss didn’t bother them in the slightest. After you’ve changed some ungodly diapers, smells don’t affect you the same anymore.

“no problem, had an easy morning Alfie was good about brushing his teeth and me and Rosie had a nice cuddle. She woke up shirtless again, I’m starting to get her vibe think I might start just being half naked all the time.” Y/n chuckled at her husband, sipping her tea slowly before responding. “At least it was just her top this time, last week when I got her up she had taken everything off. Had to do an extra load of wash after that one. Silly little girl.”

The couple could fawn over their kids for an infinite amount of time, but a thud from the living room disrupted their banter. The two wore matching raised eyebrows while venturing into the room, being met with the sight of Rosie’s bottle tossed at the wall and the girl herself holding her feet up with her little hands in a split position while still strapped into her bouncer chair.

“Hey missy, throwing things isn’t nice. C’mon time to get dressed, can’t have nakey babies crawling in the garden can we? Neighbors might think we aren’t watchin’ after yeh well enough.” Her mother unstrapped her, bringing her to her chest to kiss her cheeks, her father deciding to chime in, “I think with that chubby tummy and those chunky thighs they’ll know our girl is more than taken care of.”

y/n bounced the baby in her arms, cooing at her and mocking Harry’s words with a baby voiced ‘is that true?! Rosie are you a chunky lady?’ which got them a chorus of baby laughs from the infant.

 Once y/n got both of her little ones changed as well as herself cleaned up and changed for the day, she took them back downstairs where their father was sitting on the couch glancing between his phone and the tv screen as he shoveled some cereal into his mouth.

Alfie made a b-line for his dad, excited to show him the outfit his mother had dressed him in for the day.

“Daddy! Daddy look! I got clothes on, mummy says I look handsome! Look I got turtles on my socks, daddy look!”  the little boy was over the moon about his clothes. Y/n had chosen some toddler size sweatpants, Alfies favorite t-shirt- a Gucci one Harry had got him which his wife thought was insane to dress a messy 3 year old in a 250 pound shirt, but their son loved it because his father wore the same brand- and some socks with little turtles as the print on them. It was going to be a pretty chill day at home so there was no need for fancy clothes.

“Oh my gosh! Bud you look very handsome, look at my dapper boy! Gimme five, big guy” Harry held his palm in the air, his son jumping to smack his much smaller one to his fathers, beaming from all the praise he’d gotten from his doting parents.

When Harry looked over at his wife holding his daughter his smile got even bigger. There stood his beautiful bride, clad in a pair of his black socks she liked to steal, some comfy adidas sweats and a t-shirt Harry had given her years ago. Her hair was in a sloppy bun, lips slightly shiny with some lip balm and only one earring in since Rosie had snatched the other stud from her right ear and tossed it somewhere Y/n too caught up in her children to even remember to take the second one out even after 2 weeks going by now.

His daughter was in a yellow polka dot onesie and her hair was in a little whale spout on the top of her head. His girl’s looked stunning in even the simplest of clothes, they were his angels and he adored them.

“And look at you girls! Little red head, you look dashing in that onesie! Red carpet ready my girl. And you miss yummy mummy, are stunning today. C’mere I want kisses from my ladies don’t be stingy.”

Y/n couldn’t help but laugh at her husband, even when she looked like she lived in a alley behind a gas station he still made a point to make her feel beautiful. Of course, she adored the way her husband talked to their baby girl too, they had a long talk while she was pregnant with her where Harry vowed to always build up their daughter from infancy till the day he died. No matter how old she is, what she was wearing, if she was covered in gunk from the sandbox or in her future prom dress, he promised to always let her know she was beautiful and loved. Harry never wanted his kids to feel any less than supported, validated and loved.

 It was around 1 in the afternoon when Rosie woke up from her first nap, nursing while Y/n and Harry sat together on the couch playing with Alfie and his blocks. The family had a quick bite to eat, hanging out just enjoying each other’s company. Y/n handed their daughter to Harry for him to burp her so she could refill Alfie’s sippy cup and grab both her and Harry some water.

After distributing the beverages she sat on the floor, playing with both her kids and holding Rosie up by her hands so she could dance around in her mothers grip. She loved to dance, she was always on the move crawling full speed everywhere and always squirming whenever she heard her fathers music.

Today the little girl had more in store for her parents, taking them both of them by surprise when she hoisted herself up to cruse holding onto the couch before looking right at her mother suddenly taking her first steps towards her.

Harry and Y/n both gasped, eyes wide and mouths showing huge grins while starting to cheer their baby on waving their hands and praising her whilst the baby took wobbly steps to her mom flopping into her chest before she was lifted in the air and spun around, excited cheers from the entire family as they celebrated her milestone.

“You’re walkin’ now Rosie! My big girl! Oh my gosh I’m so proud of you princess!”

Y/n tossed her into the air gently, catching her then setting her back on her feet letting her walk to her dad who was now in full blown celebration mode hands waving in the air while he cheered. His little girl toddled towards him, squealing as he scooped her up and kissed all over her face.

These were the moments he dreamed about his whole life, and he swears the dream didn’t even compare to the reality now. He’s never been happier.

[thinkingisadangerouspastime]

laughter/joy

Written for Day 1 of @aangweek! Read here on AO3.

~*~

1. laughter/joy - after the fire, new maps are drawn / nothing to cry for, new dreams are born / out of the ruins, flowers will grow / people rebuilding, stone by stone

Aang had been… unusually silent during their first few hours at the temple. Well, maybe ‘unusual’ wasn’t the right word. A heavier gravity to him was to be expected, seeing as the official reconstruction of the Southern Air Temple was set to begin in upcoming weeks. Which meant their group of friends was currently working together to create basic blueprints of different areas. Katara would never have demanded Aang be his normal, talkative self as he combed through the ruins of his home, because spirits was that an unfair standard to hold him to.

Still. That didn’t mean she couldn’t worry.

But how could they cheer him up? Katara didn’t want to make light of the turmoil she was certain he was going through, and yet she also just - she wanted to comfort Aang. See him smile or hear him laugh at least once while they were here. Katara couldn’t bear to watch the invisible load weigh heavier and heavier on his shoulders any longer.

At the moment, they were all mapping out the weakest parts of the temple, since reconstruction would have to begin with those more fragile areas. Toph and Zuko were one group, so Toph could sense the areas of unsteady infrastructure with her earthbending and Zuko could draw it out. Aang had gone with Suki, as he could reference his memory to compare what had changed from the past to the present while Suki marked down the most significant alterations.

Which had left Katara with her brother. For obvious reasons, Sokka would be the one examining the rubble while she would be the one mapping it out.

The work was long and tedious, though it was more painful than it was boring. While a formal ceremony had been provided for the Air Nomads a few weeks earlier at Aang’s request - a way to send their spirits off in the traditional Nomadic manner - every now and then a slab of concrete would be displaced and reveal a set of charred bones. Which only made Katara worry about Aang more. If it was nauseating for her to witness, she couldn’t imagine what the experience was like for him.

“We need to do something for Aang today,” Katara said when they’d all stopped for lunch. Aang had momentarily left to investigate a particular room in the temple, so she’d seized the initiative to launch a let’s-cheer-Aang-up plan. Their group sat in a circle on a small striped blanket, Appa stretched out comfortably behind them. “I - I don’t know what, but there has to be something we can do to help him feel more like himself.”

Suki nodded. “I was thinking the same thing. He seemed so…” She pursed her lips. “I don’t know how to describe it. He wants to restore the temples, and it’s clear he’s happy to finally start, but…” She shook her head. “It’s just hard for him, I think.”

“He barely said a word the whole time we were eating,” Toph pointed out. “I mean, he didn’t even jump in when we started making fun of Zuko.”

Zuko rolled his eyes as everyone snickered. “Normally I’d be offended, but I noticed how quiet he was, too. That’s… unlike him.”

“Okay, so we’ve agreed we need to do something,” Sokka said, crossing his arms over his chest, “which means now we have to figure out what that ‘something’ is in the two minutes we have before Aang gets back.”

Katara grimaced. Her brother made a good point, disheartening as it was to admit. They needed to work fast. “Everyone. Start throwing out ideas!” Even a terrible suggestion was better than none at all.

“Er, we could make fruit pies for him?” Zuko offered, brow furrowing in contemplation.

Katara shook her head. “Not a bad idea, but it would take way too much time. Anything else?”

“Someone could play airball with him,” Suki suggested. “Didn’t you and Sokka do that the first time you visited the temple?”

Katara made a so-so gesture with her right hand. “Sokka did, yes, but I don’t know if it’s worth the risk of him mentally reliving everything about our first visit here.” She hesitated, returning her hand to her lap. “He… found Gyatso’s skeleton that day, too.”

Suki’s eyes widened. “Oh. Understood.”

“Guys!” Toph hissed, her palms flat on the ground. “He’s coming back!”

Katara cursed under her breath. They’d just have to suck it up and put something together for Aang later -

“Wait!” Sokka exclaimed. “I’ve got an idea!”

“Save it for later, Snoozles!” Toph whispered, but Sokka shook his head.

“Trust me! Just follow my lead.”

Katara resisted the urge to drag her palm down the side of her face. Great. Sokka’s ideas more often than not ended in utter disaster. Tui and La, she was begging for this to be the exception.

As Aang returned to their impromptu picnic area, Sokka jumped to his feet to greet him.

“Aang,” he said sternly, placing a hand on his hip, “I am very disappointed in you.” He gestured to the rest of them still sitting on the ground. “In fact, we are all disappointed in you.”

Aang blinked, taken aback. “You - what? Why?”

“Because.” Sokka shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. “How could you not tell us that it was Appa’s birthday?!”

Aang stared at Sokka in total confusion, and Katara didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Of course her brother would come up with something that toed the line of believable and improbable.

“It’s… what?” Aang finally said.

“Appa’s birthday!” Sokka repeated. “C’mon, Aang. Did you really think we wouldn’t find out?”

Katara decided to throw her brother a line. Admittedly, he wasn’t floundering just yet, but she didn’t want to leave him treading water alone. No one could ever say she wasn’t a merciful person. “We had to find out from Appa himself!” she said, standing to move next to the sky bison. She scratched Appa’s cheek. “Isn’t that right, Appa?”

Please play along. Please play along.

Appa gave her a dubious side-eye before roaring, and Aang’s eyes widened.

“I didn’t know you knew your own birthday, buddy!” he exclaimed, airbending over their picnic area to land beside Appa. The breeze blew Katara’s hair back. “I’m sorry!” He gave the sky bison a tight hug. “How can I make it up to you?”

“He, uh, he actually already told us how he wants to celebrate,” Zuko stammered. “He thinks… He thinks we should…”

“Braid flowers in his fur!” Suki finished, and Zuko’s shoulders slumped in relief. “Like - Like when you guys first met those nomads in the… Earth Kingdom, right?”

“Yes, exactly,” Katara confirmed with an aggressive nod. Tui and La, she prayed they weren’t coming off as too emphatic. “And he told us we can - we can make flower crowns for each other, too!”

Out of the corner of her eye, Katara could see Toph pinching the bridge of her nose in exasperation. She couldn’t blame her friend for such a response.

For a moment, Aang didn’t speak, and Katara was terrified their ridiculous ploy would crumble to pieces.

Then he shrugged. “I like flower crowns.”

Katara was barely able to contain her sigh of relief, and she knew her shoulders had visibly dropped at his words. Ah, well. If Aang was suspicious of their rambling, at least he’d decided not to press the issue.

They spent the next half hour collecting flowers from around the Southern Air Temple. There were more than Katara had expected, especially considering the high altitude. She nearly cried tears of joy to see Aang passing through his home with a gentle warmth to his eyes rather than the previous quiet sadness. When they all began braiding Appa’s fur and weaving a rainbow of flowers into them, Aang smiled, too, complimenting his bison about how stylish he’d look when they were done.

There was nothing more beautiful than Aang’s smile.

It didn’t take long for their group to begin reminiscing about different memories with Appa. In honor of his “birthday,” after all.

Toph talked about how the very first time she’d flown on Appa, she’d been certain death was a more pleasurable experience. Suki recounted the story of when she’d found Appa and nursed him back to health, which prompted Zuko to tell the tale of his own Appa rescue mission.

Aang pulled them both into a tight hug before braiding strings of flowers in their hair, too.

Sokka was the one who brought up the cave of two lovers and his experiences of being trapped with the nomads, and Katara couldn’t resist the urge to tease Aang about his ever-so-romantic I’d rather kiss you than die! compliment. That particular story earned laughter from all, Aang included, who made a teasing remark about how clearly it worked before pressing a kiss to the tip of Katara’s nose. She dropped a pink flower crown on his head as he pulled away.

Joy was in the little things, Katara knew. And sometimes, joy was in the things that hurt, that ached, like the ruins of a once-beautiful air temple.

No. It was still beautiful. Because they were here, breathing life into death. Because out of these ruins, flowers were growing. Because out of loss, joy could bloom, too.

Aang laughed at some offhand comment from Sokka, and Katara smiled.

It was their favorite sound.

~*~

honestly this is my least favorite ficlet of what i've written for each day lmfao. but that does mean we can only go up from here! see you tomorrow for day 2 - family/gyatso :)

[ka-za-ri]

Demon Brothers and Mid-Autumn Festival

Happy early 中秋節 !This spawned from me crying over pretty mooncake packaging. And then I fell into a hole of matching the boys to boxes and this Mildy AU stuff happened. Uh... so I know this isn’t the only way to celebrate Mid-Autumn Festival, but it’s mostly based on my experiences and nostalgia. So excuse the super self-indulgence and have fun~ I tried to include links to things that might need some more explaining.

It’s my first time writing headcanons so pls be gentle on me .･ﾟﾟ･(／ω＼)･ﾟﾟ･.

Lucifer

“Mid-autumn festival? I may have heard of this before in passing.” 

“What is this? A Jewelry box?” 

Don’t tell him how long you went looking for the perfect packaging and flavor. 

Doesn’t celebrate the whole week, but will at least sit down with you for a night to share mooncakes

Prefers them without the yolk, but he’s not going to complain if they’re there.

Neatly cuts the mooncake into quarters and has to have it with tea 

Likes the wintermelon filled kind the best. The chewy texture goes better with tea. 

He’ll make an exception for black sesame lotus paste though

Unfortunately too busy to do any sort of moon viewing with you since he’s swamped with paperwork. 

At least he’ll share mooncake and tea with you while he does it 

Keeps the box and actually uses it as a lamp from time to time

You find out he’s using the tins to store wax seals and stamps too

He doesn’t have time for it, but appreciates the small bottle of osmanthus wine you leave at his door at the end of the festival. 

Finds you a month later on the next full moon to sit down and drink it with you. Offer him a Laopo Bing or leftover mooncake to go with it as a snack. (Of course there’s leftover mooncake) 

You share tea and cakes while sitting on a pavilion overlooking a lake. The moon’s reflected on the surface. Lotus flowers are blooming and the sounds of cicadas are in the distance. Wispy clouds float past the full moon but don’t really hinder its brightness. 

He brushes a stray strand of hair out of the way before maybe sneaking in a kiss or two. He’s much more entranced by how you look lit by the moon and not the moon itself.

Mammon

Got gifted a box of them from a designer as a gift after a photoshoot

You may or may not ogle at how pretty the packaging is. He teases you and taunts you with it. Of course they would only gift something so majestic to The Great Mammon. 

Doesn’t bother cutting into them, just eats them like a cookie 

Until he gets to the yolk 

“The heck is this? Who puts salted egg yolks into a sweet thing?” 

Looks up how much the mooncake box from a designer might sell for. 

So many gifted mooncakes

But he doesn’t eat any, unless you show interest in them. 

You find chocolate flavored ones among all the boxes 

Still doesn’t cut the mooncake up, but at least there’s enough to share. He’s less traumatized now that he’s had one that doesn’t have yolks in it. 

Spends the rest of the night sampling all of the weird ‘haute couture’ flavors of the year. 

The strangest one is the truffle and ham flavored one. 

He nearly spits that one in your face

Both of you are rushing to the kitchen to find something to wash away that taste. 

Thankfully there’s the bottle of Osmanthus wine you’ve saved for this occasion

He takes a giant gulp and nearly gags at how strong it is. 

Now you have a partially tipsy Mammon on your hands. 

Take him out on a long moonlit walk to get him sober. 

The air is crisp, the moon is bright, the leaves are just starting to turn color. There’s just a hint of dampness in the air but it’s refreshing. He takes your hand as you’re walking to make sure you don’t wander off. 

Ends the night kissing your forehead and thanking you for sharing so many memories with him this year. 

Doesn’t try to keep any of the boxes and tries to sell them all off if he can unless you find one that catches your fancy, then he’ll just give that one to you.

Leviathan

“Oh my gosh, it’s the Super Rare Limited Edition Ruri-Chan as Chang’e mooncake box?!?!?!?!?!?!” 

He doesn’t care what the flavor is. It’s Ruri-chan

Takes more care of the box than he does the actual mooncake. 

Prefers the small custard filled/lava ones 

They’re easier for snacking while he’s prepping for a raid. 

Raids don’t stop for holidays. Gaming must continue

Invites you to join him one night and gifts you the limited equipment from the current Mid-Autumn festival event in game. 

“It’ll look cuter on your character than mine.” Don’t question him on how long it took him to farm that gear. 

You end up playing games with him all night long and forget to watch the moon. 

Instead, the two of you decide to just watch the sun rise while snacking on the last of the cakes. 

Tea is in order, those things got really sweet really fast. 

The two of you are so loopy from staying up all night, you giggle at the dumbest things as you’re trying to sneak into the kitchen to get something to drink. 

“How long did you wait in line for that box?” 

Don’t tell him you just pre-ordered it like a normal person would. “Oh, maybe a few hours.” 

“Well, I guess I owe you a few hours of time as a thank you.” 

You nearly forget that tea’s done and almost wake up the house from the whistling kettle. Worth it for all the kisses you got in between that time though. 

Satan

“Oh yes, of course I’m familiar with the festival. I’ve read all about it.” 

He’s rather fascinated with how ornate the packaging can get for some sweets. “What’s so special about them?” 

Red bean paste with the yolk 

Cuts the mooncake into six 

Lets you eat on the bed as long as you make sure you don’t get crumbs anywhere. 

His room literally has the best view of the moon. It’s mandatory that you watch it from there.

Lets you gaze at the moon from his bed while he reads. 

Until you interrupt him and start reciting  Li Bai’s Quiet Night Thought. Mostly it’s to yourself out of homesickness

Moonlight before my bed/ Perhaps frost on the ground/ Lift my head and see the moon/ Lower my head and I miss my home. 

And then you start reciting “Drinking Alone Under The Moon” 

You really start drinking and living the drunken poet life. 

“You know, you’re not alone though.” 

He finally puts the book aside and joins you to watch the moon and listen to you recite poetry for hours on end. 

Asks you about Chang’e and listens as you drunkenly ramble off her story all the while nibbling on pieces of mooncake. He offers you the occasional piece so you’re not drinking so much on an empty stomach. 

Keeps the box and the tins but has no idea what to put in them so they end up gathering dust in the room until one day he needs something to put spell components in and he remembers it exists. 

Spends the week watching the moon and listening to you recite poetry or tell fairy stories. 

Often falls asleep in your lap, a half eaten piece of mooncake in hand.

Invites you over for moonviewings even after the festival.

Asmodeus

He can't tell if he should be more impressed by the packaging or by the cake designs. 

