#infinite blue fanfic

[sailxrmxrs]

so. it's been a few months. OOPS. the creative juices have not been flowing lately BUT WE ARE SO BACK. and getting festive!! today we're decorating for christmas with our beloved infinite blue boys. this one won't be full fics but more so thoughts strung together. throwing my brain at my computer screen and seeing what sticks type beat. shoutout to itsu for the art that made me go insane abt the boys and desperate to write smth again. also shoutout to ito for listening to me ramble my thoughts aloud. always a pleasure to brainrot with u. determined to try and get back to regular writing but we shall see how that goes LMAO. for now enjoy christmas decorating gamers WOOOO.

♡ leo ♡

Leo gets SO excited for Christmas time. He loves seeing the neighbourhood lit up with strings of lights and bright displays of festivity. He's not one to hold back either with his own decorations. Leo has built up a rather eclectic collection of decorations and baubles for his Christmas tree, most of them being movie references or themed. Stormtrooper wearing a Santa hat, a resin hanging decoration made to look like a stack of Lord of the Rings books, that sort of thing. He excitedly asks what sort of fun decorations you own or want to get because he wants the tree to match both of your interests. Definitely surprises you with a few that he thinks you'll like, barely able to contain himself. Leo is bad at keeping presents a surprise. He just loves seeing how excited you get!! Very much the embodiment of golden retriever boyfriend. Always. I can see Leo also having some decorations with sentimental value too. Like this one bauble he painted as a kid that's definitely not the prettiest mix of colours, but it brings back memories of childhood and excitedly trying to stay up late to see Santa leaving presents behind. He LOVES good christmas tradition too. Every Christmas Eve he's watching the same movie (probably Home Alone) with an array of snacks laid out to enjoy. He loves getting to share it all with you too as well as starting new traditions for future Christmases together. For example, this year he dumped strips of coloured paper on the floor, put his Christmas playlist on, and declared you were both making paper chains and paper snowflakes to hang around the house with the tinsel already on display. There's no such thing as too many decorations in Leo's world so I hope you're prepared for your home to look like a festive spirit exploded in every room. Bonus note he also owns sets of festive pyjamas specifically for December and will only wear these. If it's not Christmas related he isn't touching it. Also owns slippers made to look like reindeer.

♡ milo ♡

Milo might just be the worst one to decorate for Christmas with. He's never really been overly fussed about buying decorations or a tree and has literally nothing of the sort at home. He hadn't even considered the thought that you might want to indulge a little and spend a day or two putting up lights or finding a tree for your shared living room. When you do mention the idea to him, Milo is somewhat surprised, but will nod along that sure you can get a tree. Will suggest you buy one of those pop-up trees that comes with the ornaments already attached because it's easier and will only take a couple minutes to set up and put into place. It takes a lot of convincing to sway him away from that idea. He doesn't seem to realise that half the fun is spending hours fighting the tangled mess of lights, or finding that one specific ornament you bought a few years ago just to hang front and centre on the tree. Will only agree to it if you promise to buy him an early Christmas present too. Bribery is a wonderful tool for convincing Milo to join in all the traditional couple behaviours and outings. He'll enjoy it once he's there and sees how much you're enjoying yourself, but will make a point to complain about the weather, or that he's getting bored looking at different variations of the same lights. His boredom is easily cured by a request to get food before heading home. Once you're home, he offers to reach all the tallest parts you can't reach, but not before making a smug joke about how you only asked him to help because you wanted the extra pair of hands. At the end of it all, he'll be stood behind you, arms enclosed around you and pulling your back against his chest. Will rest his chin atop your head and admit that yes, he had a lot of fun today and yes he will do it again next year. Offers to take you out again next weekend to go ice skating or put together gingerbread houses. Just as long as you don't make him wear one of those awful Christmas jumpers Leo sent a picture of himself wearing the other day. You don't make any promises.

♡ rory ♡

Ever the hopeless romantic, Rory equally adores and despises this time of year. He loves the romanticism of the festive atmosphere, the twinkling fairy lights, the decadence of the food. He's secretly been craving the chance to share it all with someone else. But he would never admit to it. Which is also the cause for his self-proclaimed hatred of the holiday season. He likes to lament about how so much of it is commercialised and specifically catered to couples wanting an excuse to show off how cute they are. He'll acutely ignore the fact that you came home to him watching one of those cheesy Netflix Christmas rom-coms. The type where a prince gets isekaied into the suburbs of New York and falls in love with generic city woman. Will try to hide his face in the neckline of his sweater while you set down boxes of decorations to dress up the room. Claims he wants no part of it and acts all indifferent to your enthusiasm, though it is blatantly evident on his face that he actually means the exact opposite. So you get to hanging baubles from the tree, singing along to Christmas songs as they chime from the speakers. It's when you notice Rory stand up, eyes flickering from you, to the tree, to the floor, that you ask if he would like to give you a hand. Will say no, but you should move that one ornament a bit higher up. It will look better there. Or maybe add a different coloured one there to brighten up that section. Pass a box of ornaments to him and tell him that if he's going to comment on your decorating then he better just do it himself. Rory acts as though this is some large inconvenience but within minutes he's quietly singing along under his breath, a rosy colour staining his cheeks. Pull out some mistletoe and watch him turn an even brighter red. Do it I dare u. And once the room is sufficiently dressed up for Christmas, Rory will collapse back on the sofa, shyly admitting how much he loved spending the time with you as you burrow into the warmth of his side. Will get a little flustered but tries to play it cool until you tease him about finishing the rom-com you caught him watching earlier. Goes to push you away but immediately pulls you back in. Maybe he can be a little more affectionate than usual today. Maybe.

♡ alexei ♡

Alexei doesn't usually decorate a whole lot around the festive season. It's not for a lack of wanting to, nor does he dislike it at all, but rather he just never felt like he had a reason to before. For him, Christmas always felt like a very family-oriented time of year so after he moved out, the thought simply never occurred to him that he could go out and buy a tree and ornaments, even just for his desk at work. When you pose the idea to him to get your home all decorated up for the season, Alexei's interest is piqued. He will scroll for ideas on how to pick a colour theme and will get really into the colour ratio of the baubles too. He lines the tree with golden fairy lights and makes sure the balance of red and green baubles is even. Makes sure to find tinsel that matches the exact shades as well so it doesn't look mismatched at all. It's really rather cute how focused he'll get over it, eyebrows furrowed and this tiny little crease in his forehead. Stands with a look a pure concentration in the way his eyes are surveying the tree from top to bottom, his finger tapping against his lip while you watch from your spot on the sofa sipping a hot chocolate Alexei made for you. You tried to tell him he doesn't need to take it so seriously with the way he's alternating between different coloured baubles but your voice falls on deaf ears. He'll stand back to admire his handiwork, looking to you for excitable approval. Once he deems it good enough, Alexei will lay down, his head just beneath the tree, and he'll gesture for you to join him. He feels all tired out after a day of decorating and has a distinct urge to nap under the tree like a cat. Will sleepily ramble about how he's been looking forward to spending the holiday with you, how he's excited to try all these new things and start ned traditions with you until eventually his eyes betray him and they blink slower and slower and he's falling asleep in your arms.

♡ brooklyn ♡

Brooklyn's home on Christmas is a sight to behold. The man knows how to decorate no matter what the occasion may be. He always loves to make a day of it too. Expect him to wake you up with a cup of tea, already dressed in a cosy Christmas sweater with his hair unstyled and a little messy. Winter Brooklyn is a delight for the eyes. Especially when he's got a hand-knitted scarf bundled around his neck and matching gloves warming his hands. Drives you to a local Christmas tree farm he always visits on the first weekend of December every year without fail. The owners know him by name at this point and are particularly excited to see he has company this year. His hand is entwined in yours as you wander around, talking and musing together over which tree would fit best. If it's snowing, expect Brooklyn to flick a snow-covered branch at you, a dusting of cold powder freckling your cheeks. Will laugh but lets you throw a snowball at him as payment for the attack. Once you pick out the perfect tree, Brooklyn takes you to a local Christmas market to pick out some new decorations. He has a rather rigorous theme he likes to stick to but wants to add something meaningful to signify the two of you—especially with this being your first Christmas together. He tries not to go too overboard and is only stopped by the sight of a stall offering decadent mugs of hot chocolate. Once you're back home and in the warm, Brooklyn is lighting the fireplace, along with a few festive themed candles, and rolling up his sleeves. It's at this point you see just how serious he is about Christmas decorating. And it certainly pays off because once you're both done, the tree looks like someone opened pinterest, found the most visually pleasing tree and managed to extract it and place it directly in your living room. Brooklyn looks very pleased with himself as you praise his well thought out planning. Ends the day with a surprise gift for you because his family always had a tradition of giving a gift on Christmas tree day and he wants to keep that going with you. Is generally just the embodiment of Christmas rom-com love interest with how perfect he makes the day turn out to be.

♡ tobias ♡

Decorating with Tobias is so unbelievably chaotic. There is no rhyme or reason to the scattering of ornaments all over the floor. Decorations are everywhere except where they are supposed to be. He claims he's got a strategy but you're not so certain. He also doesn't really bother with any particular colour theming and just picks out what he thinks looks cool. Loves to have a range of different shapes and colours for the ornaments. Also buys a string of multicoloured flashing lights to drape around the tree because 'regular white lights are boring'. Tobias doesn't care too much about whether you put up a plastic tree or a real one, that is until he sees Brooklyn post a photo of his own Christmas tree on instagram and suddenly Tobias wants to buy a real tree too and make it look as aesthetically pleasing as possible. So he's dragging you out into the cold to go and buy one. Finds his idea of the perfect tree after a good hour of deliberating over which one looks best. Wants one that's got a good shape to it and has plenty of branches. In doing so, however, he very much overestimates how big his car is and how big his apartment is. Drives home with the top of the tree sticking between the seats it's basically sitting on the passenger seat with you. And then there's getting it into his apartment. It's just a little bit too tall so the top of the tree is bent over a little against the ceiling. Tobias rejects your idea to buy a saw and cut the trunk down because surely you can just trim to top, right? No, Tobias, you cannot. Ends up deciding to bend it so the top is angled down a little since you won't let him take the kitchen scissors to it. You're about to attempt to put the star on top until Tobias stops you, claiming he needs to make some adjustments before it goes up. Runs into the bedroom and returns like five minutes later with the star but now it has a picture of his face taped onto the front. Reaches up to put it on the tree but because it's a little too tall, the star is angled down so it looks like star Tobias is watching over like some cursed angelic watchman. Leo is very unsettled when he comes over to visit.

