#love through the ages

[mynahx3]

Return of a Favor

This is another addition to the, Love Through the Ages collab by @kentopedia. It is a piece inspired by the Japanese Folk Tales Tsuru no Ongaeshi ( "Crane's Return of a Favor"). Nanami x fem reader

Takes place in Edo era ish but def not that accurate Hope you enjoy lovelies!~

6.6k Warning this contains MATURE material. Please MDNI!!! 18+!!!! Contains a little blood, SMUT, pregnancy, and babies.

Snow billowed around the man as he walked. The harsh weather had drained his energy, slowing his movements. The basket's ropes uncomfortably dug into his shoulders as he trudged. Breathing heavily, he struggled against the resistance of the snow with each step. Eventually, he lost his balance and tumbled into the soft white blanket. Getting up with a huff he brushed the snow off him, determined to get home. 

The man walking was on his way home, returning after a day in the village market. The market day involved hard work and sweat, resulting in minimal earnings that barely covered his costs. He crafted small wooden items and sold his vegetables to the town. With the snow, it was hard to bring his cart into town. Still, he made enough for himself.

Struggling up the hill, the snow reached his knees, gradually decreasing in intensity as he climbed. The harsh wind blowing snow and rain has faded away. Soft flakes of snow descended upon him, offering a fleeting pause in the midst of his journey.

Immersed in the serene stillness, he marveled at the snow-draped trees and the quiet expanse of the landscape. Despite the hardships he has faced recently, he kept going. He knew that tomorrow would bring new challenges, but for now, he found solace in the tranquility of the snow-covered landscape. The sense of accomplishment for making it through another day filled him with a quiet sense of pride.

In his moment of reflection, he was jolted back to reality by the sound of something crashing into branches and squaking nearby.

Piquing his interest, the man walked to where he heard the sound, curiosity winning him over. Pushing past the branches in his way, he cautiously walked forward.

In the bushes, not far from the path, lay a wounded crane. It weakly fluttered its wings on the ground, and an arrow was shot into one wing. Blood oozed from the wound, dyeing the feathers a deep crimson.

At the sight of the man, it squaked louder, trying to move away from him. The man approached slowly, speaking softly to try and calm the injured bird. He knew he had to act quickly to help save its life.

"Not here to hurt you, little thing." He spoke, hands raised to the small bird.

The crane continued to struggle to get away from the man. Their eyes were filled with fear. Slowly, the man went closer, taking his time to not scare the animal more. Seeing his calm nature, the bird began to calm down as well, watchful eyes on his form.

Still wary of the man, the crane tentatively allowed the man to approach and inspect its injuries. The man gently examined the bird, assessing the damage and figuring out the best way to help it.

Taking its wing into his hand, he saw the arrow; luckily, the wound didn't seem to bleed too much. With no other option, he petted the head of the crane, easing it for what he would do next.

The man carefully removed the arrow, causing the bird to let out a small cry of pain, floundering on the ground for a second as the man tried to calm it down. Ripping up a part of his robe, he began to tend to its wounds. The crane seemed to understand that he was trying to help; it looked at him with quizzical eyes. No longer was it fighting him, but instead, it seemed to trust him. The man felt relieved and reassured, knowing that he had successfully ensured the crane's safety in his care. He was happy he was close to home; the crane was in no condition to fly.

Now docile, the crane was easy for the man to carry back to his house, where he could provide it with proper care and attention. 

The trek back home seemed faster, as he had a goal in mind now and the weather calmer. Going to his humble home he saw in the distance, it was a simple farmer's house; it was enough for him. It sat on a hill, overlooking the vast expanse of fields and forests. The man knew that the crane would have a peaceful and safe place to recover in his care.

Sliding back the doors, he gently placed the crane in a comfortable spot. In his home, there was a small table with worn cushions around it for tea across his kitchen. He had his room down the hall, along with a bathroom and spare room. While small, his home was cozy and filled with warmth. Quickly, he threw in another log to keep the fire going, moving the bird closer to rest next to him at the fire. Relaxing in his home, he rubbed his sore feet, sitting on an old cushion.

Glancing to the side, he was surprised to see the crane watching him from its bundle of blankets.

Tilting his head, he extended a hand, rubbing the top of the bird's head. It leaned into his touch, seemingly enjoying it. It gazed up at him with its big, grateful eyes. The man smiled, feeling a sense of peace and connection with the injured crane.

"You're a special bird, aren't you?" He whispered softly, feeling a sense of connection with the majestic creature. The crane closed its eyes in contentment, as if understanding his words.

"I'm sure you'll be ready to go back to the wind in no time. Just sit tight here for now. It may not be much, but it's home." He said this, patting the crane gently before slowly standing up and limping back to his own room. As he settled in for the night, he couldn't help but feel grateful for the unexpected companionship in the midst of his solitude.

The crane stayed with the man for a few months.

The injured crane kept the man company in his loneliness, bringing a sense of peace and connection to the man's isolated world. A routine of tending to their wound each night and sharing meals with it became a comforting ritual for the man, creating a bond that transcended words.

It often lay with him as he read, a skill his Danish grandfather taught him. The two enjoyed their time together. The crane's presence brought a sense of purpose and joy to the man's otherwise solitary existence.

This, of course, came to an end eventually.

Returning from another day in the market, he found the crane had left, a single feather left behind where it slept. While the man felt a pang of sadness at the bird's departure, he knew that their time together had brought him comfort and companionship when he needed it most. As he looked at the feather in his hand, he couldn't help but smile at the memories they had shared.

Little did the man know, the crane would remember this favor for the rest of its days, wishing to repay him.

~_~_~

Spring was now approaching, which was a relief for the man.

The cold, barren winter is becoming a memory with each sunny day. He would enjoy this time while he could before it rolled around again as a cruel reminder. A gentle breeze rolled through, swaying the branches of trees nearby.

The man relaxed in his home, screen doors open, sitting on the tatami mats.

His home had seen better days. The roof had a few leaks, and the walls were showing wear. But the man didn't mind, as long as he had a roof over his head. He was grateful for the simple life he led, surrounded by nature and the sounds of the countryside.

The setting sun beamed down on him in a pleasant warmth with a chill of the breeze, bringing a sense of peace and contentment to his heart. It was growing darker, but the man felt a sense of serenity enveloping him, knowing that he was exactly where he belonged. The soft glow of the lanterns inside his home beckoned him to come in and rest for the night. The man closed his eyes, taking in the sounds of birds chirping and leaves rustling, grateful for the beauty that surrounded him.

Opening his eyes, he expected to see his small garden, but he was met with the sight of a woman walking along the road.

Tilting his head, he stood up as he squinted to get a better look at the unfamiliar figure. The woman looked lost, and he felt a sense of duty to offer her assistance in finding her way.

Seeing him, she seemed to brighten just at the sight, hurriedly walking faster. This confused him, his shoulders tensing as the woman came closer.

She was indeed beautiful, a rare sight in this secluded area. Wearing white, plain robes that served her no justice, her hair was done in a simple braid. As she approached, he noticed the desperation in her eyes, making him wonder what could have led her to this remote place. Despite his initial hesitation, he decided to approach her with a welcoming smile, ready to offer his help.

"Hello, sir." She greeted him with a polite bow of her head. "I seem to have lost my way; would you be able to point me in the right direction?"

"It's awfully late for a woman to be out." He said, in a deep voice, as he stepped off his porch, smiling at her softly. "I can help you find your way back, but it's not safe to be wandering for either of us at this hour."

She smiled back at him, looking at him with such affection that his heart skipped a beat. He felt a sense of familiarity in her eyes, but he shook it off. He would have remembered meeting a beauty like her.

"Thank you for your concern, sir," she replied, her eyes sparkling with gratitude. "I would appreciate your guidance back to town."

"I only say this in concern for your safety, but it's not best to travel in the dark, even in this part of the country. Bandits still lurk about." He starts, never leaving her eyes, getting immersed in them, lost in the moment with her. "May I offer my home for the night? I wouldn't be able to sleep knowing I left you to fend for yourself, and I can take you first thing at sunrise."

"That is very kind of you, sir," she said with a smile, feeling a sense of relief wash over her. "I would be grateful for your hospitality."

With a stutter and flushed face, she introduced herself, and her name sounded like a melody to his ears.

"It's a pleasure to meet you; my name is Nanami Kento."

Nanami extended his hand toward her, a warm smile gracing his lips as he welcomed her into his home. The night was filled with laughter and conversation, with a bond forming between them that felt like fate.

~_~_~

Since their meeting, Nanami and the woman have only seemed to get closer. She had always talked to him on her journey home from town. He often invited her to dinner when the hour was late.

Nanami had grown quite fond of her. In the short time that he knew her, Nanami felt his feelings grow for her. She was attentive and soft-spoken, yet her strong determination was something he found incredibly attractive. Her heart was as kind as her smile, and Nanami found himself drawn to her more and more with each passing day. Their connection felt effortless, as if they had known each other for a lifetime.

Gaining the nerve to ask her to marry him, he prepared a token of his affection. Using his skills, he carved an intricate hair pin with images of birds and flowers intertwined in the design, symbolizing their blossoming love. As far as he knew, she was unwed with no family in town. While he had little to his name, he was determined to make her happy and provide for her in any way he could. He hoped that she would see his sincerity and accept his offer of courtship.

Waiting at a nearby river overlooking the village, he played with a small bouquet of wildflowers he had picked for her, rehearsing in his mind what he would say when she arrived. The sound of her approaching footsteps filled him with a mix of excitement and nervousness, yet he was prepared to express his feelings for her. Still, he hid the bouquet behind his back.