Snowskin mooncakes become his favorite

Rose and lychee flavors are preferred

He adores how pretty crystal mooncakes are as well

Absolutely no yolks please 

Refuses to watch the moon with you. Staying up late will ruin his skin care routine 

He will day drink the osmanthus wine you’ve save to go with the mooncakes while you watch operas

It sounds weird to him at first, but the makeup and the costumes draw him in. 

Cries at the end of Farewell My Concubine 

You end up spending hours telling him about the Four Beauties and China’s Four Most Handsome Men 

He’s upset that all of the stories end in tragedy

You try to cheer him up by going to a local festival and watch the lanterns and other festivities 

Gets super invested in lantern making and spends hours learning how to make one to hang up in his room.

While he’s gone, go buy him some Tanghulu Not only can he appreciate the bright red hawthorns, but they’re a delicious snack on the go while you let him explore the whole festival.

The two of you spend hours looking at cute packaging for mooncakes and buying them back for the others. He’s happiest with the one you gifted him though. 

Okay, maybe he can stay up late to look at the moon just this once. 

Take a small picnic to a grassy hill somewhere so you can admire the moon in its full glory. Most of the snacks are rice cakes and fruit and of course more moonakes. (Seriously, there’s so much mooncake)

He knows he’s supposed to be watching the moon, but he finds it easier and better to watch you instead. You’re just as ethereal as Chang’e in the silvery light of the night. 

Definitely keeps the mooncake box and uses it to hold parts of his makeup collection. It fits right into his room decor.

Beelzebub

You get him the biggest box with the most variety that you can find so he can try as many flavors as possible. 

He ends up liking the kind that tastes like Gai Zhai Beng (Sorry, I don’t know what this is in English?) with all the nuts the most since they’re the heartiest. 

Actually, he likes all of the more savory ones

If it’s sweet, it should have yolks. Four of them if they have those, if not, he’ll settle with the Cantonese style with two yolks.  

You take him to the festivals so he can try even more flavors

The best part is that you get to try them as well. He offers you at least a bite before downing the rest of the mooncake. 

Do the two of you go around eating everything until you feel like you’re about to burst? Absolutely. 

If you can’t see anything that’s going on during the performances at the festival, he’ll lift you onto his shoulder to get a better view. 

With how much time you spend at the festival and how much you’ve eaten, you don’t know if you can stay up late to watch the moon like you want to. 

He lets you piggyback on the walk home 

The sound of a pipa song from the festival echoes in your brain and you hum the song while half asleep on the way home. He gets it stuck in his head for the next month and a half. 

Worth it though, it means he’s reminded of the great time he had with you and all the food he got to try. 

Now he’s constantly asking you if you can make him mooncakes. 

Literally forgets the box and tins exist until he’s cleaning out his room for hidden snacks months later. 

Almost forgot about the osmanthus wine you gifted him as well. He hits you up on the next full moon to drink it while eating snacks and you get to tell him about all the legends behind the foods he’s eaten. 

“Next time, I’ll make you Crossing the Bridge Noodles.” 

“What’s the story behind that?” 

“I’ll tell you when I make them.” 

“Is that a promise?” 

“Of course.” 

Belphegor

Thinks a fairy must have visited him in his dreams when he rolls over and finds the box of mooncakes next to his pillow

Sleeps all day so he can watch the moon all night with you. 

Expect tons of cuddles while doing that

Find out when he’s halfway through eating the box that he prefers tang yuan over mooncakes

He covets the box you gave him regardless

Maybe you make the tang yuan with a little extra ginger to spite him

Too bad for you, he prefers it that way. 

Convinces you that the gardens is the best place for moon viewing 

He’s right since there’s an osmanthus tree there and it smells absolutely amazing this time of the year. 

His favorite dessert is pretty much impossible to transport, so he’ll have to deal with what you brought. 

Ends up quite liking sachima but not jin dui 

Beel drank the last of your celebratory osmanthus wine, it’s time to break out the baijiu

It takes only a few sip of this to have you both tipsy and slurring superlatives at the moon. 

“She’s just so beautiful. Look at her. So radiant and glowing and just the most magnificent isn’t she?” 

“I can’t tell if you’re describing the moon or if you’re describing yourself.” 

“The moon. Of course. She’s so beautiful that poems are written about her for thousands of years.” 

“I could do that for you too you know…” 

The two of you end up falling asleep in the garden under the tree. By the time you two wake up, you’re both covered in the tiny fragrant blossoms 

Take some back with you to make cakes and maybe some more wine to remind you of the lovely night you had. 

[bamboolan]

Can you make Bucci gang and La Squadra headcannons for playing Animal Crossing + bonus for s/o included

i didn’t expect this one to be one of my first requests but either way i really like the concept of it. i saw a lot of jojo x acnh art on instagram it was so beautiful i almost cried <3

pairing: reader x bruno, giorno, narancia, mista, fugo, abbacchio, risotto, melone, illuso, ghiaccio, pesci, prosciutto, and formaggio (all seperately)

warning(s): none

Bruno:

Would at first be really confused on why his s/o would want him to play

But after playing the game himself, it's not that hard to understand and he finds himself quickly enjoying it

Would always keep his island open for his s/o and often visits his s/o at their own island

He doesn't really mind what villagers he gets. If he likes the villager's personality, they're staying

He'd give Bucci gang and his s/o what they might need or any extra things he doesn't need himself (like diys, flooring, walls, and fossils)

He can often be found fishing at his beaches

Giorno:

Would go literally broke by trying to buy out Lief's entire stock

Instead of actually being focused on the actual game, you can find him planting entirety of orchards and planting the plants he got from Lief

If his s/o invites him to their island, if they have fruits or flowers Giorno doesn't have yet, he will shake the tree for them and dig up the flowers

Would go to their s/o's island and plant and water the flowers all for free

He's really busy so he doesn't play as often as he wants to

Narancia:

Would go poor very quickly

Would probably have been the one to suggest the game because he liked how the animals looked

He wouldn't understand the island and star-rating concept for a while

His favorite villager is Tangy for obvious reasons

He started playing the game once he saw her, he thought she was super cute

Would grind to have Tangy

He would visit his s/o often to drop flowers off for them and use the joy emote

Animal crossing dates.

Fugo:

When he first heard of it he thought it was a waste of time

He gets very angry at Tom Nook around the 3rd house payment

Like he will barge into the either tent just to wack Tom Nook with an axe

All you would hear is him spamming "A"

If he finds pretty clothes in animal crossing he'll give them to his s/o

Would actually lose it if he got a sea bass one more time

He thinks Merengue's horn is really cute

Abbacchio:

When brought up the first time he would actually downright refuse

He's interested in the game but he doesn't know how to feel about playing a game with cute animals

Probably listened to Fugo yelling about how horrible Tom Nook was and probably got concerned

Once his s/o asks him enough, he'll cave and buy the game to play it

Immediately understands why Fugo hates Tom Nook but he wouldn't particularly get mad at him

Would pay all of his debts first because he feels bad if he doesn't pay them

Would frequently go to their s/o's island just to take pictutes of you together

Mista:

Immediately starts playing the game when their s/o first brings up the idea

He's down for pretty much anything

He has a bigger house but pretty much avoids paying his bills

Tax evation

Hates how expensive the fancier bridges and inclines are and how he can't avoid paying it

Would put landmines all over his island and tell you they're just fossils once he unlocks the laugh emote - just to laugh

Goes crazy over turnips and probably buys as much as he possibly can

Will not time travel because he doesnt want to hurt his turnips

Risotto:

Very busy so he doesn't play it often

He thinks the animals are cute and he pays his taxes because either way, he wants a bigger and fancier house

His villager's houses are all crowded together so when he checks if they're crafting he doesn't have to walk around the entire map

Would not admit this, but he finds Zipper disturbing

Would spin around their s/o like a maniac to get them to follow him to this new thing he made

Would make a cafe and then invite you to it for a date

Melone:

Is in nearly every single animal crossing: new horizons discord

An active seller on Nookazon

Literally grinds to get a double bed or a double bed diy recipe so he can invite his s/o to sleep with him

Would sell villagers if they can be sold he doesn't particularly care about any

But if his s/o wants a specific villager he will try his best to provide it

If he gets Raymond and his s/o wants him he will give Raymond to his s/o

If not, he will probably sell Raymond for a ridiculously high price

Formaggio:

Doesn't like how there isn't any alcohol in the game

Would be the person to eat pears and hit rocks with it and not understand why the rock broke

Would go to his s/o's island for supplies

Would give you things in the game that he thinks you'll like

His island's a complete mess

Would make a whole flower orchard just so the two of you can water flowers together

Their s/o would probably have a more organized island and he'd feel really proud of them

Illuso:

His house and room in general have a lot of mirrors

He would put mirrors all over his island too like a random cliff or on the beach for no reason at all whatsoever

If his s/o unlocked Able's he would literally not leave their island

Would put random mirrors in other islands he goes to that aren't mystery islands

Would actively be searching for any tarantulas for money

Probably still has the tent because he doesn't want to pay the debt for it

But then he starts paying the debts once he finds out he can put more mirrors everywhere

Would give his villagers mirrors as a gift

Prosciutto:

Would downright not play but after being asked by Pesci and his s/o enough he would begrudgingly start playing

Would probably ask Melone about the game so he gets more educated about it because he doesn't want to have to ask Pesci or his s/o for help

His animal crossing character looks exactly like him

Most likely paid Pesci to custom design his suits and other stuff to make sure it looks like him

Would send his s/o and Pesci a letter every day

If he likes the art he'll buy it - counterfeit or not

Pesci:

Almost cried when Redd called him cousin and started giving him discounts

He tries to make sure he never gets counterfeit art so he can give it to the museum because he doesn't want to see a haunted statue or painting

Would be nice to all his villagers and wouldn't kick anyone out

He would put a lot of effort in trying to make his island reach the 5-star rating

If asked, would water their s/o's or Prosciutto's flowers for them

Would probably still do so even if he wasn't asked

Would put a lot of effort into making a flag and his own custom designs for paths

Ghiaccio:

Would start screaming and losing it if he finds out Redd gave him fake art

Would let their s/o take anything from his island even without permission

Doesn't fish often so his aquarium will probably be super empty

Took a while to understand how fishing worked and most definitely starting screaming when he couldn't catch the fish

Would probably fight the rest of La Squadra about the game - Risotto because he extremely respects his capo

Would start screaming angrily if Snowboy melts but he's actually just super sad Snowboy melted

Would invite his s/o to shooting star dates

[coffeebeannate]

Taken from @werebearbearbar

Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 5 favorite works (fics, art, edits, etc.) you’ve created this year and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you’ve brought into the world in  2020. If you don’t have five published works, that’s fine! Include ideas/drafts/whatever you like that you’ve worked on/thought about, and talk a little about them instead! Remember, this is all about self-love and positive enthusiasm, so fuck the rules if you need to. Have fun, and tag as many fellow creators as you like so they can share the love! <3

I started writing fic years and years ago. And have done so in other fandoms before taking a long hiatus from the writing world in general. I stuck with written roleplay only. For  what I assume to be around four or five years, I did not write a single fic. (I also wrote short stories in childhood, teen years and young adult years)

(I want to point out though that this absolutely does not negate roleplay writing, and that writing with another person, or in a group is a lesser form) My break from fanfic came with one of the worst periods of my mental and physical health, and everything I had written was purged from my Ao3 account in a single night.

I started writing for The Old Guard in August, and below, are the things I like a lot that I’ve written for it. To do this, I decided to use the criteria of ‘fics I like the most’ instead of what seems to be the most popular to read. For me, if I really love a piece of work, I recall the creative process fondly, and have lines and bits of dialogue I truly adore within it.

1. Precision Mission Fic. Gala. Post-Movie. Current Group (Nile, Andy, Joe, NIcky)

Rated  M (Mature) 4846 words

My second fic for the fandom that I published, but the first I actually conceptualized. This one is just..so special to me. I have phone notes typed at five am. I can recall the excitement as I was so eager to share this story and get it off the ground. I wanted to see this complete so bad. I loved nearly every second of writing it, and it’s always going to hold a special place in my heart as a result. There’s so much overdone clothing talk and I can only think of it with fondness. 

Excerpt:

None of them are comfortable. Except Joe, it seems.

Joe makes it look easy. Simplistic, even, judging by the way he effortlessly glides and charms his way through the expansive ball/congregating/entertaining room. Something that never failed to fascinate Nicky was the way Joe could integrate himself almost seamlessly into any scenario, situation, or environment. Neither Andy nor himself had that ability. Not when it came to cavorting, anyway. Nicky more quietly reserved, Andy lacking in the ability to care enough to fake it.

Nile seemed to be more in the middle. She did not appear overly comfortable with the mingling, but she had enough personal grace and adaptability to make it seem somewhat effortless to have a decent time.

All their eyes remained sharp on the surrounding area, awaiting the arrival of their target. And for all his schmoozing, Nicky knew Joe’s surveillance was tack-sharp, multitasking to a degree no one he was currently conversing with could have possibly noticed.

“You going to move at some point, or have you taken up permanent resident status here?” Nile asks, appearing at his side where Nicky has spent the last half-hour molded to the furthest left corner of the solid black bar. “I know you have an excellent view, but.”

Nicky snorted, though only Nile could actually tell, “Why waste a good opportunity?”, momentarily ceasing his Joe watching to stare back into the depths of his glass, which currently contained some horrifically shocking pink abomination, Nicky’s second drink, since he was letting the bar tender dictate them, too utterly distracted to care what was touching his lips, and curious with the way the bar tender had delighted in being given free reign to make whatever he desired.

To be fair, it didn’t taste that bad-something frighteningly sugary and weirdly noxious smelling, but it’s not exactly ‘crime against humanity’ levels of alcoholic nightmares.

--

2. Old

Post-movie. Current Group. (Andy, Nile, Joe, Nicky) Mortal Andy. Character study.

Rated T (Teen and Up Audiences), 2903 words.

My first attempt at Andy-centric writing. Andy is a character I consider a challenge to write, and that makes me want to write her more. This fic centers mostly around her and the others trying to come to terms with how much has happened, within day to day life and taking the comfort that they can in one another.

I really like this fic. A lot. Sure it’s short. Sure maybe not much happens, but Andy’s character fascinates me, as does her relationship with her family.

Excerpt:

Old.

Old

Old

So motherfucking old.

Someone is calling out to her, her hearing and senses long fine-tuned to knowing. It’s Nicky- she can easily pretend she can’t hear him, he knows when she doesn’t want to talk to anyone, after all.

She’s being petty, and she knows it’s unfair. That the nearly untouched plate and nights spent not sleeping gives them reason to be at her. But facing them with that fact feels about as ideal as jumping into a flaming volcano right about now. They’re just worried. It makes her stomach turn, sour and vicious. Venom in the gut, acid in the heart.

Said volcano would be kinder.

--

3. Spice it Up (Or Not)

Joe and Nicky. Pre-Movie. Fluffy Lovings

Rated: E (Explicit) 3030 words

This one was just fun. I am such a sucker for banting, and the most established of established relationships that Nicky and Joe have going on. This one is indeed not safe for work, and honestly, the opening paragraphs are what came first, and I actually had to build the story around it.

Something that I think makes this fic fun to me as well is that, just because something that sounded like a good idea fails, it doesn’t make it an ending. Healthy communication, knowing each other..it’s so blissful to think about.

Things aren’t always perfect, but that’s okay. And it’s not always a threat. Oh and because this is me, what was supposed to be fairly light hearted gets all sappy and reflective mid-way.

Excerpt:

He knows Nicky in every way. He knows his scent from battle, from sex, from showers and from sleep. He knows his eyes in darkness, in light, in dread, excitement and worry. He knows his grief, his love, his sadness, and adoration. Excitement, passion, fear, and pain.

He could count each tear that Nicky has shed, could recall each tone of his voice in every language they know. From the first he heard to the current. The sweet harmony of song and the rough gasp of drunk intoxication. He’s heard him yell, heard him scream. Heard his shouts and his cries.

He knows how Nicky tends to favour his left shoulder even though there’s no reason beyond psychological to do so. A spot Joe stabbed so long ago. So far back in another life. He knows how he likes to pause and do surveillance before they enter any new location. Knows he likes vehicles that move fast and has a fondness for roller coasters.

He’s seen those hands, so large and skilled break bone, wield a sword and cut vegetables and fruit. Seen them card through his hair, felt them map out each knot and ridge in his spine and ribs, felt them so deep inside himself he can taste it. Rolling into it. Demanding, needing.

“Yusuf.” Nicky’s not calling him back, Nicky’s just as far gone. So often they seem to share thoughts.

Nicky knows Joe in all ways and more. Knows that Joe still sometimes seems to speak ancient by-gone languages in his sleep. Knows that he tends to carry the strongest personal scent in the dead of night. That no shower, no soap, no life experience or battle has truly ever masked the delightful musk he has to himself. There could be a cologne out there that would modify it, and Nicky would bite and lick it away. Demanding and asking, why take this from me? How dare you try to alter what I know and love so furiously?

--

4. Touch Before Heart

Historical Kaysanova. Early Years. Pre-Movie. Getting to Know Eachother.

Rated E (Explicit) 5030 words

As is pretty obvious by now, I write a LOT of early years Kaysanova. A lot. I am addicted to it.

This one..I love it. This might be one of my favourite pieces of writing of all time. If I was doing these numbers strictly in order preference, then I’d put it as number one I bet.

I think the summary I made for it sums up well just how much I love it. And maybe why.

The first moment they’re able to have a bath, they resolutely do not look at each other. Picking opposite ends of the small stream bed, backs turned to one another. A strange show of both trust and distrust; their backs were exposed, but it was up to their tentative mutual agreement to not partake in the opportunity to stab each other for it.

The..idea that they had so much to learn, so much to understand. So much confusion, anger mistrust..I just really really adore this fic and I think I did a good  job with it.

Excerpt:

He curses in unison with Nicolò, both holding fast and steady as the thing finally rights itself, Nicolò letting out a slow, shaken breath of relief.

“Are you alright?” Yusuf asks, both to break the silence and mend the irritating gap they’ve created for themselves.

“Better. Thank you.”

Yusuf wants to scream.

He wants to grab Nicolò, shake him until he can do nothing but give him answers.

Why do you drive me to the brink of madness?

Why do I know your touch, but not your heart?

Why do you tempt me, consume me?

What does it mean?

Why are we here?

Why!?

It is an unfair desire; he’s hardly given the man any more clarity.

--

5. Curated

Post-Movie. Current Group (Nile, Andy, Joe, Nicky)

Rated G (General Audiences) 1807 words

Alright, I admit it, I had trouble picking number five. I picked Curated because it’s just..so fluffy. But it’s so sweet I always feel so sugary when I think of it. The softness that I tried to convey, and I think I succeeded.

Nile is another character that fascinates me, that  I just do not explore enough, and this is all the comforting goodness I could ever hope to create.

Excerpt: 

She’s grown used to the easy intimacy they all share, but the sight before her, Nicky’s eyes half-lidded, face a perfect serenity she rarely see’s on it, Joe lost, far-away in reciting but still wholly present, creates an odd, near-throbbing ache in her chest. Something powerful and raw. It’s hard to imagine that people who have been alive this long can be this content.

Everything they’ve seen, experienced and done. All the stories they’ve regaled her with. All the prep, the anxieties, the concerns, and curiosities. None of it seems to exist in these moments. Joe speaking in a language the world might think dead, the true master of softness within the room.

