#no sun no blue sky not a single nice sunny day since weeks

[chevvy-yates]

winter time sadness.

[someonestolemyshoes]

Yo, saw your post about levihan prompts:

How about Hange discovering Levi’s secret hobby (of your choice)

Feel free to do whatever you feel like

And I love your work! 💕 have a good day

Hello! So sorry for the delay in this one, but thank you so much for your patience 🙏 I got stuck for such a long time in the middle of this ksksks but it is finally done! I also played around a little bit with the whole...discovering a secret aspect, but I hope you'll enjoy it anyway! And I hope you're ready for some sweet sweet childhood friends levihan~

**

Levi likes photography.

This, in itself, is no great secret. Hange can barely remember a time he wasn't following after her with a camera strapped around his neck, or packed into his bag—always within reach, should something striking catch his eye. A little neon plastic toy, at first; each click of the shutter cycled through preloaded images, expert shots of famous landscapes, places they could only dream of seeing. And then, a polaroid—still a toy, in essence, still plastic, still gaudy, but this one took real pictures in real time, and spit them out into their eager, shaking fingers within seconds.

Hange remembers them ruthlessly wafting the little laminate squares and watching with bated breath as black mottled into foggy grey, as the blurred silhouette of the park bench faded slowly into being. It was a fascinating thing, at the time. Magic at their fingertips. The picture turned out fuzzy and overexposed in places, where the sun had glared in over the corner of the park bench, but Levi had settled the little square on his little palms and looked at it like he held the whole world in his hands.

There were innumerable disposable cameras, too. Light little things with reels of film, never enough for Levi's insatiable desire to snap pictures of every single thing he saw. They spent half their childhood in the chemist, sitting in the hard plastic chairs, wriggling anxiously as they waited for the film to develop. Kuchel always handed them the envelope, fat with prints, with a small smile curling the corner of her mouth and a fond twinkle in her eye, and Levi always took it politely, while Hange gave a boisterous thanks, and the pair of them delved greedily into their spoils.

He was older, in his early teens, when he was gifted his first real camera. It was heavy, compared to all the others, a case made of metal with buttons and gadgets and a fancy screen on the back, to preview each picture he took. Levi was wholly enamoured with it. He spent hours adjusting it, figuring out what each button and knob did, how they affected each picture; took countless shots of the same rock in the park until he'd tested every combination of settings he could think of.

He had cycled through more cameras since then. Grown a small collection, each one a little different, a little more suited to particular shots. Hange understood the concept in theory, but the particulars were lost on her, and Levi never took the time to explain. Not that she minded—Levi's pictures were beautiful, breathtaking in the way he could capture even the most mundane details and make them something wondrous. Perhaps for the first and only time in her life, Hange had no desire for the magician to reveal his tricks.

He has an eye for things that Hange simply cannot see. She is observant—to a fault, at times, intensely analytical and endlessly curious. Everything is a question, an opportunity to research, to learn, but she doesn't see the way Levi does.

Wild daffodil. Narcissus pseudonarcissus. Hange sees a perennial flowering plant, native to Western Europe, classified by its pale yellow petals and elongated central trumpet. She sees phylogeny with a rich taxonomic history; subspecies originating all over the globe, some larger, some smaller, some more vibrant and some more muted. She sees anatomy, science.

Levi sees the way the evening sun rusts the buttery petals until they blush; sees the way dew drops hang like pearls from the tips of the leaves in the early morning, when the light is still smoky and thin. He sees a moment to be captured.

It should be impossible for a picture to hold so much detail. Hange can look at Levi's daffodil and feel the way the spring wind blows gently on her skin, the sun warm but the breeze a little biting, a remnant of the fading winter. She can smell the pollen heavy in the air, feel the tickle of short grass on her ankles, hear the trill of songbirds in the branches of distant trees.

His proclivity for photography grows with them. Hange's interests spear out in a thousand different directions, from physics and chemistry to botany, to engineering, to literature and mathematics, to history, languages and landscapes—life is a limitless source of information and Hange chases it every which way, insatiable.

And wherever she goes, Levi dutifully follows, with his camera in hand.

Until now.

Now, they are eighteen. The summer is lazily drawing to a close, and tomorrow, at 8:45am, Hange will be boarding a plane that will take her to the other side of the world to attend the university of her dreams.

And Levi will be staying here.

Despite Levi's perpetual scowling and indiscriminate grunting, their last evening together had overall been a pleasant one. Levi and Kuchel had worked hard on their meal, and it had been nice in a warm, filling kind of way, to spend her last night at home with the two of them.

Now, she and Levi are holed up in his bedroom, while Kuchel had insisted on doing the clean up herself. Hange's mind has been churning non-stop for weeks now, ramping up with each passing day, and tonight, her thoughts are unstoppable, and they spill from her with giddy, jittery excitement.

"The university is huge, but my course is pretty small—only like, 30 places. It'll be easy to get to know everybody."

"Nn."

"And did I tell you? There's a museum right on campus? They've got a huge collection, and I heard students can access it after the first semester."

"Hm."

"And there's a flower garden, too—they've got species from all over the world, Levi. They'll have plants I've never even heard of."

"You said."

"Oh! And—my accommodation isn't all that far from the coast. The water looks beautiful in all the pictures I've seen—look, see?"

"I know. You showed me already."

Hange looks up from her phone, where the screen is lit with a bright, sunny beach, tan sand and a stark blue ocean. Levi flicks his gaze over it and offers a noncommittal shrug of his shoulder. Hange frowns at him.

"You could at least pretend to be excited, you know."

Levi gives her a deadpan stare.

"It looks...warm."

Hange sits back with a thump, and kicks weakly at Levi's shin. She pouts over at him. "Better than nothing, I guess."

They sit at opposite ends of the window bench in Levi's bedroom, legs tangled haphazardly together in the space between them. The window was thrown open in some vain hope of tempting in a breeze, but the air is thick, and the soft wind that does blow is still stiflingly warm. It sways Levi's fringe against his brow, but does little to stave off the oppressive heat.

The sky outside is dark, but it is alive with stars. They cast bright sparks on an inky black canvas, and there is no moon in sight. Already, Levi has snapped pictures of it, twisted dials and pushed buttons and switched lenses until he was satisfied.

It is a beautiful sight. Infinite.

Hange lets one leg dangle out the open window. Levi gives her a sour look and wordlessly closes one hand around her other ankle. She has a long history of behaving carelessly—Levi has borne witness to one too many slips and stumbles to trust her entirely. It would be just like Hange, to miss her flight in favour of a trip to the emergency room.

His thumb strokes back and forth absently. There is a callus there, rough and catching, that scratches against her sensitive skin.

Her predominant feeling is one of excitement. Studying abroad had been a dream of hers for almost as long as Levi had owned a camera—to travel beyond the bounds of their small rural town, to see more, learn more, fuel the relentless hunger in her. But there is an undercurrent of something else, some squirming discomfort that refuses to settle. It intensifies with every sweep of Levi's thumb against her skin until it sits heavy in her gut.

She looks over at him. His gaze is trained out the window, a small frown furrowing the skin between his brows, but his eyes are glassy, with none of their usual sharp, unwavering focus. Whatever he is looking at, he is not really seeing it.

It would be a lie to say that his silence had not troubled her. He had been quiet throughout dinner, opting instead to listen to Hange and Kuchel's companionable chatter as he pushed his food around his plate, and he had barely said a word since they had cleared the table and retreated to his room. He had hardly even looked her way.

Irritation bubbles within her. Levi is always more subdued than she is, content to sit quietly while Hange babbles endlessly, about anything and everything. But he usually has something to say. His silence, today of all days, makes her angry. They have one night left like this—one more night to talk, face to face, before they will be separated for who knows how long, and Levi is offering her nothing.

"Levi," she says, before she can think. Something in her tone must startle him, for he blinks rapidly, as though pulled out of a daydream, and rolls his eyes to look in her direction. His gaze settles somewhere near her shoulder. She bristles. "Can you at least—"

"Levi?" Kuchel's voice is distant, floating up from the bottom of the stairs. Levi looks at the door instead. "Can you come give me a hand for a minute?"

Hange clamps her jaw shut. Levi casts her another sidelong glance, and ticks his tongue against the back of his teeth. He squeezes her ankle once, then pushes himself to his feet. "Don't fall, idiot. I won't be long."

Hange feels distinctly like a child on the verge of throwing a tantrum. It's immature, and perhaps it's unfair of her, but she had assumed that Levi's invitation for dinner might, at the very least, come with a little conversation.

She takes a deep, steadying breath. They never fight, not really—they bicker endlessly, poke each other's cheeks and pull each other's hair, childish rough housing that they never grew out of. But they don't fight and as grumpy as Hange feels about Levi's near silence, she doesn't want to start now. She runs a hand back through her hair and sweeps her eyes about the room, counting long, even breaths as she does.

Levi's room is immaculately neat and tidy. Everything has its place, on clean, dusted shelves, or stacked in straight, neat piles atop his desk. It is a level of organisation Hange has little energy for; she herself is a hurricane, picking up and dropping off detritus everywhere she goes.

But Levi's borderline obsessive cleanliness makes it easy to spot something that is out of place.

Hange's gaze falls on a drawer in the desk.  The drawer itself is as immaculate as everything else, gleaming wood and a reflectively polished brass handle. What catches her eye is the corner of a glossy piece of paper, caught when the drawer had been closed.

Hange is a curious creature. Rarely can she hold herself back from exploring an unknown, and now is no different. She unfolds herself from the bench and stretches to stand, then crosses the room on light, tip-toed feet.

Levi is, by and large, a rather private person. He does not share much of himself openly, hides behind an impassive mask, guards what is dear to him close to his chest. Hange is an exception to this rule, whether Levi wanted her to be or not.

As such, she has no real issue prying the drawer open, and is unsurprised by the predictable contents within.

Photographs.

Of course it was photographs.

Her lips tug up in a fond smile and her eyes roll, but it is as she is reaching in to flatten out the rumpled picture that had been poking out of the drawer, that she notices what they are photographs of.

Her.

Hange picks out a stack and sits cross-legged in the desk chair. She flips through them, eyes growing wider with each new picture she uncovers. Every single one is of her. Some recent, some not so recent—some must be from the very first real camera, for she is still in her braces, all thin, gangly limbs and scruffy hair and taped up glasses.

There are pictures of her in the winter, mitten-clad hands wrapped around a paper cup of hot chocolate, blowing steam into the chill air. She can see in stark clarity, the red tip of her nose and the chill bitten over her cheeks; she can almost feel the cold, taste the cocoa on her tongue.

She finds a picture of her from an autumn years gone by. She remembers it as though it were yesterday—they had spent the whole afternoon raking fallen leaves in the courtyard behind Kuchel's cafe, scooping them into a terribly tempting mound beneath the shedding tree. Hange had been unable to resist. Levi had captured her moments after her dive into the pile, sitting up with her weight propped back on her hands, dry leaves clinging to her messy hair and sticking to the fibres of her cardigan. The sun was low, and it cast her in a golden glow, highlighting the vibrant red and orange of the fall foliage around her, drawing out the auburn undertone in her hair and the amber of her eyes. Her smile is almost blinding.

Another shows her in the spring, laying on her belly in the long grass beside a row of blooming daffodils. There is a book spread open before her and she is, as expected, engrossed in it; Levi has snapped the shutter as she was turning the page, the thin edge of the paper caught between the delicate tips of her fingers.