She quickly walked to him, smiling brightly at him as she called his name. The flowers were in full bloom over them, and the petals fell around them.

Sitting with him on his blanket, she begins to ask about his day. He took a deep breath, feeling his nerves dissipate as he looked into her eyes. As they talked, he found himself captivated by her every word, grateful for the opportunity to share this moment with her. Speaking her name, he got her attention, feeling a tad guilty for interrupting her.

"I have something I want to give you." He showed her the flowers and hairpin, his cheeks red from the action.

She looked at him in shock, mouth agape, as she reached out to take the gifts.

"I have come to realize how much you mean to me," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "And I wanted to show you how much I care."

Tears formed in her eyes at his heartfelt words. The gifts were now in her lap. Her own heart fluttered with her emotions.

"I don't have much, but I can provide you with food, a roof over your head, and love until the end of our days." He said that he was now holding her hands.

Smiling, she leaned forward, looking into his eyes which were warm pools of amber and dark chocolate, golden in the sunlight. His blonde hair was blown in the breeze, and the smell of cherry blossoms wafted around them.

"And that's all I need," she replied softly, feeling overwhelmed with gratitude for his simple yet heartfelt offer. The love in his eyes reflected her own feelings, creating a bond that she knew would last a lifetime.

Overwhelmed by emotions, Nanami cupped her face, connecting their lips in a tender, loving kiss.

In that moment, time seemed to stand still as they embraced each other, cherishing the love that bound them together. The world around them faded away, leaving only the two of them in their own little bubble of happiness and affection.

~_~_~

The two married in a humble ceremony, one that was attended by only his closest friends and family but was filled with an abundance of love and joy. At the village shrine, the priest blessed their union, sealing their commitment to each other in the eyes of the divine. Nanami kneeled beside her, and the both of them took sips of their sake.

Nanami wore his father's black haori with a loose gray hakama. He felt the heavens bless him with the one beside him.

She wore a simple, pure white kimono with an outer robe and a crane on the front of it, symbolizing longevity and good fortune in their marriage. It was the same robe that his mother wore on her own wedding day, a gift from her, passing down a tradition of love and happiness. The wooden hairpin he gifted her sat proudly in the updo his mother helped her create, showcasing the intricate design.

He couldn't give her the lavish gifts one would on their wedding like he desired, but she was happy. They had food together near the river where he proposed. Loved ones gathered in the summer night, the sounds of cicadas around them.

His family happily cooked and helped prepare the meal, celebrating the union of their loved ones. The simple act of sharing a meal together by the river symbolized their commitment to each other and the beginning of their lives. The couple sat together, enjoying the night as one. Their hands intertwined, the sound of laughter and music filling the air. Lanterns aglow around them, filling the sky above.

As they looked into each other's eyes, they knew that their love was all they needed to start their new life together.

Later on that night, when everyone had departed, they went into his home—no, their home—as a couple now.

Shyly, he looked around his room. Tonight was to be the night they became one in every sense of the word. The room seemed to glow with a warm light from the candles, reflecting the love that filled their hearts.

They kneeled before each other, still in their last layer of clothes. Her hair flowed down on her shoulders now, draping her in a soft, romantic aura. His hands trembled slightly as he reached out to touch her face, a mixture of excitement and nervousness in his eyes. They both knew that this moment would change their lives forever.

Moving closer to him, she let him cup her face, her eyes gleaming at him with love and excitement. Her own hand cupping his softly.

"Do you wish to spend the rest of your life with me?" She whispered, her voice filled with emotion. "Even though I may not be the wife you always dreamed of, I promise to love you with all my heart."

He gazed into her eyes, his heart full of certainty, as he replied, "Yes, I do. I will cherish you always and forever, no matter what the future holds. With no regrets."

Leaning closer, he takes her lips in a kiss, growing more passionate with each passing second. The world around them seemed to fade away as they lost themselves in the moment, savoring the love that bound them together. Their hearts beat in unison as they shared a tender kiss, sealing their commitment to each other.

Gaining courage, he pushed her to lay on the futon, his hands tenderly traveling her body. Unraveling her kimono with a gasp from her lips, his calloused hands felt the softness of her flesh for the first time.

As their passion ignited, they became lost in each other, their bodies entwined in a dance of love and desire. In that moment, nothing else mattered except the connection they shared. Their clothes were shed, and the two of them were bare under the moonlight.

Gazing down at her, he lost himself in her beauty. She laid bare before him, cheeks flushed from their kisses. Her bare breasts were littered with marks he made. Legs on either side of his waist, the two of them ready to become one.

"I've never…" Nanami started, his cheeks a bright red, as he was about to confess his virginity to her. But before he could finish his sentence, she placed a finger on his lips, silencing him.

"You don't need to say it," she whispered, her eyes filled with understanding and affection. Her own cheeks equally as flushed. "I've never done this either."

Her confession eased his nerves, knowing they would explore this new experience together without any pressure or expectations. They both smiled, their hearts filled with excitement and anticipation for what was to come. Cupping his face, she brushed hair from his eyes and leaned in for a kiss, their tongues dancing together in a symphony of desire.

Clasping her hand, he rubbed himself on her slick cunt. His length was soaked in their mutual desire, aching for the moment they would finally become one. Making eye contact, she nods to him, silently communicating her readiness and eagerness to take the next step in their relationship.

Pushing forward, he held her hand tight, her eyes clenched from the slight pain she experienced. As he entered her, he let out a groan, resting his head in the crook of her neck from the sensations. His lips peppered kisses on her collarbone, giving her a moment to adjust to the new feeling. Whispering sweet nothings in her ear, he assured her of his love and devotion. His hands rubbed her body soothingly to relax her, resting on her hips.

She panted for air, her heart racing in her chest as he leaned back from her. With warm eyes looking down at her with a mixture of desire and tenderness, he whispered, "Are you okay?"

She nodded, feeling a wave of emotions wash over her at the intimacy they shared in that moment. Feeling the pain begin to subside, she wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing him down to kiss her with a newfound sense of urgency and passion, moving his hips against him. Moving his arms up, he rested on his elbows on either side of her head. Hips thrusting against her with ease at the growing intensity of their connection, he whispered, "I've got you."

She melted into his touch, feeling safe and desired in his embrace. The world faded away as they embraced, cherishing the connection they had found in each other's arms. Their room filled with the sound of their heavy breathing and the scent of their shared passion, creating a bubble of intimacy that enveloped them both. As they continued to explore each other's bodies, they both felt their end was coming. Their eyes locked together, focusing solely on one another.

With a final surge of emotion, they surrendered to the overwhelming wave of desire, their souls intertwining in a moment of pure bliss before they collapsed into each other's arms, breathless and content. The world outside ceased to exist as they lay entwined, savoring the fleeting ecstasy of their love. Nanami moved to lay beside his wife, laying a blanket over them, gently brushing her hair away from her face and whispering words of love and gratitude.

"I love you." He declared, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead.

"I love you too, Kento." She responded, her voice barely above a whisper.

The couple held each other close, cherishing the quiet moment of connection before they drifted off to sleep in each other's arms.

~_~_~

Kento felt pure happiness.

For years now, he has been married to the love of his life. Their time together strengthened their bond each day. No matter the poor condition of their house or the challenges they faced, their love remained unwavering.

With the cold months coming, Kento spent more time out in the fields. He could already feel the chill in his bones from the season changing. The brown leaves on the trees are beginning to fall from the branches. Gathering food to stock up on or sell. The cold, brisk air filled his lungs as he worked tirelessly, knowing that every moment spent away from his beloved was worth it for their future together. Nanami's heart swelled with gratitude for the life they had built, knowing that their love would always be the foundation of their happiness.

Raising a hand to his face to wipe his sweat, he gazed at his wife.

She sat on the porch, sewing a quilt, her hands moving skillfully as she hummed a familiar tune. Her bump was beginning to show in the life they had created together, a reminder of the love that bound them. Kento couldn't help but smile, grateful for her presence in his life and the warmth she brought to their home. As the sun began to set, he joined her on the porch, cherishing these simple moments of peace and contentment together.

Suddenly, a harsh feeling came into his chest. He felt as if he were being torn from the inside, waiting for it to erupt from him. Buckling over, he coughed into his hand, shakily looking at it. His wife immediately ran to his aid, rubbing his back in circles as she kneeled next to him to assist him. Brows furrowed in concern on her sun kissed face.

"Kento?" She called, her face paling as she looked at him. Blood dribbled down his chin, covering his hand.

~_~_~_~

A sickness furrowed its claws deep into him.

The village doctor allowed them both some time to consider; there were treatment possibilities, but they required money. Something either of them didn't have much of. The doctor's words lingered in his mind, weighing heavily on his chest. Kento knew that life would never be the same again.

Looking at his wife, he held her hand tight, regret flowing through him for making her go through this. For not being better for her. He knew that look in her eyes; she was thinking hard, thinking of ways to fix this. Kento felt a sense of guilt and responsibility weighing heavily on his shoulders as he realized the gravity of the situation.

"Love, we'll get through this together," he whispered, trying to reassure her. But deep down, he knew that their journey ahead would be filled with challenges and sacrifices.

Turning to him, she had that same smile—the same one he'd grown to adore the last few years. Years filled with absolute happiness.

"We will, Kento." She affirmed, leaning to rest her forehead against his.

~_~_~

The look of love never once changed in her eyes for him. Not once.

Even as she watched him struggle with the changes, he went from a strong man who could sow their entire field in less than a day to a man needing help being fed. Things like pity, regret, or resentment never crossed her mind.