--

And there we have it! I have so much more I want to write, I have so much more I want to explore, and I thank you all for sharing in these journey’s with me. May there be more writing in our future!

[cecilspeaks]

166 - Delta

The stars tell us our future. They’re rarely correct, but yet there they are, blathering on night after night. Welcome to Night Vale.

At the foot of a sandy hill, a woman explains to her son what a flower is. She’s pointing at an orange starburst atop a squat bulbous cactus. She says: “Flowers are beautiful, aren’t they?” I cannot hear what her son says. She answers: “Because bees like beautiful things and flowers want the bees to take their pollen, that little bit of yellow powder, right down there inside, and give it to other plants, so they can grow up and be beautiful too.” There’s a long pause. Then she says: “Nature wants to make more and more beauty all the time. That’s all it wants to do. If it is not beautiful, it cannot live.” She’s upset at her son’s next question. “Humans wish to make beauty too, but not for nature,” she snaps. “They want computers and airplanes and factories, oh Benny, don’t touch.” She sighs. Then she says: “The cactus hurt you, didn’t it? The cactus knows you’re human and it does not want you to watch it, and now it has let you know that, you won’t touch it again, will you? No Benny, you won’t.”

Underneath the scant shade of a dilapidated wing of an MD-90 aircraft, a middle aged man tells another middle aged man about a time he went to New Orleans. He thought the French Quarter was too crowded and the jazz scene overrated, so he drove east along the upper neck of the Mississippi Delta to a Swapshack, where he paid a man 50 dollars to take him on a hovercraft to look at alligators. “Such majestic and hideous creatures,” the middle aged man says to the other. “You know, when I was little, I cried thinking about how I would never see a real live dinosaur. All the world had left were bones. But right there in southern Louisiana lay dozens of living dinosaurs. It’s an extraordinary world when you finally realize that all life is magic,” he says. The other middle aged man had heard the story dozens of times, but still he replies: “I hear you, I hear you.”

A young woman thinks about a job interview she never attended. She is happy without that job, yet she feels regret for what could have been. “I cannot imagine myself behind a desk making spreadsheets and memos,” she says to no one. “But I cannot imagine a 5-dimensional horse, nor the width of the void, nor the language of whales. I cannot imagine a lot of things but the pay, the pay would have been pretty good.”

Behind a blighted Palo Verde Tree, hidden between lush acacia shrubs, two teenaged boys kiss for the 50th time or so. It is brief, as one stops to look around, on alert for overbearing parents. They kiss for the 51st time or so and then laugh. Their fingers clumsily fumbling over each other, trying to decide on the perfect grip, the perfect touch. They melt like marshmallows in the flame of inexperienced joy. This moment in their lives is as pure and powerful as they have ever felt and may ever feel again.

My mind is crowded with voices, with people living their lives all day listeners. these are the stories, they are eating fruit and playing cards. They are arguing about who said what and when. They are meditating and conversing, retelling old shows and books they remember from when they had such things. A copy of Tina Fey’s memoir “Bossy Pants” was found in  a suitcase seven years ago, and everyone in the group has read it at least once. Someone mutters that they used to have a copy of Karen Russel’s “Swamplandia!”. It was in her purse when they landed here, but someone won’t own up to stealing it. another says the book might have been used to make a fire one night, because whoever made the fire might have thought the owner was done reading it, hypothetically.

It’s been several days since the voices came into my head, and at first it was new and interesting, but already I have grown tired of it. I do not know how Amelia Anna Alfaro lived her whole life with these sounds in her mind. It’s unceasing and I’ve not gotten much sleep. The teenage lovers sneak away each night to hold hands and talk big dreams underneath the moon. It’s sweet and romantic, but at 2 AM, give it a rest boys! I could try to talk back, but none of the voices can hear me. It’s like asking the rain to return to its cloud. But when I talk to Carlos, the voices go way. Thankfully I have my greatest peace when I’m with my favorite person. I can’t keep Carlos awake at all hours or have him skip work to be with me, so I have to learn to make peace with the voices, as they are noisy but permanent room mates in my brain now.

I do have news to report, but it’s mostly stuff you already know about. The high school basketball team has tryouts on Saturday. The library is doing open mic poetry nights on Tuesdays at 7, and we all know it’s a trap. Don’t do it unless you’re well armed. And the Opera House is extending its run of Verdi’s “2 Fast 2 Furious”, starring Renée Fleming, through the end of the month.

It’s hard to concentrate on reading these news stories with so much other language running through my head. Like this: there’s a guy who’s complaining about metal scraps that haven’t been cleaned, and the woman he’s talking to is explaining that they are conserving water for drinking and the guy is saying that it’s unsanitary to make dining utensils out of dirty metal, and she replies that they’re not making any more forks or spoons, they don’t need any more forks or spoons, they need knives but not for eating. What am I supposed to do with this information, it’s been going on nonstop for days? You cannot possibly understand what its’ like to listen to someone you don’t know, who you’ve never even met, who you can’t even see, ramble on and on about their boring personal life straight into your head, it’s awful. I can hear another person saying he’s found something. Good for you pal, way to find another rock or stick or lizard or whatever.

Wait. “Weeeee have founnnnnd ittt,” the voice says. I know this voice. It’s the first voice that’s been familiar to me, where do I know this voice, he is saying “first weeeeeeeee found you. You who are – no where – now weeeeeee have founnnnnnnd itt.” And other men are barking in agreement. Listeners, that voice is Doug Biondi from the asylum, and the voices around him are the agents from the National Safety and Transportation Bureau, all of whom escaped the Night Vale Asyulm two months ago. They are in nowhere, in an otherworld desert standing near a door attached to no building. Not far from a passenger set, long since rotted away. A jet that has been home to 143 passengers and crew members, one of those 143 – the pilot. Asylum warden Charles Rainier warned us of this. He had been a been a passenger on that plane, he became part of a small commune that grew into an angry cult under the leadership and telepathic influence of the pilot. Charles told us that the pilot would find those who could help him find Night Vale. Help him find the real world, and Doug Biondi knows the way back.

The pilot found Doug and Doug found the pilot. “Iii know the wayyy,” Doug Biondi says, laughing the laugh of a man whose smile is too big for his face. At the foot of a sandy hill, a mother tells her son it is time. “Stop crying, Benny. Stop crying so that there will be more flowers, more beauty.”

Underneath the scant shade of a dilapidated wing of an MD-90 air craft, two middle aged men argue over which hand made axe is sharper. At last, they agree that the one crafted from the rotor flap and held together with the hand belt is the better blade. “No you take it,” one says. “No, I insist you, I’m happy to use the smaller axe,” the other says, “because it is easier to manage what with my back spasms.”

And behind a blighted Paolo Verde Tree, hidden between lush acacia shrubs, two teenage boys kiss the way you kiss when you think it may be your last. They whisper impossible promises and raise high their rusty shovels, the spades’ tips having already been sharpened to deadly points. They race toward the gathering crowd.

A young woman who thinks often about the job interview she never attended shouts: “Nature is beauty!” “We are beauty!” replies antoher woman. They repeate these calls. “Nature is beauty! We are beauty!” And now every voice in my head is chanting the phrases, chanting and chanting and chanting, it’s too… it’s too much!

Silence. They’re silent suddenly. My head is clear. I can think my own thoughts.

Night Vale, I’m getting word that Sheriff Sam is barring all known passages into our town. This includes roads, trails, sewer grates, even the Dog Park which is not officially an entrance to the Desert Otherworld, but you know, let’s be honest here. We’re on lockdown, Night Vale. No one enters or leaves.

Good. This is good. If the voices can reach me, they can reach any of us. In fact, if the voices can enter my mind, then the pilot and passengers of flight 18713 may well already be here, or some of them anyway. Or maybe the voices come and go. This is the first moment of silence I’ve had alone in nearly a week. Maybe the voices aren’t always there like, like radio signals as you leave a city or, or a cell phone in an elevator, maybe the voices can’t permeate us under certain conditions or maybe… Or maybe… The voices are silent because… they are listening. Maybe they’re listening to their leader, their pilot who is giving instructions on what to do next, when and where to attack.

I don’t know. But I must use my moment of clarity to tell you some news. Nope, the voices are back. A single voice is back. I know, without knowing, that it is the voice of the pilot. He says: [in a neutral tone] “Uh, hi there, this is your pilot speaking. Just wanted to let you know that nature is beauty, we are beauty. We propagate our pollen, we spread our seeds, we grow new life over old life, we cleanse the toxins of technology. We depose the human king and return natural instinct to its rightful throne. If you can hear my voice, then you are chosen. You are chosen to join all who join our nature. All who join our beauty. All who refuse will be recycled into the earth, destroyed and dispersed to fertilize new more beautiful life. All those who are beautiful are chosen. All those who are not, are a cancer, blight, infection and disease. All who are not beautiful will be cut away, amputated, so that the Earth’s wounds may finally leave, so the Earth may grow beautiful once again.

We have been found and we will return. Open the gates to freedom, end the tyranny of artifice. That’s all for now, we’ll be arriving in just a few moments, Night Vale. There is going to be some turbulence.”

[distraught] I’m sorry, listeners! I did not meant to do that, I did not want to do that! The voice of the pilot overtook me and I, oh, I need to lock myself inside the studio, I have to protect you from me, but first the weather.

[“A Prayer for the Sane” by Danny Schmidt http://dannyschmidt.com]

I brought Carlos to the studio. When I talk to Carlos, I don’t hear the voices of the passengers from 18713. I don’t hear the voices even now as I look directly at Carlos while I’m speaking. Like Charles Rainier’s fishing hole or, or Amelia Anna Alfaro’s puzzles, Carlos grounds me, lets me be wholly me.

Thank you, Carlos.

Oh, I also had Carlos bring a pair of handcuffs with him that he bought at –Target on his way to the station, and used them to shackle me to my desk. If Charles Rainier is correct, then once the pilot can speak to you, he can control you. And if that should happen, it won’t happen but if it should, then now I won’t be able to leave here and do harm to anyone else.

From my window, I can see far down the street a spiral of black smoke. There are flashes of emergency sirens. Now I can see people coming up the road. They are long-haired, sun-scorched and nearly naked, wearing not much more than flat wide-brimmed hats and short tunics fashioned from seat upholstery. These people are carrying large blades, roughly honed from scrap metal. Some have widdled down pieces of plexiglass windows into sharp points and tied them to ends of long sticks. They’re deliberately walking up the hoods of parked cars and smashing windows and caving in the roofs with their bare feet.

It is no doubt that the passengers of 18713 are here, Night Vale. If you can hear me, sty inside and lock your doors. If you can her the pilot, then do as I have done. Secure your position so securely that not even your own mind can talk you out of it. Sheriff Sam has stubbornly kept up all roadblocks in and out of town, so we have no choice but to stay. The long unmoving lines of traffic at the edges of the city are easy prey now for the 18713. The pilot offered the choice of joining or refusing, but it is not a choice, not really. He either can control you or he cannot. Those whom he cannot control will be killed at the hands of those who can.

[anxiously] Carlos? You don’t hear the pilot voice, and thus cannot be controlled. But I do, and I can. I have been controlled. We’re in trouble, Carlos. I can’t stay chained to this desk forever, can I? And if the pilot means to destroy you, he might make – me do it myself. Just promise me you’ll run. Leave me behind if that happens, OK? OK. But for now, do not let me out of these cuffs, not even if I use a safe word, which I hear is something quite a few people use in healthy fun intimate relationships.

The people of 18713 are climbing up storefronts and tearing off signs. I can see about 10 or 15 in normal street clothes in the crowd now, which means the group is growing. They are recruiting quickly.

But something else is eating at me. In the asylum, in Doug Biondi’s journal and among the myriad voices in my mind, I still have not seen nor heard Amelia Anna Alfaro, the first person to make contact with the pilot. She disappeared in 2012 and no one has heard from her since. I need to find her. Somehow, if anyone can solve this, it might be her. She was always the best at everything.

Stay tuned next for the sound of me talking to Carlos forever and ever.

Good night, Night Vale. [creepily] Gooood night.

Today’s proverb: People who live in glass houses shouldn’t hire that realtor again.

[ranxiaolong]

The Woman who fell in Love with the Stars - Chapter 2 - No Place in a Constellation

Chapters: [1] 2 [3] [4] [5]

Summary: You were left on the street, abandoned. The Doctor decided you and your emotions were too much baggage. How else were you to explain her sudden departure from your life? You still had a hard time being plunged back into the drudgery of normal time-travel-less, space-travel-less life, but with Yaz stopping by your flat regularly to keep you informed of all the adventures to be had, you kept yourself together. Yaz told all sorts of fantastical stories, even the ones she claimed as more mundane still sent a thrill through your spine. There seemed to be no sense of the word “boring” amidst the escapades of the Doctor and her TARDIS. There was no sense of the word “boring” amongst the stars. A/n: Thank you to everyone who has come to read the second chapter!!

“Hey!”

You spun around, the familiar shout from Ryan catching you off guard. He had run across the street to catch up with you, slightly out of breath.

“Good to see you out of the house, yeah?” 

A loose smile stuck to your lips, “Glad to see you too, Ryan.”

You had met up with Ryan a few days after you finally opened up to Yaz. He had been overjoyed to see you. He rambled on and on about what he had been doing, and at the end grilled you as to why you weren’t there. You had apologized for shutting him out, telling him there had been a sort of miscommunication with the Doctor and that both of you needed space. Ryan frowned, not completely buying it but not questioning further. He had asked if he should talk to the Doctor for you. You declined, saying it was fine. 

You were glad he didn’t mention the redness of your eyes.

Even if he had asked, you would have just told him you were up late thinking about the stars. It wouldn’t have been a complete lie. 

She was the stars to you.

You had run into Graham a few weeks after that. He had gleaned bits from Ryan and Yaz as to some of the reasons you weren’t present on the TARDIS and offered to talk to the Time Lord to clear the misunderstanding. You declined him as well but still thanked him for the offer. He had left with a cheery goodbye and said he would try to bring something back for you from his next trip. 

Weeks passed by and the Doctor had, effectively, left you on ‘read’ for nearly three months and counting. You were left on the street, abandoned. The Doctor decided you and your emotions were too much baggage. How else were you to explain her sudden departure from your life? 

You still had a hard time being plunged back into the drudgery of normal time-travel-less, space-travel-less life, but with Yaz stopping by your flat regularly to keep you informed of all the adventures to be had, you kept yourself together. Yaz told all sorts of fantastical stories, even the ones she claimed as more mundane still sent a thrill through your spine. There seemed to be no sense of the word “boring” amidst the escapades of the Doctor and her TARDIS. There was no sense of the word “boring” amongst the stars.

Yasmin had gone out of her way to make sure you never felt alone. She knew the toll the Doctor’s abrupt disappearance from your life had on you. She initially stopped by two times a week, which quickly became three times, then four. By the end of the second month, she was visiting nearly every day. She would talk to you about everything and nothing. Yaz would always start with whatever adventure she had been on with the rest of Team TARDIS, knowing you were eager to learn of what sorts of odd things you were barred from seeing, to know of all the stars you could not touch.

After any possible conversation pertaining to that was exhausted, Yaz always encouraged you to talk about your day. She was always enthusiastically listening to your (what you perceived, anyway) humdrum day. You couldn’t fathom why she was so eager to listen to you talk, but you were hardly going to complain about the audience. 

Yaz was an amazing listener, always asking questions and prompting to know more about your ideas and feelings. She always placed your emotions above anything else when it came to conversation. Sometimes you worried you were boring her, that she would rather talk to somebody that was less maintenance. 

“Wouldn’t you rather spend your time with someone else?” Your shoulders were stiff. Built-up anxiety brought tension to your body.

“Why?”

I don’t shine as brightly as the stars.

You shook your head lightly, sitting back in your kitchen chair, “I’m just thinking. You go on all these adventures and here I am telling you about how I had a row with the photocopier.”

Yaz raised an eyebrow.

You shrugged and deflated slightly, “It sort of sat there and I shouted abuse at it. May or may not have kicked the leg of the table it sat on.”

Yasmin rolled her eyes, leaning forward in her seat across the table from you, “Honestly, you have nothing to worry about. You could give me a presentation on all the photocopiers you’ve ever fought with at work and I’d still listen.” She let her chin rest in her hand, which was propped up by her elbow on the table. “There isn’t anybody else I’d rather be with. All of space and time included,” she added cheekily at the end, a grin tugging at her mouth.

A huff left your lips, but a smile quickly overcame your previous expression.

Yaz managed, even if just for a little while, to quell your insecurities. Yaz never asked too much from you. She didn’t force you to compare yourself to the star’s brilliant glow.

You relaxed against your chair, continuing to rant about your troubles, this time softer. The tension was gone.

Just for that moment, you didn’t need to worry about the brilliance of the stars.

Yaz had become a constant, an anchor you could ground yourself to. Regardless of how exciting or boring or depressing or normal your day had been, Yaz was always there. Yaz had made herself a constant where the Doctor had taken up space. Yaz made herself available to shine a light where the stars no longer reached.

Regular, like clockwork, you waited for a knock. 

Bang, bang! 

“Hey, open up in there, I’ve got food from that place down the street you like!”

And it always came.

You failed to suppress the grin that spread across your face, rushing to the door when you heard Yasmin’s voice.

“I’m coming, I’m coming. Don’t break down my door!”

You unlocked the door to see Yaz standing outside, bags in both hands, a wide smile on her face. Her nose and cheeks were slightly rosy due to the cool, winter air that nipped at her skin.

You opened the door wide, stepping aside to let her through. 

“You aren’t going to believe this...” Yaz reported excitedly as she quickly stepped towards the kitchen, placing the takeaway bags on the dining table.

You couldn’t help the soft smile that reached your lips as your best friend busied herself in your kitchen. You were immensely thankful for Yaz stopping by to occupy your time. The lack of time-slash-space travel left you with a TARDIS sized hole in your life and schedule. You weren’t sure how you would have begun to fend off the boredom, and every conclusion you came up with were not healthy alternatives in the slightest.

What you felt the most grateful for, however, was Yaz’s willingness to just sit by your side as you quietly cried into her shoulder, wishing the pain to disappear from the Doctor’s refusal to step into your life. The days it hurt the most were when you could see that blue box outside your window, the soft light glowing through the curtain. It was so alluringly close yet impossibly far away. 

You were Tantalus and the Doctor was the fruit tree overhead. Every time you reached out, a hair’s breadth away from grasping her, she slipped through your fingers. You began to lose count of the nights you would spend gazing longingly out your window, either at the TARDIS or to the stars above. Both were tempting sirens singing out to you, but the TARDIS holding the Doctor was the one that usually won out. The blue police box held the brightest star of all to you. A star shielded from your view.

————

You woke up late, yawning and rubbing your eyes as you padded softly into your kitchen, the cool tile against your feet made you shiver. A soft groan left your lips as you stretched half-heartedly. You were thankful it was Sunday. In your half-awake state, you pulled down your favorite mug to pour your morning cup of tea into. After successfully pouring out a cup you trudged into the living room. You eventually slouched against the wall next to the window, having given up on supporting your own weight. Hardly managing to keep your eyes open, you pushed aside the curtain, believing sunlight may help you wake up. 

You nearly dropped your mug.

You were definitely awake now. 

Right outside your window you could see the blue police box just sitting there. 

Why?