Hange has never considered herself to be particularly pretty. She is just...Hange, a little bit of wild, a little bit of manic, a lot of clumsy and dirty. Being attractive has never been of much concern.

But there is something in the way Levi has photographed her, time and time again, in the way the light catches her, the candid ease of each new picture, that looks....beautiful, in its own way. Somehow, he has made her mess into a masterpiece.

Levi likes taking pictures of things. Plants, rocks, rivers, landscapes and skylines—he likes capturing the mundanity of everyday life and turning it into something spectacular, but he has never done the same thing with people. As far as Hange was aware, Levi had taken very few pictures of anybody at all.

And yet, she holds this pile in her hands, and there are plenty more pictures littering the drawer before her.

There is a strange feeling brewing on her as she stares at them. She had been so excited about moving away to study, so eager to explore the world beyond their quiet countryside home, that the reality of leaving had never truly sunk in. She feels it now though, acutely; a hollow ache in her chest that grows with each picture she flicks through.

Levi has been her shadow for as long as she can remember. There are few memories that he is not a part of, few moments that she can recall in which Levi was not by her side—he has been a constant for her. Something certain and dependable.

And from tomorrow, he will no longer be there.

Hange had known this. She had known it from the moment she had accepted her offer, and she had known it as they looked through her options for accommodation together, as they explored the local area through pictures and videos and maps online. She had known it as they had prepared her visa, organised her finances. Booked her flights. Every step of the way she had understood, logically, rationally, that studying abroad meant leaving Levi behind.

But the weight of it is only hitting her now. The reality of it is like a slap in the face, a punch in the gut—it leaves her shaken and breathless in the worst way.

From tomorrow, Levi won't be with her at all.

Her grip tightens on the photographs hard enough to wrinkle the glossy paper.

She had done a pretty good job of not getting too emotional about the whole thing. For the most part, Hange had been overwhelmed by her own excitement—there had been no time for sadness between all the loose ends she’d had to tie up in order to make the move a possibility. Now though, all that is left is to head to the airport and board her plane. No more distractions.

Hange doesn’t realise she is crying until the bedroom door opens again, and Levi steps into the room, coming to a sudden halt halfway over the threshold.

Hange can't tell if Levi's look of shock is because of the open drawer and the pictures still clutched in her hands, or the tear tracks on her cheeks. He stops dead in the open doorway, fingers still curled around the handle, and for a moment he stares at her with eyes wider than Hange has ever seen them, but then his brow dips low and his lip curls, and his grip tightens around the door handle. Hange holds the pile of photographs close to her chest.

She is expecting anger. She doesn't suppose she could blame him if he lost his temper with her, then. She has a terrible habit of bulldozing into everything, after all, and perhaps this was the one thing Levi had longed to keep secret from her. Her snooping, on top of his already sullen mood—perhaps this is the final straw.

But instead, he turns his face away, staring resolutely into the corner of the room. Starlight spills through the open window. Even in the thin, muted light, Hange can see a vibrant flush colouring the skin high on Levi's cheeks.

Hange sniffles, and wipes clumsily at her cheeks.

"I didn't have you pegged as a closet pervert, Levi," she says, waving the handful of pictures at him. Her voice comes cracked, and weaker than she'd hoped. Levi's knuckles turn white.

It's a funny thing, seeing Levi embarrassed. His emotional expression is usually limited to small twitches, here and there—a slight furrow of his brow, a wrinkle of his nose, a soft twitch of his lip. Hange can count on one hand the number of times she has seen his feelings show so completely. It's almost painful to witness.

"I don't mind," she says. Levi doesn't look at her. Hange looks down at the pile again. "They're nice."

Levi finally releases his death grip on the handle and pushes the door closed. His eyes are still downcast and his cheek is still cherry red, but he hasn't run away and he hasn't snapped at her (yet). Hange takes these things as good signs.

"I didn't know you took pictures of people," Hange says.

"I don't."

"Are you saying I'm not people, Levi?"

Levi lets out a disgruntled sigh. He crosses the room, and plucks the pile of pictures from Hange's hands. His cheeks are still pink, and his brows are still furrowed, but he has composed himself some.

“No, you’re not,” he says. “You’re a creature. You’ve got snot all over your face.”

Hange laughs wetly, wiping her nose with the back of her hand and rubbing the mess on her pants. Levi gives her a look of pure disgust, parking his hip against the edge of the desk beside her and skimming through a few of the pictures. There’s a curious expression on his face, a softness in his eyes that Hange isn’t used to seeing.

“Stalker,” she says. Levi kicks at the desk chair without looking up. “If you wanted a photoshoot, you could have asked.”

Levi scowls. He straightens the edges of the pictures with care, and sets them carefully on the desk. “If I wanted to take pictures of you posing, I would have asked.”

“Wanted to capture me in all my natural glory, huh?” Hange braces her elbows on the desk and rests her chin in both hands, grinning cheekily up at Levi. It must look ridiculous, with her watery eyes and the red point of her nose, but Levi isn't even looking at her to notice.

Levi says nothing. His gaze lingers on the pictures for a little longer, and the colour in his cheeks deepens. Hange nudges him with her elbow, smiling. The pictures are...sweet, in a way. There's something flattering about it. She slumps back in the chair, her smile wavering where a fresh wave of melancholy tugs at the edges of her lips.

“I’ll miss you, you know.” Hange’s voice cracks humiliatingly as she speaks. Levi looks over at her. Hange curses the wobble of her bottom lip and wipes at her eyes beneath her glasses. She isn’t expecting much; Levi is terrible at expressing feelings at the best of times, and so it’s more than surprising when, after a moment of consideration, he nods at her.

“Same.”

Fresh tears spill down her cheeks. Hange presses her fingers into her eyes, trying to stem the flow, ease the sting there. She doesn’t want to spend their last evening together crying, but now that the tears have begun, Hange can’t seem to stop them. A lump builds in her throat, aching beneath her tongue and she can feel her chin wobbling, lips pulling down at the corners. She sniffles pitifully, draws a shuddering breath.

“Oi…” Levi says, though he doesn’t sound angry, or even uncomfortable like she had expected. His tone is gentle. It rips a sob from her.

Hange feels him move closer. He jostles the front of the chair, and when she opens her eyes to look at him she finds him standing right in front of her, between chair and desk, looking at her with a furrowed brow. It’s different to his usual scowl—his brows are a little upturned in the middle, exposing some kinder emotion; something like worry, or concern.

Hange tilts forward until her forehead presses into his chest. Levi’s hand comes up quickly to the back of her head. His touch is familiar, comforting, and Hange cries a little harder when his fingers tunnel into her messy hair, cradling her against him.

She cries until she feels spent, sniffling and gulping empty air. Her fingers twist into the hem of Levi’s shirt as she composes herself, mumbling, “you’ll keep in touch, right? You won’t forget about me?”

Levi clicks his tongue at her. “Stupid,” he says. “As if you’d let me.”

“I’m serious.” She sits back and looks up at her. Her eyes are burning, raw and wet, and the skin of her cheeks stings from crying, but she looks at him with as much determination as ever and says, “call me. Every day.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“It’s not! Just once, every day. Even if it’s only five minutes.”

Levi flicks her between her brows. “You won’t have the time, dumbass.”

“I’ll make time.”

Levi scrutinizes her for a moment, then says, “I’ll text.”

“Well, yeah, obviously.”

Levi curls his lip and pulls at a lock of her fringe, muttering, “brat. Why don’t you call me?”

“I will,” Hange says plainly. Levi’s eyes widen a fraction. “I’ll call as much as I can. But you need to call me too, okay? I wanna hear from you a lot.”

There is a long pause, and then Levi turns his eyes away. The light in the room is pale and muted, but it is just enough to highlight the pale flush gathering anew on his cheeks and across the bridge of his nose. It’s almost cute.

“Fine. I’ll call. Happy?”

Hange grins at him. “Very. And I’ll send you photos of everything, all the time.”

Levi leans down towards her, pinching her nose between his thumb and forefinger and giving her head a little shake. “On your shitty phone camera?”

Hange nods. She bats his hand away and cranes herself up into his space, smiling something wicked. “You’ll hate it. They’ll be all blurry and I’ll have my thumb in the corner of every picture.”

“Pest.”

“Lots of selfies, too. So you won’t forget what I look like.” Hange blindly swipes up a picture from the desk, holding it up between them in front of her mouth and nose. Between Levi dipping down into her space and Hange stretching up into his, they are so close that Levi has to cross his eyes to get a look at it. “Not that I think it’ll be a problem.”

He rolls his gaze up to look at her over the top of the photograph. Up close, Hange can see just how bright the blue of his eyes is, how dark his lashes are; she can see the shadows they cast on his cheeks, the deepening flush bruising the skin red. Levi has always been a pale thing, but now, Hange can see the smattering of light freckles across his nose, barely visible in the low light. He looks pretty. Her heart stutters in her chest at the sight.

Hange has never fully understood Levi’s drive to photograph everything. To preserve any given moment, bottle up every minute detail. She sort of understands it, then—it’d be nice, she thinks absently, to save this particular view for forever. The thought makes her face grow warm.

“I won’t forget.” Levi’s voice is quiet, caught somewhere between embarrassment and uncertainty. He sways closer, rocks back, hesitates. And then he leans down and lets his forehead drop against hers. Hange can feel the press of his nose against her own, separated only by the picture between them.

Hange is used to being close to him. She’s a clingy person by nature, always grabbing him and hugging him, smooshing her cheek against his or shoving her face into his hair, but she is always the one to initiate such contact. Levi is tactile, in his own way—small, non-invasive touches, his fingers on her wrist or his palm at her back, always delicate, understated.

To have Levi enter so wholly into her space like this is new. It’s nice. Hange finds herself feeling very, very thankful for the paper between them, for the urge to lean forward and kiss him comes unbidden, so suddenly she isn’t sure she’d be able to resist the impulse if there hadn’t been a barrier in her way.

“Is it my dazzling good looks?” she says, acutely embarrassed by how breathless she sounds. Levi makes a small, noncommittal noise. His fingers find hers where she’s holding the picture, gripping it and pulling it until it slips out from between them. For the smallest moment, Hange feels the skin of Levi’s nose against hers, and the warm puff of breath on her lips, and then Levi straightens up, flipping the picture for her to see it.

“I’ve looked at your ugly mug every day for long enough. Don’t think I’d forget it so easily.”

It’s a truly unflattering photograph. Hange has her head tipped back, laughing boisterously at some thing or another, with her eyes pinched closed and chocolate sauce smeared over her lips, a drop of cream stuck to the end of her nose. Hange is sure she has looked better, but the thing is—despite her state, the picture still isn’t bad. Hange can hear the lilt of her own laughter and feel the tacky syrup, savour the sweetness of the cream on her tongue. There’s something so...animated about it, about the way the light dances over her skin and in her hair, and the way the background blurs around her, drawing her into sharp focus.

It’s nice, in a strange, unreserved kind of way.

But she’s still a mess. Hange snatches it and slams it down on the desk, glowering up at Levi.

“Why would you take that,” she whines, petulant. “You’re supposed to take pictures of nice things!”

“Because it’s very...you,” He says, neatly slotting the pictures back into the drawer, and moving back to sit on the window. Hange follows, drops herself onto the ledge opposite him with a pout.