A horrible cough wracked Kento's form, one that made her heart ache with worry. She held him closer, dabbing his face more with a damp cloth to ease the fever that had come on in the middle of the night.

"You should run off with the money we have. Stop wasting it on me." He chided her, still leaning on her as she cared for him. But she shook her head, determined to stay by his side no matter what. "Even with a child, I'm sure you'd find someone else. Someone worthy."

"I'm not going anywhere, Kento. We'll get through this together," she whispered, her voice filled with unwavering love and devotion. Kissing his forehead, she gently held him, caressing his damp hair until he fell asleep. His hand rested on her stomach, as if still trying to protect the life growing inside her.

The winter storm raged outside, and the two of them were bundled in their warm blankets, finding solace in each other's presence as they faced the uncertainty of the future together. The crackling fire in the fireplace provided a sense of comfort and warmth amidst the howling winds outside. Nanami's chest rose and fell with each calm breath. He looked at peace, despite the pain and uncertainty that surrounded them.

She vowed to find a way to help him, no matter the cost.

In the quiet of the night she slipped to her weave room, her loom in the middle of the room. With determination she got to work.

~_~_~

For several nights, she spent her time weaving delicate silk tapestries and silk panels she knew she would be able to sell at the market to support them through the difficult times ahead. The intricate designs and vibrant colors were a labor of love, a symbol of their unwavering bond and determination to overcome any obstacle together.

While being unable to do hard labor, she spent countless hours caring for her husband while also making the beautiful tapestries that would give her the money to buy the medicine.

The night before the market day, she stayed up late adding the final touches to her creations, knowing that their success was crucial for their survival. As the first light of dawn broke through the window, she felt a sense of hope and determination that they would make it through this challenging time together.

~_~_~

Spring is approaching now. The last month of winter began to thaw, bringing with it the promise of new beginnings and opportunities. His sickness weakened the strength he had. Each day, his wife cared for him with unwavering dedication, no matter how much he tried to push her away. Her bump is now bigger, and she can feel the baby kicking more frequently.

"It's pointless getting the medicine." He frowned, looking away from her as she bathed him. "It's pointless staying with me."

She simply stopped humming, continuing to wipe his chest, a frown on her face as she sat in front of him in the bathtub. Water surrounded the two of them in their small tub. The steam of the bath fogged the small room, enveloping the two in a sense of warmth and intimacy.

Despite his words, she couldn't bear the thought of leaving him alone in his time of need.

"My love, no matter what you say, no matter how foul you try to be, I'm staying." She said, "We both are."

Tears filled his eyes as he understood the extent of her love and dedication. Despite his protests, she remained by his side, a beacon of hope in his darkest days.

Another cough racked his form, and attentively, she helped rub his back as he coughed. Only once her hand dropped the towel to cup his face did he notice her fingers. They were wrapped in bandages, blood seeping through from the cuts.

"What happened to your hands?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.

She smiled softly and explained, "Just a minor kitchen mishap, nothing serious to worry about."

The profound love and sacrifice she showed left him speechless. Gently, he lifted her hand to his face, pressing a kiss to the tips of each finger. Tears finally went down his cheeks; months of bottling them up were finally released in that moment of vulnerability. He realized then just how much she truly meant to him.

"I'll be better for you," he promised, tears streaming down his face. "I love you more than words can express."

She squeezed his hand gently, feeling the weight of his promise in her heart.

"You've done more than enough. I love you more than you'll ever know," she whispered, feeling grateful for his vulnerability and honesty.

He sobbed in her arms, pressing his face against her wet chest as sobs wracked his form. She held him close, whispering words of comfort and reassurance as he let out all his pent-up emotions in her embrace.

~_~_~

After making tapestries for hours, she had finally made enough to cover the costs for the stronger medication Kento needed.

With a breath of relief, she left the doctor's office, holding the vial of medicine close to her chest. She knew that the medicine was their last hope for his recovery, and she was willing to do whatever it took to ensure he got better. As she walked home, her heart was heavy with worry but also filled with determination to see him healthy again.

In her anxiety, she felt a harsh kick; her little one was quite active as of late. Her late nights working and taking care of Kento made her realize the importance of taking care of herself and her unborn child. She knew she needed to find a balance between caring for Kento and ensuring her own well-being during this challenging time.

~_~_~

Kento seemed to be getting better each day. 

His health was slowly regaining strength, and now he was able to tend to the small weeds in the garden. The fresh air and sunlight seemed to invigorate him, giving hope that they would indeed overcome this challenge together. As she watched him work in the garden, she felt a sense of gratitude for every moment they had together.

Her own health, however, only got worse. Bags were under her eyes, and she had lost weight. A concern for the doctors, especially with her due date being later than most women. As the flowers began to bloom outside, she prayed for a miracle to keep him by her side a little while longer.

"Kento! Come take a break, my love." She called out, reaching for him on the porch.

Kento looked up from his task and smiled warmly at her, setting down his gardening tools before walking over to her.

"I'm almost done here, love. Let's sit together for a while," he said gently, wrapping his arms around her as they sat on the porch, enjoying the peaceful moment together.

Nuzzling into her neck, he whispered sweet nothings, reminding her of his unwavering love and support. The warmth of his embrace was the only medicine she needed to feel better in that moment.

"You should be sleeping." He reminded her, concern on his face as he looked over her.

Waving her hand dismissively, she leaned into his chest, feeling safe and loved in his arms.

"I'll sleep soon, I promise. But right now, I just want to be here with you," she murmured softly, closing her eyes and savoring the moment of peace and comfort they shared together. 

Her restlessness seemed to melt away as she focused on the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, a soothing lullaby that calmed her racing thoughts. In that moment, she knew that with him by her side, she could face anything that came their way.

"I was thinking of names." He said it with a grin, looking down at his wife resting on his chest.

"Names ?" She lifted her head to look at him with curiosity, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. The anticipation of starting a family together filled their hearts with joy and excitement for the future.

"For a boy, Yoshiharu." He spoke, rubbing her hair gently. "For a girl, I was thinking of Miu."

She met his gaze, nodding in agreement at the two names.

"Those sound lovely."

~_~_~

Their child is born on a rainy spring day; she screams into the world, lungs full of life. Her chubby cheeks are pink, and her tiny fingers grasp at the air. The sound of her cry fills the room, bringing tears of happiness to their eyes as they welcome their daughter, Miu, into the world.

"She's perfect." Kento whispers, kissing his wife's forehead as they both marvel at the miracle before them.

Tears of joy fall down the couple's faces. Their hearts are full as they hold their precious daughter for the first time, feeling a love like no other. The room is filled with a sense of overwhelming love and gratitude as they begin their journey as a family of three.

~_~_~

Miu grows strong in the coming months, as does her father. The weather was not as warm anymore, leaves begin to fall with a chill to the air. The sickness is all but gone from him now.

All would be well, or so he thought.

Even after the birth, his wife's health did not seem to get better. His wife continues to weave in the late hours of the night, determined to keep her family safe and healthy. No matter how much he begged for her to get rest, she continued. She was scared of not having him in her life. Scared of losing him to the sickness. As the days passed, her exhaustion became more apparent, but her determination never wavered. The love she had for her family was evident in every sacrifice she made for their well-being. Fingers were raw from the endless threading and weaving. 

Having awoken in the middle of the night, Kento frowned. He had reached over to his wife's side but only felt the cold sheets. Groggily, he sat up, rubbing his eyes as he looked around the room. It was dark, save for the moonlight streaming in from his window.

His daughter slept in her cradle peacefully. He smiled at the sight. She looked like a carbon copy of his wife, but she had his eye shape, skin tone, and mannerisms. The girl never cried for much and slept through most of the night, something they were beyond grateful for.

Carefully, Kento steps out of the room, walking down the hall to find his wife.

The only things heard were crickets outside and the wooden loom being moved. As he approached the spare bedroom, he had a gut feeling something was wrong. His hand shook as it hovered over the screen handles. Ignoring it, he carefully slid open the door, seeing a shocking sight.

There sat his wife with her robes pulled down, and her arms were wings now. White, beautiful feathers were scattered around her, blood seeping from her arms and back. Feathers gathered into a basket in front of her, the loom glimmering with silk. Threads. She had been making the tapestries and silk panels from her own feathers all this time. 

His beloved wife was an enchanted being, able to switch between human and avian forms. Shocked and heartbroken, he realized the sacrifices she had made to be with him. Tears welled up in his eyes as he kneeled infront of her.

With tears in her eyes, she covered her body from him, ashamed he had found out. Her transformation was a secret she had kept hidden out of fear of rejection. Seeing the feathers closer, he recognized them; it was the crane's feather, the very same one he saved years ago.

"Look away!" She cried out, crawling away from him, not looking him in the eyes. Bloody hands clasped around her robes.

He only looked at her with love, hands raised, just like when they first met. 

Kneeling down on the ground to be less intimidating, he gently reached out to touch her hand, a silent gesture of understanding and acceptance. She hesitated for a moment before finally meeting his gaze, seeing only compassion and support reflected back at her.

"It's just me, love." Kento reached out to her, gently touching her shoulder, trying to reassure her. She flinched from him and looked at him fearfully, her chest heaving with each panicked breath.

"Please, don't," she whispered, tears running down her face, her body shaking. Memories flooded her mind of the pain she’s endured in the past from humans. Pain and abuse from them discovering what she is.

Tearing herself from his gaze, she turned around, transforming into her crane form, and flew out the open window. He ran after her, stopping at the window where he watched her soar into the night sky, yelling her name out.