The Doctor would always pick everybody up on any other day because “Sundays were the most boring day of the week” according to the Time Lord. So why was she outside of your flat, of all days, on a Sunday?

Why was she outside your flat at all?

She had made it a point to start picking up the rest of (Were you even still part of it?) Team TARDIS further away. The Doctor hadn’t parked the TARDIS outside the front of your flat in ages. She had moved the blue box to the other side of the building, closer to where Yaz lived. 

There was a wall separating your building from the street the TARDIS was parked but being on the second floor you could still see over it. You weren’t sure the Doctor knew you could see to that street since your building wasn’t even connected to it. Your bedroom just happened to be at a lucky (or was it unlucky?) angle where you were able to view the time ship every time it came by.

But details aside, why would the TARDIS be outside the door on your street? Was it a mistake? It had to be. 

The Doctor would make sure to pick everyone up on Saturday and return as late as she could get away with on Sunday night, preferably missing the day altogether if she could help it. She had an unfathomable dislike for the day.

She must have botched up the landing again. That had to be it. Mystery solved.

You glanced once more out the window, longingly, before shaking your head and stepping away. 

It wouldn’t be wise to overthink this. It was just a mistake.

The Doctor had made it clear she wanted nothing to do with you.

You had no place in a constellation.

————

Yaz knew of your obsession with the stars. She had been your friend since primary school, you had gone to the same school as both Yaz and Ryan. Yaz didn’t need to be told of your thoughts to know what it meant when your eyes lingered on the Doctor. She didn’t need anybody to tell her because she could see it in your eyes.

There was a way you had always looked up to the dewy drops of light hanging in the night sky. There was a look that was reserved for the stars.

There was also a look you had for when clouds covered the stars, a force you could not control, obscuring the view of something you found so beautiful and fascinating.

“What happened?”

You turned your head around while standing above the stove, stirring a boiling pot of half-cooked pasta.

“What?”

“Something happened today,” Yaz sat forward in her chair, “You’ve got that look.”

You quirked an eyebrow, prompting her for an explanation.

Yasmin sighed, “The one you get when you cannot see the stars.”

You froze mid stir, starting up again a second later.

“It wasn’t really important—” Yaz’s eyebrow rose, to which you rolled your eyes, “Really, Yaz. I was just overthinking something.”

“Then tell me,” Yaz folded her arms on the table, relaxing against the wooden surface.

Your teeth worried at your bottom lip as you decided upon which words to settle on.

“I saw the TARDIS.”

Yaz sat up, her undivided attention solely on you. Her eyes followed every movement you made.

“And?”

Your lips puckered into a frown, “And nothing. It was just there.”

“There’s more than that,” the woman shifted her position in her chair, “You wouldn’t act like this if it was just seeing it.”

A sigh was drawn from your lips.

“It’s a Sunday.”

Yaz’s eyebrows furrowed.

“She hates Sundays,” you elaborated, “and…” you trailed off, unsure if your next words would set Yaz off or not, “the TARDIS was where she used to pick us—you guys up.” 

You quickly corrected yourself. The words tasted bitter upon your lips. ‘Us’ was no longer a word you should use when talking about the Doctor. It would just make it hurt more.

The stars never referred to themselves as a group. A constellation was a construct by a species that wished to make sense of their majesty. The Doctor was a star. There was no ‘us.’

Yaz’s eyes widened.

You swallowed thickly.

“It was outside my door,” your voice nearly broke at the end, “The TARDIS was sitting right there.”

You refused to take your eyes off of the pot in front of you that was becoming increasingly blurry. A soft hiccup erupted from your chest.

“Oh, love...” Yaz stood up, walking up behind you and bringing you into her arms.

“She was right there.” A soft sob left your throat. You buried your face into Yasmin’s shoulder. “She was right there.”

Yaz tucked you under her chin, making soothing sounds as she rubbed circles onto your back.

“It will be okay,” Yaz hummed into your ear, “It’s going to be okay.”

————

You gazed out of your window, up into the night sky, your eyes flitting from star to star. Memories attached to each one drifted through your mind. Some you had to push down. Your eyes seemed to naturally latch onto the stars and galaxies you had visited with the exuberant Time Lord.

Some memories you had to forcefully push down as to not burst out into tears.

The stars hung in the sky, just as unattainable as they used to be. Yet, somehow it seemed harder to fathom their distance, harder to be unable to touch. Maybe it was because you had touched them before that they now seemed farther away than ever. You tasted the splendor of being able to touch a star—the wonder of being at the Doctor’s side.

Perhaps that was why that you could feel that distance between yourself and the stars all the more.

You briefly wondered if there was a version of the universe where you could reach out and touch the stars. If there was a universe where you could touch the stars and not be burned, a universe where the stars wouldn’t shy away.

You shook your head.

It was pointless to fantasize. Shooting stars never granted wishes and neither did real ones.

You could watch the stars, but asking for more was beyond reason. 

The stars never granted permission to look. They didn’t have to. Looking was easy. It was gaining their attention that was difficult.

Eyes always turned to look at the Doctor wherever she went, but her eyes were trained on only a few. 

You only wished you were included in that number.

————

You spent your day’s busying yourself the best you could, constantly having to remind yourself that succumbing to the ennui was not an option. You quickly discovered any time you were left alone with your thoughts and nothing to do, your mind would seize the opportunity to focus solely on the Doctor. 

Custard creams brought to mind the lit up gleeful expression on the Doctor’s face the first time the TARDIS dispensed one. Wild hand gestures when someone was talking kindled images of the Doctor’s animated movement and rapid speech. A set of rainbow stripes across the bag of one of your coworkers instantly brought the Doctor’s scarf and shirt to mind, the flash of colour when the Doctor turned quickly to face you. Long coats made your pause on the street, the flowing fabric evoked memories of the flip of pale blue billowing behind the Time Lord as you ran from immediate danger, boots pounding on the pavement.

When you gazed longingly to the stars her face always came to mind.

Every strange, slightly out of place thing reminded you of the Doctor. You had grown accustomed to searching for the smallest of oddities in your travels with the alien. The crack in the sidewalk, the shop with an eerie light in the back, the train sign that blinked out in intervals that resembled Morse code.

Everything reminded you of the Doctor.

She was the stars, and everything was part of the stars. The entire universe was built on stardust. 

And everything reminded you of the stars.

————

“Hey, you’ve almost run out of sugar.”

“Really? Got to put it on the list next time I got to the store.” You typed out a quick note to yourself on your phone, adding it to the slowly growing list of groceries you needed to get the next time you went out.

Yaz had made a habit of stopping by at random points of the day when she had her days off. She also had a habit of entering your house and using your kitchen. You insisted you were perfectly capable of cooking for yourself but she was quite adamant about cooking for you. 

You hadn’t decided if it was a slight against your cooking skills or not.

You couldn’t wrap your head around the situation, but you certainly weren’t about to argue with the police officer holding a knife. You sat back quietly, occasionally making conversation as it arose.

You glanced at Yaz, eyes lingering on her form as she bustled about your kitchen. She was humming a light tune as she prepared lunch for the both of you, effectively kicking you out of your own kitchen. Your gaze softened watching her, her eyes bright as she chopped up some vegetables.

You shook your head quickly, turning away.

It wasn’t anything.

Ridiculous.

————

It was nearing the end of your third month of exile from the TARDIS. You had marked off the days on your calendar. The days ticked by, the hours seemingly endless. Day after day, you looked out of your bedroom window, always yearning for a glimpse of the time-ship. Despite how much you wrestled with your anguish internally, you could never deny sating your need to see the blue box.

You sighed as you plopped yourself onto your bed, the springiness of the mattress caused you to bounce slightly. You sat forward, the gears in your mind slowly turning.

You thought longingly to the blue police box. You began to wonder if you would ever see the interior again. You hoped so. You desperately hoped so. Even if it was only to apologize to the Doctor. Apologize for kissing her, apologize for falling for her, apologize for burdening her with your emotions. 

You placed your face in your hands. 

You would give anything just to turn back time and apologize.

Tag List: @creativefangirling123 , @wonders-of-the-multiverse , 

[ffamranxii]

I just finished Fruits Basket Another and I have some Feelings, okay? Under the cut, because spoilers.

THE CHARACTERS

Hoooo boy let’s unpack here. Furubana is about Sawa Mitoma, a nervous first year in high school. She firmly believes that she’s basically human trash, and resolves to take up as little space in the world as possible, and that’s not even me paraphrasing. She says within the first few pages she wants to take up as little space as humanly possible. We find out that she’s the daughter of an extremely abusive mother - emotionally abusive. Sawa’s mother never hits her, but she’s also never once nice to her in any of her appearances. She isolates Sawa from any and all friends, she constantly drags Sawa down, and she’s rarely even at home, even back when Sawa was a little girl. How long has Sawa been looking after herself? Sawa is what Tohru could have become if Kyoko had been involved with a gang member rather than Katsuya. 

The main trio of characters is rounded out by essentially the same trio as before: Mutsuki Sohma as the son of Yuki and Machi and Hajime Sohma as the son of Tohru and Kyo. Visually, they look nearly identical, which is why I chose that ^ picture. But they could not be more different. Sawa is every Sohma insecurity rolled into one, and the Sohmas are what their parents could have been without the curse and the constant abuse. Hajime is one of the oldest of the cousins, smothered with love and affection by his entire family, and is lovingly referred to as Dad and Papa (which annoys him), being one of the few in the family who cooks, cleans, or is, y’know, responsible. (Good job, Kyoru! Teach your boy right!) He is unwillingly elected student council president, and manages it easily. Unlike his father’s life, things come easily to Hajime, but he doesn’t let that make him conceited. He’s a down to earth character who trades biting remarks with Mutsuki. Mutsuki, on the other hand, I love. I adore. I want to erect a shrine to this boy. Poor Yuki, his wife hath birthed him a miniature Ayame. Mutsuki is trouble under a beautiful exterior, subtle snark and gentle teasing, but over the top in other aspects (like his thing that was once a desk and complete inability to do the most basic of tasks like buy laundry detergent, his utter willingness to let other people do things for him). He is also a deeply caring individual, and has an extremely close relationship with his cousin Shiki which is the complete opposite of his father’s relationship with Shiki’s mother that I nearly cried right there while reading volume three.

Kinu Sohma is the daughter of Hatori and Mayuko (a pairing of which I am not fond), and I actually was not fond of her until volume three, at which point she became a treat. A college student, Kinu seems to have no real ambitions or life goals (much like many college freshmen), spends much of her time sleeping, and only really sweeps in at the last chapter to comfort a very distressed Sawa in the way only a fellow woman can, delivering a wonderful speech right up with Kyoko’s Words Of Wisdom about how no one has the right to treat you badly, even your own family. No one has the right to abuse you, demean you, hurt you. That is a curse. She actually uses the word curse, and it makes me wonder what her parents told her of the Sohma curse, if Hatori ever mentioned how Akito used to be, or how Shigure was such a piece of shit about the seahorse, and it made me love Hatori all over again, for teaching his daughter such a powerful thing. Volume three also gave wonderful interaction between Kinu and the entirely deranged (but perfectly appropriate) Hibika Sohma, the daughter of Ayame and Mine. Just like Hatori is the only one who has any sort of control over Ayame, Kinu is the only one who can reign in Hibika. I believe these two are the oldest, out of all of the cousins, because in volume two, Hibika just fucking jets off to Paris with no warning, at the top of one of her tiny tophats instead of setting up her parents’ second store, because she needed inspiration to create new dresses. I don’t think a high school student could do that. Hibika may possibly be the oldest (Kinu is still a minor at 19 [Japan’s age of adulthood is 20]), because I don’t think a minor could do that either. She’s obsessed with Sawa and playing dress up with her, something Kinu is able to reign her away from doing with ease. She’s only the tiniest bit toned down from Ayame. I love her.

Michi Manabe is the daughter of Kakeru and Komaki and is sometimes at odds with Hajime. My biggest complaint with Furubana is that she is not in it enough!! Despite not being a Sohma proper, Michi is included in nearly all Sohma activities and all the Sohma cousins know her. She and Mutsuki were raised as siblings and address each other as such, which is precious because awww, but also because Kakeru has a deep sibling bond with his half sister as an adult, Komaki (who I view as another Tohru in a way, from how she was introduced) made an effort to keep Yuki and Machi in their lives and comfortable, and Yuki and Machi both created a family unit with the one family member who wanted Machi around, a bond so strong that their children saw each other so much growing up that they refer to each other as siblings. How precious is that?? Poor Hajime is probably the only voice of reason Mutsuki ever had in his life because you know Michi is to Mutsuki what Kakeru would be to Ayame. God I need a Kakeru-meets-Ayame-centric episode right now. Yuki would DIE. Riku Sohma is one half of the twin siblings born to Haru and Rin, and while he looks like Haru, this boy is a lot like his mother. He doesn’t have the anger issues his parents have, not really (except for instance of punching out Hibika’s brother), but he can be a bit spacey, he’s very serious and literal, and he likes to sleep. Everywhere. This family and their sleep. It kills me. He also gets himself a cute little girlfriend, and because of his crush on this girl and his watching of her, he notices her wanting to reach out to Sawa, and Sawa makes her first friend (mostly) on her own in nearly her entire life! On the other hand, Sora Sohma, his twin sister, is cute and spacey, a bit ditzy, and looks like their mother but is 100% Haru. She has nicknames for everyone in the family, and never calls anyone by their actual name. She’s my second favorite character after Hibika. Sora reminds me very much of Usagi Tsukino: instead of seeing a person, Sora sees a friend.

Poor Chizuru Sohma should’ve been Yuki’s kid. Honestly I’m surprised Ayame and Mine don’t have more kids, given how passionate I’m sure they are. And while Chizuru loves his father, he does declare the man crazy (as does every other character, minus Mutsuki, who says he’s “the most terrific of all uncles”) on more than one occasion. Chizuru is the more responsible of the Ayame/Mine Sohma children, setting up the Ayame II shop essentially on his own until Mutsuki offers Sawa’s help as a part timer (because remember, Hibika decided to go to Paris for the week).  He hates that others view his family as eccentric and him as normal and especially hates when they comment on it, and he tends to be a bit foul-mouthed and outspoken. A bit like Hiro. Poor kid. Rio Mosca is Saki Hanajima’s boy and he is NOT KAZUMA’S SON AND THIS MAKES ME SO SAD. His parents’ love story is rather cute, however. His father is a foreigner (Italian, given that his surname is Mosca), and the two met on a plane, making this a cute little callback to when young Megumi prayed for a someone for Saki to “get on a plane and meet her.” Mina Sohma is the most precious baby and is the daughter of our boy Momiji! Although, look at her - could she be anyone else’s child? She is sweet and cute and seems to be without Momiji a lot - Momiji inherited his father’s business (which seems to be international?), and he travels all the time. Mina has a great talent for batting and rather than be privately tutored and follow her father all over the world, she stays behind in Japan to play baseball for her school. Her dream is to take over the family business from her father like he did from his. It seems Momiji’s terribly tragic story ended happily, as it seems he reconciled with his father enough to inherit his business... (more on this later). And then we have Shiki Sohma, who is surprisingly the son of Shigure and Akito! :O Shiki seems to inhabit two worlds, much like the Sohmas of Furuba. On the one hand, he is part of a generation who was raised by those healed by Tohru Honda. Loving, caring parents who love and adore their children. He has friends who care deeply for him - his best friends, despite all being in different grades, are Chizuru and Rio, and they all play Go together in the school club. His family are all deeply committed to him - Mutsuki especially is close to him, as seen in the first volume where Shiki was teased at but not seen, as Mutsuki called him to come to the house where he, Hajime, Kinu, and Sawa were having a hot pot with Michi, Riku, and Sora.  His parents both are and aren’t the Shigure and Akito we know from Furuba - Shigure is still the immature jokester and Akito is still the serious head of the family, but they both love their son immensely, totally and completely in a way that Akito remembers being loved as a child by her father, in a way that Shigure’s parents probably loved him. On the other hand, in volume three, it is shown that, being the son of the head of the family, and living in the Sohma compound, with the old servants, the “old timers,” and Ren, subjects Shiki to some truly horrific abuse the likes of which no other second gen Sohma child has had to go through. Shiki would greet guests who would give him gifts, only to find that within those gifts were notes badmouthing his mother. Ren attempted to stab him as a small child, something the old Akito would and has attempted on the first gen Sohmas, and it’s implied the only reason was because Shiki was Akito’s child. Akito threw herself in front of Ren’s knife and took the blow for her boy. Shiki is a quiet and withdrawn child, one foot in each of these worlds, and seemingly paralyzed over how to act. Much like Sawa, especially once she meets the Sohmas.

Remember I said we’d come back to Momiji’s happy ending? See that woman in the top left? That’s Momo Sohma, Momiji’s sister. In Furubana, Momiji has reconciled not only with his father, but with his sister as well! Momo appears to pick up Momo from the Sohma house; she is Momiji’s assistant and Mina seems to stay with her sometimes when Momiji is out of the country. Momiji has his family back!!! Speaking of families, Hinata Sohma, Hiro’s little sister, is all grown up and makes her own appearance in the third volume (and is a slight alcoholic, lol). She also mentions brothers - did Hiro did another sibling after his curse broke?? Megumi Hanajima makes an appearance as a teacher at Kaibara High School, and this is my second complaint about Furubana - there is not enough Megumi!! He grew up sexy! Second best glow up in the series after Momiji! It’s Megumi who tells the romantic story of how Saki met her husband on the plane. Also making an appearance is Makoto Takei, former student council president, unwilling witness to Haru’s natural hair color explanation. He is now a teacher as well, and Sawa and Riku’s homeroom teacher. He’s also still in love with Yuki, and lets Mutsuki get away with anything. He is often at odds with Ruriko Kageyama, the daughter of Motoko Minagawa of the Prince Yuki Fan Club. Ruriko has inherited her mother’s obsession, though unlike Motoko and Makoto (god those two would’ve made a great obsessed couple), Ruriko loves ALL Sohmas. I don’t understand how the worship of an entire family to stalker levels is an official school club but whatever. Ruriko is actually pretty cool, and while she’s pretty strict, she’s also on somewhat friendly (like, “person I talk to at school but nowhere else” type friend) terms with Sawa. 

THE STORY

I feel this can best be summed up in five sentences and in reverse: When Sawa was little, she fell down the stairs. She was found by Shiki, who simultaneously called an ambulance and fell in love with her. Her piece of shit mother sued Shiki because he was rich as shit. Ten years later, no Sohmas harbor any grudges against Sawa, her mother is still a piece of shit, the Sohma children are full of Tohru-and-Kyoko wisdom passed down from their parents, and try to help Sawa. And also they all hardcore ship Shiki/Sawa. The end. 

No seriously, that’s the story. It’s beautiful. I wish there was one or two more volumes, a cameo featuring the adults, it would be perfect. Could you imagine the terrible awkward jokes Shigure would make? “Honey look, Shiki’s in love with the girl he pushed down the stairs as a kid. Was marrying her one of the terms of the lawsuit? Hahaha.” And Akito would just be like “....baby, you and Sawa go outside while I smack your father, you don’t need to see this.” And the two go outside and we then see Shigure fucking fly through the paper door and a loud “YOU FUCKING MORON” follow him out with the classic -_- “did I say something wrong?” Shigure face. And Shiki is just a fascinating color of ruby fire about the cheeks and mumbles, “so yeah... that’s my father....” and Sawa is a similar color and staring at her shoes like “he seems nice...” and Akito opens the ruined door as though she didn’t just beat the shit out of her husband and calls out to them, “come and have tea, your father had to step out for a bit. Sawa, dear, I’d love to hear more about you. would you prefer jasmine tea or green,” because Akito has done a complete 180 and become a decent human being since becoming a mother and Shiki is EVERYTHING to her and if her son loves this girl then GODDAMNIT SO DOES SHE. 