“What, disgusting?”

Levi shrugs. “Messy. But...not bad.”

“I’m supposed to take that as a compliment, I guess? That’s almost sweet coming from you, Levi.”

Levi scowls over at her. She dangles one leg back out the open window, dropping the other heavily into Levi’s lap. He adjusts it until he is more comfortable, his hand wrapping again around her ankle, but does not let go once he has settled. He keeps a hold of her, his fingers tracing thoughtless patterns on her skin. The space between them is warm, comfortable. Hange leans her head back and breathes it in—the peace, the quiet, the simple pleasure of spending a tender evening with her favourite person in the whole world.

It’s nice. A small, frightened part of her doesn’t want it to ever end.

**

Hange has been set up in her student apartment for three weeks when the package arrives.

Moving had been harder than she had anticipated. She’d accounted for common issues—problems with her visa, her plane tickets, and had checked multiple transport options from the airport to her accommodation in case problems arose—but she hadn’t put all that much thought into what would happen once she settled at her apartment.

Unpacking had been boring. Her roommates were nice enough, the studious, bookworm-y type, but unlike Hange they weren’t overly sociable. They kept mostly to themselves in their rooms, perfectly content with brief conversations in the kitchen before retiring again, and with classes still two weeks away, Hange was finding the lack of social interaction difficult. She had explored some, but the city was vast in a cluttered, claustrophobic way. Hange had always enjoyed travelling, and had talked relentlessly of every adventure she could take herself on in a whole new country and all the new places she could explore, so much so that it was almost embarrassing, the way she had found herself so unwilling to stray too far from her accommodation without a companion by her side.

She’d felt a little homesick in the first couple of days, lonely and isolated. She missed the small comforts of the country, things she hadn’t even realised she had taken for granted. Quiet nights. Star studded skies. Long grass and trees and the fresh, earthy smell on the breeze. The city was unbearably loud at times, and even when the wail of sirens or the beep of car horns quieted, there was an unidentifiable hum beneath it all that never ceased even for a moment.

She felt Levi’s absence most acutely. Hange had known she would, but she hadn’t been prepared for how much it would hurt to be apart. She felt silly for it—it was ridiculous, to miss her friend more than she missed her own family, even. But Levi’s presence had been more constant than anything else, back home, and without him, she felt like a small part of herself was missing.

He called, as promised. Once a day, though oftentimes it was very late in the night for him, and he sounded tired. If Hange were less selfish, she might tell him to get some sleep instead—but she missed him. Hearing from him was the best part of her day.

It was about an hour before their designated call time when the post came. Hange answers the bell with a frown, which only deepens when the delivery driver hands her the package.

She takes it into her room, settling cross legged on the bed and inspecting the mystery item. It's a decent size, like a large shoe box, wrapped neatly in brown paper with her address lettered in tidy, familiar handwriting in one corner. Hange’s stomach lurches—she’d have recognised the writing anywhere, but her suspicions are confirmed by the return address. Levi’s.

She rips into the paper quickly, snatching up her keys to tear through the tape on the top of the box. It is stuffed full with packing paper, an envelope with her name on it sitting on the top. Hange picks it up and with trembling fingers, she opens it and unfolds the short note inside.

Hange,

Sorry things have been kind of shitty. This stuff might help or it might make things worse, but I figure you can just throw it out if it’s no good. Or give it away. Whatever. I don’t even know if all of this shit will make it through customs, so if you get an empty box it’s not my fault.

I don’t get how you eat half this junk, but I hope it makes you feel better, anyway.

Look after yourself. Eat real food.

Levi

Hange presses the note to her chest, grinning. Her heart aches, but having Levi go to this much trouble for her...it feels nice. Knowing he is still thinking of her. She’d never have admitted it out loud, but Hange had been concerned that perhaps Levi would forget about her after all, without her there to pester him all the time.

She pulls out some of the packing paper, and smiles widely at the rest of the contents.

Levi had put together what Hange can only call a care package. There are packs of her favourite snacks and sweets, things she’d complained she hadn’t been able to find in stores here; crisps, chocolate, hard candy, little mini boxes of sickeningly sugary cereal. There are tea bags with blends Levi knows she likes, each neatly labelled with instructions on what temperature to brew at and how long for. Levi had also packed some of the soaps Hange likes, the ones he uses but she refuses to buy for herself. The lavender scent drifts up out of the box and Hange’s heart squeezes tight in her chest. There’s a shirt in there, too—Hange recognises it at once, as one of Levi’s old, worn tees, thin grey cotton that feels impossibly soft in her hands. It’s far too big for either of them, and had always been the go-to item Levi would chuck at her when she decided she was staying over for the night and had nothing to wear to bed. Hange pulls it on quickly, savouring the soft feel and the smell of it.

In the bottom of the box, there is another envelope. This one is thicker than the first, and Hange knows what it contains before she even opens it.

Photographs. A small pile of them, depicting places she and Levi had frequented from when they were children right up until this last year—her favourite part of the forest, where the trees thin out and the river pools at the foot of a small waterfall. The great, open fields, sometimes full of long grass, sometimes clipped short and striped with windrows. Kuchel’s cafe, with umbrellas raised to block the sun on the tables outside, or else warm and low-lit and cosy in the cold winter. Hange settles back on her pillows as she flicks through each picture, a soft smile on her face. Looking at the images of home hurts, but it isn’t a terrible pain—she longs for these old times and these familiar places, but each recovered memory makes her happy.

In Levi’s pictures she can vividly recall moments in each and every location. He works some kind of magic with a camera, to trigger so many sensory memories—the scent of freshly cut grass, the feel of hay, dry and sharp, poking into her back through her clothing, and the gentle trickle of the river water, the splash of it as it runs over the falls, the feel of it cool on her skin. The tangy zest of fresh-pressed orange juice in the cafe, peach fuzz on her lips and the soft flesh of ripe fruit bursting between her teeth, sticky nectar coating her fingers.

Hange looks at each picture in turn, until she reaches the bottom of the pile, and there she stops abruptly, eyes widening at the last photograph Levi has packed for her.

It is one of Hange, taken in the window of Levi’s bedroom. She was looking out at the night sky, her elbow braced on her bent  knee, chin in her palm, a small smile lifting the corner of her mouth. The starlight haloed her, shining from her hair and illuminating the jut of her chin, the curve of her nose and the slope of her brow. Behind her, Levi had captured the bright glow of the stars like jewels on a deep velvet canvas. She looked peaceful. Happy. For lack of a better word, beautiful.

Hange grins widely. Her eyes sting and her throat aches, but the picture—the whole box, really—makes her happier than she's felt in weeks. She brews her favourite cup of tea from the blends Levi had sent her and settles into the corner of her bed, lifting her phone to snap a quick selfie. She sends it to Levi, complete with a caption: thank you for my presents 😊 all ready for your call!

Levi responds almost immediately, first with a simple you're welcome. And then, after a minute, you look good. Speak to you soon.

Hange sinks deeper into the cushions, cradling her tea close to her face, masking the pleased flush on her cheeks with the heat from the steam.

**

Hange keeps him longer than usual, today.

There is a simmering warmth in her stomach as she listens to Levi's voice over the line. It comes tinny through the speakers, low and rough in the late hour, and his dark, grainy image looks tired, lamp light casting him half in shadow. They talk of everything and nothing, same as always—Levi tells her about his day, about the cafe and Kuchel, and Hange pouts as she tells him how little progress she is making in befriending her new housemates. Levi never voices any concern for her aloud, but Hange can sense it in the dip of his brows as she talks. She gives him a genuine smile when she reassures him that classes will start soon, and she's confident she will settle better after that.

Levi seems reluctant to leave, but after a little over an hour of aimless, comfortable chatter, he is yawning and blinking heavily, the lower half of his face nuzzled into his pillow. In the end, Hange makes up some watery excuse about visiting the coast while the sun is still high, if only to let him get some sleep.

"Sure. Have fun."

"I will! Sleep well, Levi."

Levi hums. The view shifts, blurry and indistinct, the mic muffled by the rustle of sheets, and when everything settles he is laying on his side, fringe mussed and falling over his eyes. He covers another long yawn with his fist. "I will."

"You'll call tomorrow?"

Levi rolls his tired eyes, but the corner of his mouth pulls up in a fraction of a smile. "Sure."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Hange grins. Levi watches her for a long moment, eyes scanning over her face. Then he holds up a hand in a tired wave. "Night, Hange."

"Night."

Hange stares at the screen for too long when the call ends. That terribly selfish part of her would have loved to keep his company for the rest of the day. Maybe, with a little travel sized Levi in the palm of her hand, she'd have been brave enough to explore some more, enthused about all the new things to see with somebody to share them with.

Sighing, Hange drops her phone to the desk and stands from the bed, stretching. There are still things she can do—she has plenty of recommended reading to get through, a small mountain of books at her disposal, and she has mapped the route to her campus often enough that she isn't feeling too overwhelmed by the prospect of the journey.

As she heads for the door, Hange notices something on the floor beside the bed. A neat, rectangular piece of paper; one of the photographs Levi had sent her, laying face down on the ground.

She picks it up again and brings the paper close to her face. Levi had written something on the back of it in small, quick letters, less tidy than his usual practiced script, as though he’d scribbled it as an afterthought, or else that he wasn’t sure he really wanted her to read it.

There is a date, the same night she had found Levi’s secret photo stash, followed by Hange’s name, and the location of the shot. And beneath that Levi had scrawled a few words. Hange squints to read them, and then her eyes grow wide, blinking owlishly down at the note. Her heart swells almost painfully and something solid balloons within her chest, squeezing the air from her lungs. Her lips tremble into a smile as she props the picture carefully on the bedside table.

The day is still young. Hange brews herself another cup of Levi’s tea and settles on the bed with one of her books, content to spend the next few hours reading—though she finds it strangely difficult to focus, with the words Levi had written on the back of the photograph swirling round and round in her head. Hange doubts they will leave her any time soon. They left her feeling more homesick than ever, but there is a soft, giddy kind of comfort in them all the same. It's a feeling that Hange will savour for as long as she possibly can.

It's weird here without you. Come home again soon x

[especially-obsessed]

In the Moment (pt. 2)

Summary: You’re an Augustine Vampire (non-ripper) when Damon is captured in 1953.

Warnings: Fluff, slight swearing?

Word Count: 2141

Weeks passed by. You didn’t know how long but Enzo estimated about two months. And passing the time with Damon made everything seem so much easier. At first he struggled with the concept of being experimented on every single day. Dr. Whitmore seemed to be especially cruel to Damon, and you didn’t like that. Every chance you had you volunteered to take the blow instead of Damon. You knew your tolerance was built up more than his.

After a while, though, Dr. Whitmore seemed to find his pattern that he liked and stuck to it. You wouldn’t go as far as saying you were happy about it, but if that meant he didn’t hurt Damon as much in one day, you were okay with it.

You and Damon talked almost every chance you could get. It started just like when you had first met Enzo. You talked of the places you’d been, the people you’d met. Damon talked about his home, his brother Stefan and his infamous hero-hair. You pictured what Stefan might look like in your mind, but just going off of Damon’s description wasn’t much help. He wasn’t one for descriptive words.

“Why don’t you just show me what he looks like?” you suggested. Damon gave you a puzzled look.