[archer12xx]

Forever Holding Your Peace

tags: slight to moderate angst (I think), wedding, Tobias Fox, featuring Milo.

--

You clicked play for the umpteenth time and watch as the love of your life kneel down and pull out a ring, smiling as tears fall down his cheeks, on the video. "He looks so happy," you whispered just before Milo snatched the phone from your hand. "You have to stop doing this to yourself," he said, turning the video off and putting the phone on the table.

You leaned in, putting your elbow on the table and rest your chin on your palm. Your gaze wandered outside the window, watching the people come and go but... not really. Lost in thought, your mind fixates on Tobias' happy face, especially when the love of his life said yes. How ironic. He used to say he's never going to get married. Now, there's only a few weeks left and he'll be wearing a band around his ring finger. Forever tied to one and one person only. Bet he doesn't care about that anymore, you thought. "I'm happy if he's happy," you said. Milo sighed and shook his head. "No, you're not." No, I'm not, you thought. And it's only going to get harder. You sighed as your heart begun to ache. Why you're not used to this pain yet is beyond you.

The day, that you wished to never come, came as fast as a lightning strike. You sat on your chair, amidst a crowd consisting of the bride and groom's family and friends. It's like cage diving only that there's no cage, only two sharks getting married and ripping your heart apart. Why are you even there? Why do you have to torture yourself further? When being friends with him alone has made you and your poor heart suffer-- that, you can bear, but this... And most importantly, why are you still hoping that it's you who's going to walk down the isle, stand next to him, and deliver the words of your eternal love for him? No, it's not you and it's time for you to wake up. You know this but, as you watch him cry happy tears as he watch the bride walk down the isle, you can't help yourself. And all of a sudden, your feet started moving. You stood up, wiping your tears as you walk away. Tobias saw you, got confused for a moment as to why you're storming out of the wedding hall. But as soon as his gaze meets the bride's, he's immediately forgotten all about it. And the wedding went on as planned, and you...you went and pick up every piece of your broken heart, hoping one day you'll be able to piece them back together.

Fin.

----

I just found this in my drafts. Now I'm thinking about Tobias marrying someone else at 3am T^T might as well post it.

[billfinarts]

Jul 'Mdama "The Didact's Hand"

Attempted a slight redesign for Jul in my style. I think he more-or-less turned out alright.

[crheativity]

today has been kind of awful in terms of being productive bUT I somehow got like. 5k+ crystals in Project Sekai. I have massive Rui Kamishiro brainrot rn. I've been grinding/saving for that one event he's in in like. Twoish Months. I've wished on so many banners for Rui and he has not come home. Please wish me luck. I am scared

[gorbo-longstocking]

sorry to keep posting about my job but [farnsworth voice] great news everyone! im working significantly less hours next week (or according to the schedule i looked at five seconds ago its not up in the app yet) so ill be back on the writing grindset. my preferred grindset.

[theosphobia]

thinking about infinite!caboose again sorry

literally nobody asked but chiefboose au where caboose finds cortana before chief and atriox and manages to save her

[ghostiecrow]

DP x DC Fanfic AU : The Slumbering King of The Dead Realm

- Teen Ghost King

- Sam & Tucker weren't there in the portal incident

Danny died at the age of fourteen, alone in the lab for trying to mess with the portal. Danny tried to resume his normal life as the son of two ghost obsessed scientists and a loser that was until he realised that his human body starting to show signs of rotting in a very slow pace. He is a ghost possessing his own decaying body. While his friends hair grows longer, gaining more height and voice change due to maturity. Danny is slowly dying, hair thinning, skin turning pale blue, and movement starts to become rigid. In the end the body of Danny Fenton died when he managed to defeat Pariah Dark. His body is buried at Amity Park's only graveyard, mourned by friends and family. The ghost teen is upset, more than upset that his parents only remember him when Jazz informed them of his passing. Too busy with their obsession to even look after their kids. He is now Danny Phantom, a ghost, newly crowned High King of Infinite Realms and the Ancient of Space. The stars love him dearly, forming a halo above his head. The stars channel his emotions, accompanying him through the depth of the lonely space. When decades passed by, Danny felt tired of the loneliness and decided to put himself in a deep slumber. Only to wake up by the League of Assassins, worshipping him like a demigod walked upon earth. Danny halo burst into green flames when the sacrificial bait turned out to be a child (Damian).

Probably gonna write more so that I can post it in AO3

[pepperonidk]

i'd rather be blind || c.sc

pairing: sungcheol x reader, mingyu x reader warnings: angst, not accurate at all to korean high school culture but uh... it's fanfic word count: 1425 summary: Seungcheol would rather go blind than see you with someone else. inspired by the song I'd Rather Go Blind by Etta James.

a/n: this is crossposted on my marvel account (@pepperonijem) bc i'm reading some of my old marvel fics and damn... they were kinda insane

main masterlist || taglist

“Whiskey neat. And make it a double,” Seungcheol sighed as he leaned his elbows on the wooden counter of the open bar.

The sound of Etta James’s voice flooded the background, but the only sounds he could bring himself to focus on was the blood pounding in his ears, and his heart keeping in time with it. The drink slid its way down towards him, and he snapped out of his trance only long enough to catch the drink before it spilled on the suit he rented for the evening. Seungcheol let out another deep sigh before downing the drink in one sip; the familiar burn of the alcohol settled over him and he welcomed the warmth that rose in his throat. 

He asked for another glass, ignoring the bartender’s concerned glance. He closed his eyes and savored the feeling, and let the music and chatter behind him drown the memories he no longer wanted to remember.

The grass was dewy. The sky was blue. The air was crisp. And your laugh was music. 

It was easy to spend hours outside with you. Whether you were playing tag or looking for honeysuckle flowers to snack on, it never really mattered. Not as long as you were there. Today, Seungcheol had implored you to lay on the grass beside him to find shapes among the rolling clouds.

You had indulged him for a while, and he was thankful. While you were rambling on about how clouds were actually extremely heavy, he turned to look at you. You were more radiant than the sun and he couldn’t help but stare. Somewhere among dancing elephants, ballerinas, and coffee pots, Seungcheol could also see an infinite number of days spent in your light. You turned to look at him with a gentle smile and Seungcheol felt himself blush. You chuckled softly before sitting up and pulling your knees to your chest. 

“Cheollie,” you began. “My mom said we’ve gotta stop getting stains on our clothes. She said she won’t let us be friends anymore if she has to replace another pair of grass-stained jeans.” You stood up and offered your hand out to help him up. Although he definitely didn’t need you to help him up, he took the opportunity to imagine what it would be like to have your fingers entwined in his. So he slipped his hand in yours and the two of you stood from where you were seated on the grassy hill that sat behind both of your houses. 

“Yeah, whatever,” Seungcheol rolled his eyes playfully. He knew as well as you did that your mother’s threats were empty. She adored him, and made it evident every time he came over. As soon as you would walk through the door with him in tow, the sweet and almost sickly scent of apple pie wafted through the house to greet the two of you, which he would grin at in response. You swore Seungcheol was your mom’s favorite child, even though he was only your neighbor. But his charm never failed to get him on everyone’s good side. “I gotta go home anyway, I invited the new kid over to my house. He seemed like he needed a friend,” Seungcheol added.

Your face lit up in response. “Mingyu, right?” you questioned as the two of you walked down the hill back to Seungcheol’s house. Mingyu had transferred to your school recently and was in your advanced calculus class and although he sat behind you, you had yet to strike up a conversation with him. He mostly kept to himself, and spent most of the class with his face buried in his work, drawing small doodles in the margins to while away the minutes, and you had no desire to interrupt. “He sits behind me in calculus, which you would know if you would actually show up to class, dork.” you playfully shoved Seungcheol as the two of you reached his front porch.

Seungcheol laughed in response as he twisted the key to unlock the door. “Okay, to be fair, I don’t think I need to know how to factor derivatives to get through life,” he argued. “But anyway, do you wanna stay for a bit? Mingyu should be here soon.”

As if on cue, the doorbell rang, and Seungcheol was quick to open the door to reveal a nervous looking Mingyu. “Hey dude, come on in,” Seungcheol greeted, offering a comforting smile to Mingyu and gesturing into the house. “My friend is here, I hope you don’t mind.” You waved politely at the sound of your name and glanced at Mingyu long enough to notice him smiling sweetly at you, causing a blush to seep into your cheeks. This was the first time you really got to notice the twinkle in Mingyu’s  eyes, without the fluorescent lights of the classroom washing them out.

“Yeah, we have literature together, right?” Mingyu asked, walking over to shake your hand. “Nice to finally meet you. Your hair smells nice,” he blurted out before adding quickly, “at least I’ve noticed from sitting behind you, sorry that’s weird isn’t it?” His eyebrows scrunched together as he smiled apologetically, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck.

“Don’t worry about it,” you chuckled shyly. “Thanks.” You and Mingyu stood in front of each other for a few seconds, lost in each other’s presence, until your bubble was popped by a cough from Seungcheol. You jumped at the sound, and Mingyu smiled at you in amusement, but Seungcheol had an unreadable expression on his face.

“Uh, I’ll go get us some snacks,” Seuncheol cleared his throat, offering a small smile before disappearing into the kitchen. He stopped and stared at the fridge, looking at all of the photos of the two of you that were hung up by the souvenir magnets you’d gotten him on your trip to Japan. Polaroids of the two of you making silly faces on Seungcheol’s 13th birthday, photobooth strips of him kissing your cheek from the mall two weeks ago, and pictures of you both at the homecoming dance last year. All of those were times he wished he told you how he felt, but let the fear of rejection push him down, and he kept them up as a reminder of his feelings. Seungcheol stared at the pictures long enough to see himself be replaced by the new kid making you laugh right then.

Seungcheol’s trip down memory lane was interrupted by the painful screech of microphone feedback and he turned his head to the stage in time to see the happy couple waving right at him. He waved back and the couple shared a loving look and a quick kiss before you cleared your throat. “We just wanted to say some quick “thank you”s and then we’ll get back to the dancing, sound good?” The crowd cheered in response and she chuckled before continuing. “Well first, thank you mom, for being there for me for all of this. It was definitely stressful, but you are my rock, and you keep me sane. Thank you for showing me what love is and how to share it with others, because without it, I wouldn’t be up here now. And last, but certainly not least, thank you for the apple pie. It was delicious.” 