As she disappeared into the darkness, he whispered a silent prayer for her safety and well-being. Tears went down his face, knowing her secret didn't change the love he felt for her. If anything, it only deepened his admiration for her strength and beauty. Months of her sacrificing her well being helped save him.

Sobbing, he collapsed onto the floor, thinking he had lost her forever.

~_~_~

Months disappear in the blink of an eye.

A time spent in loneliness and hardship. He had to navigate fatherhood without his wife, but his heart never found anger for her. She was scared; he couldn't blame her for her reaction. He knew she was struggling with her own demons, and he hoped she would find peace one day. Despite the challenges, he remained committed to being the best father he could be for their child.

He just wanted her back.

Miu is nearly one, and he still finds himself looking out the windows every night, hoping to catch a glimpse of her flying by. The memory of her departure still lingers in his heart, a bittersweet reminder of the love they shared.

Sitting by the river with his daughter, he lets out a sigh, looking up at the sky with a forlorn look. He felt a gaping hole in his heart, one that would never be filled. With the sun beginning to set, he picks up Miu. The girl was sweet, her laughter filling the air as they walked back home together. She looked closer to her mother, her features near identical. The ache in his heart slowly begins to heal, knowing that she will always be a part of him, no matter where she may be.

Just as he almost makes it up the hill, a feather falls down before him. Curiously, he leans down and picks it up, inhaling a sharp breath once he recognizes the feather in his hand. Without a second of hesitation, he begins to run to his home, his daughter laughing gleefully at the change of pace. 

He bursts through the door, finding a familiar figure in a white kimono waiting by the window, their backs turned from him. At his entrance, the figure turns his way, a smile on their lips—the same one he loves and misses dearly. The sun casted a soft heavenly glow behind them, making him think it was his imagination.

Tears well up in his eyes as he rushes forward to embrace them. Miu looked at them curiously as they cupped their father’s face. Their hands carefully caressed his face as if he was glass, tears now falling down his face in relief.

"Hello Kento."

Hope you enjoyed!! I was gonna go with the OG sad ending but my heart couldn't

Lol very vanilla and lovey dovey. Crane lady got saved by a handsome farmer, spent months with him under his care (learning everything about him), and went ‘I shall bear your children and love you forever’ and I mean, that’s fair

[be-co-me]

En Plein Air

Levi Ackerman

5.7k Words

Summary: A mysterious raven haired painter seeks solace in your flower laden patio and glasses of whiskey when he finds his hidden job turns awry. This is my submission for @kentopedia's valentine's collab event, Love Through The Ages. I urge you to go check out the rest of the fics as they are written and posted! (It tried to link it but it won't work for some reason!) This takes place during the late 1800's in the impressionism era in France. This has always been a favorite era of mine, specifically for the art that debuted around this time. Monet's pieces are my absolute favorite, specifically the water lily series and I think everyone should see it. I listened to Gregory Alan Isakov for the better part of writing this, so if you'd like to listen to some folk music as you read (I think the music is very fitting to the vibe of the fic), my three favorites are Empty Northern Hemisphere, If I Go I'm Goin, and Dandelion Wine.

---

Impressionism. The art movement taking the world by storm along with the budding history and developments of the new age, especially had caught your eye. Vehicles, new necessities; water and electricity even being brought to the lower class, such as yourself would be labelled, though you had not yet been fortunate enough to have them in your own home as of yet.

But specifically, what most caught your eye was the art of the raven haired man sitting across the bar from you, occupying a table all by his lonesome as you polish glasses and watch his nimble hands paint, leaned over a decently sized canvas. 2.5x3.5 meters in size if you had to guess. The tall whiskey on the rocks he ordered earlier tucked to the edge of the table as to not disrupt his painting should it be spilled.

His jacket was discarded neatly across the back of the chair placed next to him, his hat forgotten along with his whiskey glass. You realized you had been polishing the same glass for the last few minutes as you stared, when another patron had come to the bar top to order.

Once you served them, your mind forgot the glasses and silverware that needed polishing to end the evening in favor of staring at the man located across from you once more. You noticed many more details of him as he was the lone subject of your attention now. His eyes had not yet met yours as his concentration must have been so deep.

You noticed the paint layered over his fingertips, vibrants and dulls covering the pale of his skin. The painting looked to be outdoors, and, if you didn't know any better, you would say yourself the painting looked finished, but the last three hours of refinery to detail he had done since the sun went down proved to you otherwise.

He suddenly looked up, his gaze meeting the whiskey glass he had long ignored. His paint covered finger tips grazed the top as he picked the glass up and took a long drag from it, smearing different colors along the rim of the glass, something you didn't think you would mind polishing off later in turn of seeing the finished product.

His eyes met yours as he set the glass into the same wet ring the table now adorned from the glass. You retreated your gaze to that of his drink, the ice now mostly melted, and glass now almost empty. Your staring could technically be deduced to the state of his drink, as you were the bartender, but you were wiser to know he would most likely not believe that statement.

He cleared his throat loudly, pushing his chair back and carefully paraded around his adopted work space as to not knock into it. He brought the glass up to your bar, placing it in front of your empty hands, steely gaze now meeting your own, at a much closer distance than you realized you'd be comfortable admiring him from.

The silence between the two of you was heavy as he did not say a word, the gramophone's music filtering through the space instead, something you had been lucky to receive as a gift from one of your more wealthy, regular patrons, saying he had already gotten a new model. Your gaze met the glass once more and you noticed it was now empty, a feat you didn't seem to notice as he made his way to the bar. He must have finished it off.

"Would you like another sir?" you asked, reluctantly meeting his rigid gaze once again. His head swiveled to the table he had occupied as a group of patrons walked past, eyeing the painting that sat atop it from a respectful distance, carefully critiquing it. His head turned back to you with a nod.

"Yes please." he responded, his gaze turning back to the table. You nodded in affirmation and turned to grab the whiskey he had requested earlier in the evening. You turned back to him as you poured, hoping you may engage in some small talk to find more detail into his character.

"Your eyes will be strained painting in the dim light you know?" you stated, eyes concentrated on the pour you gave him. You set the bottle down into it's rightful place and scooped some fresh ice into the cup, placing it back in front of him before meeting his gaze once more, looking for a response.

He stared for a few seconds before responding.

"Better light than my shitty apartment and I only get light in the studio during the day. This was a last resort to finishing by tomorrow." he replied bluntly, but softly, eyes grazing down your frame to give a once over before meeting yours again.

"Hmm. What's tomorrow?" you asked, leaning a cheek against your palm atop the bar in front of him, happy the plan for idle conversation had worked in your favor. His gaze met the table once again before turning back to you.

" A gallery. Not a large one by any means, although I wish to be represented in one someday." he responded, shrugging his shoulders as he sipped from the new glass.

"May I see what you are working on up close?" you asked. His eyes grazed your features once again as you sat atop your palm, taking another sip from your own glass the wealthy patron had bought you earlier in the evening.

"I'd rather you see it when it is finished." he responded. You hummed in response.

"When will that be?" you asked and he pondered the question.

"Depends on if you'll kick me out when you close or let me stay." he responded. It was your turn now to ponder his statement and you nodded, removing yourself from atop your palm and turning to eye the clock hung over the top of the bar, surprised to see the hands nearing closing time.

"I don't think that would be a problem." you responded with a soft smile. He nodded, standing to make his way back to the table. He sat and placed the glass in it's same dark ring as to not make another stain atop the wood, then plucked a fine tip paint brush off the top of his palette, beginning his work once again.

You stared a bit longer than needed, something you hoped he was oblivious to, before picking up the glasses once again and polishing them off.

As you finished your closing duties, the last of the noisy patrons leaving the bar, you poured yourself another tall glass of floral gin, with a dash of floral bitters and tonic. Your nose wrinkled at the burn of the alcohol, strong but smooth in flavor with a flowery lavender aftertaste.

As you finished wiping the bar top down and half of your earlier poured drink along with the task, the final on your list of duties now done, you eyed the raven head man's table, taking note of the empty glass next to him. You grabbed a fresh, icy glass and poured another out for him, bringing it along with your own drink to join him at the table.

You set the glasses down carefully, plucking up the empty glass placed next to him and replacing it with the fresh one. You carefully pulled a chair out next to him and watched him as he painted many more fine details across the span of the canvas.

The style vaguely reminded you of art you had seen in the papers from Claude Monet, an artist you had come to revere for his Nympheas series he had started not long ago. In favor of capturing the vibrancy of life, dark sharp lines were now replaced with colors, vibrant and dull to show the shadows, light, and depth of life in more fine and true toned detail. It also replaced the stuffiness of painting in studios with that of painting outdoors. En plein air they called it. It became a style you rather wished you owned a piece of, specifically that of Monet's work, though it was far too pricey and that dream would remain just so.

It made you feel free, a dream you wished could become a reality, to live in a home atop a pond of water lilies. Only you were not wealthy; your dresses and occupation told others that much, no matter how hard you could try to front that you were. Although you were the owner of a small bar tucked into the middle upper class estate, you were by no means seen as a respectable business owner to many of the wealthy that came to drink the afternoons and evenings away.

The clink of a glass hitting the table brought you back to reality, his eyes meeting yours as he dusted his fingers across a paint smeared cloth. You eyed the piece, wondering if it had been finished. Your eyes met his steely greys.

"Is it finished?" you asked. He nodded, continuing to wipe his fingers. an unlit cigarette sat between his lips, hindering him from responding to the question vocally. You leaned over the table even more, admiring the small details of the piece, attempting to eye the separate brush strokes.

"I'm assuming this won't be varnished correct?" you asked. His hand obscured his face, cupping around the end of the cigarette as he lit it with a match, waving the match around a couple of times to snuffle the flame out before setting it atop the table. He took a long drag, leaning back into the chair.