“What do you mean show you?” He asked. You could tell he was intrigued. You smiled and moved your hand through the bars in the wall, motioning for him to grab it. He scooted closer to you and watched your hand with curious eyes.

You weren’t quite sure what you wanted to show him, but you wanted it to be something happy. The first thing that popped into your head was cruising down the roads in a state you couldn’t remember. You were driving your brand new car, the wind blowing through your hair. The unlimited fresh air filling your lungs. You danced your hand outside of the car like it was riding up and down hills. You looked to your right and saw Damon sitting next to you. His eyes were wild with excitement.

“What is this?” He asked. He looked at his surroundings. “Are we in California?”

“Or in Arizona. I don’t remember,” you replied. You let the sound of the radio sooth your mind for a minute. The top hits of the early 1950s was an era of music you could get behind. But, on second thought, it sounded an awful lot like what Dr. Whitmore played in the operating room, quickly flushing out the calmness you were feeling. You looked at Damon again. Your eyes quickly locked; he was already staring at you. “Don’t you dare say something about the view,” You joked, feeling butterflies flutter in your stomach. Damon chuckled.

“Tell me more about your brother.” You pulled your hand back into the car and rested it on top of the steering wheel, letting the other fall next to your thigh on the seat.

“What else is there to tell? He’s humble. And remorseful, which doesn’t mix well with his ripper tendencies.”

“You didn’t mention that he was a ripper.”

“He hasn’t been since, 1864, when Lexi found him. Admittedly, I’ve pushed him off the wagon a few times, but I never meant harm by it. He doesn’t need me though. I only bring him pain. He’s far better off with Lexi anyway. I haven’t talked to him since the war. He had come to visit me, tell me all was forgiven and so forth, and to tell me his plans to drive an ambulance along the front lines.” He smiled a little, thinking of the memory. “This was Lexi’s idea, of course. She thought it would be a good idea for him to face all of that blood head-on.” He scoffed, running a hand through his hair. It was nice to hear him babble. You knew it helped take his mind off of things, even with the current distraction you provided.

A sudden sadness took hold of you. You didn’t know where it came from. Was it because you knew you weren’t actually there? Or that you would probably never be able to be this close with Damon so long as you were trapped in those damned cells?

The song playing on the radio ended and the sound of static took over. You watched as Damon’s hand reached for the radio dial, trailing your eyes up his arm, along his shoulders, to his face. He noticed you looking at him, and opened his mouth, about to say something when all of a sudden everything around you disappeared. The loud creaking of the main door pulled you out of your head and slammed you back into your cells. You sighed, feeling the loss of the warm sun on your skin and the missing breeze through your hair. You quickly pulled your hand from Damon’s and followed Dr. Whitmore as he walked to Enzo’s cell.

“12114, get up,” Dr. Whitmore said calmly. Enzo looked up and smiled. He stood up slowly.

“What’s the experiment today doc? Eyeballs or intestines?” Enzo asked. Dr. Whitmore just grabbed his arm harshly and led him to the operating room.

You let out the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding in. The sadness you felt never lifted from you. Even with Enzo’s master plan of escaping some day, nothing would ever be like how you imagined it. Damon would never be sitting in your car with you, fixing the radio as you drove down the road. Enzo would never be your friend. He would never tell you those stories outside of these cells.

You could feel tears welling up from deep inside you, and you struggled to hold back a sob. You never cried, not anymore. You never gave Dr. Whitmore that satisfaction, so why were you breaking down now?

Enzo’s screams pulled you from your thoughts. You turned your head to face the wall, away from where Damon could see anything, and quickly wiped away any tears that had slipped down your cheeks.

Suddenly, Damon’s hand grabbed yours, and when you looked at him, you were no longer surrounded by cement walls and vervain scorched bars, but sitting in the sun. Grass tickled your forearms. You looked around and only saw limitless green, uncut nature as far as the eye could see. Damon was seated next to you, eyes still closed. You grabbed his hand to let him know you were there, and his eyes shot wide open. Instinctively he pulled his hand away from yours, but you didn’t let him go. Instead, you scooted closer to him. Damon watched you with careful eyes. When your shoulders were touching, you rested your head on his shoulder and pulled up his hand with yours, resting it in your lap. He readjusted slightly, and you were ready to let him go this time, thinking that he didn’t want to be this close to you. But he slowly intertwined his fingers with yours. You could feel his breathing slow, his chest rising and falling slowly.

The scenery of the meadow helped calm you down. The sadness that had taken over you just moments ago was slowly retreating and you felt your own breath slow. Your brain no longer felt crowded with self cynicism and hopelessness. The hum of insects dancing around you helped distract your brain. The sun warmed your skin. You couldn’t help but let a small smile creep its way onto your face.

“There’s something you don’t see every day,” he said. You looked at him, a smile slowly spreading across his face too. The world seemed to smile with him. This must be what he had mentioned was coined as his ‘bad boy’ smile, except you thought he was joking. His smile only made yours grow bigger, and soon you let out a small laugh. His smile turned to a side smirk, one you were all too familiar with. Damon hummed softly. “Close your eyes,” he whispered. You closed your eyes, trying to imagine what he was doing. He squeezed your hand, and when you opened them, the sky was no longer sunny. Instead, there were thousands of little stars lighting up the sky. Damon’s breath hitched slightly, and you smiled even wider than before. “Damon, this is….” you started, unable to find the right words to finish. Before you could finish your thought, you felt him start to lean back. He slightly tugged on your arm, motioning for you to follow. You rested your head on the ground and let out a steady breath, and inhaled calmly. With one hand still intertwined with Damons, you reached out the other and grabbed a handful of grass. You thought of what you might have looked like there, both resting on your backs, staring up at the night sky. What you looked like next to Damon. Butterflies danced their way into your stomach at the thought.

You turned your head to look at Damon, who was already looking at you. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from his face. You watched as his eyes trailed down, stopping at your lips, and how he slowly leaned closer to you. Your breath hitched as your lips collided, and the world around you stopped. The sounds of the night went silent. The Earth stopped spinning. His lips were soft, moving slowly with yours.

Damon pulled away and smiled. He brought his hand up to your face, brushing a stray strand of hair out of the way. He trailed his hand down, running his thumb along your jaw, and resting it on your lip. He kissed you again, and your hand went to his hair, twisting it between your fingers. He pulled away, leaning into your touch, humming in content.

“I think I understand what you meant by living in the moment,” He said, his blue eyes gleaming. You smiled and quickly pecked his lips.

There was a loud scream that filled the night sky and you jumped instinctively. Damon sat up, looking around, then down at you sadly. His gaze traveled down to your still intertwined hands and he sighed. Another tear welled at your eye and slowly made its way down your cheek. You sat up and looked away, refusing to let Damon see you like this. You wiped at your face roughly, only getting mad at yourself for feeling like this. It wasn’t even Damon’s fault. You were just mad that this wouldn’t last.

Damon reached his hand under your chin and pulled your face towards his. He wiped away a tear with his thumb and offered you a small smile. You tried giving him a small chuckle, allowing a sob to escape you. Damon rubbed your cheek with his thumb, and squeezed your hand with his.

“We need to go before Dr. Whitmore comes back.” You said after a few deep breaths. He only nodded, using the hand on your cheek to pull you into another quick kiss, before letting go of your hand. Everything around you fell away in an instant, and you were back in your cell. Enzo's screams were no longer echoing through the room, and you waited for Dr. Whitmore to return him to his own cell. You glanced towards Damon through the bars in the wall. He was staring at you, his ‘bad boy’ smile plastered on his face.

“Same time tomorrow?” He asked cheekily. You nodded and chuckled at his question.

The door to the operating room opened and Dr. Whitmore brought out Enzo. You watched as he threw Enzo into his cell without a word and walked to the stairs leading to the main floor. Enzo’s shirt was covered in blood, and there were noticeable cuts along his abdomen and arms. He was breathing heavily, his face beaded with sweat.

“I’m done,” he said quietly, looking up to you, then to Damon, who was no longer holding his ear-to-ear grin.

“What do you mean-” Damon started, but Enzo held up a finger. Damon looked to you to see if you understood what he meant, but you already knew what Enzo was talking about.

“I mean, Damon, that I am ready for my moment.” You sucked in a ragged breath. “(y/n) and I have gone through a multitude of them already, but you haven’t been here long enough. Every year Dr. Whitmore has a New Year’s party to show off his blasted research here. And once, every year, we are let out of this basement to be shown off like zoo animals. And that, my friend, is when we are let out of the basement.” Enzo looked to you again and nodded. You sighed. You grabbed Damon’s hand and looked at him, his blue eyes almost piercing through your skin.

“That’s how we’re going to escape, Damon. That’s when we’ll get our revenge.”

--

A/N: Thank you so much for reading. I tried going a bit fluffy with this one, it makes me smile haha. As always, likes, reblogs, and follows are always appreciated (:

[maple-writes]

Dissidia March 2021: Week One

Big thanks to @onmywaytobe for sharing Leo with me for this! I’m really excited to keep writing these two together :D

and thanks @dissidia-writeblr for hosting again!

the intro got kind of long but I was having a good time so it stays like this lol

###

Warren hit send on their email and quietly hoped the recipient would actually read everything this time before asking another question they shouldn’t have to answer again. At least that was the last they needed to respond to for now. They double checked though, just in case they missed anything from an order, an information request, requests for meetings, or sometimes the odd message sent to the completely wrong email address.

They reached for their near-empty travel mug and downed the last of the coffee as they crossed off email replies from the to-do list they’d drawn up first thing in the morning. Today it wasn’t as long as it could be, but would still be more than long enough to keep them busy until the end of the workday. After that… They smiled to themself as they turned back to the computer screen. The woman at the store tipped them off the other day that pears would probably be on sale today. Older style pears hadn’t been on sale in a long time especially since newer hybrids started coming out a few years ago. The new ones were sweeter, softer, and lacked that weird texture if picked too late, but there was something about the older pears. The new ones were almost too sweet, too soft. They still had some wine from last night too that might go well with it after dinner.

The click of short heels echoing down the hall brought Warren back from thinking about fruit and wine a moment before Indigo poked her head into their office. Her opalescent white hair pulled back in a low pony-tail suggested she was here to check up on the labs. When the light hit just right, the hollow, prismatic strands refracted subtle orange, blue, and even hints of green. Right, it was Wednesday, she usually came in on Wednesdays.

When she noticed Warren was in, she stepped in with a polite nod. “Any word from the Norris Lab?”

Warren smiled. “Yes, actually.” They leaned forward, pulling up the documents on their computer. “I spoke with one of their reps today, and honestly,” they sighed, one hand up and massaging the side of their head at the memory of that agonizingly long phone call, “it was like pulling teeth but I convinced her to send over their manuscripts. I’ve also set up a meeting with a member of their team for the twenty-seventh.”

“Well done Warren,” Indigo purred. She rested her hand on their desk and leaned forward as Warren turned the screen to show her the documents. The way her eyes flickered over the words and tables she seemed to know better than them whatever it was this research was about on anything more than an abstract level. “Oh that’s perfect.” She glanced down at them. “Could you send those files to me and print off a copy of each when you get the chance?”

She’d probably want an extra copy too, one for them to file away with the other hard-copy records. Warren nodded and jotted down a note for later. “Can do.” Paper records and files hadn’t been mandated for decades now but Indigo usually insisted on physically backing up important files. “Anything else?”