[elmidol]

The Shackles of Fate - Four

Dark Faerie Tale AU

Read on AO3

Read Chapter Three

Summary:  If one misses curfew it is not only their life that is on the line, but their very soul. You are unlucky enough to encounter the fallen faerie prince when you miss curfew. He decides to claim your soul for himself rather than turn it over to the Master he has been enslaved by. As you are drawn further into his world, you learn more of your own past and how it is connected to the stories of your childhood.

Pairing: Kylo Ren/Reader Ben/Reader

Warning: none for this chapter

The Shackles of Fate

Four

There was a dull throb directly behind your eyes, the first signs that you were developing a headache due to all that had been occurring since the previous night. This final revelation had been the icing on the cake, so to speak. Being in possession of Light magic should not have been an elusive bit of information; had there been no signs? You started to think of your history, your childhood. The sprite rolled over in his sleep, his back facing you. Governess Tico lifted her coffee to her lips though the expression of confusion did not change. She was giving you time to think, and you were grateful that it was in her nature to be patient. There was also the chance that Rose was coming to the conclusion that there truly was a sprite in her presence, or on the opposite side of that spectrum, that you were losing your mind.

 It brought to you a new question: even if Rose was unable to  see  the sprite, did that mean she was incapable of  feeling  him? You weighed your options in order to decide how to proceed. You locked gazes with the governess.

 Rose lowered the cup of coffee and set down the beverage as she tilted her head to the side. The two of you had been working in the same household for a handful of years. Governess Tico had a knack for reading your moods, although she was not always an expert on the reasonings for those emotions. For this occasion, Rose had followed the conversation and went from there. She pointed a lone finger at the palm of your hand, precisely where the slumbering faerie was curled. You nodded a single time. Rose pressed forward, slowly shifting the digit nearer. You could feel your pulse quickening. Fear started to envelop you. You could not allow Ben to be injured. Yet you  had  to know. Was that selfish?

 “Be gentle,” you said, a little more loudly than you had intended. Rather than appearing annoyed or insulted, Rose offered a gentle  I will . There was no underlying ‘you’re crazy’ to her tone. You had both lived through the first witching hour and thus were equally aware just how easily seemingly fictitious stories proved themselves to be reality. Rose kept her eyes locked with your face, ever observant to your expression; it was because of this that some of your worry began to fade.

 The moment that Governess Tico’s fingertip touched the moth-like wings of the faerie, she jerked her hand away and placed it instead over her mouth. You felt a jolt of elation. The other woman  could  feel the faerie. That joy quickly dissipated; you would have to be all the more careful when it came to how you handled the sprite. Rose seemed focused on the fact that you had proven yourself capable of Light magic. She asked the question that had run through your mind not long before: what was she?

 A second later, Rose continued with another question. “That’s the prince?” There was less skepticism than there was fear. Words began to spill from her so quickly that you were not quite able to follow. You did pick up a handful of terms, which informed you that the governess was swiftly recounting the tales of the faerie prince, his mother, and the demon king. At the mention of the imp king, you lifted your gaze from the sleeping sprite to again watch Rose.

 According to what Rose had said, Armitage Hux was rumored to have succeeded his father, Brendol. The younger Hux had always been resentful of the faerie prince due to Snoke’s interest in Ben. Imps believed themselves to be superior to both demons and faeries, namely the latter. While Snoke would have difficulty entering the human realm during the day because of the seal, if so pressed or summoned an imp could complete that task. King Armitage Hux would not hesitate in targeting the entire household if he learned that the cursed prince was present. Rose trailed off, staring blindly at the sprite in your hand.

 You had recognized the name of Brendol Hux. If memory served you correctly, that was the imp that, when summoned by rebellious teeangers, had tempted humans with more power. It was he who had paved the way for the demon king.

 Governess Tico lowered herself back into the seat that she had previously occupied. “If that really is the faerie prince then the tales are true.” You did not say anything, although you hoped that Rose would elaborate. Rose once more set the tip of her finger lightly against the sprite that she was incapable of seeing. “Do you remember the stories of the faeries that were referred to as  walkers of the sky ?” The faerie hero of legend, one known by the name Skywalker, had been a favorite character of yours when you had believed faerie tales were no more than stories. It had been written that he was the one to guard the seals that prevented demons from harming children. “I never believed the tale from my studies. That the legendary hero had failed in his task to train Ben in the art of seals, and that when the blood vow was made and the faerie queen was forced to curse her son… It’s said that the faerie hero vanished after witnessing his nephew’s soul torn in two.”

 You drew your hand closer to your body. You had nearly missed when realization dawned upon Rose, who uttered out the words  you missed curfew  so quietly that one may have mistaken the sentence for a simple exhalation. A part of you did not want to believe in the tales of Skywalker, not if it meant accepting that he had abandoned the task of protecting the human and fae realms. You wanted to rewind time and erase the last decade. With every passing minute there were more questions than there were answers. Stories proving to hold truths, albeit only in fractions.

 “The children won’t be safe here. Not with the prince, and not with a marked soul.” Rose was not being callous; you could hear the worry in your friend’s voice. You used the lull in the conversation to listen for Daen. There were no cries, not yet. You decided to utilize this time to tell Rose of your current predicament, and as you wrapped up your story, you asked if Rose would be opposed to ensuring the children were safe at night. “Of course! But you… you need to be careful. Do you remember the warnings?”

 Governess Tico did not wait for you to reply, opting to recite the nursery rhyme that Tolan and Tara would learn the following year when they reached the age of five.

  Though Skywalker’s seal protects the day,

These are the threats to come our way:

With demons and imps, they come at night;

Beware those armored black and white.

Of the prince, that darkened fae,

Tempted by light yet cursed to stay.

What once was whole, now in two;

The faerie prince may spare you.

Yet if from Snoke that prince does stray,

These then shall take your soul away:

The demon servants that all shall dread

Are those in armor dyed blood red.

 As you listened, you came to realize that you had forgotten it was said that the faerie prince could choose to defy Snoke, although the specifics had never been revealed. Did this apply only to those who had Light magic? Another question: had he ever chosen to spare a life before yours? Eyeing the slumbering Ben, you began to doubt that he had previously been successful in protecting those he did not wish to kill.

 “Those in red can only come at night, but the imps… If they have allies who discover your soul is marked, this entire household will be put in jeopardy.” Rose reached forward, this time setting her hand on your wrist. “I will read through the texts tonight after the children are asleep. You need to try to get answers from the fae, including  what  you are.”

 You silently wished that you had all of the stories memorized as your friend did. The issue with that came with the contradictions that existed among them. It had been reported by surviving family members that they helplessly watched their loved ones mistake fact and fiction then lose their souls. You had dutifully studied the stories that had been proven factual. Now you would have the advantage of speaking with the fae, both the prince and those who worked for him, when you were taken to their realm come the witching hour. There would be no such conversations for you with anyone in the human realm aside from Rose. Even there, you had to be careful. What Rose had said was correct; if someone learned that your soul was marked, it would serve to paint a larger target on the children.

 You would have discussed the situation more with Rose, along with delving more into your mysterious origins, had Governess Tico not been on a set schedule with the older children. The teenagers would be returning, which meant that they would be in earshot. That was not a risk you were willing to take, and you doubted that it was one Rose wanted to take either.

 Though there had been no cries from Daen, you decided to check on the infant after tucking Ben safely inside your pocket. You quietly entered the room, pushing open the door and peeking around before fully going inside. The light coos that came your way brought a smile to your face. You lifted him out of the crib, changed his diaper, and carried him down the stairs for a light lunch. Daen released a squeal of delight when you set the cut up banana pieces in front of him. He held the spoon in one hand, though he used the other to feed himself the fruit. You shook your head as you laughed. It had only been recently that Daen had taken to holding the utensil throughout his entire meal. You had noticed on more than a single occasion that he attempted to scoop up pieces. Given that they more often than not fell off the spoon before he could take a bite, Daen’s patience was easily used up.

 When it came time for him to eat the protein portion of his meal, Daen was content with you assisting him in going through the motions of scooping up the pieces and bringing them to his mouth. So as to not allow Daen to become frustrated, you did not discourage him when he grabbed for bites with his other hand. He was less receptive to the small lessons and exercises when grumpy. Of course, that was typical for infants.

 You lifted Daen into your arms as he held onto a sippy cup filled with milk when he had finished eating. It was time for him to have some fresh air. You grabbed the diaper bag that was prepared for these outings; inside were diapers, wipes, a handful of toys, and a blanket on which you would place him. Where Tara and Tolan loved the feeling of grass between their toes, their younger brother fussed at such contact. He did enjoy playing in sand and mud though, which amused the you.

 You read to the baby as he played with stacking cups. Those were his favorite toys along with similar puzzles that were age appropriate. Only when you heard a familiar bark did you set aside the  ABC  book illustrated with animals whose names began with each letter of the alphabet. BeeBee the Eighth, or BB-8 for short, loped into the yard. He chased after a ball that one of the twins had thrown. You were not certain which, as both Tara and Tolan were running after the dog. The canine’s owner was a short distance behind them. Poe flashed a grin while walking over to you.

 “Good afternoon,” the man said, and you returned the greeting before inquiring on the children’s behavior. “They were little angels, of course.” You chuckled at the hint of playfulness. The twins adored their cousin. They behaved more for him than they did their own father, although according to their late mother, that was normal for children to do. “Tara is enamored with faerie tales.”

 Poe lowered himself onto the ground beside you. You looked to the children as they played with the dog in the yard. “I try not to read those books to them. She enjoys looking at the pictures though.”

 “Easier times,” the Dameron male intoned. He had lost his mother the night of the first witching hour. “So many deaths. So many renditions of what happened… She believes the story that the faerie hero abandoned his nephew when the prince was tempted by the demon king.” You winced before you could stop yourself. That specific tale was your least favorite version of what had happened that night. Poe waved his hand in the air. “The one I found interesting was where Skywalker battled the transformed prince after he became the Master of the Knights of Ren.”

 You bit down on the insides of your cheeks. You were not particularly fond of that version either, namely due to its inclusion of Ben murdering his own father to create the blood vow.

 “It’s a strange one, though,” Poe continued. “Skywalker escaping with the last of Ben’s Light while the faerie queen protected the fae not bound to Ben from becoming involved in the vow. Do you think that means Skywalker took Ben’s power?”

 You shook your head as you uttered out that you did not know. A lie, one you felt a little guilty for telling. Your thoughts fell to the sprite in your pocket. Was he a separate entity from the dark faerie that had appeared before you? Had he been with the legendary Skywalker before that morning? Governess Tico was correct in saying that you needed to get some answers from Kylo. It was not a matter of saving only your own soul, but of protecting these children as well.

 That train of thought reminded you that it would be best if you did not discuss faeries with anyone for the time being. There was the chance that you would allow something to slip. While you believed that Poe would not do anything to endanger his cousins, it was not worth the risk of  him  accidentally revealing information. Things tended to spiral when it came to revealed secrets.

 Poe Dameron left along with BB-8 shortly before dinner was scheduled to be served. From there, things ran their usual course with the exception of Governess Tico tucking the youngest three into bed after their older siblings had retired for the night. If there was one morbidly positive aspect of the witching hour, it was that crime rates had lowered amongst the teenage population. They had little desire to miss curfew, namely if they had witnessed the aftermath of doing so. You listened to Rose speaking with Tara and Tolan, who were requesting that  miss  come up to ‘properly say goodnight’.

 It was nice to feel wanted and loved, however you were more concerned with one or both of them leaving their beds during witching hour. That worry faded when you heard your friend inform the twins that she would remain in the children’s room until the witching hour had passed.

 Your attention moved to other worries that you had temporarily pushed aside. Namely  what  you may have been descended from. The beings of the upper realm had been a passing interest. They had, to you as a child, been too benevolent to be real. The fae in stories had possessed both light and dark qualities, something that had made sense to you given that you lived with the Plutt family. To imagine that there were beings from the upper realm that were pure Light magic who refused to help those in need? It was painful for you. More painful now that you were aware one of your parents had come from that realm.

 You had pretended that your parents were important, that they had not chosen to abandon you. If what Rose said was true in regards to how magic had entered the human realm, it meant that at least one of them  had . They had not found you worthy enough to bring back to the upper realm.

 You stared at the tiny faerie that you had placed on your pillow in the exact spot you had found him that morning. One of the answers you wanted was to know if Kylo and Ben were two separate entities now or if one transformed into the other. Another thing, you thought as a scowl formed on your face, was  why  Kylo had seen it fit to knock you unconscious before taking you through the portal.

 You gently stroked the tip of her finger along the top of Ben’s head, ruffling his hair. “You had better give me some answers.” Though phrased as a demand, your tone was one of pleading. On your nightstand, the clock that had failed you the previous evening ticked and tocked in working order. You glanced at it periodically to keep track of the time. At nine he would arrive, you told yourself.

 Which is why you stifled a yelp of surprise at a quarter to the hour when a shadow moved in your peripheral. Your head whipped in the direction of the dark creature that rose from a crouch. Kylo was dressed in black robes as he had been the previous time, and his helmet blocked your view of his face. This was unfortunate, as you had hoped to utilize his facial expressions to offer you further information when you began asking the questions. The tiny faerie on your pillow did not fade, and thus arrived the first answer. The dark winged prince had literally had his soul torn into two when his mother had cursed him as a means of preserving that last of his light. Which, of course, meant that Kylo was not able to see the sprite.

 “I...packed a bag,” you said whilst gesturing to the aforementioned item. The helmet shifted, its visor pointed in the direction you had indicated. You utilized this time wisely, tucking the slumbering sprite into the pocket of your trousers; you did not often wear the clothing, as many considered such attire to be unladylike. Aside from aiding you in maintaining possession of Ben, the trousers would be easier to explore in once you reached the realm of fae. “I have a few questions.”

 “There is no time for that,” Kylo said in a bored tone.

 “Because of those armored in red?” The visor promptly left the packed bag to land on your face. You rose to your feet as you spoke, reciting the lines from the warning Rose had repeated earlier. “The demon servants that all shall dread/ are those in armor dyed blood red.”

 The dark faerie snorted in derision. “The upper realm is pretentious with their rhymes.” You felt your shoulders droop. You wanted to argue that the rhymes may have come from humans, however you were under the impression that this would hardly have made a difference in Kylo’s opinion. “The demon king’s praetorian guards—yes, they are the reason it would not be safe to leave you in a realm with a weaker seal.”

 There was the obvious question of  why do you want me safe  that existed on the tip of your tongue. You discarded it in favor of protesting being put to sleep when the faerie moved to gather dust from his wings. The leather-clad hand paused, and there emerged a strangled sound through the helmet’s vocoder. If not asleep, he informed you, then blinded in another way. You did not relish the fact that you were made to tie a thick cloth around your eyes. If you had not been growing more worried that your presence would endanger the children as witching hour approached, you may have argued. Blindfolded and clutching your bag in a manner that it did not press against the sprite in your pocket, you suffered the indignation of being lifted bridal style into Kylo’s arms even though you would have been able to walk just fine, thank you.

 In hindsight, you should have expected that a being of darkness was capable of small deceits even to those he vowed to protect. You mentally swore when you regained consciousness. Your hand instantly went to the blindfold, which you tore from your face. Your teeth were clenched together. A moment later, your jaw relaxed as you noticed Kylo crouching mere inches away with his hand extended towards your face.

 “Portals can be painful for those with human blood,” he said, his voice gentle. You were not certain if you completely believed him, however you were willing to be grateful if his deceit had been based on being merciful.

 You sat up, searching your surroundings and discovering that you had been laid across a bench in the garden that you had visited the previous night. Your bag was on the ground beside one of the legs. Heart stuttering in your chest, you surreptitiously slipped a hand into the pocket that held the sprite. Your finger caressed Ben’s cheek, which in turn caused Kylo to pull away the hand that had been near you to touch the side of his helmet. The same cheek you had touched on the sprite.

  They really are connected,  you thought with a renewed sense of awe.

 Kylo yanked his limb away from the helmet in unison with rising to his full height. “As I stated, you may play here while I fulfill my duties for the witching hour.” You opened your mouth to request that he wait. You tried to remember what questions would help you as well as Rose learn more of the situation. Before you could ask the first one, regarding  what  you were, Kylo took a step backwards. “I will return in time for you to ask those questions. Know this: I may refuse to answer them.”

 He was as vexing as you remembered him being. You started to shift your finger away from the slumbering sprite in order to withdraw your hand, however Ben rolled. From this new position you could feel a tiny hand touching your fingertip. Across from you, Kylo closed his hand into a fist before relaxing. The visor of his helmet pointed towards the ground. You waggled your finger gently to see if Ben would release it. He did not. Instead your actions served to brush along his chest. Kylo shuddered and took a step backwards in retreat. You idly wondered if he was ticklish. Debated whether or not he could sense that other half of his soul in your pocket. You meanwhile enjoyed the feeling of his warm touch on your finger.

 What Kylo had done to you the previous night, the memories that had heat seeping not only into your cheeks but throughout the rest of your body as well, coiling in the pit of your stomach, those touches had been different. It had been carnal. Enjoyable, yet less personable. In your pocket, Ben once more changed position in his sleep. His hand fell away from your finger and his wing brushed along the digit prior to wrapping around him like a cocoon. You took your hand out of your pocket and took a step in Kylo’s direction. He had shuddered again, his wings visibly twitching.

 “Will you answer just one question before you leave?”

 “Yes.” He took a step backwards in retreat. You could  hear  the smile on his lips when he had uttered that single response, and you instantly understood that he had counted that as the promised reply.

 Your nostrils flared when you huffed in frustration. The chuckle that left the dark faerie made your stomach flutter. It was deep and rich. It made you hope that Poe Dameron was wrong, that the story that said Ben had killed his father as a part of becoming Kylo hadn’t happened. You again reached into your pocket while watching the Master of the Knights of Ren walk away. His wings twitched and he shuddered when you gently stroked the sprite. His light was not destroyed. Just as he, for reasons yet unknown, had vowed to protect you, you found that you had the strong urge to protect his light.

 You had always done what you could to see the good in people despite unpleasant circumstances. Did that have anything to do with your parentage? Only once the dark faerie had completely left your line of sight did you withdraw the sprite from your pocket.

 “Well, little faerie, let’s see what answers we can find in the meantime.” You pulled the strap of your bag over your shoulder then set off down the garden path.

[tcdarkeststorms]

Mother’s Day special

Since it’s Mother’s Day, I wanted to give some tribute to the moms we see in Trauma Center, along with headcanons about how a couple of ‘em are as moms and generally exploring stuff. This is my ship hell, just a fair warning.

HERE WE GO!!!

Cybil Kasal

Cybil and Greg, honestly thought long and hard about starting a family. Neither, were entirely sure, because of their GUILT and worrying if it would potentially cause issues with having kids or create issues for the kid once they were born. Privately, they got gene screening done.

They were so relieved when they were told they could in fact have a family safely.

Kari was born 10 months later.