The crowd laughed in agreement, and Seungcheol took another sip of his whiskey. He looked over to the dessert table to see a few small tins of apple pie still left uneaten and was immediately hit with the sharp pang of wistful nostalgia, not in the least bit dulled by the alcohol. The couple continued to list off names, but he tuned their voices out. Until he heard his name.

“And finally, thank you, Seungcheol. You are really the root of all of this, and I don’t know how I can ever thank you enough for being my best friend, and introducing me to my soulmate. I wouldn’t have ever gathered the courage to speak to the love of my life without you, and for that you deserve the biggest thanks.” Seungcheol plastered a sympathetic smile on his face as he met Mingyu’s eyes. “I love you, man.”

Seungcheol raised his glass in a toast while his dark eyes flickered between the two of you. He saw you look up at your now-husband with adoration in your eyes. He saw the sincerity and gratitude in Mingyu’s. He saw the solitude in your interlocked fingers. Then he decided he’d rather go blind.

taglist: @yksthings @coveyland @xuimhao @sana-is-ms-rmty @gummymintae

[sleepy-grav3]

Shared Adoption Habits

A/n: This is a past oneshot that was probably meant to be made into a full plot fanfic that I found while organizing my google drive. Don't expect anything from it, I'm not sure what my thought process was for this.

Summary: Bruce is married. He's married to a City Spirit. Specifically, Lady Gotham.

Tw: Fenton Parents are out of the picture, take it as you wish; technical kidnapping/surprise adoption

Danny is the Ghost King; Bruce Wayne is called The White Knight; Batman is called The Dark Knight; Bruce/Gotham; All Gothamites are Lady Gotham's children through technical kidnapping

People loved to tease and bully Bruce about his adoption habit. Especially when they noticed the trend and shielded away adoption baits until they were grown enough to refuse adoption.

You could also turn to Batman with those dang Robins and Batgirls that spread further to even outside cities (and outer space). Nobody really knows the true number of members in the Batclan because of that adoption habit. But nobody knew that there was more to that. Nobody but those who knew of the other realm. Or should they say: the space that housed an infinite amount of them?

Denizens of the Infinite Realms were special and dangerous. Their hierarchy was based on power level. Their bonding activities related to fighting. Just mentioning their deaths would result in mindless rage, which was an instinctual defense mechanism.

Not to mention their obsessions! They would go all out, attacking those who got in the way of it. And they’re possessive of those they call their own. Never mess with their babies, their children. It was unknown what could be considered a threat with how fighting was a bonding activity, making the line practically invisible and terrifying to approach. So nobody messed with them.

How did this relate to Bruce? Well it’s pretty simple. Denizens from the realms adopted any child they find. Commonly, the child has the same or a similar core element as them. This is just like how Bruce has black hair and blue eyes, taking in those that are the same/similar.

This is just a comparison. This doesn’t explain shit. Well, what if someone told you that Bruce was spiritually married and heavily influenced by a denizen from said realms?

What denizen? Who would he ever be committed to long enough for him to share/mimic habits from them? Well, it’s none other than Lady Gotham! Whaaaat??? Haven’t you heard of Bruce Wayne being the White Knight compared to Batman, The Dark Knight? How everyone assumed them to be boyfriends or something but really they aren’t?

Well, that title is actually real. He’s the Knight to his Lady. That Lady being the city spirit of Gotham. Lady Gotham. Poetic really. But now it makes sense. Due to Spiritual Marriage, there are benefits. Such benefits include: An official title, a Name, certain abilities, a guaranteed citizenship to the realms, resistance against associates of the dead, and many other things. And with this marriage, they share things. Lady Gotham shares his ability to effortlessly stay on the mortal Realm, Bruce gets her adoption habit.

Since when does Lady Gotham have an adoption habit? The Gothamites hate outsiders! The city is proof enough. All Gothamites are hers. In fact, she goes further to open her arms to those of the dead/undead, inviting them to her haunt for shelter.

Her haunt houses a multitude of other haunts. Many are small. Rooms, apartments, houses. There are a few bigger haunts. Manors, which only 3 are occupied, The Swamp (Grundy), The Sewer Empire (Killer Croc), Crime Alley (Red Hood), and Clocktower. The Clocktower, however, was simply part of Clockwork’s haunt. He always held beacons everywhere.

She never liked it, even if she gained power if she rested there after the curses planned a sudden ambush. However, her Knights and his children did like it, the height of the structure soothing somehow. She understood, so she was neutral about it now. It was hers anyway. Part of her city, so suck it Clockwork!

Lady Gotham, clearly, has the classic adoption problem, even if it’s just part of her biology as a realms denizen. Bruce got that by becoming her knight. And-

Oh?

The Ghost King is a child?

And orphaned by human terms child?

Well Clockwork, you’re gonna have to share now.

Don't be shy now.

GIVE HER THE CHILD.

[atamascolily]

Poor Sayaka is really going through it in Walpurgis no Kaiten. First, she loses her healing abilities and gets so badly beaten she has to wear bandages across her face, then her memories start coming back and she has to cope with the fact that her entire life is a lie and she should actually be dead. Talk about trauma!

This shot suggests to me that Sayaka will go on some sort of internal quest to confirm the truth. This show being what it is, it's difficult to say if this scene represents an "internal" journey into Sayaka's mindscape, similar to Homura's first awakening in Rebellion, which features a mosaic of mirrors, or if this is more "external" venture into the Law of Cycles, of which Sayaka is still technically a part, but it's probably "both/and" rather than "either/or". The blue color scheme makes me think the former, but the piles of books with information about witches makes me think the latter. Is the sculpture a representation of Sayaka or is it the "emptiness" of the Law of Cycles without a human avatar?

Comparable scene in Rebellion? Also, I just now noticed that either the mosaics are rotating around Homura, or something very strange is happening in space. Probably both!

I can't find the interview at the moment, but I recall someone at SHAFT discussing how girls taken by the Law of Cycles aren't running around in Valhalla, as fans once thought, but are asleep and unconscious. (Cf. Homura calling it "the salvation of oblivion" in her opening monologue in Rebellion.) In one of my fanfics (itself inspired by a gorgeous series of fanart), the Law of Cycles is an art museum; here, it looks like SHAFT has made it a library, with each "book" containing information about the infinite number of girls and witches in all the parallel universes Madokami oversees. There's a very "Library of Babel" feel to this shot from the trailer that fills me with glee.

It's unclear if the parallel universe thing will come up in Walpurgis no Kaiten, but people have already spotted Magia Record witches in the trailer, and the entire game takes place in a single aberrant timeline, so if it's in the library, the library has to contain everything. How this works when MR has the doppel system, I have no idea, but also MR likely didn't exist in its current state when Urobuchi originally wrote the WnK script in 2014-5, so this is just Inu Curry taking the opportunity to squeeze in some more witches they designed for the game.

However, the MR anime, which Doroinu directed, ends with the doppel system collapsing and Iroha giving the "book" that represents her story to Madokami, appropriately titled "Magia Record". The title of the episode is "No One Knows Our Record", the implication being that magical girls are completely unknown except to the Law of Cycles.

One detail I like is that the English title is "reflected" in dark witch runes like shadows.

This book had a different cover and design than the books we see in the WnK trailer, but I think the general idea is the same--these books contain information about the witches (remember, "Magia" is also the name of the music that plays during witch battles in the original series) and are thus "records" of their existence. We see more of the books in a different shot,and some covers are quite elaborate, and others are a simple gold border; none appear to be "named" like the Magia Record book, or at least their titles are not visible in this shot.

It sure looks like this girl is rifling through the books to find something, doesn't it? Hmm....

The shot of one of these books opening in the second WnK trailer and runes spilling out suggests that more witches have emerged to complicate matters for Homura and the main cast, though "how" and "why" are open questions at this point. However, it's unclear if the books actually contain the witches/familiars themselves or merely information about them.

I think this shot could appear in a cryptic opening sequence that retroactively explains the entire plot, similar to Homura's soul gem falling through the window at the beginning of Rebellion, although the background lighting suggests it takes place in the same "blue" location that Sayaka is in above. TBD!

Giving away the entire plot in the beginning, but in a way that isn't obvious until afterwards, is a Madoka Magica tradition at this point.

Anyway, this is all a very roundabout way of saying that I think that when Sayaka starts having flashbacks about Oktavia, she's going to the library to do some research! And what she finds there will confirm her worst suspicions and likely trigger a whole new personal crisis where her loyalties will be tested and she is going to have to make some difficult choices.

[sailxrmxrs]

guess who had a week off work and took it as an opportunity to go wild go crazy over some friends to lovers thoughts. i always forget how hard the trope hits until i think about it for more than five minutes and realise that it is so so good and brainrot worthy. partially inspired by some crumbs in the vf server but also plucked from the depths of my brain. i'm a little rusty with fic writing bc of other projects on the go but here's hoping something decent comes out of it lmao. rory's was a little dialogue heavy but we move. expect some childhood friends to lovers, roommates au and more hehe. enjoy and see u in like three months lmao.

 ♡ leo ♡

“It really has been way too long, hasn’t it?” Leo said with a shy smile, awkwardly adjusting the cap atop his head. The two of you were eating lunch together after almost two years of not seeing each other. Adulthood meant more distance and less time to find a way back to one another so you both just let things drift as they may. Then, that one fateful afternoon you bumped into one another, got talking, and made plans to see each other the following week. It was like the world had offered you both a second chance at continuing what remained of your friendship and all the feelings that came with it. There was a lot of history, a lot of memories, and a lot of messy emotions left over from your younger years that hadn’t quietened down quite as much as you thought they had. But that was okay. Things with Leo were always easy, his sunshine disposition always making it easy to be around him, no matter how tangled your mind may be.

The day you first met, you were both too young to have a complete grasp on language, yet as you stumbled around the playground together, Leo was all smiles. Friendship followed fast, tirelessly asking to visit that same park playground each week to see the other. And every time without fail, you’d be in your own little bubble with Leo, running and laughing together like time didn’t exist. The world didn’t exist. It was only you and Leo. And as the summer months passed and it grew too cold to play around outside, his parents would drive him to visit. You’d be sat in your childhood bedroom with all kinds of clutter scattered about the floor and Leo would be asking you to show him how a certain toy worked or if you could draw something for him. Your parents would watch on, whispering about how they could easily see what your shared futures had in store. Even then, they could see a special kind of friendship was beginning to blossom.