"You've done your reading haven't you?" he asked, blowing the cloud of smoke away from your direction. You nodded.

"I'm keen to this up and coming style and seeing where it goes," you started, eyes raking the other side of the canvas as you leaned over farther to catch a better glance at the details, "I find the switch up intriguing and rather more beautiful than works of the past." you responded, continuing to eye the painting.

A large garden bed of French lavender swaying in the breeze caught your eyes before moving onto other flowering plants adorning the canvas. It seemed to be of a farmers market, though you noted the lack of people on the canvas. Handmade dresses fluttered in the wind hung to the side of stalls, and you eyed one you thought may look rather good on yourself.

You spent a long while admiring the work and you both sipped your drinks in comfortable silence. You were sure it was well past midnight at this point, but you couldn't find it in yourself to care. You finally looked away from the canvas.

"It's beautiful. I may have to find where this market is to see it in person." you told him. Your eyes met the paint tubes littering the table, something you had failed to notice before. Maybe he's a bit wealthier than you are, being able to afford the new storage units for paint.

"You've gotten your paint in tubes. Quite hard to find around here." you noted aloud, meeting his eyes. He nodded, finishing his drink off.

"My uncle got them for me on a trip out of town. One of his customers was nice enough to give him a hefty discount, though I'm not sure I'll ever hear the end of returning the favor to him." he responded.

You pointed a finger to his drink and he shook his head. You opted to finish your own and stand, grabbing the discarded glasses and making your way behind the bar to wash them as he began to pack his supplies up. You made your way to the gramophone and halted the current shellac record that played, placing it into it's designated envelope and back to it's alphabetical bin.

You met him back at the table before grabbing your belongings, ready to also make your way home. He adjusted his jacket into prim and proper place after putting it on.

"I haven't paid for my drinks." he stated. You shrugged in response.

"Guess you'll have to come back and see me then."

---

You realized, rather irritated, the next morning, that you had never gotten his name. In favor of the spring day the farmer's almanac predicted would be warmer than the previous early spring season, you opted to open the outdoor patio of the bar for the day rather than the inside, which you would possibly open in the absence of the sun later in the evening. You now admired the flowers littering the small yard in a new light since seeing the mysterious man's painting. Maybe you could add even more flowers, specifically the French lavender that jumped out to your gaze in his painting.

Your morning went smoothly, your cup of coffee being replaced with that of the drinks a regular had bought you. He drank on absinthe, a flavor he had brought home from the military, something that had become quite popular, though you didn't admire the flavor the same way many other patrons had. You refused to drink it.

In the later afternoon, a warm breeze enveloped the patio and your eyes piqued at the raven haired man you had met the previous evening as he walked through the gate. He carried he same painting supplies he hauled last night, gaze wandering for a table that was open. Currently they had all been occupied and his eyes met your own as he made his way to the empty barstool in front of you. He looped his bag across the rung of the back of the chair, placing his jacket and hat across it before sitting atop the chair. You were rather glad you had worn a nicer dress in favor of seeing him again.

"The usual?" you asked, grabbing a glass to make the drink anyways. He nodded.

"Not quite sure I've been here enough for you to be asking me that question." he responded. You poured into the glass and scooped up the ice, placing the glass in front of him. He took a long sip from the glass, eyeing the drink sitting atop your work space. Your cheeks felt warm and you were sure they were rosy, the tip of your nose tingling at the slight buzz of the gin running through your veins.

"How was the gallery?" you asked. He shrugged, messing with the buttons of his white shirt as he unbuttoned the top two at his collar and the cuffs at his wrists, rolling them up a couple of times.

"I got quite the offer on one of my paintings. I'll be meeting the gentleman here later today." he responded.

"I'm glad I could convince you to come back, let alone bring others with you." you responded wittily, taking a sip of your drink. Your gaze wandered over his raven locks of hair, noticing the cigarette tucked behind his ear. His bangs fell into his eyes, probably due soon for a haircut, but you rather liked the longer hair on him.

He began to dig out supplies from the bag, canvas ditched for a sketchbook in lieu of the considerably smaller workplace he could now work with.

You continued your work as he began his, hastily making drinks as more patrons poured in. You thought you may let him know of an open table lest he'd want to move, but you'd rather he stayed closer, and he was so endowed in his work. You thought it better not to interrupt him unless you brought a new drink along with you.

As the afternoon slowed and patrons rolled in at a lesser frequency, you stood in front of him, taking a break from the drinks you had earlier in the afternoon once your wealthy regular left, in exchange for water. You tried to catch a glimpse of what he worked on, sketching out lines across the pad with graphite rather than any paint as of yet.

Another man made his way next to him, setting his own jacket and hat atop the back of the adjacent chair, and it was only now you got a glimpse of the work as he set the book down to shake hands with the new man. Your eyes scanned the page, a drawing resembling the flowers of your patio across the page. You felt a warmness trickle inside your chest as you looked back up, asking the other man what he would like to drink on after refilling the raven haired man's glass. Another whiskey, but neat this time.

His sketchpad then sat closed atop the bar for quite long as they conversed over the painting the man would be purchasing. You eavesdropped on their conversation, noting the painting being purchased would be the one he spent the better part of the day working on the previous evening.

You felt excitement for your newfound 'regular', dare you call him, when you heard the monetary value placed on the work by the other man, and in the raven man's expression, you found an honest surprise to what the wealthy man would pay for the fine art as they shook hands on the price, a celebration found in lieu of another drink.

As the evening sun faded into the starry sky, you lit the lanterns adorning your patio, painting it down to a bright orange and yellow haze.

"I'd like to tab out, and I insist you put Levi Ackerman's drinks on my own tab." the wealthy man insisted. You eyed the raven haired man, his gaze one of annoyance, in lieu of hearing his name for the first time before nodding. You told the man the total and he made his way out of the bar with his new piece, after leaving a hefty tip.

"It's a beautiful piece, I'm not surprised it was sold so quickly, Mr. Ackerman." you told him, testing his name on your tongue as you poured him a new drink.

"Just Levi please." he responded, taking a long sip of the fresh drink after you had placed it in front of him.

"Okay Just Levi, what are you sketching out now?" you asked. His eyes met yours in warning at the joke, shaking his head as he opened the closed sketchbook back up. Your eyes raked over it, as you found it the same as the last time you snuck a glance at it. He picked the graphite back up, beginning his work on it once more.

You noted the graphite smeared across the meat of his left hand, something you thought must have interfered with his work quite often. For sitting at the bar for the afternoon and evening, the depiction of the space you created was accurate in it's fullest across the page, the lanterns now being added in one by one.

You fell into the same routine as the previous night, Levi worked on his art as you closed your bar down, continuing to pour him drinks every so often. You poured one out for yourself, in search for a buzz from the alcohol again to warm yourself up in the colder breeze the night had brought in.

You finished your duties and your drink, pouring another as you made your way to the seat next to him, watching him as he leaned over the sketch and placed carefully calculated, soft smudges across it with oil pastels now, bringing the page to life with color. You noted the dull fingerprints of the pastels atop his glass, something you again wouldn't mind to polish away. You rather liked the lack of people in his paintings, you noted, as you found the depictions of the wealthy often polluted what you thought the nature of the paintings to be about; what they meant to you personally. Freedom.

He finished off the drink after half an hour, along with he sketch, and you grabbed the glasses, yours long empty and your body warm, as you washed the glasses under the warm water and set them atop a shelf to dry in the evening breeze.

You found the page torn out of the sketchbook when your eyes met his figure again, edges neat and crisp, sat atop the bar. He dug a glass frame out of the bag, placing the painting carefully into it. He then pushed the frame towards you across the bar top, and you picked it up with a sense of delicacy, careful to not mess with the pastels sat behind the glass. Your eyes roamed from the sketch to that of your patio a few times, noting the details even you would have failed to notice.

"Yet another beautiful piece of work. I'm quite honored you'd choose a place of my creation to bring to life." you commented, sliding the frame back to him carefully.

"You keep it. I insist. And let me pay that tab." he responded, fishing out cash from his pocket. You shook your head, taking the painting and placing it in a nook below the gin shelf so you may eye it more often in lieu of when you would be pouring your own favored drink to enjoy after long evenings.

"This is more than enough payment. I insist. So long as you let me enjoy your paintings, you can drink for free in my establishment." you responded. He left with a curt nod.

---

One day passed, then two. Three days became a week before you saw him again. You began to worry, and even felt a bit disappointed at the absence of your newfound favorite patron. A rather solemn look adorned his pretty features the next time you saw him walk through he gates of your patio, and you rather thought that he could be a painting himself as he walked to and sat across from you at the bar top right before closing that evening. You noted the lack of paint supplies and the angry red color under his fingernails and the blistering red of scrubbed hands in the lantern's orange light as he set his palms atop the bar.

"I hope that's paint under your nails Levi." you told him, your gaze leaving his hands as your brow creased in worry, turning to grab the whiskey bottle that sat abandoned the past week and pouring it into a glass. You heard a mutter of curses leave his lips and you set the cold glass in front of him. He took quite a long while before nestling the glass in between his hands and taking a sip from it.

You opted to try his drink of choice for the evening, abandoning your own in lieu of trying a new flavor on your tongue, your eyes still grazing over the oil pastel depiction of your patio every time you made a drink in his absence. The new type of burn made your nose scrunch involuntarily, a much stronger alcohol percentage invading your taste buds.

You turned to him once again as the notes of smoky wood and caramel smoothed over your taste buds, the strong alcohol leaving a rather pleasant flavor behind. You could see why he enjoyed the drink, especially colder.