“Not at the moment.” She straightened up with a smile, a genuine one rather than the ones they’d seen her give at events and meetings with people she had to pretend to like. “Thanks Warren.” She started to turn, but seemed to remember something. “Actually, if you could do me a favor, I need something confidential ordered along with this week’s deliveries. I’ll send you the info by the end of the day.”

Warren made another note, nodding down at their paper pad. “I’ll see what I can do.” This wouldn’t be the first time she’d asked something off the record like this, but with her position she was bound to have some projects that weren’t ready for public attention yet.

She thanked them, left, and Warren turned back to their computer to update their to-do list. They were already planning on taking a trip down the hall for the printer for some labels so adding a couple copies of the manuscripts Indigo wanted probably wouldn’t take too much longer. As much as her insistence on physical backup copies filed away just in case was a bit of a pain sometimes, it was nothing compared to what some of their other coworkers wanted them to do. Some of the ‘great ideas’ some of them came up with were nothing more than a logistical nightmare, and some of the clerical work they had at the end of the week was usually tedious at best.

A couple of documents proofread later, Warren sent the files to the print server and got up with a stretch cracking some of the little joints in their shoulders. On the way out of their office, they plucked their lanyard with their ID and key card with an outdated photo and a little sticker label with they/them stuck to the casing, draping it around their neck as they stepped into the hall. The one time they’d decided to just stick it in their pocket it fell out and they hadn’t noticed until they found themself locked out of the building in the middle of winter, banging on the door until someone heard. Not doing that again.

They stopped at the coffee maker along the way, leaning against the counter as the single-serve pod brewed and trickled into their travel mug. It was old, the mug, paint starting to chip off around the top and bottom, but it was a gift from years ago and it still worked well enough so why replace it?

Taking a sip of their fresh coffee, Warren reached the print room. They raised their key-card to the scanner, pausing as it beeped and the light turned green. Years ago when they’d started here someone had explained why the print room was locked like this, something about some very fancy and expensive kinds of machines that they’d never had any use for in their work. They dropped their card to dangle around their neck again and opened the door.

This was not the print room.

Warren froze, wind toying with their ruby hair and tugging at the lanyard around their neck. Grasses brushed against the cuffs of their pants and white clouds drifted across the open, unimpeded sky. The air carried the fresh scent of plants and unfamiliar toiled soil. An unfamiliar city rose in the distance behind fields filled with crops and farmers and uniformed people patrolling the planted plots.

This was not the print room, not even close. Warren broke the ice holding them ridged to glance back over their shoulder, twisting to try and find the door. But there was nothing. It was gone. Nothing but more fields and more farms and more farmers and more uniformed personnel. Soldiers maybe? But what were they doing here? They frowned. Better question: what was here?

Someone standing nearby looking nearly as lost as Warren caught their eye. Dressed different from the other farmers and soldiers he probably wasn’t from around here. Although, Warren really couldn’t tell where he might have been from either. He had a very old-timey look, plain dark skin and darker hair with eyes to match. Maybe he came from some remote town in the middle of nowhere, but even then… Odd that nowhere in his ancestry there’d been anything altered to pass down. Still though, he was far more familiar than the people working around them in the farms.

Warren turned towards the stranger with a deep breath. “Hey,” they paused a heartbeat as he turned towards them, “uh, do you know what’s going on?”

The dark-hard main just shrugged and muttered something about all of this just being a weird dream.

A dream? Warren scrunched their eyebrows and took a sip of their still nearly too-hot coffee. Strange. They didn’t remember going to sleep. They woke up like usual, had breakfast like usual, got dressed like usual and as far as they knew had been at work for a couple hours already. Were their dreams really that boring? They frowned. If this were a dream then how come they could still taste? At the same time though, it wasn’t like this made any sense either.

Dream or not, this was the only vaguely familiar-looking person anywhere in this field and he looked almost as confused as they did. They turned back towards him. “I’m Warren, by the way.” It was probably only polite to tell him their name.

The mysterious stranger nodded once. “Leo.” He paused, stealing a glance, then added, “nice hair.”

Hair? He liked their hair? “Oh, thanks.” Warren flustered. “I just kind of brushed it this morning and I guess it’s working out for me today.” Okay, stop talking. They cut themselves off with a very long sip of coffee. Leo just said he liked their hair no need to ramble on and on even if nerves prickled all the way up and down their body.

The sun shone down warm on their shoulders, the air fresh with plants. If this really was a dream maybe it wouldn’t be so bad as long as they were actually asleep and not collapsed and dying on the copy room floor. They frowned. No one really went that way unless that had to, and most people in the office dealt exclusively with digital files. Hell, Warren might have been only one of a handful of people who even knew how to use some of the older model machines.

Were they… Dead?

No, no way. They’d been fine all day why would they be dead now? Leo’s idea of a dream sounded much nicer. Warren sighed and squinted against the sun, staring over the sunny fields. This time their eyes settled on one figure walking between the plots in their direction.

They glanced at Leo. “Do you think that guy’s coming for us?”

“Looks like it.”

Warren shifted from side to side on the soft grass and tightly gripped their mug as nerves built. No question now, the new stranger was headed straight for the two of them. Warren tried to look away, at anything else. They didn’t want to look like they’d noticed, didn’t want to draw his attention more than they already had.

But the stranger wasn’t swayed, stopping in front of the both of them with a bow and a smile. “You two must be so confused.” He said. “My name is Sichoris, and I work for one of the leaders of Ritania.”

He gestured to the city towering behind the farms. Ritania? Warren’s head spun. Sure it’d been a long time since they’d looked at a map or a chart or anything, but they’d sure as Hell never heard of Ritania.

Sichoris kept talking. “If you would follow me, I can explain everything along the way.”

Without waiting for a reply, he turned and started back the way he came. Warren hesitated, but only a moment. Standing around in a field wouldn’t get them anywhere and if Sichoris really did work for some leader maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. As false-faced and draining some of the officials they’d had to interact with every now and then were, it wasn’t like any were usually cruel towards them. At worst a little demanding with no idea how long it actually took them to do the work they wanted but not horrible.

With a deep breath Warren unstuck their legs and followed Sichoris towards the city but paused when Leo didn’t move. He still stood, staring glass-eyed up at the unfamiliar city. Was he just going to stand there? What was he waiting for?

“Hey,” Warren called, catching his attention. “Are you coming?”

Leo glanced between them and Sichoris already paces ahead, then seemed to decide following along would be the best bet. Walking just behind Warren’s shoulder, his eyes wandered, and he reacted strange as if in a dream. Which maybe that made sense, but maybe not. But it wasn’t like they had any kind of better answer up their sleeve.

Some of the farmers looked up as they passed, watching curiously before getting back to their work. Some of the soldiers—they looked like soldiers anyway—did the same. No one looked anything like what they were used to, and they couldn’t help but hunch in on themself just a little. They stood out here, especially the way the sun caught the iridescent structures in their hair, shimmering from red to faint violet and blue where the sun hit just right. As much as they weren’t a farmer either, they couldn’t begin to recognize what exactly grew in the fields, or even why they might have been using so many open air fields like this either.

Warren took another sip of coffee and stole a glance at Leo. So far the only thing they knew were his and Sichoris’ names, and at least Leo seemed to be in the same kind of disbelief as they were. He seemed trustworthy enough. Even if he didn’t seem one for talking, at least they weren’t completely alone.

[hermannsthumb]

star crossed lovers and curses? TYSM for writing these btw I love your writing

64. Star Crossed Lovers & 98. Curses

from fanfiction trope mashup here

ANOTHER 2 YR OLD PROMPT….this concept seems sufficiently fairy tale enough for a little Mermay, perhaps 👁👁

so like. this got a lot longer than I intended because I was having so much fun with it. OH WELL

———————-

It was a real slap in the face–Newt has to admit–for the institute to deny him funding for this one. Ten years of thorough, groundbreaking, devoted research–ten years of PhD after PhD–ten years of no vacations, or weekends off, or even dating–Newt just assumed all he’d have to do was waltz into his supervisor’s office and they’d shell out however much he requested, no questions asked. That’s how it’s always been.

And yet here he is now, solo-manning a rented skipper with rented diving gear and a backpack full of disposable waterproof cameras, sunburned and dehydrated and miserable, all just because–

(“It’s stupid?” he said. “You think my idea is stupid?”

“With all due respect, Dr. Geiszler,” his supervisor said, not even pretending to be apologetic about it, “yes. We’re not going to pay for you to chase after the Loch Ness Monster.”

“That’s in Scotland!” Newt shouted, and then Newt started shouting some more, and he maybe had to be escorted back to his lab, but he wasn’t fired, at least, and the next day he cashed in ten years’ worth of hard-earned vacation and declared he’d be fucking off to the coast to pursue a completely legitimate doctorate in crypto-marine-zoology. Or whatever it’s called. He’ll worry about the name once he gets it.)

Two weeks into his spite-fueled expedition in the middle of the fucking ocean, Newt begins to wonder if this isn’t a mistake. He’s running low on food, for one thing, and what little fishing he learned as a Boy Scout can only take him so far. For another, it’s really hard to do this sort of work by himself. Though Newt usually goes solo for shorter expeditions, he’s used to having an intern or two tag along to help him take pictures on longer ones like this–or at the very least, provide enough conversation to keep him from going nuts.

But the biggest indicator so far that this is one giant waste of time is the fact that in the course of those two weeks at sea, Newt hasn’t found one single, solitary shred of evidence. No giant squid tentacles. No sea monster humps rising from the waves. No mermaid tails. He hasn’t even seen a shark fin, for God’s sake. Just endless, deep, blue.

Starting to thing this might be career suicide, Newt writes in his field journal on the fifteenth day. 

And then his boat is capsized.

Well, not really. His boat is almost capsized. Low in the list of Newt’s priorities for trip preparation–so low, in fact, it came in after pack razors and do laundry–was check weather report. It just didn’t seem important at the time, you know? He had other shit on his mind. It’s why the storm takes him by complete surprise.

Newt woke at dawn today to the sound of rain tapping lightly on the roof above his cramped quarters. The drizzle quickly became a thunderstorm. The thunderstorm quickly became–well, whatever this is. Waves smacking against the sides of the boat. Water sloshing onto the deck. A perfectly good cup of French press coffee upended all over Newt’s only map. 

His boat isn’t capsized, but it gives a great, shuddering jerk that sends Newt sprawling to the wood planks and grasping for anything to steady himself–his bedposts, the ruined map, a chair leg–and a great flood of water rushing in. Newt manages to scramble up in time for his jeans to spare being soaked. (He probably should’ve packed more than one pair.)

It’s at this moment Newt finally allows himself to panic a little.

“Fuck,” he hisses. “Shit. Okay, fuck. This is–” Another shuddering, wood-creaking jerk of his boat. Newt takes a few sloshing to the door and forces it open against the wind.

Iron-grey sea to his left; to his right; behind him; in front of him. The waves are angrier than anything Newt remembers from Boy Scouts. He flips up the hood of his rain jacket and stumbles out into the gale to lower the sails, or weigh down the ship, or something, anything to just–

There’s something pale bobbing out in the ocean some thirty feet away from his boat. A head, Newt realizes, a human head, a human head attached to shoulders, and his shock mingles with horror because oh, God, it’s a person! Their boat must’ve been wrecked by the storm–or they must’ve been thrown overboard–or both, Newt has to do something.