Greg gleefully was telling those they were comfortable telling “She’s Gregnant.” including his mother in law. Cybil was bemoaning the fact, that this was his first dad joke and only the start of a lifetime full of them.

During her pregnancy with Kari, Cybil didn’t even stop working. While anesthesia isn’t an easy specialty by far… It was pretty much a situation of let her or lose a hand. Greg just kept a careful eye on her but put his foot down finally when she was in her last trimester.

The night Kari was born, Greg actually nearly missed it because of an emergency patient. He wanted to pass them off to another doctor, but Cybil insisted he go, she was gonna be fine. He made it with literally seconds to spare as the first thing he heard when he came into the room was Kari’s first cries.

Kari’s name actually has some significance to them both. Derived from HIkari since she was their little light of Hope.

For the first few months, Kari could only fall asleep if she was nestled between them. Cybil lost a LOT of sleep making sure their little girl was fine. (She had a little cot that she was tucked into that was above their own blanket)

Kari’s first words were….

“Dada”.

Greg would never forget the LOOK Cybil gave him when that happened. He tried to convince her, she really said Mama but they both knew.

She took her first steps for Cybil though and that was enough for her. (And Greg got it all on film including the crying from Cybil.)

As she grows, Kari and her mom are very close and Cybil does her best to be there as much as she can. She still works, but she’s not ashamed that she did indeed bring her little one to work a few times.

The first time Kari got sick with something more serious than a cold, it was a good number of sleepless nights. (Poor kiddo had food poisoning. It was not fun for Kari who was five at the time and Greg and Cybil were taking shifts all night to make sure she was comfortable/hydrated)

Kari was born on Mother’s Day of 2021. (May 9th) Cybil boasts that she was the best present she ever got.

Cybil is THAT Mom during sport events at school and the like. Cheering as loud as she can, booing the other team, boasting: “THAT’S MY LITTLE GIRL!!!” And generally just… embracing the role of “embarrassing mom” with utter pride.

They never had another child. They only planned for one and they got their little miracle child.

Naomi Kimishima

Naomi after she woke up from surgery had Alyssa moved to her room. Alyssa actually never slept in her hospital bed again, they slept in the same one together.

Alyssa doesn’t really sleep in her own room all that often. She prefers being near her mother, since she’s so busy… and Alyssa privately, feels safer being right next to her. When she gets older she’ll gradually sleep in her own bed more and more but Naomi doesn’t mind…. Privately, she feels better having her kid right there.

Alyssa, doesn’t remember the first time she called Naomi “Mom” however Naomi does. It was while she was dropping Alyssa off to play at Joshua’s house and Alyssa shouted over her shoulder “Bye Mama! I’ll see you later!”

She’d never admit this out loud to anyone (Except Little Guy) that she sat there in her car for nearly ten minutes crying.

Naomi… doesn’t really get along with the other moms that volunteer at Alyssa’s school. She comes across as intimidating to them and she thinks they’re too protective. (She got a pretty nasty set of glares, when waiting for the kids to be done messing around after school, Alyssa fell. Instead of rushing to her and fretting, she just called across:

“You good!?”

“Ahuh!”

“Good, get up and keep going.”

She could FEEL the judgement)

She… generally dislikes parental participation during events. She loves spending time with Alyssa, but she’ll be the first to admit, she’s more of an introvert now than she used to be and being around so many people is exhausting. She’ll suck it up for her sake though…

Except for Bake Sales.

She refuses to bake. She’s not a disaster chef like Gabe jokes, she can make basic meals and the most advanced thing she can make is various curries (all from scratch and both Indian and Japanese style curries) but unfortunately, that’s not exactly… welcomed at bake sales. She has no shame buying stuff at the store and dropping it onto the table.

There’s a few other moms she works with at CIFM, but they don’t talk…. And actually, Naomi avoids talking to them in particular, because she… really, REALLY hates how often they try to envelope her into their “Mom Clique” at work.  (She got enough of it, after being told how often Alyssa should be snacking, ect and flat out said: “She’s breathing and suffered no brain damage from the explosion. But you know, let’s hear again how I’m a terrible mom for letting her stay up late on weekends and letting her eat candy.”)

They give her a wide berth now as if she’s cursed.

That’s perfectly fine with her.

While they eat out often, Naomi does ensure Alyssa and her both eat a variety of food. Lot of vegetables, fruits, ect.

She became closer with her own mother, after adopting Alyssa since her mom was elated at having a granddaughter… and elated her child was going to live.

Naomi and her mom were close when she was growing up and she wanted the same for her and Alyssa… Luckily for her, Alyssa utterly adores her.

Alyssa shows interest in biology, but she’ll admit, she doesn’t think she could do the work Naomi does. She knows how hard it is emotionally on her at times and has stayed up with her, distracting her after some rough cases. Mainly in the form of watching movies and lots of cuddles in a blanket nest.

On her days off, Naomi always tries to see what Alyssa wants to do, before making plans… most of these plans, include teaching her about meditating, telling her stories, or facetiming with Naomi’s parents. Making blanket forts and watching cartoons, or reading together. (Naomi’s just… baffled at how easy going of a kid Alyssa is. She realizes she lucked out with having a child that’s so calm)

Chloe is still a problem cat and Naomi laments frequently, she didn’t expect to share a familiar with Alyssa.

She’d do it all over again for her sake.

When she and Little Guy get married, Naomi makes one thing clear - she wants ONLY one child and she’s got that already. Navel happily agrees.

Tomoe Tachibana

I like to imagine, Tomoe does want to be a mother someday. It’s just a matter of getting there… and being patient, even if it’s hard sometimes…. Sooo here we are.

In every timeline, when she gets with CR-S01, they struggle for awhile to have kids.

And in each timeline, they adopt after a certain point. They take in a little girl, named Rizabelle who is the utter light of their lives and they adore everything about her. Later on, they’ll have another child, a son (Galen, who you can find here: https://theblueskyphoenix.tumblr.com/post/612419824029777920/citra-torres-teresa-cunningham-galen-muller

Tomoe’s a very gentle and nurturing parent. While their daughter’s pretty hyper, she does her best to help her slow down and appreciate the life around them.

Their little girl, is generally just a ray of sunshine to everyone she meets and a very kind little girl. She adores her parents and spends as much time as possible with them when their home… and even at work.

Tomoe wants to teach both of her kids, martial arts, only if they want to though.

Rizabelle wants to. SO BADLY. Unfortunately, she’s a bit of a frail little thing so it’s not until she’s a little stronger that she starts learning the basics. There is absolutely no desire to take over the Tachibana clan though.

With both of her children, Tomoe emphasizes wanting them to know about their family’s background. A lot of history lessons, Japanese lessons… but she emphasizes she wants them to be kids as well. She never wants them to feel the pressure she did growing up, to do everything a proper “lady of the clan” would do.

Tomoe and Erhard both are guilty of being WAY too excited, to shop for their kids back to school supplies. Rizabelle had JUST turned six when they adopted her, so she was phasing out of Kindergarten when that happened. (They both went overboard. A LOT of books, too many backpacks, specialized stationary, Rizabelle genuinely lost count of how many bento boxes she has for her lunches. They were just so excited to have a kid to shop for. The same thing happens with Galen when it’s his turn, except he does use a few of Rizabelle’s hand-me-down’s since at least there were a few backpacks that weren’t too girly for his tastes and bento boxes didn’t really matter if they were cutesy or not)

Tomoe, privately really enjoys anime unironically, it’s just what she grew up with. It was a real joy to her, to get to share some of her favorite series with her kids. (Black Jack, the original Sailor Moon, stuff she remembered fondly as a little girl).

Movie nights are frequent in the Tachibana-Muller household, with everyone taking turns.

When Tomoe did fall pregnant with their son finally, she was excited, nervous, terrified. She was just… so looking forward to meeting him.

Oddly enough, she didn’t have much in the ways of severe symptoms. She was one of the lucky ones, who didn’t deal with morning sickness and she worked a good deal of the way into her pregnancy.

Erhard came home from work, quite a bit to find his wife and daughter fast asleep, with Rizabelle having her ear pressed to her mom’s stomach trying to hear what her new sibling was up to.

He has a lot of pictures of those times.

Tomoe is… VERY protective of her kids. Rizabelle got pushed and almost punished in the third grade, because it counted as a “fight”.

That was the last time, someone messed with a Tachibana child, as Tomoe went NUCLEAR. (Erhard took a step back and focused on making sure Rizabelle was alright).

No one ever picked on the Muller kids again after that.

Tomoe intimidates the other moms just as much as Naomi and… she honestly doesn’t care. As far as she’s concerned, if they don’t like how she raises her children, they can keep their opinions to themselves.

She admits, she’s a little lost sometimes initially and wishes she could ask her own mother for advice.. But she picks herself up and keeps going. (And asks for advice a LOT from Lisa and Naomi at the start. She realized very quickly to not worry so much since as long as their kids were eating enough, sleeping enough, ect then she couldn’t really mess up)

Lisa Cunningham

Lisa wanted to be a mom, ever since she could remember. When she fell in love with Gabriel, the first thing she warned him was that she did want kids and if he didn’t, then she would let him go right then and there, during their first date.

Luckily he agreed… When they had Joshua, it was still when Gabe was in the reserves. She quickly got on with the other military moms, who all had husbands in the same program as Gabe was. They got along pretty nicely and frequently lamented how often their husbands were busy.

Gabe only had to report to training so many times, never deployed. She still held things together though, when he needed her to.

They lived in California for part of Joshua’s life, before moving to Portland. Both are actually from Portland, but due to Gabe’s work lived in Cali for awhile. She misses it… especially when it’s cold.

When she first became pregnant with Joshua, she was mostly exhausted all the time… and mostly cried at stuff, when her hormones got to her. She could never remember actually being mad. (And Gabe would agree. He just felt bad when she was having a hard time.. And he also wishes he could forget some of the cravings. (“Who the heck dips pickles in peanut butter? For the matter, how many jars of those did you even eat!?” “Your son, wanted them.”)

They had a few names picked out but Joshua was the one they both liked the best. (It’s actually Gabe’s middle name, since he didn’t wanna saddle the kid with being “Gabe Jr.”, Lisa thought it was sweet… and it’s actually a family name, since it was also Gabe’s grandfather’s first name.)

They had some trouble deciding on a middle name though. It was a week long debate, over dinner because both wanted Joshua to have one of his grandfather’s names as a middle name.

They literally had this discussion until Joshua was born.

They settled on Joshua Thomas Cunningham… Neither grandfather's name won. Instead, Joshua’s named after one of the members of the band Styx, Tommy Shaw (Gabe’s favorite band EVER)

Joshua was a C-section baby. He was in distress and they both agreed it was best to just get him out ASAP. (Lisa was honestly terrified and tried to put on a brave face. Gabe stayed by her side the whole time. She can look back on it with humor nowadays though. “He didn’t want a squished head. He was already fluffy thanks to his dad here.” “Hey!”)

Lisa’s a doting mother on Joshua. Loves her baby more than anything else and does whatever she can for him… even if for part of his life, Gabe wasn’t in it.

They are very, very close due to this. Joshua wants his mom happy and does his best hoping not to worry her… even if she still worries like crazy.

They have tried to reconcile several times, meeting privately and talking over the course of the last year or so.

She was mentally burnt out by the time the outbreak had ended. She was so stressed out, it took a toll on her. She and Gabe were together again by this point and… yeah. It was rough. She was having trouble relaxing, neither were sleeping well.

Gabe declared they needed a vacation and they headed to California for two weeks.

Lisa… honestly gets a kick out of the fact, she gets asked for advice from one of Gabe’s old friends, about parenting… and happily will offer it if it’s wanted

A year later, they have another child, their daughter Terry… this time, everything goes nice and smooth and Lisa thanks her lucky stars it went just as planned.

She’s a loving dedicated mother and will do anything for her kids and husband.

While being married to Gabe wasn’t easy at times… she is glad they were able to work it out. (Though she gave him SUCH a look when someone at Resurgam said: “Didn’t you say you were gonna divorce her?”

“Oh please, he wouldn’t survive without me.”

“It’s true.”)

They both have had to put a lot of work into making their marriage work but it’s worth every second.

Angie Thompson

Angie and Derek’s first kid came along exactly 9 months after they got married. They really wanted a family of their own. They were blessed with their first daughter, Luna Stiles.

Derek has quite a few photo’s and notes from over the course of that particular pregnancy, to put in Luna’s baby book later…. Including some of the sillier things. (“Please tell me you didn’t take pictures of that time I cried because you made me eggs with a bacon smile.”

“Noooooo. NOOOOO never….” He did. He got a smack on the arm for it later. It was worth it.)

Angie, didn’t work in the OR at all during this. They worked with too many potential hazards and the smell of the disinfectants made her morning sickness act up BIG TIME. She instead, worked directly with the patients for most of it.

Derek spoiled her rotten and made sure to do as much as he could to make it easier for her… Including, overhauling paperwork duty for them both. (And later realized, he may have made a mistake as Angie now calls him on it every time. “What? Do we need another kid to make you do it on time again!?”

“A-Angie!!!”)

Angie and Derek both agreed, they didn’t want a lot of prying when it came to their children coming into the world. She quietly checked into Hope Hospital and after a long, LONG night… Luna was born and they couldn’t be happier.

Two years later, they were blessed with a little boy, named Glenn.

Angie dotes on them both equally. She was just so happy they were finally here, safe and sound… healthy…

Glenn is a mama’s boy. He happily will cling to her leg when she gets home from work, or if she brings them to work for a bit. He loves spending time with her and getting to know more about her job.

Her favorite part of her day is coming home to their kids and getting to enjoy their evenings with them… or mornings, depending on the shift. Either way, it’s her favorite part.

Angie and Derek both have days where they take one of the kids with them to do an activity solo with that particular parent, along with family outings all together. That way, they get some one on one time along with full out family time. (Derek’s forbidden Disneyland as a “solo parent activity” cause deep down he’s a big kid at heart who loves going just as much)

During the earlier parts of their kids lives, they lived in a few different areas, due to work reasons. They got to see quite a bit of the world before the age of ten, but were very happy to go back home for good. It was around when Luna was 6 and Glenn was 4 that they decided no more international medical work unless absolutely necessary. (“As in, we better be the last ones called.”)

Nap piles are a must. She didn’t understand initially the appeal of mid day naps before she and Derek got together… She admits, there is now nothing better than, taking a midday snooze, her kids her husband all together with her in their big queen sized bed.

Angie is a total helicopter mom when her kids are sick. She’s on top of everything… Derek’s involved with it too, but he’s mainly reminding Angie that they’ll be fine. He’s actually the calm one.

Angie is a member of the now unofficial “Moms who aren’t liked by the other moms at school” club, with Tomoe and Naomi.  It’s more to do with the fact Angie gets recognized from being in the news so often… More so because she refused to give free medical advice.

(“They do know, I’m not allowed to do that right?”

“I got snubbed for not freaking out over Alyssa falling.”

“They were afraid of me.”)

No matter what, she wouldn’t change a single thing.

[apriorisea]

“But I Still Want You” - Part 3

You x Jimin

~~~2 Days Later: Wednesday~~~

You took Tuesday off work. You just couldn’t risk running into Jimin again. When he’d left you on Monday, you’d cried until you couldn’t breathe and then you’d locked your office door and stayed hidden away until it was time to go home. You took the back way, not wanting to run into anyone with your face as puffy and red as it was.     Your phone hadn’t stopped buzzing, really, the texts ranging from mildly curious to out-and-out worried. When you got home, you’d finally sent him a response: So sorry, LONG day. Think I’m getting sick. I appreciate you checking in on me.      He tried calling you a few times on Tuesday, but each time you ignored the call, saying you were spending the day with your cousin and everything was fine.      And now it was Wednesday, time to move on. As you pull into your usual spot in the parking garage, you can see him waiting for you, with his customary bright smile and a surprise fruit smoothie in tow. You take a small breath and quickly check your mirror: you’d spent all last night with cold compresses on your eyes to try and reduce the swelling, and though you’d applied a lot of makeup to hide the dark circles, you were still worried it wouldn’t be enough. Squaring your shoulders, you climb out of the car, willing yourself to smile.     The tall dancer greets you with a quick hug and then offers the smoothie. “Mango-strawberry,” he says.     “My favorite,” you confirm, managing a real smile this time. You take a sip. “Thank you. That’s very sweet of you.”     Falling into step next to you, he looks at you carefully. “So...how are you? Did you have a nice time with your cousin yesterday?”     You nod, taking another sip as you try to remember the details of your cover story. “Yeah, it was great. I don’t get to see her often.”     “That’s good,” he says once the two of you are in the elevator. “Are you feeling a little better?”     You look at him sharply. “What?”     “You said the other day that you thought you were getting sick,” he smiles gently. “Are you feeling better?”     “Oh.” You take another swallow of smoothie. “Yeah, I’m---I’m feeling a little better. Thanks.”     You must have done something bad in a past life, because the first thing you see when the elevator doors open to the main lobby is Jimin. He’s with Jungkook and a few of the managers, waiting to take the elevator up to his floor, and as soon as he sees you, everything goes quiet.      Jimin’s gaze wanders from you to the backup dancer next to you, and you catch the tiniest flicker of devastation on his face before he smiles. “Good morning,” he says politely, bowing a little. His eyes go to your face, and you know that he immediately sees through all of your precautions. “How are you?”     It doesn’t matter how hard he’s working to hide it: you can read him easily. You feel the heat creep up your neck and give a haphazard bow in return. “Good morning,” you say, including the others in your greeting. You can’t help but notice the way Jungkook is staring at the man beside you, his expression a complicated mess of emotions. “I’m---I’m well, how are you?”     Jimin doesn’t really answer, just smiles faintly and nods, then steps back so he’s out of your way. He’s pointedly ignoring the dancer standing next to you.    The other man clearly misses this omission. Smiling brightly, he says, “I’m actually really glad for the break this week. It’ll be good for us all in the long-run!”     “Yes.” To almost everyone else, Jimin’s answer is polite and pleasant, but you and Jungkook immediately hear the tension bubbling beneath the surface.     You exchange a nervous look with the maknae but move past them nervously. As their group boards the elevator, you turn to face them. “Have a good day,” you add. “Your---your tour wardrobes look amazing, by the way.”     Jimin smiles at you, his eyes holding you gently. “Yes, they’re beautiful. Thank you for your hard work.”     The doors start closing, and Jungkook says helpfully: “We’ll see you soon, right?”     You can’t answer that, so you just smile and stay still until the doors are closed.     Bumping your arm softly, your new friend smiles nervously down at you. “I hope my wardrobe still looks okay...”     Of course he goes for the joke. You smile, but even you can tell it falls flat. Taking a small breath, you turn to go, the smoothie sloshing around your empty stomach.

---------

As soon as the doors close, Jimin’s posture slumps. Bowing his head, he rubs his forehead irritably.    “It’s okay, hyung,” Jungkook is saying softly. “You did really well. It’s going to be okay.”    He doesn’t answer for a long time. “I was worried about her,” he admits in the smallest voice. “Because she didn’t come to work yesterday. But she’s....she looks....I guess he took care of her,” he finishes lamely.      Jungkook isn’t sure what to say, so the rest of the trip is silent.