You sat in a rather comfortable silence, and after he finished the first of what you assumed to be many drinks quickly, he let out a rather exasperated sigh, throwing his head back and leaned far back against the barstool, his arms folding across his eyes. You continued to sip at your own drink, grabbing the bottle next to you to pour into his empty glass, scooping the ice into it. His posture didn't change.

"Want to talk about it?" you asked, voice struggling as you took a sip of the strong whiskey, realizing he hadn't said a word to you in the half hour he had been there and you rather longed for the sound of his deep voice again.

It took him a long while to sit up before shaking his head. You nodded in response.

"I thought I'd have to revoke my offer if you didn't come back to see me you know." you joked lightheartedly, his gaze finally meeting your own, excitement fluttered in your chest as he inhaled to speak to you for the first time in a week.

"How have things been around here? Any trouble?" he asked. You shook your head in response to the rather random question, taking note of the lilt of edge in his voice.

"Just the regular drunk hooligans and their usual shenanigans on occasion. I'm far used to it by now." you responded, taking a sip of the drink. He reached into the chest pocket of his already buttoned down white shirt, grabbing the case of cigarettes and matches from it, lighting one up. He took a drag from it, blowing it away from you, eyes meeting your own once more.

"I'm glad to hear so. Seems to be trouble everywhere else." he responded.

"My offer still stands. Don't you know bartenders aren't only good at keeping bars but also secrets?" you asked with a worried smile, polishing away at a glass you'd forgotten previously to keep your hands occupied. His gaze met over both his shoulders, you assumed to confirm the lack of bodies besides the two of you within the vicinity before freely speaking of his absence the last week.

"Being an artist doesn't make much money you know, unless you're well known, which I am not." he said, pausing to sip at his drink, and you nodded in following attention of what he would explain. His tone became significantly quieter as he spoke next.

"My uncle works for the mafia, and unfortunately I have to help him. I owe him the debt of removing me from the deepest depths of society. No, I owe him my life, as much as I hate to say so. No favors that I repay him would ever be enough." he continued, ashing the forgotten cigarette before taking another drag from it.

You nodded, processing the information as you took another sip of your drink, the ice steadily melting. You wondered if that was all of the information he would allow you to know of the subject or if he would continue on. You eyed his hands once more, the redness of his skin waned, but remained underneath his fingernails. You ran a cloth under warm water as he continued to sip at his drink, grabbing at the brim of the glass in his particular way. You wrung the steaming towel out and placed your arms across the bar top, pointing towards his unoccupied hand. You couldn't help but to think the red was placed there earlier in the day, and after attempting to harshly scrub it away, he wanted to seek solace in your establishment and your presence.

"May I?" you asked, your eyes staring strongly into his own, the question coming out as more of a demand rather than a request for permission. His gaze softened and he nodded, placing his drink down on the bar top, the fingers of his right hand staying wrapped around it.

You gently wiped around top of his left hand, lightly rubbing into the creases of his fingers and knuckles before gently turning his palm over and doing the same, making sure to wipe over every millimeter of the skin on both sides before turning his hand over once more and beginning on his fingernails. His glass sat empty in your concentration and he reached for your own, something you didn't mind as you rubbed his cuticles clean.

You pulled the towel taught around your thumb nail, running it underneath his own nails to remove the angry rusty red. Once you finished his left hand, you ran the towel under the warm water once again, cleaning it of it's dirt now, setting your palm onto the bar in demand of his other hand without a word.

He placed his palm carefully onto yours and sipped at your drink carefully as he watched you clean his right hand. As you began on his upper forearms, you felt his muscles untaut across your palm and he visibly relaxed in your peripherals, a sigh leaving his lips. You felt your own shoulders relax as well.

"I like these hands more when they're covered in paint and pastels, not in danger Levi." you nearly whispered, finishing up underneath his nails. You placed the towel under the water once again, cleaning it thoroughly and tossing it onto the back of the bar after folding it up.

He brought his hand back to him, wrapping it around the glass in his other hand as he examined his now clean fingers. His bangs covered his steely grays as he pondered a response to your statement.

"I hope one day that's all you'll have to see them do." he responded quietly in return. You poured a short glass of the whiskey for yourself this time, topping his own off as well, reveling in the intimate environment the two of you had blossomed in the first of his visits.

For, in technicality, the third day of knowing him, you already felt quite a hearty connection to him, even more so than your more frequent bar guests. If anything had happened to him and he didn't come to the bar anymore, so suddenly, you'd be quite upset, on an even deeper level than you'd felt the past week.

"I hope I get to know you long enough to see that happen." you said, used to the burn of your drink now, your eyes meeting his own. You stared into his eyes, finishing the drink and placing the glass down. You stepped atop the milk crate at your feet and placed your elbows atop the bar, hands intertwining with the collar of his shirt as you pulled his face much closer to your own. His gaze penetrated your own as you took over the solemn conversation, noses nearly touching, your eyes flitting down to his lips and all around his visage, taking in his sharp features, dark long eyelashes, and plump lightly chapped lips before tracking back to his eyes.

You noted they were more of a slate grey, the flecks of blue you hadn't noticed before much more pertinent in the close proximity you'd brought about. The color reminded you much of the hydrangeas nestled in the back corner of your now peacefully quiet patio, peaceful, though your heart was thrumming harder than you think it ever had. His palms lay wrapped around your forearms in anticipation.

The color of his eyes dwindled away as they closed and his lips captured your own, the chapping of them brushing roughly against the edges of your lips. You captured his bottom lip between your own in an attempt to soften it against the petroleum across your own lips.

Your hands brushed the briary undercut he donned and his palms brushed over your shoulder blades with a squeeze as he pushed harder into the kiss you had initiated. You could taste the smokiness of his cigarette, homogenous to the smokiness and burnt caramel of the whiskey you had shared earlier in the evening, and you hoped he could taste the same on you.

Your intimacy was broken up by the loud thunder rumbling off in the distance, the breeze picking up strongly, something you failed to notice in your already lovesick state. You broke apart from him, chest heaving, staring into the slate of his eyes that reminded you oh so much of your hydrangeas you had moved closer to the front of your patio earlier in the week.

His palms lay wrapped around your forearms once again, yours in much of a similar manner. You smiled deeply at him and noticed for the first time that he returned the sentiment back to you. You sat in a more than comfortable silence as the pace of your breathing returned to normal, the searing warmth of his palms a comfort to your skin in the late cold breeze. The coarse thunder boomed once more, a streak of bright white light painting the sky and his eyes, before quickly disappearing into the covered stars.

"I need you to always come back. Please. You're my new favorite regular you know." you told him breathily. He nodded in response to the sentiment, gaze following behind you. Your eyes met the path his own followed, staring into the painting he had made for you the week before.

"Who would I tell my darkest secrets to if I didn't? And who would clean my conscience figuratively and literally when I've found myself in trouble?" he said in response, slate greys flitting back to you.

"I'll always be here, whiskey glass in hand, whenever you need it you know. I'm not going anywhere." you whispered. He nodded, rubbing his palm up and down the expanse of your now exposed forearms, your sleeves rolled up earlier to clean dishwares.

The both of you gathered your belongings, ready to fare out the storm brewing as he insisted he walk you home. He pointed out the colors of the dull night, bringing it to life in the now drenched city estate. You turned back to look at your closed down bar, and the flowers of your patio that much needed the rain thundering down from the sky.

And you found yourself more alive than you'd ever felt, standing in the rain, looking upon the result of your life's works in peace and harmony.

The landscape now bloomed in vibrants and pastels in your wake, no longer dull and forgotten. Your world flooded with a new sense of colored hues as you gazed upon your flowers, in a deeper sense of detail than before; and you found that raven colored black he brought about earlier in the week was not the absence of all the colors you had previously thought it was, but rather kin to the mix of the many hues littered about in the bottom of the raven artist's bag and across his canvases.

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Please let me know what you think! I think this is by far one of my favorite pieces I have written. I wanted to add more, but I felt it would ruin where it leaves off, so maybe a part two will be due at some point if requested. I wrote this last night after a pretty scary time; my college campus had an active shooter and our whole campus was kind of shook for the better part of an hour (no one was injured!), but writing definitely helped to calm me down, so I am glad I made an entry for this! This is lightly edited as I don't have much time before class, so please excuse any mistakes!

[pinkfloyd-musicartnaturelove]

Rick Wright and David Gilmour ♡♡

[iamnathannah]

Glorbie/Gilmore Girls Fic Prompt

Just had this idea for Barbie and Gloria crossing over with Chilton and Paris, and how things change for the three of them;

•Barbie is absolutely in love with Gloria, but she's a very popular soccer player with parents who absolutely refuse to let her hang out with anyone except fellow rich kids. Thus her best 'friend' is Louise. She's on an Alex Morgan trajectory towards the USWMT. Because of her parents and fears about her social standing, she doesn't reach out to Gloria out of fear of not only rejection but because her parents would disown her; it just so happens her parents are Straub and Francine Hayden, who adopted her after everything that went down with Lorelai, Christopher and Rory as a completely obvious 'image rehab' stunt. And yup, they've never changed, and when she mentions Gloria and then her last name, she gets a lecture about how 'we don't associate with those people'.

•Gloria is just there to learn and after some bumpiness, Paris is her best friend and supports her with everything she has. She's from Hartford's Frog Hollow area (the area's Latinx core) and is there on a scholarship, and she is studying art and design, along with business. Because of her scholarship status, Louise has very hateful prejudice against her and Paris dropped her friendship with Louise when it became clear they wouldn't get along. Madeline remains a solid and kind friend, a sort of intermediary between Barbie's sporty prep life and Gloria's more grounded 'local girl making good' beginnings.