He cups his hands around his mouth and bellows in the direction of the mysterious bobbing head. “Do you need help?!”

Nothing. 

“Hello!” Newt shouts.

Whoever it is suddenly disappears under the water; without thinking, with nothing on his mind but saving the drowning stranger, Newt shucks off his leather jacket and dives under.

At least this time, he knows it’s a mistake.

Newt is warm when he wakes up. Warm, and dry. The sun is shining overhead; the boat is still; the waves are calm. There’s someone touching his neck–a hand, damp, and oddly chilly.

“Stop,” he mumbles, and swats them away. He’s trying to sleep.

The hand returns. “Stop,” Newt says, and swats again, more. viciously this time.

He hears a small, offended huff. The hand retracts, though not before depositing his glasses on the bridge of his nose and swatting back in return. “Well, I’m terribly sorry for attempting to return these,” someone says.

Newt’s eyes shoot open.

There’s a man above him–sharp-cheeked, brown-eyed, shirtless and pale, his short, dark hair plastered to his head like he’s just gone swimming. He’s scowling at Newt. There’s something familiar about him that Newt can’t quite put his finger on–until he does. “You were in the water!” he says, sitting straight up. “You were drowning!” He wracks his brains for the memory of that morning: a head bobbing in the water, Newt going overboard, the cold, dark rush of the ocean, his frantic, wheeling arms– “I saved you!”

“Not exactly,” the man says.

No, that’s not right. There was the dark rush of the ocean, his wheeling arms, and then two cold, sturdy hands pulling him up, onto his boat, pressing down on his chest, a cold, wide mouth breathing air into his lungs. “Holy shit,” Newt says. “You saved me! What were you even doing out here, dude? It’s–”

Then Newt looks down.

The head leads to shoulders, which leads to a torso, but below that– “Holy shit,” Newt squeaks again, and then, at a loss for anything else to say, “Can I take a picture of you for my field journal?”

Where there should be hips and thighs and calves below the waist is nothing but a long fish tail, curving and shimmering and brightly-hued enough to make Newt’s eyes sting. It tapers into two large, translucent, fanning fins, the left of which is misshapen, almost as if it were wounded somehow. The overall effect is gorgeous, frankly. Newt’s never seen anything so gorgeous in his entire life.

“No,” the man–merman–says. “Goodbye.”

He begins to wriggle to the edge of the boat. Newt reaches for him frantically. “Wait, wait!” he says. “Don’t go! I want to talk to you, please!”

A foot from the edge of the boat, one hand on the railing, the merman turns back to Newt. His eyes are narrowed. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Well,” Newt says. “You, obviously. You’re–” He sweeps his hand in a broad gesture across the merman. “You’re not human.”

“Yes,” the merman says.

“And you saved my life,” Newt says.

Another scowl. “Yes. You’re bloody lucky I was passing by,” the merman snaps. “What on Earth were you doing out here in the middle of a storm like that? You could’ve gotten yourself killed.”

Newt shoves his glasses up higher and scoots closer to the merman. “I’m a scientist. A marine biologist, technically.” And, if you were to get even more technical, only a fifth marine biologist. Newt tended to look at his doctorates in a glass-half-full way. “I was, uh, gathering research.” Suddenly it occurs to Newt that he and the merman might have cultural differences he never even dreamed of, and he flushes with embarrassment. “Wait, do you know what a scientist is?”

“Yes,” the merman snaps again.

“Right,” Newt says. He coughs. The merman’s scowl hardens. Frankly, legends of sirens luring sailors to their deaths aside, Newt didn’t expect merpeople to be quite so…bitchy. Maybe he just got stuck with the most foul-tempered one in existence–it’d be just his luck. “Well. Uh. My name is Newt. It’s nice to meet you?” He holds out his hand, and then remembers himself. “Uh, this is how humans greet people. You shake it.”

“I know,” the merman says, and then (in a way Newt can’t help but feel as somewhat condescending) shakes Newt’s hand with a firm “Hermann.”

Newt snorts before he can help himself. Hermann pulls away. “Hermann,” he echoes. “You know–”

“I know,” Hermann says again.

“It kinda sounds–”

“I know,” Hermann says.

“It’s just kinda funny,” Newt says, and begins to snicker.

“So is ‘Newt’,” Hermann huffs, and then, before Newt can stop him, he dives back into the ocean with a splash and a flick of his shimmering tail.

Newt rushes to the railing and peers into the murky depths below, but it’s no use. Hermann’s long gone. His first real, solid evidence of crypto-marine biology, and he couldn’t stop being himself long enough to ask a few simple questions.

“Shit,” he sighs. He makes note of the meeting in his journal anyway.

He sees Hermann again four days later. It’s a bright, sunny day, not a cloud in the sky, and–in a better mood than he’s been since he started out–Newt decides to take the opportunity to do some maintenance around the boat. Turns out Doc Martens don’t offer the most amazing traction on slippery decks, especially when you’ve somehow managed to wrap ropes from the sails around yourself and lose the ability to move your arms. Newt learns this the hard way.

Luckily, Hermann is there to catch him.

“You are a bloody menace,” he scolds, as a half-soaked–but safe–Newt blinks dumbly at him in the safety of his surprisingly sturdy arms. “What were you even attempting to do?”

“Uh,” Newt says. “Fix the sails?”

Hermann rips the ropes off of him effortlessly, then lifts him higher. Newt stays still, blinking, before he realizes he’s supposed to be climbing onto the deck, and then scrambles up over the railing. “There we are,” Hermann says, sounding equal parts smug and satisfied.

“Thanks, dude,” Newt says. “If you hadn’t been here–” He frowns. “Wait, what were you doing here?”

“Nothing,” Hermann says, too fast, and Newt grins.

“You were totally spying on me!”

“I was not,” Hermann snaps. “I was merely passing by. You’re awfully hard to miss. So–noisy.”

“Uh-huh,” Newt says. “Well, lucky coincidence. Can I interview you for my journal now?”

For a moment Newt expects Hermann to dip back beneath the waves, but–glowering up at Newt–he folds his arms and rests them against the side of the boat. “What would you like to know?”

Newt digs his tape recorder from his pocket and switches it on. “Everything.”

Hermann is a begrudging interviewee, but he’s an interviewee none the less, and answers each of Newt’s questions with only a small dose of sarcasm. He eats fish, like some larger fish might. He speaks English, like most fish don’t. He lives in a city populated with other merpeople, who have jobs and families and houses, though significantly different from the jobs and families and houses humans have. “Technically,” Hermann says, with a strange, furtive glance around, “I shouldn’t even be telling you these sort of things. Interacting with humans is considered highly taboo in my society.”

“Oh, shit,” Newt says, and inches forward. “Seriously?”

Immediately, Newt’s brain works overtime to concoct an exciting, Little Mermaid-esque scenario: Hermann’s dad as the strict king of the ocean, wary of humans because of some ancient feud, Hermann longing for freedom, Newt–well, Newt would be down with kissing Hermann to help him get rid of that fin. He’d be down with kissing Hermann regardless. Newt’s scientific interest in him aside, Hermann is pretty good-looking. And–well. The forbidden, star-crossed aspect of it all is kinda exciting.

“Yes,” Hermann says. “Humans have hunted merpeople for centuries. Or so I’ve been told. But…” His face twists strangely–the corners of his eyes crinkling, his teeth flashing into view–and Newt realizes he’s smiling. Awkward, and shy, and unpracticed, but smiling. “You seemed different. I took a gamble.”

Newt blushes, just a little. “Hunted,” he echoes. “Is that what happened to your fin?”

“My fin?”

“It’s injured on the left side,” Newt says. “Like something attacked you. Did a human do that? Or another predator, like a shark or something?” Do merpeople have to worry about sharks? Maybe they keep them as pets. That’d be cool. If Newt was a merman, he would have three pet sharks.

“Oh,” Hermann says. “Oh, no, nothing so dramatic. That happened when I was human.”

Newt drops his tape recorder. It narrowly avoids bouncing overboard. “When you were what?”

“When I was human,” Hermann repeats. “Did I not mention I used to be human?”

“Uh, no,” Newt says.

“Ah, well,” Hermann says, “yes, it was some time ago. Perhaps a hundred years.”

“You look good for a hundred,” Newt says, because Hermann can’t have more than a couple years on Newt’s thirty-five. To his surprise, Hermann snorts.

“Yes, see, I was involved with a man,” he says, “and–well, he wasn’t pleased when I wanted to put an end to things, move on, you know, pursue other relationships. Only there were a number of things I didn’t know about him. He practiced–mastered, really–a strange kind of magic. He cursed me. I’ve been stuck this way–half-human, never aging another day–ever since.”

Merpeople, magic, curses–this is too fucking good. No one is ever going to believe Newt if he publishes this paper. “What kind of curse?” Newt says. “Like, one that can be broken?”

“Presumably,” Hermann says.

“Do you have to learn a lesson?” Newt says. He pushes up his glasses and leans closer. “Does someone have to kiss you? Like a true love’s kiss?” Newt was never one for reading fairy tales as a kid–having preferred the much more interesting alternatives of poking slugs with sticks and rolling around in the dirt–but he knows that’s a pretty big deal in those kind of stories. Frog princes and shit.

“I don’t know,” Hermann says. “All I know is that this has been very irritating. I had a laboratory, you know, with all sorts of fascinating equipment. I was a scientist. And now–”

“Can I try kissing you?” Newt interrupts.

Hermann flushes and shuts his mouth. “Ah,” he stammers, “I–I’ve got to–”

He disappears, in another splash and glint of fin. It was worth a shot.

Hermann comes back a few days later, and he comes back after that, and after that. Sometimes Newt asks him questions about being a merman. Sometimes Newt asks him questions about his previous life as a human. Hermann seems to like talking about being a human more, for reasons that aren’t very hard for Newt to guess. He was born in Germany, like Newt, though was schooled somewhat prestigiously in England (which explains the stuffy accent). He walked with a cane and a slight limp. He owned a very nice and very expensive telescope, which he misses, and worries about the well-being of, constantly. Sometimes Newt tells him things about himself, too: about his myriad of tattoos, his studies, how the human world has changed since Hermann’s time.

One day, as Hermann watches Newt eat potato chips and transcribe one of his numerous interviews from audio to pen, he suddenly reaches out and touches the corner of Newt’s notebook. “May I read this?” he says.

“Sure,” Newt says, hoping that Hermann doesn’t flip back to last week and read Newt’s entry where he described, in great detail, his attraction to Hermann, and the incredibly steamy dream he had about him as a result of that attraction.

Hermann skims Newt’s notes quickly, politely ignoring the grease stains Newt left behind, then pushes the book back towards him. He didn’t read about the dream. Thank God. “You called me a specimen,” Hermann says. His eyes crinkle in amusement. “How impersonal.”

“Yeah, well,” Newt says, heart pounding a little, because if he didn’t know any better he’d say Hermann is being flirty, “can’t let my institution know I’m on a first name basis with my subject. Conflict of interests.”

“Now, tell me,” Hermann says, “what do you plan to do with the information you’ve gathered when you return home? A book? An article? An exhibition? If you’re going to ask to put me on display, my answer is a definite no.”