And they had been right. Leo had remained a precious part of your life for many years following from childhood. Even as teenagers, Leo barely left your side. You were a perfect pair. So much so, that it wasn’t uncommon to come home from running an errand and find him sitting on your sofa as if he lived there too. With the amount of time he spent at your home—and you his—it did feel like it was equal parts his home too. Even if that meant him stealing more than a few snacks each week. But it was as time went on, that your friendship with Leo started to feel like something else. It was like you were more than close friends, but not quite romantically entangled. Leo had never shown any inclination that he was interested in anyone that way, yet your friendship with him was unlike any other friendship you had. You were content with how things were, even if a part of you pondered the what-ifs and could-bes if you dared to tread that water.

As time went on and adulthood approached, it became harder and harder to stay so impossibly close. Life plans pulled you apart and soon, weeks would pass before you’d see Leo again. At first, there were constant streams of texts and phone calls but time, too, chipped away until they were days, weeks, months apart. You tried to convince yourself that this was another part of growing up, that you would see each other again and everything would go back to the way it was. But it never quite felt the same. There would be an almost awkward energy hovering over your shoulder, whispering in your ear how you were no longer as dear to him as you once were. And, eventually, everything just stopped.

“I blame life. Also us for being bad at keeping in touch. But mostly life,” you replied. “I see your choice in fashion hasn’t changed since we were teenagers.” You nodded towards Leo’s cap. If memory served you well, it was the very same hat you’d bought for him one birthday. He’d immediately put it on and proclaimed he would never take it off.

“What can I say? When your favourite person buys you something, it’s hard to part with it.”

“Oh? Your favourite person? What an honour. Do I still hold that title or have I lost my job?” You had an idea of what the answer might be, knowing it might reopen old wounds, but you couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out.

“I’m not sure you could ever lose that one.” Leo looked almost wistful as he spoke, fingers toying with a napkin on the table. He spoke quieter than before, his energy lowering at the admission that he still cared for you as deeply as ever. “I wasn’t lying as a kid when I said you were my favourite. Always.”

You shifted in your seat. “Good. Because you’re my favourite too still.”

His smile grew as he outstretched a hand for you to take—if you wanted. Without hesitation, you let your hand find Leo’s, fitting as perfectly as it always had. And this time around, neither of you planned to let go.

 ♡ milo ♡

Living with Milo had certainly been one of the more adventurous decisions you’d made. You were in need of a new roommate to fill the newly empty room when Leo had passed you the number to one of his friends in need of a place to stay. He’d invited both you and Milo to coffee one day and that had been that. Contracts were signed, belongings moved in, and you were living with what was essentially a total stranger. Even within the first few months of him being there, you still felt like Milo was a stranger. His work hours and yours seemed to exist on opposite spectrums, meaning you never really got a chance to see him. The weekends were really the only times you were both at home together, but even then, Milo didn’t spend much time at home. He’d either be holed up in his room working on something, or he’d be out and about meeting his friends. He was a strangely busy man who didn’t know how to slow down. But you didn’t really mind all that much. When he was home, he was quiet and he didn’t leave any mess or clutter lying about. In essence, he was the perfect roommate, even if you did hope to grow a little closer to him given that you barely knew more than his name and a few surface level facts about him.

It all started to change one rainy weekend. The weather outside was abysmal. Cold and raining so heavy you could barely see a few feet in front of you from how hard it was pouring down. Even Milo couldn’t go outside in conditions like that. So he stayed home. And, in a change of pace, spent almost the entire day stretched across the sofa, tv quietly switching between shows. You were stood in the kitchen, making yourself a warm drink when Milo let out a disgruntled groan.

“Doing okay over there, Milo?” You called out to him, amused by his almost feline disposition.

“No. Bored.” He sat up, hair slightly mussed from where he’d laid against a cushion. “Any recommendations for shit movies? You know, the ones so bad they’re good?”

Walking over, you planted yourself down on the sofa next to him, reaching to grab the remote. “I saw some trailer last week that looked disgustingly bad. I think it came out yesterday or something. Fair warning, it looked like an actual trainwreck.”

“Perfect. Think I’ve got some popcorn hidden away somewhere.”

That night had sparked a new tradition between you and Milo. Now, every Saturday night the two of you would sit together and watch a terrible movie, spending the entire time laughing and pointing out ridiculous plot holes or poorly written dialogue. Each week you’d alternate between who got to choose, usually opting for something bad, but every now and then you’d discover a hidden gem that left you both holding back tears. It was fun to have something to look forward to every week, and the friendship that developed with Milo was like the cherry on top of an already ornate cake. And sometimes long after the movie had ended, you’d both be sat there together, sharing a blanket and replenishing cups of tea, talking long into the night. It would get to the very early hours of Sunday morning and you’d be struggling to hold back a yawn when Milo laughed and instructed you off to bed like a child scolded by their parent. Some nights when you were feeling more obstinate, Milo would come and lift you, carrying you off to your room where he’d unceremoniously toss you onto your bed and leave, calling a ‘good night’ as he made for his own room.

Somewhere along the way, as the longing for friendship faded as you grew closer with Milo, a new sense of longing decided to make itself known. You weren’t able to exactly pinpoint when those feelings became less platonic and tinged with something else, but all you knew was that it didn’t exactly bode well when you lived under the same roof as him. The options were to either ignore and pretend all was as normal, or you could pose the question and be a little more honest with him. Neither felt like the right decision. But one night, as Milo was turning the lights down for the night’s movie of choice, one you’d both agreed upon together, and he handed you the bowl of popcorn and got to making your favourite drink, all without needing to ask, you knew you were deep in it. Fearing your own sense of self, you edged further away from Milo’s spot and distracted yourself by looking at your phone.

“Nope. Not getting away with that one.” Milo’s voice came from behind you, pulling your phone from your grasp. There was a strict ‘no phones’ rule during movie nights that you were suddenly regretting agreeing to. Milo sat himself down, pulling a blanket over his legs when he noticed that you were further away from usual. The man was far too perceptive for his own good. And so he leaned over, sliding an arm around you and pulling you back closer to him.

“What are you doing?” You asked, unsure exactly where to look with him so close.

“Getting comfortable. I recommend you do the same.” Milo didn’t say anything further on the matter, though you noted the arm that had pulled you closer was now draped over your shoulders. This was new. But you liked it. And, as it seemed, Milo did too.

 ♡ rory ♡

“Did you want to go find somewhere to eat soon?” It was late afternoon and you had spent the best part of the day with Rory after a surprise text from him. He usually wasn’t the type to instigate last minute plans, enjoying his time off whenever he could get it. But he’d clearly had a change of heart when he texted about a new book release he was wanting to go and look for, inviting you along in the process to hang out for the day. He’d been as evasive as ever when you questioned the change of heart when it came to making plans, instead offering an iced coffee and croissant he’d bought shortly before you arrived. He claimed he was just ‘feeling generous’ but you knew Rory secretly liked to surprise people with gifts—even if they were in the form of a snack.

“You’ve truly mastered the art of subtlety, haven’t you?” His voice was pure sarcasm as he crossed his arms, staring you down with an unamused expression. “But yes, food is good. That place Tobias kept going on about is just round the corner, right?”

You nodded, flicking through the group chat to find exactly where Tobias had recommended after Rory sent a photo of you to show you were both hanging out. It was a fairly small place, one he’d found on one of his ‘Tobias ventures’ where he let his nose and stomach take him to wherever smelt the best place. So far he hadn’t disappointed with his choices. “Yeah, looks like it’s a left past here and then should be on the right.”

“Don’t tell him it was my idea to listen to him. I still haven’t lived it down after the last time.”

“Sure. Your secret is safe with me,” you replied, fully intending on passing the message along to the group chat. “Now come on, I’m hungry.” You reached for Rory’s hand to make your way for the restaurant, happily ready to stroll along when Rory’s unmoving rigidness made you stop in your tracks. “Helloooo? Earth to Rory. We’re going to that restaurant now, right?” You turned in confusion, trying to see what was holding him up.

Rory cleared his throat before he answered, his cheeks having turned a slight reddish pink. “Right. But, uh, what are you doing?”

“What do you mean ‘what am I doing?’ I’m just…going. Like we said.” Rory shifted on his feet. You waited a moment for him to speak, but he didn’t seem to be particularly forthcoming with his words just yet. Eyes scanning his body for any noticeable difference, your gaze landed on where your hand still held his, sparking a lightbulb to flash in your brain. “Oh? Are you blushing because I held your hand? How cute.”

His eyes widened for a split second. He had turned almost skittish in mere moments. “Yeah, sure, whatever. But why are you holding it, dumbass?” The surprise of it all wore off quickly, one of his favourite nicknames for you rolling off the tongue with apparent ease. Or he was just trying to hide how flustered he’d gotten. Or both.

“Because we are walking to the same place? And it’s busy so I’d rather not lose you in the crowd. What’s got you so worked up anyway, hm? Been that long since someone held your hand?” You couldn’t help but tease, especially after catching him looking a little too longingly at the romance section in the bookshop you’d visited earlier. It was pretty sweet how much of a hopeless romantic he was, despite his best efforts to hide it.

Rory scoffed, the blush now having spread all over his cheeks and to the tips of his ears. He really was easy to get worked up. He looked away, voice mumbling as he spoke,” No. But other people holding my hand isn’t quite the same as you holding it.”

You froze, not sure if you’d heard him correctly. He’d said it so quietly and there were a lot of people around so it was an easy mistake to make. But what if your ears hadn’t misheard? “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Let’s just go before my stomach starts shouting for food.” He tried to set off, hand still in yours, but you weren’t letting him run away so easily. Not when he was so clearly deflecting. You wanted to say something, though the words didn’t seem to want to come out.

Rory sighed, his hand in yours fidgeting a little but ultimately holding a tiny bit tighter. “This isn’t a conversation to have in public. Or a busy restaurant. Putting a pin in it then we can talk later.”

“And I’m taking the pin right out. Rory, we’re best friends. You can tell me anything. If not here then we just go home and talk.”

“What if us being best friends is the issue?”

Your brows furrowed. What on earth was the man talking about? “You want us to stop being friends? I’m really not following here, Rory.”

“No, it’s not that. Just…I don’t know how to say it without saying it.”

“That does not help me.”

“I know.” He exhaled. “I’m sorry I’m being awkward about this. I hadn’t exactly planned for this conversation but, do you ever think about us as something other than friends?”