•Rory is the Ken here; just enough elaboration, but her story is there, she's fine with Paris, but otherwise she's on the periphery. Through Friday night dinners and society events they know each other well, but since Rory's academic and Barbie's preppy and sporty, their paths rarely cross. Lorelai is completely neutral on Barbie and has never held any hate for her despite her being adopted to 'soften' the Haydens.

•Tristan is Barbie's boyfriend and is Ken-like in that he's a true himbo. No ill motives, just The Dude.

•No Dean, duh. As with Rory, Jess is there, but just in that undescribed Stars Hollow world. Logan is somewhere, but not in power, and nowhere near Rory.

•The actual Chilton part is the setup; one of Barbie's teammates is Madeline and she realizes that she's in love with Gloria and tries to earnestly set them up together through a bunch of gossip and telephone. But this is 2006 Chilton (moving time up a bit so that Sasha's eventual age makes sense) and like that time, trying to get two women together, especially from different income brackets, is an exercise in frustration.

•When Barbie calls to ask her out however, Gloria dismisses it out of hand and asserts that it was a team hazing ritual, even after Madeline says it was her own idea, and thinks Barbie even liking her as a friend is a put-on. She brushes it off as a joke even as Barbie tries to explain her earnest feelings and tells Barbie to just not bother; 'once a Hayden, always a Hayden', which absolutely levels Barbie because she knows how much immoral shit her terrible parents have done and she absolutely knows the shit they pulled with Lorelai.

•Barbie then tries to create a cozy and intimate promposal a couple years down the line, but her world is crushed when before she can invite Gloria, Louise lets her know (she doesn't know Barbie's crush and mentions it off-hand) with vicious glee that Richie (here portrayed as kind of a dick) slid off the condom when he was having sex with her, and Gloria is eight weeks months pregnant. "And she's Catholic with (Mexican slur) parents, so guess what's happening? (hums the Wedding March evilly)". Gloria is of course Honduran, but Louise is a racist you-know-what.

•Paris and her nanny's family support Gloria 100% and give her all the assistance and help she needs when her parents refuse to support her dream of going to the Rhode Island School of Design and make her marry Richie. She does get her RISD scholarship though and despite many challenges, including being a young mom and having to deal with her husband and her parents, graduates with honors with Sasha, Paris and Madeline and her nanny and their family looking on at her proudly, along with her sister and brother who bristle against their parent's traditional religious leanings.

•Her own dream of love with Gloria crushed, Barbie gets a full ride soccer scholarship to UNC-Chapel Hill and becomes a college soccer legend. The Haydens turn the screws to get Tristan in too and she's stuck with him a bit longer. Eventually though they break up in Barbie's sophomore year on still very friendly terms once Tristan realizes why Barbie both is averse to sex with him and that she was always in love with Gloria, and holds her secret. He marries Summer and the threesome (not in that way! Barbie says to anyone that asks) are a supportive trio with each other.

•Several years pass; Gloria is working in the design department at Hasbro in Pawtucket, but has gone through several things, including some parental and sibling strife where they want her to help more in Hartford, despite her life with Sasha in Providence. Just as the story starts, she's found out that Louise and Richie have had a long affair beneath her nose and she feels rightfully betrayed, but now completely lost. She also learns at the same time that much of her design work is being offshored to India and her hours are being cut by Hasbro (gotta show that Mattel support somehow!).

•Barbie's life seems great on the surface; she does nothing but win in the pros, is one of the brightest stars on the USWMT and has won the world's Ballon d'Or Féminin twice (it started in 2018 but for narrative purposes here it started earlier). But inside she's unfulfilled; her love life is spare with only a few short relationships here and there and she learns just before the 2019 Women's World Cup that though her eggs are viabl,e she is unable to conceive a child because of her bio family history including uterine cancer, something that devastates her deeply; the thing she was looking forward the most to eventually was raising a child, and of course Straub and Francine are on her to have one before they die, especially after Christopher landed in Club Fed after some tax evasion and insider trading.

•Barbie loves Gigi deeply and is on good terms with Sherrie, and all three loathe the grandparents for treating Gigi like crap as a 'bastard baby' they refuse to pass anything onto. Christopher has hated Barbie from the moment Francine brought her home and there is no love lost on Barbie's end either.

•After the WWC ends, Barbie decides to seek the assistance of a surrogate and after looking around for recommendations, soon remembers that her former classmate Paris is a fertility specialist who loves taking on big cases, and she knows she'd be happy to help out her former classmate. Yeah, Paris and Dynasty Makers are very happy to help her get knocked up in the surrogacy sense and treat her kindly.

•With work sucking deeply and Richie's child support contributions quickly declining as Louise hoovers up his income, Gloria finds herself in desperation mode, especially as her daughter is absolutely becoming the next Barbie Hayden herself and decimating every high school and SAYSO soccer team in Rhode Island, Connecticut and the Boston Metro. She wants to get Sasha on a competitive squad, because where they are now is a desert of competition, and Sasha doesn't want to be stuck in her prime pre-pro years playing the equivalent of rookie mode in FIFA in real life. •She catches up with Paris one day in New York, and without any prompting, the woman notices that Gloria's LinkedIn hasn't been updated lately and she wonders why. Gloria can't hide anything from her best friend and tells Paris about the Hasbro cutbacks and offshoring, along with how Sasha is starting to resent her for having to cut back on things and that she can't play prime soccer.

•Paris quickly realizes that there might be an opportunity there to not only help her best friend out by having her become a surrogate...but that the missed love of Gloria's life is on her roster and itching to have a child. Though she knows that having Gloria be Barbie's surrogate usually could never work, she feels that they're so distant now that whatever ethical concerns would usually exist would not in this situation. She goes over everything with her lawyer, who signs off on it with a couple of caveats that are minor and unlikely to come into play. She then brings up the opportunity to Gloria and promises to pay her well. "Trust me," she tells Gloria, "this woman will walk on water for what you're doing for her."

•Gloria expects the income she'll get by subletting her womb will be good for a year...she's soon surprised to discover that she's being paid seven digits by the mother-to-be. She's not refusing that figure; she's all in (duh).

•The contract is drawn up; Barbie wants the mother to be in the picture and known, but does not want to know her until the pregnancy is viable (along with anyone else knowing). She also sets up other things such as her caretaking service and such, and signs a deal to move on from the North Carolina Courage as her pro team to Gotham FC so she can stay close to the New York metro. Her eggs are extracted and much care is taken. Father is a complete unknown to everyone, including Paris, outside them being from the general region of Western Michigan, a graduate of Michigan State and with a healthy lineage, and his name is Alan. 🤷🏽‍♀️

•Gloria adjusts her own life around the surrogacy; she moves back to the Hartford area and Paris decides to pay Sasha's way through high school and college as a favor to her BFF and both Gloria and Paris are proud when she easily makes the Chilton soccer team, and boldly chooses to take Barbie's #9 jersey number for her own (both Chilton and UNC had been ready to retire it after her first WWC win but Barbie declined saying that 'someone greater in the future' should thrive wearing her number). Gloria is shocked, but not surprised, as despite her unsure feelings about Barbie and her high school years, she is Barbie's biggest fan on the pitch and attended multiple WWC and woso pro matches because of her daughter's love for her favorite player (and maybe she does appreciate a tall leggy blonde who did want her? After she kicked out Richie she's reconsidering where her feelings had been in 2008...) •Of course, Barbie hears the news of the jersey choice/Sasha coming to Chilton from Madeline; she is so excited, but also at the same time, fearful of doing more than a press release acknowledgment as she is sure Gloria still hates her. Thankfully there's still a few months until the season starts so there's no need to acknowledge anything before then.

•The first IVF attempt for Gloria is made in December, which doesn't work out (Barbie has ten eggs, so plenty of shots). The second shot is made in January, and Gloria really hopes this one takes because the emotional wallop was much deeper than she thought she'd experience as she begins the process of nesting for the next few months.

•Then complications having nothing to do with them arise; that certain virus starts up, and Paris had to close the practice to all but existing cases out of caution, and is not doing any new IVF procedures; she refuses to be the cause of any new infections and deaths. Gloria walks into the practice the first week of March and it's so odd to see her best friend of so long in full surgical dress and PPE, but she damned well understands that Paris will not get her sick.

•The appointment in fact starts with about a half-hour of conversation and promises that the woman Gloria is the surrogate for has been paranoid herself and isolated herself out of fear of catching COVID in any manner. "I think she's taken more precautions than I did and I'm in a full ass Intel cleanroom suit here and she said if you get sick at all, especially from her hand, she will loathe herself for the rest of her life." Gloria tries to assure Paris she's good, but "I mean it Espie, you picked out someone who really cares about health; when she blew out her ACL a few years back she changed her entire fucking medical staff because they missed a hairline fracture Callie Torres wouldn't have been able to discern." •It's a successful embryo in the end and Gloria is seven weeks pregnant, and the meet-up of surrogate with future mom is setup for two days later. However, the day before, Paris calls her in a panic, just as Rudy Gobert's positive test rumbles through the world. Chilton has shut down itself and immediately cancelled its entire spring sports season. Gloria now not only has to deal with surrogacy during a pandemic, but a devastated daughter who just lost her entire freshman year of eligibility, with her sophomore year at risk depending on how this all shakes out."