~~~Thursday~~~

You don’t see Jimin, but that’s more a sign of the times than a stroke of luck: the deadlines are coming fast, and word around the company is that all 7 of the boys are pushing themselves to the limit in order to be ready. You do a little bit of careful digging, but no one has any unfavorable gossip about Jimin---though several mention how tired he seems lately.     You inadvertently have lunch with half of the dance crew, because he wanted to eat with you, but the rest of his buddies tag-along, too. It’s fine, but you can’t bring yourself to smile at all of his jokes this time.

~~~Friday~~~

There’s a rumor going around that the boys’ trainer and a medical doctor had been called in, but no one can confirm for whom. No matter how hard you try, you can’t push this out of your mind, and you keep an eye out for him the whole day.    Just after lunch, you’re heading up to the main offices for a delivery, when you run into Jimin in the hallway. Once again, he’s not alone, but they all stop and bow politely at you.     You ask first this time: “How are you?”    He smiles, his mask looking nearly perfect. “We’re all working hard to prepare for the tour. Are you....are you well?”     You nod. “Yes, I am, thank you.” The mask doesn’t fool you: he’s trying so hard to seem fine for you, but it’s killing him and you can see it. The words don’t come to mind easily and he’s ushered away before anything can come to you.    It isn’t until later that you realize “well” was a poor substitute for “happy” and the look of pain at your answer haunts you for the rest of the day.    The text comes close to quitting time: Are you busy tonight? Want to go see a movie?     You can’t think of anything you’d rather do less, but you agree, because that was the point of all this pain, wasn’t it? To move on? To move forward? For both of your sakes?    He holds your hand during the movie and all the way home, and there’s something dark bubbling inside you, but you swallow it down until you’re alone.     “Be happy,” Jimin had said. “I want you to be happy.”    It hurts more than anything.