“You mean…”

“Yeah. I do.” Rory’s hand felt somehow even warmer in yours. There was something akin to worry in his eyes, as though you might suddenly pull away and never speak to him again. You couldn’t fathom the idea.

You smiled, one that you hoped might reassure him and quell his concerns. “It’s a nice thought. Really nice. One we can dwell on over dinner?”

 ♡ alexei ♡

The summer heat was unrelenting as you taped up another cardboard box in the bedroom of Alexei’s apartment. He was moving to a different part of the city and had called in a favour to help with packing his things up one weekend. He had, in turn, managed to pick one of the warmest days to prepare for moving, a decision you had were already planning to get him back for. But, in spite of the heat crawling over your skin, it was nice to spend the time with Alexei. With how busy the both of you were, finding time where your schedules aligned proved to be a little more than difficult. But fate had been kind and given you both a weekend to see each other and reminisce on all the memories stored in every corner of Alexei’s home. There were photos and mementos of trips from over the years, little snapshots of times you’d somehow forgotten. It was easy to forget there was ever a time before the two of you became friends, the years having disappeared in what felt like no time at all.

You were holding a fridge magnet that Alexei had bought on a trip to the beach one summer. It was a roundish pinkish-orange shell, with two small chips at the edge from where it had been knocked off his fridge more times than you could count. He’d chosen to move it into his bedroom after he knocked off the shell magnet along with another and the other had not survived the fall. There were so many little stories scattered around the apartment. It felt sad to be saying goodbye to them, even if you knew there plenty more ahead in his new place. Not to mention the items were all going with him. Still, there were years of laughter and love painted into the pale walls that could never be retrieved nor relived again.

“Feeling sentimental over there?” Alexei’s voice sounded from the doorway, an empty cardboard box in his hands. He placed it down by a pile of clothes he had been sorting before coming to sit beside you, his usual gentle smile adorning his face.

“A little. It’s nice to see all this stuff again. I forgot about way too much of it.”

Alexei hummed, reaching for a photo of the two of you sharing a large bag of popcorn. You’d both been excited over the movie’s trailer and had expected it to sell out, only to get there and be the only two people in the screening. No other trip to the cinema had been quite the same as getting to laugh and react as loudly as you wanted together in front of the giant screen. Alexei had tried to toss popcorn kernels into his mouth and failed miserably most times. Then, as the credits were rolling, you took a commemorative photo to remember the one and only time you got so lucky at a movie showing.

“If you really want to go down memory lane, you should have a look at this,” he said, reaching over for a dark blue book. It had nothing on the cover to indicate what might have been inside, but he handed it to you, beaming.

“What’s this?”

“Just open it. Nothing’s going to jump out at you.” You weren’t sure if you should trust that comment. But, in spite of that, you opened the cover to see a myriad of tickets and receipts. It was a scrapbook from all the events, outings, and days you’d spent with Alexei. There was a rain-damaged handout from when you’d visited a local petting zoo; there was a little ticket from the time you beat Alexei at a mini golf course; there was token he’d accidentally pocketed from an arcade and forgotten to give back. Alexei had felt extra guilty about that one. It was filled with fragments of your friendship, a storyboard of your life together laid out on the pages.

Then you turned the page once more to see a single flower, preserved from being pressed between the pages. Around it were all kinds of Alexei-style notes detailing the exact species of flower with all kinds of facts about it. There was also a little paragraph in the top corner, explaining why this particular flower was his favourite. Because you had picked it and presented it to him as a little gift one day while you were out on a picnic. And you had been smiling. Your smile was his favourite, so that meant the flower was now his favourite because it had been infused with the image of your smile. It had little monetary value, nor did you ever expect him to keep it. You’d thought he would have just left it in the grass or tried to replant it so it didn’t die, not dedicate an entire two-page spread to commemorate this one small yellow wildflower. When you looked up, Alexei’s cheeks were a bright pink.

“I forgot that page was there…” His voice trailed off, eyes averting away from where you looked at him.

“Seems we’re both getting nice little reminders of the past, aren’t we?”

Alexei nodded, the movement awkward and stiff. “I’ll, uh, go back to sorting those clothes—” He tried to get up and away, only to be pulled back down by you reaching for the hem of his jumper.

“No running away from this one,” you teased, throwing yourself at him to wrap your arms around his neck in a tight hug. “This is really sweet. I love you. A lot.”

“Love? As in…”

“Yes, you idiot.”  

 ♡ brooklyn ♡

Rain gently pattered against the window of Brooklyn’s home, the view of the city obscured by water droplets. It was the perfect accompanying backdrop to the sound of pianos and violins coming from the two speakers either side of his television. The air had a slight chill to it, the rain having sapped all warmth out of the atmosphere. Brooklyn had been quick to procure a blanket to drape over both of your legs and brew a pot of tea to share while silently reading together. Since befriending Brooklyn, it had become common practice to spend time at either his home or yours, reading something the other had recommended or simply enjoying some quiet time in one another’s presence. You’d met some months ago thanks to a mutual friend introducing you both and, after realising you were neighbours, a close friendship had blossomed and bloomed into what it was today. That same friend who’d introduced you would often ask after Brooklyn, sometimes hinting at something other than friendship between the both of you. There was always a flustered awkwardness in your denials and adamance that there was nothing of the sort going on between you and him. Brooklyn was not the easiest character to read, his warm smiles and gentle movements barely an indication of any secret feelings of devotion he might be keeping close to his chest. Even now, with a shared blanket covering your legs and his, knees lightly touching, you couldn’t quite tell if he’d orchestrated the closeness merely for warmth or for any other reason.

Either way, the proximity felt far more intimate than it usually did. It was comfortable. So comfortable, in fact, that you could feel your eyelids growing heavier and heavier by the second. You didn’t want to fall asleep, especially not so close to Brooklyn, but your control over your consciousness was gradually waning thin.

“Is my company really that tiresome? Or was it the book? Although I do believe I was the one to give it to you,” Brooklyn teased, his thumb playing with the corner of the page of his own book.

A gentle wave of guilt fluttered in your stomach as you sat up a little straighter. “Not at all. I blame the tea.”

He chuckled, turning his attention back to his book. “If you need to rest, then please, be my guest.” As if there were some magical power in his words, the drowsiness in your eyes rooted itself even deeper and before you knew it, you had drifted off into sleep. What you did not know, however, was that your head had found itself resting on Brooklyn’s shoulder, having gravitated toward the nearest warm spot. Brooklyn was hardly shocked at the sight of you sleeping, but that still didn’t stop his cheeks from warming in turn. He waited there for a moment, hesitating to see if you would gain consciousness again before he moved. But after no sign of waking, he carefully slotted a bookmark between the book’s pages so as not to jostle you too much. His hand gently pressed to your cheek, lifting your head from his shoulder so he could stand and help lay down your sleeping body, moving your legs so that you were completely sprawled out across his sofa. He adjusted the blanket to cover you entirely and stood, watching for a short moment with an absentminded smile on his face. He did not mind at all that you had fallen asleep, only pleased that you felt comfortable enough in his presence to let yourself rest so deeply.

Brooklyn ran the back of his fingers softly across your cheek and leaned to press a featherlight kiss to your temple, not wanting to disturb you yet feeling compelled over the gentle gesture. As he pulled away to sit himself on another armchair, Brooklyn’s eyes widened as he felt a grasp clutch at his wrist and lazily pull at his arm. He tried to pry your fingers from his wrist but had no such luck.

“Naptime for you too,” you mumbled sleepily, barely awake with your eyes still closed. Brooklyn was torn with indecision. A part of him thought this was a bad idea—that it would be too much for his heart to bear once the moment ended. But another, much larger part of him, was tempted beyond all desire. He wanted to; he really did. So he let himself give in. He slid beneath the blanket and let his arm fall atop your waist. Brooklyn barely breathed being so close to you. It wasn’t until he felt you nestling your face into the crook of his neck that he finally let his resolve shatter. He could figure out his feelings and what this all meant later on. He would happily wait for another day to share the feelings that simmered so deep in his stomach every time his gaze landed on you. All that mattered in this moment, was how your legs were tangled together beneath the blanket, and how your fingers sleepily clutched at his shirt. For Brooklyn, this was more than enough as sleep slowly found him.

 ♡ tobias ♡

Some weeks had passed since the last time you saw Tobias. With his job, travelling was no rare occurrence. He’d been on a plane to the other side of the country one day and then flying somewhere else a few days later. It was a lifestyle he loved, getting to travel all over while getting paid. What wasn’t to love? The main downside being away from home so much meant being away from you, a longtime friend and supporter of Tobias as he started out on his less conventional career path. Yours was a friendship he treasured, frequently sending updates and blurry, zoomed in photos of his face so you didn’t forget what he looked like after a couple of weeks away. He left sleepy voice notes telling you he missed you, drowsily recounting his day’s events before his voice trailed off and the voice note came to an end as he passed out in his hotel room. He’d often find little gifts or souvenirs that reminded him of you, wrapping them all messily in tissue paper and keeping them in a box labelled with your name so he didn’t lose them or forget to give them to you once he returned. Tobias would ignore your protests that you didn’t need any gifts, enjoying your embarrassed smile every time you opened one up to see a painfully touristy t-shirt or funny little keychain.

“It’s basically tradition at this point,” he’d argue, folding his arms and turning his nose away. He wasn’t hearing any of your excuses. But it was all in good fun, quickly reaching for another ridiculous gift he’d found and tossing it your way. It really had become a tradition at this point. A rather sweet one, too.

Tobias had been away from home for almost two months now. It was one of the longest trips away he’d ever had and despite his frequent updates, you could still feel the long stretch of time as acute as ever. You didn’t let on just how much you missed him, knowing he’d only tease you about how you could barely survive without him, or that he was just that amazing of a person. He’d no doubt try and laugh off that you must harbour secret feelings for him. Although not entirely untrue, you weren’t going to tempt fate by letting him pose that question, even as a joke. It didn’t hit exactly how much you missed his amusing playfulness until you were driving to the airport to pick him up, anticipation bubbling and fizzing in your chest. Your fingertips tingled as you clutched the steering wheel, barely able to focus on much else other than getting there as fast as the road would allow you. His flight was due to land in about thirty minutes and you wanted to be there ready and waiting with his favourite starbucks order in hand.