•"She doesn't want you to lose the baby or put yourself into danger, Glor, and I've settled things with the headmaster, but I know this isn't blowing over. My friend Honor has a house in Old Greenwich she won't be using and it has a good-sized lawn so Sasha can stay in practice, but the mom...I know it's not normal–" "We'll be living together." "Yeah. I know you–" "Paris, my mortgage and car is being paid off and I've made it clear, all in. I'm not leaving her high and dry, and I want her to know her kid's healthy 24/7. Not arguing this, tell her we're in this together." •And then the next day, Gloria meets the mother...and it turns out to be Barbie. She's in complete shock.

•But not as much as Barbie, who had expected some boring housewife from Long Island, not the lost love of her life. Her entire being is shook as she takes in both the woman she had never lost her fire for through high school and college and into her fulfilling pro/national career, and who she had thought she'd never see again because of their different worlds. She thinks Gloria hates her, but the woman doesn't speak. She's thrown back, stunned, and cries because of fate and Paris working their way to reunite them. •She then asks Gloria where Richie is. "Probably inside some bimbo in Cinci; haven't talked to him in six years." "OK, so you have a boyfriend, right?" "No, but I'm sure you do." Barbie pauses. "I...I don't. I'm on my own here, I want a child, but I can't have one myself, so I went to Dr. G. And apparently my egg is gestating within your womb." "And the soccer season I guess is delayed?" "If you're worried you're losing anything, my endorsements will hold, I'll be okay, Gloria, I'm not leaving you high and dry."

"I'm worried about Sasha though–" "Shit, oh God. Yeah, me too, I was looking forward to handing her the #9 myself!" Barbie realizes then what was to happen (her caretakers checking in here and there while she played pro and maybe some time with the surrogate here and there)...well now she's going to be living with Gloria for an indeterminate period of time. And though she knows Sasha will worship the grass she treads upon on, at the end of the day she's a surly teenager stuck inside for who knows how long with her uncool mom and her chosen trajectory on pause.

Never mind the 'mother of my child' thing where Gloria is more beautiful than ever and she already broke several commandments when she still thought about Gloria pregnant in so many wrong ways despite Richie and Gloria not believing she was wanted by the school's it girl. But this time he's nowhere to found and Louise Grant isn't ruining a damned thing between them.

And Gloria is questioning her entire being now knowing what seemed like an easy way to make some money is now going to make her face some hard truths about herself and how she regarded a girl who seemed out of reach, but she will now know in a manner most women would never know, even as friends.

There they will be in a house they never expected to be in, together, and having to learn to tolerate each other...

...maybe even love? Eventually? •Oh yeah, Paris has her own romatic history, of course; Asher and Doyle happened but she dumped the latter after Yale, conquered all, no children and just as she's about to take on her biggest challenge in her career in her BFF being a surrogate for the woso equivalent of George Best, her longtime partner in Dynasty Makers, Marissa Barbosa, who she in jest calls 'Madame President' because she's the president of the ASRM, has begun hinting that she might want to take their professional relationship to another level.

Marissa also knew Barbie in college at UNC as an instructor when she minored in sports medicine and helped Paris and Marissa meet in the first place. So Paris has kinda been finding the beautiful and funny Black woman to be so out of reach herself like Barbie was to Gloria, not thinking anyone would want her cute neurotic ass; she was shocked the tall woman can handle her loud and clear kvetching about the certain people currently in Washington, like about how 'Brett Kavanaugh is a mealy-mouthed fuckwit' and 'That mop-haired rodeo clown and his uppity bitch daughter are gonna run birth in America off a fucking cliff'...and found it funny and cute 'and she gets close to me and oh my God does she smell good and her hands feel so slender she's so perfect...'

But now with the pandemic forcing the women back to their roots helping out wherever they'd be called in Greater New York to assist in any way with the pandemic, be it an ER or field hospital, Paris and Marissa will be confronting their own mortality, and that they may have stumbled into much more than a business and partnership together.

Four women, Barbie and Gloria, Paris and Marissa. A surrogate pregnancy. A pandemic. A teenager. Living together through a reality they never expected. Falling for your mentor.

This Barbie Loves, Plays Hard, And Yearns. This Gloria Is Open And Reconsidering. This Paris Bit Off a Lot More Than She Could Chew. This President Loves Her Protege. This Sasha Just Wants to Play Soccer and Have a Baby Sister, Geeze the Drama Mom Uggh Don't Roll Your Eyes at Me, Dr. Gellar I Will Outdo You, Grandma!

[jolenes-book-journey]

Blitz Tour - 25 Years to Life by CJ Ives Lopez

Blitz Tour - 25 Years to Life by CJ Ives Lopez

This is a Blitz Tour post. The book is 25 Years to Life: Love Through the Ages. “Every Generation Has Its Story”. This book is brought to you by CJ Ives Lopez. It is Book 1 in the The Hopeless Romantics Series. A Sweet Contemporary Romance. Love through the Ages: Every Generation has its Story 25 Years To Life The Hopeless Romantics Book 1 by CJ Ives Lopez Genre: Sweet Contemporary Romance In…

[beaulesbian]

Emmrich & Lucanis banter about/with Spite because it's a very fun angle of conversation between them

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[curatedquotes]

Delaney Bailey, from "Love Letter From The Sea To The Shore"

being so normal about this

[liimonadas]

i blacked out and suddenly theres 4 edgeworths on the canvas

bonus design notes edition

[hollytree33]

PLEASE GIVE US MORE PAPA SOLAS I BEG YOU, MY LIFE WILL BE YOURS!!!!

Your wish is my command, dearest anon

[gleafer]

“HAVE YOU TRIED NOT BEING THE VILLAGE WITCH??”

[justanotherfanwriter]

Teen titans: year one is so funny because it’s literally like:

Donna: I want a boyfriend! 💞🌸😘

Wally: Robin isn’t *that* great or whatever.

Roy: shit I totaled green arrow’s car!

Dick: the man I’ve thought of as a mentor-father is keeping me chained next to him while simultaneously pushing me away. He is my prison warden and my savior. He treats me like a child, but expects me to be a man. Despite struggling for more independence, I still desperately want his approval. The pressure he put on me as a child meant I grew up too fast. Now, I far outpace my peers and am isolated from them. Despite their company, I feel lonely. At the end of the day, I only have Bruce and his morals. If I’m not perfect at all costs, everything as I know it will fall apart. The responsibility of leading a team is too great for me to handle, not because it is hard, but because it’s puts me at odds with Batman. I don’t know who I am without him. All of this is leading me to the brink of a mental breakdown that will quite literally alter the DC timeline as we know it. Bruce is breaking my heart and, in turn, I’ll be forced to break his.

Garth: wut. the. FUCK is a squirrel!!?!?

[wardensantoineandevka]

[pinkfloyd-musicartnaturelove]

What a sweet photo of Mr. Gilmour.

[vaguely-concerned]

the more I play the more I think lucanis basically knows it's illario who betrayed him right from the beginning (he's had a year in the ossuary to think. not that many people knew where he was going. when you ask him 'did Illario know you'd be on that ship' his only answer is the hardest flattest 'yes' you ever heard). so it's not so much about figuring out who the traitor is (because that's ludicrous. we all know. immediately. they didn't really bother to hide it lmao) as about methodically closing off every single avenue of denial lucanis has clung to that whole time with as much or little gentleness as you might prefer until he has no choice but to admit it. because the moment he has to admit it, he'll have to do something -- feel something -- about it. and that's such a catastrophic event in lucanis' inner landscape (he has had TWO people in this whole entire world up until now and will do anything to hold on to them with a heartbreaking child-like desperation, even at and especially through the detriment of his own self) that he'd rather just. not. what if we quite simply. didn't. what if we just stayed here in the emptiness where we can both pretend you didn't hurt me in a way I should never forgive. I have so much practice in that with caterina already it's always worked out great for everyone so far. (press x to fucking doubt but that's trauma logic for you lol)

after everything illario did, so much of the storm of lucanis' emotions around it is 'what the FUCK did you get yourself tangled up in this time and how do I get you out of this mess safely'. what's worse: the fact that your brother murdered you, or that he put himself in horrible danger doing so and thus exposed you to the risk of losing him forever. lucanis' heart certainly has an opinion here and it's fucking unhinged (affectionate)

the themes of dissociation in lucanis' character in general makes me feel nuts. allllll these contradictory messy things he needs to cut off from each other because they can't coexist or be easily reconciled inside him. but all remain stubbornly true separately anyway and will have their due one day. love and resentment. tenderness and fear and rage. terror and longing. love and freedom don't coexist. the burned out golden child anthem is playing in the background. he was always caterina's favourite and he has to keep striving to deserve that dubious honour with every breath he takes and then, presumably, mercifully, some day he will die and be excused and can rest. and until now he's suppressed all the -- natural, healthy, protective! -- negative feelings that threaten the few attachment relationships he actually has, at the cost of ever actually having his needs for connection and safety met and leaving his core self imprisoned and compromised. and spite goes 'what. no. that's dumb fuck that' (*spite voice* I do not understand that and even if I did I would not respect it) and does not allow him to fall back into that, which I think is what saves his life, ultimately. it took being possessed by a demon for lucanis to even contemplate telling anyone he loves 'no' in any way, but hey. whatever gets you there right lol

lucanis is dealing with the freeze response allll the way down baby. and he was even before the ossuary, that just turbo powered it and brought it to a breaking point way before it could happen naturally. but something was going to break eventually no matter what, and I'm just glad that in the end, through the power of friendship and also pure spite, it doesn't have to be him

[vavoom-sorted-art]

Oh, Aziraphale. I understand now. I'm in love.

[niightcravvler]

Been playing dragon age again. I dont think her clothing texture is supposed to do that probably