“Nah, nothing like that,” Newt says. The truth is that Newt has no idea what he’s going to do with his significant compilation of research about Hermann. It’d be one thing if he found evidence of Hermann’s whole colony, or even a merperson besides Hermann, but to go zooming back off to his superiors with nothing three weeks’ worth of tapes and maybe a photograph or two–and after that tantrum he threw last month–he has a feeling no one is going to buy a single bit of it. Maybe he’d have a chance if he took Hermann back with him and did display him, but throwing his friend on the mercy of a society that would gladly dissect him without a second thought is completely out of the question. Maybe he’ll just write a weirdly detailed children’s book. “I might just keep it for myself, actually.”

The answer seems to please Hermann. He toys with Newt’s chip bag for a few seconds before–cheeks going a shade pinker–he says “I feel I ought to confess something.”

“Be my guest, dude.”

“I was following you the other day,” Hermann says. “I was following you that first day, too. And–” His eyes dart down, away from Newt’s. “Before then, even. You intrigued me, and I wanted to know what you were doing all the way out here.”

Newt grins. “I intrigued you. Ha! Cool. Well, now we’re even.”

Hermann smiles at him.

The last Friday before Newt is due to turn back and set course for home, he finally gets his first sign of other human life out here in the middle of the ocean: a fishing rig, at least twice the size of Newt’s tiny little rental, motors up not too far away from him and begins to cast its nets. Newt, an extrovert at heart and only mostly sustained by conversations with Hermann (who has a tendency to disappear for days at a time), is so starved for social interaction that he bolts out from his cabin when he spots it and begins waving frantically at the crew.

“Hi!” he shouts. “Beautiful out here, isn’t it?!”

He gets a friendly wave back. Newt expects he looks half-crazed, from his wild hair, to his unshaven scruff, to the explosion of freckles across his cheeks and neck, so he can’t really blame any of the crew for their hesitance.

“How are the fish?” he continues to shout.

A thumbs up.

“Cool!”

A net is drawn up; it’s a decent catch, but nothing too impressive. Earlier in the week, Hermann explained to Newt that, this close to mer-territory, anyone would be hard-pressed to find anything but smaller fish. Merpeople are much better hunters than some humans with a boat could ever dream of being. “I’ve been out here for over a month,” Newt continues his one-sided conversation. “I was looking for sea monsters. Have you ever caught anything like that before?”

No, they haven’t. The net is thrown back into the ocean.

“Okay!” Newt says. “Just wondering!”

The faint sound of groaning wood makes him stop in his tracks as he turns to head back into his cabin. Groaning wood, and splashing. Loud splashing. Excited shouts. It looks like the fishing rig netted something big.

Newt–determined, still, to be sociable–cups his hands around his mouth to call his encouragement over, but the words die on his tongue almost instantly. There, tangled up and flopping around in the rig’s netting, is a very familiar glimmering tail with a very familiar tattered left fin. “Hey,” Newt shouts, “stop! You’re–that’s my friend, you have my–!”

For the second time, Newt dives into the sea for Hermann.

He closes the distance between the two boats in no time at all, and–powered by pure adrenaline, ignoring the yells of surprise and anger above him–begins hacking blindly at the net with his pocketknife. A few more pieces–a few more strands–

It spills open. Newt feels a Hermann-sized shape graze past him, and a moment later, Hermann breaches the surface of the water. He doesn’t look very happy. “They caught me in their net,” he spits. “As if I were–!”

Newt hugs him. It’s not very graceful, considering the circumstances, but it’s something he’s wanted to do for a while, and he’s too happy that Hermann won’t be dissected or stuffed or something to care. “You caught my friend in your net while he was swimming,” he tells the fishermen over Hermann’s shoulder, now moderately more calmly. “I thought he was–uh–going to drown.”

The fishermen are profusely apologetic, to the point where Newt actually feels kind of bad for them, and it takes him waving them off with assurances they won’t sue or anything for them to hastily speed away. Hermann doesn’t look away from Newt once the whole time, his expression soft and just a touch unreadable. “You came to my rescue,” he says.

“Well,” Newt says, puffing out his chest, “a little bit, yeah.”

Hermann kisses him. Newt responds enthusiastically.

He’s so worked up over it all–grabbing Hermann’s hair, biting his weird frog mouth–that he doesn’t notice that the gentle fanning of Hermann’s tail against him has become the slide of skin against denim until Hermann suddenly grips at his arms. “Newt,” he says, eyes widening, “Newt.”

Well, even then it takes a bit. Newt kind of has a one-track mind when it comes to this sort of stuff. “Mm, yeah, Hermann,” he groans happily. He goes back in for another kiss, but Hermann dodges it.

“No,” he says, “I’m–” He gives a little kick.

Oh. “Oh, holy shit!” Newt exclaims, and laughs in delight. “Legs! You have legs!” Naked legs, in fact. Long naked legs–of course he’s taller than Newt. Hopefully he has some clothing that’ll fit the guy.

“Legs which don’t swim very well, I’m afraid,” Hermann says. He’s giving Newt another broad, awkward smile. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” Newt says.

There goes Newt’s paper, he guesses, but–strangely–he can’t really bring himself to care.

[staylovehearts]

Enough?

Lee Felix x Reader

Word Count ~3.9 k

Summary: You never wanted Felix to find out that the fans he loves so much can be so cruel.

Tags: angst, hate comments, self-doubts, Felix is an idol in this one, and you’re like his not so secret girlfriend, the company is chill but the fans aren’t, mentions of other stray kids members

It's a simple routine. As you unlock your phone you immediately swipe away about twenty different notifications from different social media accounts without even looking at them. You are not even sure why you even still bother with an Instagram and all of that. Maybe you should just go private again. Or delete everything. But that would feel like defeat. Like giving up. So instead you just try to not look at the mean words people are spouting at you on the daily. When it first started you still tried to report every single comment. Blocked every person who insulted you. But once the comments became too many to count you gave up on that as well.

But it's fine. Ignore them all. Swipe it away. Don't look at it. Focus on the nice comments. The people that spammed flame emojis under your recent Instagram selfie. The ones leaving nice comments and replies. Or at least those, that seem neutral. The ones that like to joke around or post memes. Damn, even the people that drop Loona fancams under your tweets are bearable.

But you can ignore them all for the sake of the one message that you actually want to read.

cuddly coala boy: are you going to be watching me later tonight?? i hope you're not mad that i had to cancel our skype date because of this :((

The text came at exactly 4:35 in the morning. Well, 4:35 in the morning in your timezone. That means for him it must have been... wait, what's the time difference again? Where even is he right now? You are too lazy to actually look up timezones right now to properly calculate the difference, but you decide to assume that it was a reasonable time. Well, at least you hope it was fairly reasonable. With the way his schedule works it's not unusual for him to send you messy texts full of typos past midnight when he is exhausted from a day of dance practice and vocal training and he just fell into bed after a quick shower and decided to send you a short text, already half asleep. It's also not rare for him to text you early in the morning. When he is on his way to his first schedule of the day. Early in the morning, but already buzzing with energy and excitement. Sometimes he'd send pictures of his breakfast and gush about the organic canteen. In summer he sent you a picture of the sunrise almost every morning. Because in summer the sun rises so early, that most people sleep through this daily spectacle of nature. But those that are woken up at five in the morning – even earlier on some days – never miss out on a sunrise. And you get to see those pictures of the sunrise in a different country, mostly after you've already missed the sunrise in your own location. Most of the pictures weren't even that special, some of them even too blurry to make out more than washed-out colours and the rough outlines of buildings. On some mornings the sky was too cloudy to show more than a lighter stripe of colour beneath a layer of grey and blue. But even on those days, Felix made it a point to show you the sunrise. And you have all of those pictures saved. Because you are just so goddamn whipped for this sunshine of a boy who sends you pictures of the actual sun every morning alongside a happy good morning text.

I'm not mad at all!! I know that work comes first, I'm sure we'll be able to make up for that skype date, have fun later, I might join when I have the time, but you know how the vlive times sometimes don't work with the timezones :/

It takes you a good fifteen minutes or so until you have finally typed up a reply that you are actually confident sending. You don't want to show that you are actually upset. You don't want to make him feel bad for having to cancel your plans. But it's probably obvious that you feel a little bitter about this. You were understanding the first few times this happened. And of course, you are still understanding. You knew that things would probably be like this. But it's becoming harder to hide your disappointment with every skype call that has to be moved to a different date. Every delayed reply. Every day that passes with just a few short messages being sent back and forth during water breaks.

But you know what you signed up for when you not only agreed on trying this long distance relationship, but trying it with an idol on top of the insane timezone difference.

Seeing the friendly kid you used to go to school with on television was already a weird experience. But finding out that he had become a K-Pop star felt like some kind of fever dream. To be completely honest you didn't even know what K-Pop was until you heard Felix – and his bandmate Chan – talk about it on national television. Your mother had called you downstairs in a frenzy to make you watch the special report. When you got there she was pointing at the screen excitedly, asking you over and over look, look, isn't this a boy you used to go to school with? Did you know that he's famous in Korea now? Isn't this crazy? You could certainly agree with her on that last question. To make a long story short, you spent pretty much the rest of that day – and most of the following week – researching every available bit of information about this K-Pop thing and the group your school friend was now part of. You listened to and downloaded their entire discography within one day. Watched every music video and memorised the member's faces within hours. And in the following days, you went through every vlive video and any other content you could find. Saying you were hooked would have been an understatement.

The thought of reaching out to Felix hadn't crossed your mind until maybe two weeks into your newly discovered obsession. It was a suggestion by a friend who you had a couple of courses together with. She had brought the idea up completely nonchalantly as if just hitting up a celebrity is a thing you do every other day. When you expressed that sentiment she just shrugged as if to say dunno, but weren't you friends with him?

Well, she wasn't really wrong about that. But she also wasn't really right. Sure, Felix and you went to school together. You had classes together for three years and you saw him pretty much every other day. But you were never super close to him. Felix was just that kind of person that everyone was on good terms with. He'd sit down at a different table at lunch every day, nerds and jocks were equally welcoming of him. Everyone likes having Felix around, but he wasn't insanely popular either. If someone would have asked about Felix the most common answer would have been something along the lines ah yeah, that guy, he's really nice, we don't really hang out outside of school though. That was just the kind of relationship almost everyone had with him, the kid you'd do group projects or share a lunch table with but not necessarily your first pick when you wanted to put together a group for karaoke that weekend. So Felix and you weren't really friends. You remember being in a group project with him once and for maybe a month or so he even was your lab partner until the seats were switched but that's pretty much it. Maybe you had a bit of a fleeting crush on him back then. Most girls had. The freckles dusting his cheeks and the big brown eyes gave him something adorable and his sunny personality matched that all too well. But back then as well you never considered acting on those feelings and years later you had almost completely forgotten about them altogether.

Tracking him down was hard, but easier than you thought it would be. Of course, the old phone number you managed to find in some inactive group chat didn't work anymore. And any social media you ever knew he had was deactivated. But somehow – through a friend of a friend of an acquaintance – you managed to get in contact with him again. And you immediately remembered what you had liked about Felix back then. Talking to him was as easy as ever. Somehow texting him didn't feel like talking to a celebrity, but just casually catching up with an old friend from school. Texting every once in a while turned into chatting almost daily. Then the phone calls started. Late-night rambling, one of you always tired from the time zone difference. The first face time call was an accident – at least that's what Felix told you – but the second wasn't. And neither was the twentieth. You've lost count at this point.