Standing in the arrivals lounge felt agonisingly long. Watching waves of people come through and none of them being Tobias felt like tiny needles pinching at your heart. You were checking your phone every few seconds, waiting and watching for an ‘I’m home!’ text that he’d usually send. Nothing. Pocketing it again, you looked up to see the next group of people coming through, all unfamiliar faces. Exhaling a deep breath, you shifted on your feet when a pair of airs wrapped around you from behind. A small squeal of shock came from you, loud laughter erupting from the person who had assailed you. A laugh you could recognise anywhere.

“Tobias Fox, you are paying for parking for near giving me a heart attack.” Your heart was racing, almost pounding out of your chest as you turned to Tobias, gently shoving him away from you. “And I’m keeping this drink now. No presents for you.”

He tried, and failed, to quell his laughter. “Aww, come on, don’t be mean. It’s been two months and I just got off a really long flight so shouldn’t you be extra nice to me?”

“No.”

Tobias poked your forehead. “Boring. If I ask nicely, do I get an actual ‘welcome back’ hug?”

“Maybe.” Before you could even finish uttering out the word, Tobias’ arms engulfed you again, holding you close as onlookers smiled to themselves. His hold was warm and all-encompassing, the two of you barely moving as if time had frozen. His cheek felt hot pressed against yours, his breath tickling the tip of your ear.

“I missed you,” he whispered. “A lot.” It was rare for Tobias to sound so sincere. Sure, he’d tell you he missed you on the numerous calls while he was away, but it always sounded so amicable and reflexive rather than a genuine admission of longing.

“Yeah? Or did you just miss raiding my fridge?”

He chuckled, the sound sending a tingle down your spine with how close he was to your ear. “Mm, that too. But mostly you. We’re a team, aren’t we?” Tobias leaned away, arms moving to take your hands in his. He waited for a moment, eyes taking in the view of your face before he picked up his suitcase and called for you to lead the way out. His left hand, still entwined with yours, tugged a little, throwing you off balance. He didn’t let you fall though, letting his lips catch your cheek as he grinned and continued on as if nothing had happened. This was new. Something about the way his fingers clasped yours and the buzzing tension in every step you both took. The lines between friendship and something else had blurred beyond comprehension. But it was a comfortable space to be in, liminal as it may be. You had Tobias back now, for at least a week or two, and there was so much more that could happen in such a short space of time.

[monster-energies]

my harry potter masterlist

i will put a key here to indicate what kind of fanfic you’ll be reading please read my warnings before you read my fics:

🌻 - fluff

🌼 - gen/general 🥀 - angst 🌷 - smut

ℹ - implied

✩｡:*•.─────  ❁ ❁  ─────.•*:｡✩

severus snape x reader oneshots

✩｡:*•.─────  ❁ ❁  ─────.•*:｡✩

🌻1. please be mine - ao3 | tumblr ( published: 14.09.2021 )

🌻2. hold onto that feeling - ao3 | tumblr ( published 15.09.2021 )*

🌻3. love me, if thats what you wanna do - ao3 | tumblr ( published 20.09.2021 )

🌻🥀4. dawn is a feeling - ao3 | tumblr ( published 27.09.2021 )*

🌻🥀5. whatever a moon has always meant, and whatever a sun will always sing is you - ao3 | tumblr ( published 16.11.2021 )

🌻6. anything but ordinary - ao3 | tumblr ( published 30.11.2021 )

🌻7. blue skies are on the horizon for you - ao3 | tumblr ( published 06.12.2021 )

🌻8. be my birthday date if you may - ao3 | tumblr ( published 31.12.2021 )

🌻🥀9. a land of infinite wonders, a billion lightyears from here now - ao3 | tumblr ( published 09.01.2022 )

🌻10. if you want blood, you got it - ao3 | tumblr ( published 22.01.2022 )

🌻🥀🌷11. you’ll have me sooner than you know it - ao3 | tumblr ( published 10.02.2022 )

🌷12. this is the face of someone who loves you - ao3 | tumblr ( published 05.04.2022 )

🥀🌻 13. i’ve got to get better, and maybe we’ll work it out - ao3 | tumblr ( published 03.07.2022 )

🥀🌻 🌼 14. you don’t have to be sorry for doing it on your own - ao3 | tumblr ( published 31.08.2022 )

🌻15. always a woman - ao3 | tumblr ( published 9.03.2023 )

*note: oneshots 2 and 4 used to be apart of a series formerly called muggle misadventures but this has now been discontinued and are both standalone oneshots

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other

this section is for miscellaneous fanfics i have published, the character and fandom will be stated when necessary

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🌻🌼1. lionel shabandar/reader - you, me and these neon lights - ao3 | tumblr ( published 08.11.2021 )

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WRITING EVENTS

this section here is for all the of the writing events i have participated in.

snapetober 2021

this is my participation in @sxvxrxssnape​‘s snapetober month 2021. for the whole of october, i wrote a oneshot every day for a month with a list of prompts. if you are searching for my snapetober book on ao3, it is under the title severus’ tale.

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severus’ tale - ao3 ( published 01.10.2021 )

STATUS: COMPLETE

overall word count:  101,853

🌻🌼 prompt 1: autumn - title: fridays will always be better than sundays | tumblr ( published 01.10.2021 ) 

🌻🥀 prompt 2: “you have to let go” - title: letters ive written, never meaning to send. because i love you | tumblr ( published 02.10.2021 )

🌻 prompt 3: pumpkin carving - title: floral and fading | tumblr ( published 03.10.2021 )

🥀 prompt 4: regret - title: don’t you feel small | tumblr ( published 04.10.2021 )

🌻 prompt 5: apple orchard - title: love at first feel | tumblr ( published 05.10.2021 )

🌻🥀 prompt 6: hostage/trapped  - title: you almost made it through the fall | tumblr ( published 06.10.2021 )

🌻 ( ℹ 🌷+ 🥀 ) prompt 7: potions  - title: hands all over | tumblr ( published 07.10.2021 )

🌻🥀 prompt 8: emptiness - title: do you know what i’m seeing ? | tumblr ( published 08.10.2021 )

🌻🥀 prompt 9: old books - title: when you’re without love | tumblr ( published 09.10.2021 )

🌻 prompt 10: misunderstandings - title: time alone with you | tumblr ( published 10.10.2021 )

🌻 prompt 11: old friends - title: childhood’s end | tumblr ( published 11.10.2021 )

🌻🥀 prompt 12: alone - title: you deserve this | tumblr ( published 12.10.2021 )

🌻 ( ℹ + 🥀 ) prompt 13: spell casting - title: the spelling rules | tumblr ( published 13.10.2021 )

🌻🥀 prompt 14: cursed - title: she said you were a hero, you played the part | tumblr ( published: 14.10.2021 )

🌻prompt 15: ghosts - title: an ode to my family | tumblr ( published: 15.10.2021 )

🌻 ( ℹ + 🥀) prompt 16: “i’ve got you” - title: the things we do for love | tumblr  ( published: 16.10.2021 )

🌻prompt 17: witching hour - title: strange phenomena | tumblr ( published 17.10.2021 )

🥀prompt 18: (no) mercy - title: i’ve never been so torn up in all of my life, i should have seen this coming | tumblr  ( published 18.10.2021 )

🌻🥀prompt 19: headstone - title: all my daughters | tumblr ( published 19.10.2021 )

🥀prompt 20: night terrors - title: broken pieces shine | tumblr ( published 20.10.2021 )

🌻 ( ℹ +🥀 ) prompt 21: contemplation - title: i can hear this beat, it fills my head up and gets louder and louder | tumblr ( published 21.10.2021 )

🌻 ( ℹ +🌷 ) prompt 22: touch starved - title: i really should be holding you, loving you | tumblr ( published 22.10.2021 )

🌻prompt 23: vampire/bats - title: can we fly, can we fly away | tumblr ( published 23.10.2021 )

🥀prompt 24: fears - title: welcome to the panic room, where all your darkest fears are gonna come for you | tumblr ( published 24.10.2021 )

🌻prompt 25: rainy evening - title: its our time now if you want it to be | tumblr ( published 25.10.2021 )

🌻prompt 26: “don’t leave me” - title: would you really rush out for me now ? | tumblr ( published 26.10.2021 )

🌻prompt 27: unfinished business - title: you are love | tumblr ( published 27.10.2021 )

🌻prompt 28: flashback - title: it’s all coming back to me now | tumblr ( published 28.10.2021 )

🌻🌼prompt 29: costume - title: where did the party go | tumblr ( published 29.10.2021 )

🥀prompt 30: “how could you do this?” - title: you’re the only thing that’s keeping me alive | tumblr ( published 30.10.2021 )

🌻prompt 31: halloween party - title: we are the kids from yesterday | tumblr ( published 31.10.2021 )

[billfinarts]

RvB: Towards the Sky

Trouble Finds Me Not - Pg.16

[gor3sigil]

Yo, I saw your post about trans dudes not gendering hobbies and I want to cosign it real hard

I'm a cis dude (or whatever... wrote that long ask the other day, so you see the whatever). I do stuff like wood carving... at some point I'd like to get into blacksmithing (and a million other things)

Are those masculine hobbies? What a weird thing to even ask, they're just themselves

Carving is carving, everyone should do it

I also want to pick up the skills to make my own clothes some day. Would that be masculine if I call it tailoring or feminine if I call it sewing? It's in fact just a good skill

And I mean Doki Doki is a great game, never played it, just watched it, but what fantastic characters. Liking it isn't gendered, you're right that there's nothing wrong with you

You know, I got into MLP back in like 2011... man... people just can't... eh... no I feel you hard on how it was for you though, cause while I still really love it, I haven't watched it in years, not cause of shame or something but just cause the infinite posts on here about guys who watch it all being creeps kinda sapped my ability to enjoy it

Great show though, still recommend it, just lost my own personal ability to enjoy it other than the occasional fan art

Point is with all of this, none of it effects your gender. Shows aren't gendered, hobbies aren't gendered. Things like make up or what kinda clothes you want to wear aren't gendered

Welding, knitting a baby onesie, blue and pink, dresses or overalls... none of this has gender. Men, women, trans, cis, anyone no matter who they are, how they identify... they all belong equally in all these things... what matters is if it's a good fit for you, there's no such thing as you having to fit the right boxes for it

Easier said than done sometimes to not care what other people thing, especially if it would put you at risk; but from an internal point of view, and from how much you should value others opinions on this... do what you like, and people who don't like it can piss off

But yeah, just saw that post and wanted to weigh in

The stuff I said is true for everyone, but bring it around towards trans men in particular, there's no right way to be a trans man. You're you, you're a trans dude... job done

You get to decide what it looks like for you, but none of this stuff is gendered. You could be the most masculine guy in make up, or you could do the daintiest welding in the most feminine way, but that's just you bringing your own style to it; and just like none of these hobbies are gendered, neither is being a trans guy

Like if you're a masculine trans guy that's great, but if you're real feminine that's great too. That's stuff's just the flavoring for how you're you, none of it's what makes you a guy

I hope you have a nice day

Thank you for your input and I totally agree with everything you said !