~~~Saturday~~~

It’s too close to the deadline for anyone to have a day-off, but when word gets out that another doctor had been called to the boys’ personal rooms, you can’t ignore the worry anymore.    Hiding out in your office, you text Yoongi and Jin. Though it takes a while, they confirm that the doctor had been to see Jimin, but that he was doing okay and you shouldn’t worry. You have no choice but to believe them.    Luckily, things are too busy for you to see anyone other than your boss and team. You’re home and stumbling into bed when you get the text: Missed seeing you today---I hope everything will be less busy soon! ;)     You ignore it.

~~~Sunday~~~

Though every department had come in early this morning, as the day wore on most people left, finished with what they could do for the week. But the shooting for the MV was on Thursday, and there were a million wardrobe adjustments that needed to be done, so you and your coworkers keep at it, even as the rest of the building goes silent.    By 6:02pm, it’s just you and your boss, both of you committed to staying until everything is finished. It’s 7:04pm when she gets a call from her husband, asking her to come home quick because the baby is sick. She apologizes to you a million times, but you promise you don’t mind---being busy is better than being alone. She leaves with your reassurance that what you started would be finished before you left.     Your phone buzzes at 8:06pm: Are you still at work?? I dropped by your place to say hi, but no one’s here. Everything ok?    You don’t feel bad not responding, because the work piled in front of you is a legitimate excuse. By 9:08pm, you’re pretty sure you’re the only one left in the building, minus the security team. It feels peaceful and devastating all at the same time, and in the relative quiet, your mind wanders.     Taehyung had called you this morning, just wanting to check-in, but there was a layer of worry about his brother in every word. He had never asked you outright about your dating life, but the questions had hovered around the subject enough to get the point across. You’d given vague answers, unable to focus due to the pain, and when the call ended, you both hung up unsatisfied.     At 9:30pm, you finish the final bit of work and sit back in your seat, exhausted. Now that all the machinery was turned off, the silence is deafening and immediate. There’s not a sound anywhere---    Except you swear you can hear music. You glance at your watch: it’s too late for anyone else to be here. The word had gone out that the boys had left at 6:30pm today, a feeble attempt to “rest up” before the long week ahead. No other department was working this late. The company should be empty.     Tucking your phone into your back pocket, you get to your feet and go to investigate. It doesn’t take you long to find the source of the music: it’s blaring from the large practice room, though most of the lights are off inside. Your curiosity is turning into concern, some part of your soul sensing trouble, so you pull open the door, anxious about what you’ll find.     It takes you a moment to see him. Jimin is sitting alone in the middle of the floor, futilely attempting to stretch out his back. You watch for only a moment before he collapses in on himself, in obvious distress.     That’s all it takes. You’re at his side in seconds, kneeling on the floor next to him. “Have you put heat on it?” you ask, raising your voice over the music.     He’s startled by your appearance and in so much pain that all he can do is shake his head no. You brush your hand through his hair comfortingly and get to your feet, going to the medical supply cupboard in the corner and turning off the music. Now that it’s quiet, you can hear his labored breathing, and it only makes you more upset. You grab the heating pads that are kept in this room for this specific purpose and hurry back to him. “Lie down,” you say softly. With your help, he manages to stretch out on his stomach, his face buried in his arms. You put the heating pads across his lower back and hold them in place. “Have you taken anything yet?”     “No,” he says, his voice barely a whisper.     You go on the hunt for those and a bottle of water. “Did you call someone?”     “Yes.”     When you get back to him, the heat has already done a little bit of work. Kneeling next to him again, you remove the heating pads and carefully start to massage his back. “It’s okay,” you say quietly. “Take those drugs. It’s going to be okay soon.”     He obeys mutely, and the room is silent while you work on his sore, overworked muscles. You’re so focused on helping him that it takes you a moment to realize his shoulders are shaking with silent tears.     You freeze. “Am I hurting you??”     Slowly, he sits up, moving carefully and ignoring your noise of concern. The tears are streaming freely down his face as he meets your eyes.      “Jimin. Your back---”     “Who cares about my back?” he scoffs through tears, even as he winces.      You reach for the heating pad again and scoot closer to him to hold it carefully against his back. “I do,” you say irritably. “You need to keep heat on it for now.”     His eyes are still stuck on your face. “The only thing I need is you,” he says, and before you can respond, he goes on tearfully: “I miss you, babygirl. I miss you so much it’s killing me---way more than my back ever could. It’s eating me alive and I can’t do anything about it, because it’s all my fault.” He reaches for you desperately, but since your attention is focused on his back, he ends up with a hand on your knee. “I hurt you. How can I ever forgive myself for that?? But I miss you.”     Your heart is racing, and the only thing keeping you from tears is your concern for him. “Relax the muscles as much as you can,” you say, staring at the affected area in an attempt to avoid his pointed gaze.     “I’m not good enough for you.” He’s regained a tiny bit of his composure: he’s still crying, but now that he’s touching you, his voice is a little steadier and a lot less panicked. “I wasn’t there for you. I let my own concerns pull me away from you. I know I wasn’t easy to deal with when I was stressed---I was sharp and distracted. I missed things. I put my focus on work when I should have been putting it our relationship, the most precious thing in my life. I am selfish and stupid and weak, and you deserve so much more. You deserve better than me. I’m worthless.”     He’s getting himself worked up again and you can feel his muscles tensing up again as he does. “Take a breath, please. You’re not worthless,” you insist softly, leaning a little closer to readjust your hold on the heating pads. You meet his eyes briefly and an instinctive comforting smile tries to break across your face. “You’re not---”      “Don’t do that,” he says brokenly. “Please don’t.”     You stare at him, still trying to keep the heating pads flush to his back. “Do what?”      “Smile to me. Lie to me.” He inhales roughly. “Try to make me feel better when I shouldn’t. I’m a mess. I couldn’t keep my promise to you---I missed your friend’s dinner, and I know that wasn’t the first time. I constantly let you down. I made you cry.” He holds onto your knee more tightly. “I’m so sorry I ever made you cry. I’m sorry I hurt you.” He chokes on his tears and reaches his other hand out to rest softly on the side of your face. “I am so sorry, please believe me.”     The tears are filling your eyes again, threatening to overflow. The touch of his fingers against your skin feels so wonderful that you don’t ever want to move. He’s still looking into your eyes, and you’re struck again by the desire to crawl into his lap, hide your face in the crook of his neck, and never leave. You swallow unsteadily.      “My precious girl,” he says softly. “I’m so sorry. I’m working so hard to be better,” he adds anxiously. “I’m seeing someone to help with my issues, I’m making myself stronger mentally, I’m recommitting myself to the things that are most important. I’m learning to set boundaries and prioritize. I’m.....I’m trying to fix the ruined part of myself, because the only thing I want to be is the man who is worthy of you.” His face crumples. “Even though I know that will never be possible. I know I will never be good enough for you.” Bringing his other hand away from your knee, he cradles your face in his hands tenderly, his gaze wandering over you desperately.     “Jimin....” you whisper, closing your eyes for just a moment. It’s getting hard to breathe again, and you’re trying to hold onto the part of you that thought this break-up was a good idea---but you’re having a hard time finding it. This is all ridiculous, a part of you whispers. What is the point of being apart if it only makes us both miserable? How is that helping either of us? Why did I ever think this was a good idea??      He’s still holding you gently, stroking your face lightly with his thumbs. “I dream about you constantly,” he says softly. “I dream about you taking me back, giving me one more chance to love you and protect you and take care of you---it’s my second greatest desire.” He inhales unsteadily and his hands slip from your face dejectedly. “But I know it will always be a dream. So I cling to my greatest desire, the only thing I really want, the most important thing: your happiness. And even there I fail, because I’m so conflicted.” He says your name carefully, almost reverently, and the emotions overcome him again. “I need you to be happy,” he says tearfully. “....But I still want you.”     His eyes never leaving yours, he starts leaning in a little closer, moving slowly to give you the space to pull back if you want.     But there’s nothing in you that wants that. You are desperate for him, dying for his touch and warmth and familiarity. The heating pads slip from your useless fingers as he draws closer; your heart is pounding in your throat as your mind races in conflict, but when he finally closes the gap and presses his lips softly to yours, the sigh that escapes you is completely involuntary.     In only a month, you had forgotten this feeling of pure, unadulterated joy, the way his lips fit yours perfectly, the way everything else melts away when he kissed you like this. The return of these feelings is overwhelming. THIS, your mind is screaming. This is all I want, THIS THIS THIS, him. Please.     As if he had heard you, one of his hands moves to rest on your hip, pulling you a little closer, and you you think your heart is going to explode. This is what it should feel like, it says triumphantly. This is right. This and only this. You want to forget everything else and stay in this moment forever.     But all at once, the uncomfortable memory of someone else’s lips brushing your skin and the sound of the practice room door unlocking rips you from your perfect happiness. Jimin makes a distinct sound of disappointment when you pull back, but before either of you can speak, the physical trainer opens the door.     “You should have called me earlier,” he says roughly. “I told you to take it easy, didn’t I?” He looks at you, some of his anger softening. “Thank God you had her here. Did you put heat on it?”     “Y-yes,” you answer distractedly. You get slowly to your feet, moving out of the way so the trainer can have a better look. “I tried to work on it a little, plus he took some painkiller. Less than 15 minutes ago.”     The man nods again. “Good, good. You’re lucky this wasn’t worse,” he reminds his patient darkly.     Jimin is looking up at you, clearly still hungover from the kiss, and though he doesn’t say anything, he desperately and obviously wants you back by his side. But your mind is still racing, already set in your decision but trying to find the best means to accomplish it.     “Lie down,” the trainer instructs, getting to his feet and heading for the medicine cabinet.     Your plan finally made, you meet Jimin’s pleading gaze. “I can’t do this yet,” you whisper. “Just....just give me a second, okay?”     His face falls, but before he can say anything, the trainer returns. Knowing he would be safe and watched over for a while, you force yourself to leave.

-----------

It only takes 1 text message to learn that he was home alone, so you head for his apartment talking yourself up the whole way. By the time you reach his place, you’ve gone over the conversation a million times.     As soon as he opens the door, his face breaks into a wide smile. “Hey,” he says, stepping back to usher you inside. “Long time no see.”     You stay where you are. “I’m sorry.” It was the only way to begin the difficult conversation. “When we started talking, I was still reeling from a break-up, and even though I hate the term, I think I used you as a rebound. I didn’t intend to,” you add earnestly. “I was just in a lot of pain and it was nice to be around someone who could take it away for a little bit. You are so sweet and caring, and you were kinder to me than I deserved. I will always be grateful for that.” You try not to focus on the unhappy expression on his face, thinking instead of Jimin and your need to be back with him. “But I also owe you so many apologies, because I let it go on to somewhere it shouldn’t have. I’m still in love with someone else. I’m so sorry.”     He’s quiet for a long time, just studying you. Finally, he says quietly: “Did you guys fix things, then?”     You sigh. “It’s not fixed yet,” you say honestly. “But we’re both going to work on fixing it, and that’s all I want.”     “He is all you really want,” he corrects, but there’s no malice in his tone---just disappointment.     You don’t deny it. “I really am so sorry.”     He exhales heavily and gives you a tiny smile. “Don’t be. It was always just a  pipe dream anyway. .....You’re sure this is what you want?”     You think of Jimin and the way he felt like home and you can’t stop the smile from reaching every part of your face. “Yes. I still want him.”

---------

On your way back to the company, you try to call Jimin several times, but each time the call goes straight to voicemail. You wait impatiently for the bus to reach it stop, and rush off before anyone else even has a chance to get to their feet. You don’t stop until you reach the practice room, pulling the door open and reminding yourself at the last minute that you needed to show more decorum around the other staff members.     The reminder is pointless, because once again Jimin is alone in the room. In the 70 minutes it had taken you to have your conversation with the dancer, he had clearly been through the full treatment for his back. He’s sitting in one of the rolling chairs in the corner of the room, staring blankly into space.     When the door clicks shut behind you, he turns to look at you, his eyes refocusing slowly. A spasm of pain crosses his face, but this time it has nothing to do with his back. He gets slowly to his feet, resettling the hood of his jacket over his head as he does.     “Are you okay?” you gasp, still trying to catch your breath from the wild dash. “Is your back okay?”     Taking in your disheveled appearance, he frowns and comes towards you. “Are you okay?”     You nod wordlessly.     He nods with you, then takes a deep breath, steeling himself before beginning: “I’m sorry that I made you uncomfortable. I spent all that time telling you how I was getting better, and then I go and do that....” He shakes his head. “You said you needed space and time, and I---I understand that. I really do want you to be happy. So I’ll give you the space you need, whatever it takes for you to feel comfortable and happy.” He manages a tiny smile and reaches out to squeeze your arm. “Just please remember that I am so sorry, and if you ever need anything, I’m here.” With this, he takes another deep breath and moves around you, heading for the door.     You’re caught so off-guard by his reaction that it takes you a few moments to find your words. “I didn’t---”     “It’s okay, really,” he says, but he doesn’t stop. “I know the situation, and I don’t hold it against you---you don’t have to say anything.”     “No, wait, just---just stop.” He finally freezes and you take your own deep breath to calm down. “I’m sorry I ran out earlier, I just had something I needed to do really quick while the trainer was here.”     “You don’t have to apologize.” He doesn’t turn back to look at you, and his voice is full of barely-withheld pain. “But I’m sorry, I really need to go now. Let me call security to walk you home---”     His words are cut off as you run to him and wrap your arms around him from behind. “Baby,” you say gently, hugging him tight. “Please wait just a second.”  You feel his breath catch at the term of endearment and release him, moving around to stand in front of him. He meets your eyes hopefully. Softly, you reach up and pull down his hood. “I love you,” you say, feeling a million pounds lighter now that you finally got to say it back. “I love you more than I can explain. I love you so much that it’s ridiculous. I have never once stopped loving you, and instead of crumbling under this test, I should have held on tighter. Because you may not be perfect, but you are the only perfect thing for me.” The tears prickle at the corner of your eyes again. “I still want you. Only you. And if you can forgive me for my part in this, I promise you that I won’t give up again. We’ll work through it all together, because you are everything to me and I don’t want to do this without you.” Feeling the sob creep up your throat, you give up on words and step closer to him. You wrap your arms around his neck and hold on tight, hiding your face against his shoulder. “I love you.”     His arms are already around you, cradling you against him so carefully. One hand comes up to stroke your hair softly. “Don’t cry, babygirl. Don’t cry.” He takes a huge breath and lets it out slowly; there are a million things he wants to say, but first he wants you to calm down, so he hugs you and rubs your back and lets you cry until it’s done.    You pull back, your hands slipping to rest on his chest as you look into his face. He immediately takes your face in his hands and starts brushing your tears away, his brow furrowed in concern. You take a small breath. “I’m okay now.”     The smile is quick and immediate, but as he meets your gaze, it fades slightly. He puts his arms around your waist, pulling you close to him. “You are my everything,” he breathes, pressing his forehead against yours. “I want this more than anything else in the world, I want you.” He can’t help but grin at the way your cheeks flush, but it can’t push away his thoughts for too long. The shadow passes over his face and he sighs. “But I’m afraid of hurting you again. I’m---I’m working, but I’m not perfect yet.”     “I don’t want perfect,” you say, touching his face softly. “I just want you. We can grow together. Please?”     He studies you a moment longer, then leans in to press his lips to yours. “Whatever you want, babygirl. Thank you,” he adds, before kissing you again. “I promise I’ll be better.”     “We’ll be better,” you correct mildly, then pull him in for another long kiss. When you finally break away, you smooth some hair out of his face. “How’s your back pain?”     He smiles. “What back pain?” Releasing you, he intertwines his fingers with yours and tugs you towards the door. “Let’s go home, babygirl: we have so much catching up to do.”

[vulture-jack]

What are some of your favourite anime shows and movies? I'm trying to get into more anime

On paper my favorite anime is Mob Psycho 100. Its an easy recommendation, and imho just straight up one of the best anime ever made. Ive never watched something and been like "wow this is better than mp100". Specifically season 2. Before season 2, Space Dandy was my on paper favorite anime. Space dandy has a raunchier sense of humor that isnt gonna click with everyone, but I love it and like, as art? Its criminally underrated. If you are more familiar with english than Japanese this is also one of the few times when I will STRONGLY reccomend the dub.

Im also like head over heels for JoJo's Bizarre Adventure. Its a blast. Its so much fun to love jojos. Its a gift that keeps on giving. Its not for everyone, but its for me and i think it radically changed both how I perceive and create art. (Part 3 onward no comment but like. Part 1 and 2? Dub kinda Awful. Nearly stopped me from getting into jojo.)

Those are my current Big Three Things I love. All are artistically unique, high energy, wacky, and over the top so I definitely have a Type. On to some others I enjoy.

Some low key or dramatic shows I enjoy are a Place Further Than The Universe (i cried lmao), Mushi shi (i think ill always wish there were more mushishi. I could watch mushi shi forever), Yuru Camp and Flying Witch (two God Tier aesthetic iyashikei shows), ive only watched the first season so far but im weak for period drama and I really loved Showa Genroku Rakugo Shinju s1, Shiki is a good horror anime I didnt expect to hurt me the way it did. Ill put sports anime here and say I have too many Yuri on Ice prints not to include it despite its flaws, and recently really loved Run With The Wind (great cast dynamic). This year Ive really loved the remake of Fruits Basket as someone going into the series p much blind. I need to finish Silver Spoon but the first half is <3 (same author as Fullmetal Alchemist!)

Speaking of FMA for action/adventure FMA Brotherhood is an obligatory recommendation. HunterxHunter is great, and i ADORE the cast of Boku no Hero Academia (and the rest of the show). This year Im enjoying the hell out of Demon Slayer Debated reccing this as it puts the Problematic in Problematic Fav but fuck it I LOVE Kill la Kill and if you can get past the fanservice (and i dont blame you if you cant or just plain dont want to) its so goddamn good. I dont wanna make a new category for these but recently I loved Zombieland Saga. And Ouran High School Host Club is a long time favorite. I also love Yugioh DM but like. Thats not something i generally recommend to people as its not really a great watch experience, its the characters that keep me there, but theres very little time made for th3 Good Stuff (i only pray one day it gets the Brotherhood treatment.) Im leaving out a lot honestly like. Megalobox is dope as hell. I enjoyed Fate/Zero even with like no knowledge or interest in Fate as a whole. Im probably gonna remember something I adore after I post this and be frustrated with myself. Like Anohana! Or Soul Eater! I mainly tried to only count shows ive either finished or finished a whole season of. Like im really loving dr stone but its like 8 episodes in.

MOVIES. Uh. Every Mamoru Hosoda movie Ive seen so far (missing a few) but especially Wolf Children. This director is REALLY good at making me cry.

Recently saw Maquia When The Promised Flower Blooms? 10/10 would sob uncontrollably in the theater again.

I liked a Silent Voice a lot. Especially how it like...visualized the main characters isolation. And that amazing subtle character animation. Really gorgeous movie.

I dont think I need to recommend ghibli movies to people but special shout out to my personal fav Mononoke Hime.

Satoshi Kon as always is worth looking into if you havent, ive only seen Paprika and Tokyo Godfathers at this point and the latter is my favorite of the two.

For some cute kid friendly stuff Arashi no Yoru Ni and You Are Umasou are uhhhhhadorable. Also the little witch academia short movies. If you like those check out the show.

Making this post also makes me realize how much stuff I WANT to watch or need to finish. (Like Red Line and K-on and Psycho Pass and Steins;Gate. All stuff i feel like id recommend if like. Id seen all or even half of it)

I watch a large variety of genres from dark psychological horror to cute girls go camping so I tend to tailor my recs to the person who is asking, but I tried to make this a general purpose collection of favorites lol. I def left some stuff out because typing on mobile as almost as unreliable as my ability to recall Things I Liked.

[someotherdayneku]

NAME!  Vosh HEIGHT!  6′ NATIONALITY!  Canadian FAVORITE  FRUITS! Apples FAVORITE  SEASONS! Spring & Autumn. FAVORITE  SCENTS!   Earth and Rain, Citrus FAVORITE  ANIMALS!  Crocodilians, Snakes TEA  /  COFFEE  /  HOT  COCOA!   Ummmm.... Soup? AVERAGE  HOURS  OF  SLEEP! These days? Anywhere between 6-12 hours WHEN  MY  BLOG  WAS  CREATED!   Way back in 2016, but had to remake a few months ago... ^^; RANDOM   FACT!  I’m an avid D&D player! Right now I’m tied in to 4 irregular campaigns, not including my irl group. FAVORITE  FOOD(S)! Pepperoni pizza, fried chicken FAVORITE SHOWS!  The Good Place, Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries, Digimon FAVORITE  MOVIES!  Clue, Ghostbusters,  FAVORITE  VINE!   So I’m sitting there. BBQ sauce all over my titties- SEXUALITY!   Unlabeled, floating somewhere in the Asexual spectrum PRONOUNS!   Male; he/him/his. FAVORITE  BOOK  SERIES! The Enchanted Forest Chronicles, more recently, Go for it Nakamura! FAVORITE  VIDEO  GAMES! ♡  Digimonstory Cybersleuth, Bayonetta, .hack//GU FAVORITE  BANDS / ARTISTS!   Paramore, Lights, The Nearly Deads, Aruvn, Amalee FAVORITE  SUBJECT!  Art History GUYS   OR   GIRLS! Mmm... If I’m honest, I tend to be more relaxed around guys irl? But I also communicate better with girls over online chat. It’s a weird sort of dissonance for me, and I’m really trying to examine it. LAST  TIME  I  CRIED!  God, I don’t even remember. I’m a repressive mess. WHAT  I  SHOULD  BE  DOING!   Eating my breakfast. FAVORITE  FANDOM! Relatively undecided.

tagged by:  @vacuousfool tagging: Whoever else wants to do it :D

[seadeepywrites]

Kid, You Gotta Stand Up

Character: Haven Vassellon Words: 3229 tw: academic stress & failure

Haven is eighteen and her life is over.

She sits here for a while, in this small side room of the Runiversity, her throat aching and a heaviness in her abdomen that feels a bit like a draft horse has kicked her, repeatedly. As Haven buries her head in her hands, letting her blonde hair curtain down to hide her face from view, she wishes for the five hundredth time she wasn't the kind of person who cries this easily.

She weeps, but it's practically perfunctory. There are few tears that escape, like she’s a sponge wrung out of all moisture, for the simple reason that she has cried enough this week to fill a bucket with saltwater several times over. By now she knows the pattern she'll follow. The crying, accompanied by the sinking-spiraling sensation that she's worth nothing. Will never succeed at anything, anywhere. Then come the hot flash-bang surges of rage — frustration at herself, and fury at the university for putting her in this position.

Lastly, a nauseous kind of acceptance. There's peace to be found on the other side, when her stomach muscles are sore from her heaving sobs and the tears and snot on her face have dried into a slick film. Haven isn't sure if she’d call this phase coming back up for air or crashing down to earth, but that’s where she is in the cycle when the door to the room opens and Wyler sticks his head in.

"Hey, Haven," he says, brown eyes warm and tone extraordinarily gentle. "How are you doing?"

Haven gives him a double thumbs-up without smiling. "Oh, you know.... terrible."

"Yeah," he says quietly. "I thought so."

Tugging the door shut behind him, Wyler walks over to a desk that sits several arm-lengths away from where Haven is puddled in the near-center of the room. He slouches sideways in the chair, kicking out his lanky legs in two entirely separate directions, and regards her with contemplative sympathy.

"I take it you just had your meeting with Professor Rothquenter?" Wyler asks.

Haven nods.

"And how did it go?" Wyler says, before casting his gaze over Haven's disheveled appearance and amending his question. "I can kind of tell the answer is 'not well.'"

Haven shrugs, a weary and helpless motion. "She said they can't do anything for me. My work hasn't been up to their standards, so it's..." She takes a deep breath. "It's as simple as that."

Wyler makes a noise of outrage. "What? It's not simple at all. There was that whole thing with your sister halfway through the semester, and you— you tried so hard."

"It turns out," Haven says with a bitter twist to her mouth, "that how hard I try is not actually a metric the Runiversity cares about very much."

"They're supposed to be an institute of learning," Wyler says, a little desperately. "They don't recognize how much you want to be here? That doesn't count for anything? Are you serious?"

In a small voice, Haven says, "I don't know that I do want to be here, anymore."

"I guess not," Wyler snorts. "I wouldn't either, if I were you."

Haven scrubs at her face, running her fingers up into her hair and rubbing at the base of her antlers. Her hair floats away from her head in blond wisps — she's guessing it has already tangled itself in the ten minutes since she took it out of its bun, though she hasn't even moved from this chair.

A wad of blue fabric lands on the desk in front of her with a gentle flumph noise. Haven looks at it.

"Uh, what is this?"

"It's my handkerchief," Wyler says with a frown. "For, you know." He waves a hand in her direction. "Your face."

"Wow." Haven smiles despite herself. "Thanks a lot."

Wyler seems to register his own comment. "Okay, you know I didn't mean that. I mean, I meant. Um."

Picking up the handkerchief, Haven clutches it in one crumpled fist. A fresh wave of tears crests and breaks, spilling down her face.

"I'm sorry!" Wyler says, truly alarmed now.

"N-no," Haven chokes out, blowing her nose and shutting her eyes as her shoulders shake. "It's... thank you. For being." She makes a strange wet gurgling noise that surprises even herself. "Here for me."

"Oh." A scraping noise as Wyler scoots his chair closer. One warm hand grips her shoulder. "Of course. I'm.... this is really terrible. How they've treated you."

Haven cries some more. Wyler sits with her, and for someone who's normally quite the chatterbox, he doesn't say much.

***

Haven has forgotten what it was like to be stared at wherever she went. In the halls of the Runiversity, a bright pink tiefling with a large rack of antlers and a cascade of blond hair could sit in a classroom alongside silver-scaled dragonborn, tiny-but-spunky kobolds, and even a handful of shy firbolg. The Runiversity's position as the foremost institute of higher learning means that it attracts people from across the continent of Povrunei — sometimes even further — and Haven had relished the chance to be only one oddity in a group of many. Just another funny-looking student learning to read, write, and fling spells.

It stings a little, then, when she stops at an inn along the coast and the women in the corner of the taproom burst into poorly stifled giggling at the sight of her. Haven ignores them, though she can't prevent her tail from lashing slowly along the floorboards behind her, and goes straight to the bar.

"Hi there," she says to the innkeeper, a somber-looking dwarven fellow who hardly reacts to her presence at all, thank the gods. "Can I get a room for the night?"

"Absolutely," he says in a surprisingly high-pitched voice, reaching under the counter. "One single bed? Dinner and breakfast are included."

"That'd be great." Haven smiles. "And can I get a glass of wine, please? Something with fruit or berries, if you have it."

The innkeeper grunts. "Grape's a fruit."

Haven blinks.

Before she can reply, he flashes her a smile. It is wide and toothy, but it is gone again so fast she's left flat-footed, wondering if she imagined it.

"I'll bring you some of the Minaret blend," he says. He waves a hand. "Pick any table."

Haven does, dropping her pack to the floor next to her chair. It crashes down with a thud loud enough to draw every eye in the place, and she winces. Her shoulders and back are one solid stone block of pain and tension right now, forcing her to shuffle along like an aging hermit, but she’d found herself physically unable to walk away from the Runiversity without stuffing a truly ridiculous number of books into her traveling pack. These are just her favorites, too, the ones she couldn't go any length of time without. When she figures out where she's going to be staying in the future, she'll write a letter to Wyler and he'll send along the other six cases of tomes, notes and journals.

Haven digs her fingers into her stiff shoulder muscles, tilting her head from side to side. Her wand nearly slips free of its place in her bun, so she spends a few minutes re-securing her hair more neatly atop her head.

She is just sticking her wand back through the whole mess, tongue nipped between her pointy teeth in concentration, when a human slides into the seat across from her. Their short hair is dark against their lightly tanned skin, and their gray eyes are glacier-pale. Coupled with their unblinking stare, the effect is unnerving, but since Haven doesn't have any pupils or irises to begin with, she supposes she isn't one to talk.

"Uh," she says. "Hi?"

"Hello," the human says, a smile fluttering like moth's wings around the corners of their mouth. "You are from the Runiversity, yes?"

Haven has spoken to people from several continents of Thiuhm, but she has never heard the lilting accent that lifts this stranger's speech into melody.

"I am," Haven says. "Or, well... I was. I'm actually," she glances down at her pack, "on my way away from it, these days."

"I see." The human sits there for a few seconds, digesting this information. "Would it be all right if I asked you a few questions? I am perhaps an aspiring student myself."

Haven can't help the face she makes, brow furrowing and lip curling in reflexive dismay.

"I apologize," the stranger says hastily. They move as if to get up and leave, halting poised on the edge of their chair. "I did not mean to offend."

"Gods," Haven says with a little laugh, waving them back down. "That's not it. You're fine. Please, stay."

The human settles into the chair again.

Grimacing, Haven continues, "I just don't know how much help I'm going to be. I'm, uh, not feeling too kindly towards the place at the moment."

The human arches one sleek, crisply defined eyebrow.

"It's complicated," Haven says. She fidgets with the fabric of her sleeve, twisting the gauzy fabric between her fingers in a way that is sure to leave permanent creases. "I wanted to go there so badly. I really did."

"But you do not anymore?"

"I don't know." Sighing, Haven repeats, "It's complicated."

"We have time," the stranger says magnanimously. The expression they flash at the innkeeper is small and subtle enough that Haven decides they must know each other — that the human is a regular here.

Haven says, "I don't think I caught your name."

"Ah, I suppose you did not." The human considers this, apparently weighing the possible benefits and drawbacks to handing over such personal information. "You may call me Ten."

"Ten? Like the number?"

"Indeed."

Haven gives a mental shrug, curious but hardly perturbed. She is a tiefling, after all, and strange chosen names are part of their lot as well.

"Okay then — Ten. What did you want to know about the Runiversity? I'll do my best."

"I could hardly ask for more." Ten smiles slightly, inching forward in their chair. "The students, those that are accepted to study there... are they all afforded the same privileges?"

Haven frowns. "What do you mean?"

Waving a hand, Ten says, "Take a random example. Say... the teleportation network. Would any student have access to such a place?"

"Ah," Haven says. She suspects the example was not random in the slightest, from what little she can glean off of Ten's mysterious, polished mannerisms. "Well, uh.... not really. I mean, you could always pay to use it, but in terms of just letting students hop across continents..." She thinks about it for a second. "I'd say you'd have to be at least a fourth-year." And then, more confidently: "They'd definitely require you to have taken Conjuration II, cause that's got a unit on travel and transportation spells. Or to have an equivalent recommendation from a Conjuration professor along with high marks in a lower-level class."

"I see." Ten is silent for a moment. "And what year did you say that you were?"

"I didn't say," Haven replies with a grimace. She shifts in her chair, tugging again at her sleeve. It's not shame that prickles warm across her skin, exactly, but she's not too comfortable baring the sordid details of her stay at the Runiversity. Not right now, with the wound so fresh.

"I was going to take my second-year exams next month," she says after a moment.

Haven doesn't mention that it took her three years to complete the work most students would have in one, or the stilted and humiliating conversations with everybody from her professors to the Archmage of Abjuration to her fellow students. She doesn't share the particulars of the Runiversity's assessment system and why she's so nauseatingly familiar with it. She doesn't admit to the ravenous insecurity that has rotted inside her the last few weeks — the fear that for all her thirst for knowledge, there is something deeply, deeply wrong with her brain. Something wrong with her.

"And where are you headed for now, if you don't mind my asking?" Ten says, perfectly politely. They skate elegantly past the real question that Haven is sure lurks on their tongue, dark and squat and ugly.

Haven says, "I don't know for sure yet. I'm heading east for now, but I'm thinking of maybe sailing to another continent, even. I've never been a ship properly before. Only those little boats, with oars."

Her hands flutter as she talks, tracing a path through the imaginary Povrunei in the air between them. Her fingers hesitate on the coastline, but then she flicks them outward, into the swell of a transparent ocean. Haven knows her geography, but she is starting to realize there is a significant difference between knowing something intellectually and truly understanding it in your bones.

Haven decides, as she speaks to Ten, to pretend. For the length of this conversation and the questions they ask her, she can be like any other student. She chose to leave the Runiversity for entirely independent reasons. Of her own volition and free will, because she truly concluded there was a better life for her in the wide world beyond.

It's tempting, that lie. It's an explanation she pieced together bit by bit over many tearful hours spent with Wyler, bolstered by his attempts to spin golden optimism out of the spiky straw of her despair. He believes it, and she's repeated the words so many times she almost believes it too. It's the story she's told anyone that asks, and one she's tried very hard to convince herself of.

The problem is that Haven's read enough fiction to know a convenient narrative when she comes across one. She's notoriously bad at discerning when other people are lying, but she recognizes the squirm of self-delusion in herself as she speaks. The way she's twisting the truth. The way she's making excuses for herself, and pretending this wasn't partially her fault. Maybe even mostly her fault.

"Haven?"

Haven blinks. Refocuses on the human sitting across the table from her. "Oh, sorry. I got a bit lost in my thoughts there."

"It's all right. I'd expect nothing less from an academic such as yourself."

As Ten smiles magnanimously, it occurs to Haven that she doesn't think she introduced herself to them. To anyone in this tavern, actually. So how the hell does Ten know her name?

"If I'm being honest," she says with a flash of guilt, "I'm not sure it's in the cards for me to be an academic much longer."

Ten's glance flicks down to the pack at her feet and its lumpy, oblong shape. "You are clearly enthusiastic about learning."

"Learning, yes." Haven's mouth twists. "Academia, maybe not so much."

Ten tilts their head in a silent question.

"I want to learn things," Haven says in a rush. "I want to read and take pages of notes and know everything about everything." She swallows against the sadness that's been sizzling in her throat for weeks now. "But school is... it might not be the right fit for me. For the way that I learn."

"There's no shame in that," Ten says, serene, displaying again an uncanny ability to guess at Haven's emotions. "We are all of us different people."

"But I'm a wizard," Haven says, distressed. "Wizards learn their spells through studying. And classes. And homework."

"Do they? All of them?"

"All the ones I've ever met."

Ten laughs. The sound is musical, and there's an echo to it that abruptly forces Haven to re-consider the assumption she'd made that Ten is, in fact, a human.

"You have, however," they point out, "spent much time at the Runiversity. Perhaps it is a limited selection of the population that you have drawn your conclusions from."

Haven thinks about this. It reminds her of the introductory math class she took her first year, which quite literally had her tearing her hair out in frustration. Professor Brighthammer had spent several classes emphasizing the importance of surveying a representative sample, and the errors that might result from a failure to do so.

She nods, and says, hesitantly, "That's... possible, I guess."

"You simply have to make your way in the wider world and meet more wizards," Ten says. Haven can't tell if they're being facetious or not.

She makes a face. "Maybe. It's not the main goal, but it could happen along the way."

"And what is your goal, then?"

Haven hesitates. It's not that she doesn't know — it's the careful fitting of words to her purpose, trying to articulate it in a way this stranger will understand.

"I want to learn," she says slowly. "But I also want to, um, make my mark. Find whatever it is I'm good at and do that. I thought I was gonna be able to do it at the Runiversity, but... I guess not."

Ten's fingers drum an irregular rhythm on the table. They sip from the mug the innkeeper deposited on the table in front of them. Haven blinks, remembering her wine, which she has completely forgotten to drink.

"I hope you find what you're looking for," Ten says eventually. "I have every faith that you will."

"Thanks. Um, you too."

This time, their smile reminds Haven of the point of a needle — minute and deceptively sharp. "I am confident that I will as well. Do not worry about me."

"Uh," Haven says. "I won't, then."

Ten sits with her a little longer, slowly draining the rest of their mug. They ask a few more questions about the Runiversity, in the delicate sort of way that dances around Haven's current conflicted feelings towards the place.

Haven is happy to answer, but she can't deny the way her shoulders relax when Ten finally stands, stretches like a cat, and says, "I shall retire for the evening, I think."

"Okay," Haven says, trying not to sound too relieved. "Good night, Ten."

"And to you."

Ten inexplicably offers her a bow, performed with just enough flourish to look out of place in this rough backwater tavern. Haven gives a short little laugh, bemused.

And then Ten disappears into the night. The door latching behind them seems very loud, despite the murmuring chatter from the other tables that are still occupied. Haven takes a larger swallow of her wine, enjoying its rich and velvety sweetness. She didn't ask what was in it, but she suspects a hint of cherry. It's nice.

She doesn't stay up much later after that, only long enough to finish the glass of wine and thank the innkeeper. Climbing slowly up the stairs, she yanks her bun out and replaces it with a loose braid.

The bed is lumpy and narrow, but Haven collapses into it without changing out of her day-clothes. She places her wand on the low table next to the bed, rearranges the pillow to accommodate her antlers, and is asleep within minutes.

She dreams of a jungle, thick and verdant. Insects hum in its interior, and buried somewhere amid its tangle of vines, a yellow-white light flickers and vanishes. She dreams of snakes, and pirates. She dreams of adventure.

In the morning, Haven heads for the coast.