It sucks that you can't enjoy MLP like you used to... But yeah, there's a big stigma around "masc looking" people with "fem aligned (to society's standards" hobbies and interests. Like I said in my post, I'm a huge anime fan and I've seen so many cis men get shit for being creeps because they had like their favourite female characters from an anime or manga as their phone wallpaper, or because they had figures and posters, for people it can only be for "gross, NSFW purposes" when it's just people enjoying fictional characters.

And I hate when you say that and people are like "well IF the men in fandoms weren't ALWAYS CREEPS" and it's like: you're talking about the loudest crowd, not the majority. I'm not a big fan of fandoms in general because people tend to be too intense about the media, for me at least. But that's the point of a fandom and there's good and bad in it. It's not a gender thing.

I remember watching a little video about the MLP fandom and finding some things that came out of it like the huge conventions and fanfic and overall creativity so so great !! and then the youtuber introduced the more NSFW, weird part of the fandom and said "I think that the reason why men tend to sexualized fictional characters in shows and any medias is because it's the only way they ever learned to enjoy female characters. As a girl, I can relate to the characters that are girls because they experience similar things to me, but to men, the only relatable and enjoyable thing they can possibly get out of a female character isn't the way she's written, the things she goes through, it's just the sexual gratification she can give."

And I don't have words strong enough to say how APALLED I was by this statement like, do you hear yourself, fr ?!

But anyways, there's still a long road ahead of us for people to just be normal about men liking "unconventional" things. Or to just de-gender things in general, really.

[hnychn]

Can u give us a little bit of sneak peek of Gojo fanfic?

why not ^^ here’s a little sneak peak of the first chapter of I Am Him As He Is Me

———

Ch1 — He Doesn’t Understand I Learned it all from Him

“The melancholic mornings and subsequent slumber of nature of every passing autumn season always brings Satoru back to the death of his childhood.

Every year, without fail, when the ground begins to give way to death and the air smells of morning dew and massacre, Satoru remembers the small (and possibly insignificant) part of him that never got to flourish. He’s learned to move on long ago, but he’s found it doesn’t make the loss any less mournful. Should Satoru’s childhood have been granted the right to live and prosper, would it make any difference to who he is today? Would that tiny child, born with blazing blue eyes and the weight of the world in a single hand, have made any difference to… anything? Are the performative years of our youth really that consequential, that their effect on our later years is truly undeniable?

It's a question Satoru knows he’ll never find the answer to. That child within him has long since passed. Regardless, he has bigger things to worry about; such as protecting the world and turning 28—a big feat to others considering, in just two measly years, Satoru will have lived through another decade of his life and turn 30. Note, a big feat to others, not Satoru. These numbers hold no significance to Satoru. He’s never really gotten used to life after 17.”

———

“On the longer nights, though—when sleep makes itself scares and the world seems to be a never-ending reminder of what could have been—Satoru wonders if him noticing Suguru’s declining state would have made any difference to anything. Maybe if Satoru looked harder, Suguru would be sitting with them in the teacher’s lounge of Jujutsu Tech, laughing as Satoru made a fool of himself yet again (and this time, he would savour the look of pure content that made a home on Suguru’s lips.) Maybe if Satoru sympathised more, the students of Jujutsu Tech would have the same image of Suguru that Satoru had—a man whose heart was stitched onto his sleeve, so bursting and bubbling with love he sometimes felt a little too much and loved a little too hard. Maybe if Satoru allowed himself to be human, to lower the shade of is arrogance for a split second, Suguru would have learned how to put down all the grief he hoarded in his heart and there would be a special cup in his cupboard for him—right in between his and Shoko’s.

There were an infinite number of possibilities, an infinite amount of ‘maybes’, and yet there wasn’t enough hindsight—enough love—to show Satoru what he was taking for granted.”

———

Thank you guys for being so patient while I work on this! So much is going on in my life right now, I’m so close to graduating college and I have to start looking into a real big girl job now, so that’s exciting!! But chapter one should be out as soon as possible <33

I Am Him As He Is Me Masterpost

I Am Him As He Is Me Spotify Playlist

[coltermorning]

The Last Words Spoken (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: You recall various memories of time spent with Arthur and read from his journal.

Author’s Notes: Major spoilers for the game if you haven’t already finished it. This is not like my usual work, but I needed high honor Arthur for a change. This takes place across multiple chapters but mainly during and after Chapter 6.

Tags: Arthur Morgan x reader, high honor Arthur Morgan, referenced sex, terminal illness, character death

AO3 Link

~

The Last Words Spoken

Word count: 3862

“Hey, darlin’.”

His voice rang through your head over and over, that same phrase repeated so many times you would never forget the way he said it. It was always those words, their slow drawl and the crooked smile accompanying them that made you ache, like your heart had grown too big for your chest.

Now was no different.

Infinite instances for you to recall his softened fondness, his smile for how honored he was to say those words. Each time, without fail, the calmness in his eyes spreading across his face and his whole body, his relief at seeing you made palpable.

You had never known a love like this until you knew Arthur Morgan. And now, as you recalled him, you lie in your bed with that same ache riddling your chest, with a bitterness so stretched it was turning the day blue.

“Hey, darlin’.”

The first time he said it, the words made you purse your lips to hide your excitement. He had kissed you the night before, your first kiss shared, and as he returned from his rambling and sought out your company, he greeted you so simply. But oh, did it mean the world to you at the time. You were young and giving and so glad to be wanted that those words caught your breath and held it. You spent the rest of the day bottling that feeling within you, unbelieving that a man such as him could feel an affection so gentle and innocent.

Not all of his greetings were as happy. Some were riddled with fatigue, some absentminded and full of a familiarity that dulled their meaning. Some were full of sorrow. You couldn’t bring yourself to think of those, rolling toward the window like the movement would block out their memory. You thought of the familiar ones instead, of so many times seeing him anew that his fondness was implied in that quick grin rather than expressed fully and received fully.

One such time was after months together, the first time you berated yourself for not appreciating that greeting enough. He had been gone for four days, not an uncommon amount of time but long enough for you to mull over his return. Your worrying over him had made you tired, and as night fell and you were unsure whether or not he would be coming in, you retired for the night and made for bed. Lying there on your shared cot, you fell into a dreamless sleep and were benumbed to his return when he eventually did appear late in the night, alerting you of his presence in the same way he always did. There was an extra ounce of fondness in his voice then, but being as tired as you were, you originally failed to recognize it and only responded in sleeping utterance. How long it took for his words to sink in you weren’t sure, but he was already stripped of his familiar hat and outerwear as he climbed into bed with you, making you jerk awake.

“Easy. Just me,” he said, and you stared at him as he settled beneath the blanket with you. His earlier greeting had fallen on deaf ears, and you felt a sudden rush of guilt so harsh over it that all you could do was continue to stare, to memorize his softened features. “You okay?” he asked, reaching out and cradling your face, running his thumb across your cheek. That movement, the way he rested his head on the pillow so softly beside you—it left you with the same ache you always felt for him, both that and your guilt twining together and holding your gaze.

When words finally reached you, you settled back down into the bed, closing your eyes as you clung closer to his warmth. “I am now.” He kissed you on the forehead and you kissed him on the mouth, not knowing how else to rid yourself of that guilt. It worked, as he made a small hum of approval, the sound deep and comforting enough to have you forgetting all else but him.

There were many other times your ignorance dulled his loving words, but none made you as ashamed as that. You soon realized that it didn’t mean you loved him any less, rather that he was becoming as familiar to you as breathing, that it was a sense of security making your nerves settle, not some lack of something. And from then on, no matter how you responded to him upon first seeing him, you were content in that and in the love you shared.

You looked out of the window, seeing the flat gray sky beyond, and recalled the times he said those two words to you when he was too tired to do much else beyond stumble into bed. Once, he had even left his muddy boots on as he flopped onto the cot beside you and fell asleep within minutes. You remembered chuckling into the cold night air, all thought of berating him for it lost at the sight of his exhaustion. He had always done so much for the camp, and back then, the sight of mud spread all over the thin blanket the next morning only made you laugh in fondness for him.

Some days, he said those two words with more weariness than tiredness. Especially as the gang began to fall apart and his sickness worsened, his gaze tended to fall distracted, the jut of his shoulders more worn than you could stand. He was elsewhere with his thoughts then, but the love he still had for you and wanted to prove to you shone through it all. In fact, there were days toward the end when that loving greeting was followed by fits of coughing so violent you thought it would break him. But it never did, and he made a point of doting on you all the same, maybe just to prove to himself that he still could. You were grateful, always grateful then, for every moment.

“Hey, darlin’.”

You felt tears well in your eyes despite your attempts to keep them at bay. And without warning, those last few greetings of his punched through you, the ones filled with a bittersweet sorrow that drowned you in their memory.

He was careful with you then, not wanting to risk passing his sickness on to you. It left you so lonely, the ghost of his touch a cutting taunt when he was right there and yet miles away.

After fighting with Micah one night loud enough for the entire camp to hear, he made his way over to you, utterly exhausted. He had had a long day away doing Dutch’s biding, and the result was the tired, unwell man before you, his usual inner light subdued. He brought his hand to your face and said those two words, his eyes full of sadness despite the smile beneath them. That was the first time you remembered being afraid that you would have to live this life without him, that he was too noble to save himself. And with that you cried, tears spilling down your face as he wiped them away and attempted to console you. You missed his touch too much to be sensible, and you pulled him into a tight embrace, shoulders shaking with grief as you pleaded, “Make love to me, Arthur.”

He stilled so suddenly it hurt you, knowing what he would say before he said it. He set his head on top of yours, pulling you ever closer. “You know I can’t do that, sweetheart. I ain’t gonna risk-”

“Getting me sick, I know,” you finished for him, pulling away to look him in the eye. “But I don’t care. Please.”

He considered you for far too long, warring with his own sensibility. Finally, your endless tears must have settled something within him, as he wordlessly led you to his cot and drew the stiff canvas down around you both.

That night, he made love to you for the last time. He was careful, so careful that you were wedged somewhere between pleasure and sadness and love, the entire ordeal so bittersweet that you cried after he fell asleep. You cried for hours, awake for so long that the sun rose and still, you had not slept. It was too much of an ending, a wordless goodbye that you knew he only gave to you because he was close to giving in to his mortality.

Sobbing into your bedsheets, you recalled the last time he ever greeted you so lovingly.

On the final day of the gang’s existence, he had insisted you stay behind and out of danger as he went to rescue Abigail. He and Sadie were successful, and the three of them returned and discussed a rough plan as they stopped their horses just shy of where you sat waiting for him. Your heart swelled at the sight of him, still alive, still coming back for you even through all the hardship. He dismounted with a swiftness that made you worry for his worn lungs before he made for you, all else left far behind. You couldn’t remember the other two women then, the horses, the woods surrounding you. You couldn’t remember anything apart from his gentle approach, the way his face lit at the sight of you.

“Hey, darlin’,” he said, and you hadn’t been able to stop yourself from letting out a whimpering cry, your throat burning with a heartbroken heaviness. His face, the way he said it after a long breath—like this would be the last—it broke you. He curled you into his arms knowingly.

“Don’t do that,” you cried.

“Do what?”

“Say it like that. Like you’ll never say it again.” He just hugged you tighter, and you started to sob. “It’s over, Arthur. Abigail’s safe. We can go now.” His sickness was another matter, a darkened blot on an already too-hard life lived. You chose to ignore it. “We can go and…live and-”

“No, sweetheart.”

You pulled away and looked up at him. He was smiling at you. But for the first time since you’d met him, you saw tears forming in his eyes. You couldn’t stand that. You pulled him to you, trapped him in a hug so tight you were sure you were crushing his already wounded lungs.

“I’ve got to go take care of things.”

His words made something settle within you—a knowingness that he would not survive this. Maybe he didn’t want to. Maybe he wanted to die on his own terms instead of succumbing to some greedy sickness. Whatever their meaning for him, you knew their meaning for you. He was leaving. And he was not coming back.

You pulled him impossibly closer, memorizing his smell, the feel of his coat beneath your gripping fingers, the sound of his steady heart. It was still beating, still beating, fighting every day just as he did for you. It was a constant murmur, a mockery—here, here, here. It was him, his life, slipping through your fingers. Pure agony, hearing that. Knowing it would not last.

“Don’t go,” you whispered. But it was now him that began sobbing, his shoulders shaking. You couldn’t stand the sound of it, of this man broken by his decision to die fighting but standing by it all the same. “You don’t have to-”

Arthur cut you off with a kiss. One last, soft, caution-be-damned kiss that took you by surprise. You felt his tears meet your face as he did it. And, after what felt like an eternity of savoring his gentle touch, he broke away. He looked down at you with a face swollen and eyes filled with emotion, eyes that were so full of love for you that you could have died happy beneath their gaze. He took in a shaky breath, and he smiled.

“I love you.”

The way he said it crushed you. It was his goodbye.

“I love you.” It was all that could be said.

With this, he pulled you into another tight hug then let go all too soon, pressing a kiss to your forehead. He smiled at you as he backed away, the tears shimmering in his eyes full of love and happiness and all things worthwhile. Without another word, he mounted his horse, nodded at the others, and took one last, long look at you. He smiled. And he kicked his horse and was gone.

You bitterly remembered the remainder of that day, of fighting with Abigail and Sadie, trying to mount your horse and go after him. They had stopped you, insisting coming with them was what he wanted for you. You remembered Charles finding the small group of you later that night, remembered your desperation in asking him to go after Arthur. He obliged you. You remembered the following day, John’s shocking return and the somber news that the love of your life had fought valiantly and died. You remembered the hollowness you felt at those words. You remembered that the most, in fact, because you still felt it. Every day, you felt it like a shadowed promise—that he was not here, and he never would be.

With this, you turned back toward your nightstand, remembering at last Charles’ return. He had sought you out a week later, bringing with him something you couldn’t stand—Arthur’s belongings. Arthur had given his satchel and hat to John, that sentimental soul, but he had kept his journal stuffed into his jacket pocket. You knew why when you finally worked up the courage to read the damned thing.

Your eyes flicked to the nightstand drawer. In it lay his journal, words long since written yet just as saddening as they had been since their origin. You had only ever read it once, in its entirety, long into the night. The last pages broke you, and you had hastily shoved it back into the drawer never to be touched again. But with these memories plaguing you, with the way he said those two words ringing so fresh in your mind, you couldn’t resist reading it again. You missed him desperately, needing to hear his voice, even if it was through written word.

Your hand shot out for the nightstand drawer before you could stop yourself. You dragged his journal out, your hands shaking as you sat up and flipped it over, running your fingers across its leather face. The number of times he had held this, had pored over its pages…

With more emptiness than courage, you undid the leather binding and opened the journal, careful to hold it at arms length so your tears wouldn’t stain the pages. It was difficult to read through such sadness, but when it fell open to a drawing he had done of a beautifully colored deer, you let out a sob, your resulting smile crushing you. His drawings. Him. God, did you miss him.

You flipped through the pages, noting every drawing, every entry. The way he wrote to himself, the amusement and the desperation in his words. How worried he grew over his found family.

Finally, you got to the drawing of you. Your breath caught in your chest at the sight of it, of the first time you had met and how beautifully he had captured that moment in drawing and in words. How much this would come to mean, he could never have known. Your happiness swelled at his words of ‘hell of a woman’ and ‘put me in my place.’ But mostly, you liked the last two sentences: ‘So, like a proper fool, I invited her to come back with us. I hope I do not live to regret it.’ Neither of you had regretted that decision. No matter how much it hurt to lose him, it was the having him that mattered.

You pushed on, turning pages, admiring drawings. There were a few small mentions of you here and there, becoming more frequent as time went on. Finally, boyishly, one of his entries took up two whole pages with just one tiny paragraph: ‘Maybe I ain’t as blockheaded as I’m told—I kissed her. Or maybe I’m an even bigger fool than before. For her, I gladly would be.’ You fondly recalled the memory, smiling over his words on the matter. And you flipped on, hearing about all of your firsts with him through his eyes, seeing his adoration for you spilled out on page after page.

Your recollections of him solidified until you came to the first entry in which he expressed his worry. His words were a taunt, especially where you were concerned: ‘Maybe I’ll find a way to get her out of this whole mess unscathed, with me alongside her. What an empty promise to make, but it’s a pretty dream.’

That was before he had known about his sickness. Before his sacrifice became inevitable, before leaving you was known between you but never spoken. As it turned out, he had written about it instead. You flipped on, to the last few entries about the dread that ate at him. ‘I guess the best thing for it is to try and save as many folk as I can before my time on earth is done. And Y/N—I owe her the world and yet cannot give it to her. She deserves more than saving. She deserves happiness. Whether I can grant it to her in so little time, we shall see.’

You read through three more entries, thinking of that line. He had made you happy. Every second with him was happiness in his final days. It was bittersweet, but you had never been so appreciative for his simple company as you were then.

Finally, ruefully, you came to the last entry. Your vision blurred with new tears. You blinked them away, letting them fall to the blanket as you stared at their source—the first time Arthur wrote to you in his journal. The last time he would write anything at all.

‘Hey darling.’

Seeing it written in his sprawling hand…you nearly couldn’t stand it. You pushed on nonetheless, desperate for every word he had ever given you.

‘It always made you smile when I called you that. I am hoping to give you what little happiness I can one last time.’

You took a breath, remembering in fondness his selflessness and how he had it always—until the very end.

‘If you somehow get your hands on this journal, it means I’m long gone, because you know I would never let those greedy eyes of yours near it under normal circumstances.’ You let out a weak laugh. How true that was. ‘If this is the case, as I expect it is, there are still a few things I need to say to you. First, you’re still alive to read these words, and if you’re there without me, I want you to know how proud I am of you. I can’t imagine life without you—don’t know how we ever managed it so long before—but you’ll get through this. I know you will. At least try for me, knowing I’m with you every step of the way.’

You recalled the first time you read those words, how bitter you had been over them at the time. But now, you saw his optimism in a different light. You saw his goodness, imagining he really was with you every passing day, cheering you on to keep going no matter that he was only with you in spirit. You turned the page with a little more courage than before and kept on.

‘Second, I’m sorry I dragged you into this whole mess in the first place. Hopefully you find a way out of it with the other women, being that you remained mostly innocent and nameless in the eyes of the law. I’m sorry I took away so much time being a fool myself, thinking I could get out of it and live a simple life after all the hell I raised. You deserved more than that from me—I should have gotten us out the day you came along. But now is not the time for regrets. Instead I hope you live and thrive and be happy, putting all this behind you, knowing you helped a broken man see what really matters in life. Because you did sweetheart, and I thank you for that.’

Your tears overwhelmed you once more. He was always a good man, and how he never saw that in himself you couldn’t begin to understand. But his description of himself dug a little deeper—not evil, not wrong, but broken. He was right in that at least. You could only hope that you had patched him up well enough to be happy in his last few months on earth.

‘Lastly, this journal belongs to you now. Read every word of it if you like, or disregard it completely (though I know you won’t, you little minx). Hell, maybe it’ll never find its way into your hands in the first place and this is all for naught, but I hope it ain’t. Because I need you to know that I love you, Y/N. I always will. What else is there for it?

I’ll miss you until I see you again.’

He had drawn a small heart next to that last line squished in at the bottom of the page—something so tender-hearted and gentle as to make you smile through your tears once more. In fact, you were glad you had picked the journal back up. Whereas the first time reading it was a punch to the gut and a heavy reminder of your loss, this time was different. This time was a remembrance of how he spoke and how overwhelming a love he had for you. Reading it through now felt like healing. And you didn’t know how you had ever gotten to that point, but you imagined his words had something to do with it, knowing he was with you in spirit, helping you to be who he would have wanted you to be. The least you could do for him was strive to be that—the girl he had loved so deeply.

You turned the page and saw the last thing he ever wrote to you, to anyone, and smiled. You closed the journal and tucked it back into the drawer, thinking it would do you well to read it more often as those last words of his rang in your mind, replacing the two that had made you pull out the journal in the first place. Instead of a sorrow for his absence, a gratefulness for the time you had with him settled within you, taking its place.

You got out of bed with a newfound vigor, deciding to take the day head on, those last words making it suddenly easy to do so. With every step, they repeated, reminding you that you would never truly be without him.

Forever yours, Arthur