The status of your relationship with Felix has been a mystery to you for the longest time. It was clear to you that that little fleeting crush you used to have had come back at ten times the intensity and you were pretty sure that Felix must at least enjoy talking to you enough to stay up way past the time where he should go to sleep at. But even with mutual feelings, there were more than enough stones in your way. Him being a celebrity and the several hour time difference plus living in different countries are probably some of the most obvious trials.

Let's just say it worked... somehow. Is still working. Even if it's tough sometimes. You've seen Felix a total of three times since making it official and all of these were just for a couple of days at most. There's always schedules he has to attend, filming to be done. Your schedules don't match up at all, he has so little free time that you have no other choice than to arrange yourself around it. Make amends. Compromise.

That's not really the problem here. The official part of the whole making it official is actually the root of all evil. Surprisingly enough Felix's company actually allowed him to make an official statement regarding his relationship status and confirming that he was indeed seeing someone. Of course, you were never mentioned by name. But someone somewhere must have taken a picture of you and him meeting up that one time. And someone else must have somehow identified you on that picture and shared your Instagram. And twitter. And pretty much any other public social media you had at that point. All of that within an hour of the announcement being made. You never openly confirmed or denied any "rumours" - or maybe accusations is the more fitting term here – about you and Felix dating. But you didn't have to. They knew enough to hate you for "stealing" him away from them. Of course, not all of them hate you. Some are actually supportive of the relationship. Though that's definitely only because they support Felix and want to see him happy, not because anyone really cares about your hurt feelings here. Then there's also a couple of fans that just ignore the whole thing entirely. According to them, it's all just rumours and there is no way that Felix is actually seeing someone. Don't you know he's a sweet gay baby, uwu? He's actually dating [insert whoever they ship him with here]. At least these comments can be kind of entertaining to read. Sometimes. You've scrolled past entire think pieces and page-long analysis of the smallest interactions turned into super definite proof that there is more going on between those two band members behind the scenes. They are delusional, but at least they are mostly harmless.

And then there are people who just straight-up hate you. And maybe that group is not actually as big as it seems but they are loud. So goddamn loud. And they are mean. You have switched accounts, gone private, deleted and remade. Everything in a desperate attempt to hide from the comments. But they always find you somehow. There is no escape.

A new notification pops up on your phone, you try not to look at it as you delete it but you catch enough of a glimpse to get the gist of it.

You're not good enough... you don't deserve to be with him... you should just do him a favour and break up, he's probably just to nice to do it himself.

It's always the same, you've read it hundreds of times, in every possible phrasing and variation. The bad thing though, you're starting to believe that they might actually be right.

The vlive is happening around noon in your time, which is at least kind of reasonable compared to other times that you have set an alarm to watch some kind of stream or award show or anything similar. You actually don't really want to watch, at least not for your own entertainment. Watching these things for yourself has kind of stopped working after... well yeah, after all that's going on. But you know that Felix would be happy, knowing that you are watching him. So maybe you'll tune in for a bit during your lunch break. Just long enough to take a screenshot and send it to him alongside a short text telling him that you are watching the live and that you really aren't mad. You aren't mad. Just scared.

You click the notification as soon as it appears on your phone. One of the few notifications you are actually happy to receive. The app takes a moment to load and by the time the stream is actually playing it's already flooded with viewers. But the picture is not moving. Or at least the three boys in the frame aren't moving. But you notice something in the background, maybe some kind of curtain, being moved by a breeze. Still, the trio keeps up their game for another few seconds until they all break out into wide grins and start talking. Felix is sitting in the middle, wedged in between Jisung and Hyunjin. The three of them are sitting behind a table that has various playthings scattered on the polished hardwood surface. You spot a box filled with Jenga pieces, next to a card game and a rubik’s cube. You take a couple of screenshots and tap out to send one of them to Felix, of course he won't see it right now but you want to prove that you were actually watching live. When you open the stream again they are already building up the Jenga tower while joking around with each other. Even though you didn't plan to stick around you watch them play games and talk for a while. It's nice. You can almost imagine yourself sitting in a room with them, laughing, cracking jokes and enjoying yourself. You can almost imagine being this close to Felix. Both physically close enough to be in a room with him as well as close enough for him to introduce you to his friends and be allowed to hang out with the group. It's almost in your reach. Almost perfect. Almost.

Felix is messing with the rubik’s cube, trying to solve it after he has insisted for minutes that he knows how it's done, Hyunjin is stopping the time on his phone while Jisung is going through the comments. You yourself haven't dared to take a look at them yet. Even here you aren't save. Most of the time they are flying by so fast that you can't even finish reading one before the next one jumps into vision.

Where is-

can you say hi to-

omg i-

notice me ple-

Most of it is short comments like this, some are just emojis (mostly every different kind of heart there is), wild key smashing and a plethora of "i love you"s in different languages. But some stick out. Some are different. The username is the first thing you notice about that one specific comment.

felix's_girlfriend

When you first made your account you thought about claiming that name for yourself. Just as a joke. But it was already taken. And so was felix's_wife, ilovefelix, freckleslover or any other possibility you could think of. Even when you started adding numbers to the names you couldn't get them. There are at least fifteen people using some variation on Felix's girlfriend as their username. You stopped trying after that.

Jisung probably spots the comment about at the same time as you did.

"Yo, someone with the username felix's_girlfriend just asked when you will finally do a dance cover of the latest Twice song", he says. Or at least something along the lines. You practised Korean to be able to at least get the gist of what's going on when they are talking, but you can't always understand everything. But you sure do understand the way Felix's head just whips up. Like that of a puppy delighted to see its owner coming back home.

"She's watching?", he asks. This time you understand clearly. Jisung looks back at him for a moment, a mixture of shock and surprise on his face. Felix isn't supposed to talk about you. Not here.

"It's just that person's username", he answers, after a moment of silence. Felix's bright smile drops for a moment, but then he nods his head and laughs as if someone just made an amazing joke. The boys continue talking about the Twice comeback and other promotions that are currently going on as if nothing happened. Hyunjin rambles about Got7 while Jisung jokes about how Seungmin is probably really excited about Day6. But the people in the comments are not willing to let go of what happened quite as easily.

I hope that bitch just disappears someone writes. Felix should break up with her, she's not good enough. You can't pretend to not notice it any longer. And maybe the boys noticed too, at least they don't read out any other comments after that one. But you don't really stick around for that long after. You are clearly not welcome here.

The thing is, that you never wanted to drag Felix into this mess. Of course, he is already a part of it, but you didn't want to let him see all of the ugly things that they are saying about you two. Well, in the end it's mostly you they are mad at. Some fans have commented that they are mad or disappointed that Felix would date someone, but they don't say the same things about him that they say about you. And you're glad. You wouldn't wish this on anyone. Especially not Felix, who is always so bright and full of love for his fans. You know that he loves that. He's said it numerous times. And even when he doesn't say it with words, it's obvious. He says it with the way he always smiles and waves at the camera, with all that he pours into performances, with the energy and passion he gives. He loves them.

Felix has never said the l-word to you.

Your phone rings about three hours later. You are hesitant to pick up when you see his name light up on the screen, but you don't want to lead him to believe that you are mad at him or anything.

"Hey there, why are you calling? Isn't it the middle of the night where you are?" You try to make your voice sound cheerful. Like you are a little surprised that he is calling you at that time but all in all happy that he is calling you. Confused, but a pleasant kind of surprise. You're probably not all that convincing, but maybe it's enough since this is just a phone call. Not even video this time.

"Ah, I just wanted to check in on you", Felix replies. His voice sounds a little bit drowsy. A soft kind of deep rumble. Bedroom voice, but not the sexy kind. The soft I'm about to curl up and fall asleep voice. You've heard that before, fell asleep to that soft voice talking to you over the phone. For a moment you almost crack. You can feel the tears welling up in your eyes, but you blink them away quickly.

"Oh, I'm fine, just got back home a while ago, going to make myself some food soon. How was your day, did that live go well?"

"Hmm, did you watch it?"

"Oh, just for a bit. I was... busy." Somehow you feel guilty saying it like that. Sure, you did only watch maybe about half of it. You told him in advance that you probably wouldn't watch the whole thing. But you have a feeling that there is a reason he is asking. And you are purposely avoiding it. Felix stays silent for a moment, maybe hesitant to bring it up himself. And for a moment you hope that he just won't. That you can both pretend that everything is alright and just joke around like usual. When he finally does speak his voice sounds so sad.

"There were some... not so nice comments about you. Did you see them?"

You consider lying but you don't see the point in it. He probably knows that you have seen them.

"Yeah."

"Do they often say things like that to you?"

"... yeah."

"That's... awful. I'm so sorry."

You take a deep breath. You really never wanted him to find out about how cruel the fans he loves so much can really get. Of course he knew that not everyone approved of him having a relationship and of course he's seen some of the gossip articles that the tabloids write about you. But what the fans say behind the protection of anonymity is so much worse than that.

"It's not your fault", you mutter finally. You can hear Felix take a deep breath as well.

"You don't- you don't believe what they say, do you? You know that I would never break up with you just like that. You are enough. More than I could ever ask for."

You aggressively blink your eyes a couple of times and tilt back your head. You don't want to cry. It always becomes obvious in your voice when you start crying and you really don't want to worry him any more.

"I know, but it's nice to hear. Thank you."

There's noises in the background. Some loud clatter, like dishes falling over and then several voices talking over each other. You haven't thought about it yet but Felix must be calling you from the dorm. There is the sound of a door being opened, a little noise of surprise and then it's being shut close again. Probably someone looking for Felix.

"You should probably hang up soon", you mumble. Not because you want him to, but because you know that the longer this goes on the harder it will be for you to not burst into tears.

"I guess. I'll call you again tomorrow, okay?"

"Yeah, I'd like that very much."

"Great then... good night."

"Goodnight."

"Hey, (y/n), I love you."

"I love you too, Felix."

[vanderlindeandco]

I have a Baird x Reader request. Baird and reader have always argued and fought with one another. Marcus, getting fed up with their bullshit sends them out on a mission to "work their shit out". Stuck with each other the rest of the day they start to confess how they really feel about each other. Thank youuu.

Your eyes opened slowly, a sound you couldn’t yet identify having woken you. You looked around sleepily. The sun was just beginning to come up outside and in the dim light you could see Baird sitting on the edge of his bed, a rapidly-disappearing something in a red wrapper crinkling in his hands. “You were done with this, right?” he said, holding up the candy bar.

“You-” your attempt at a sentence ended there, rage welling up inside you like lava. You pushed back the blankets and stood, stalking across the gap between the bunks. You snatched the candy from his hand, but it felt tiny in yours - it was all but gone. You’d found it in the bottom of a vending machine in a deserted building - they were always empty but you still checked in case you could find one of the snacks you used to love. The few bites you had enjoyed had been a much-needed respite from the bland and repetitive food on base. You’d forced yourself to save the bigger part of it, intending to spread it out throughout the week. But no, Baird couldn’t respect that, could he?

“I mean, you left it out,” he said remorselessly as you turned to go stow the remaining morsels in your footlocker. You didn’t answer, instead opting to flip him off over your soldier.

“Shut up, you two!” Marcus’s growl came from his bunk in the corner of the room. “You’re acting like children.”

“Yes, sir,” you said grudgingly, slipping on a pair of shoes to go the showers before your duties for the day began. “What a fucking dick,” you muttered as the door into the hall closed behind you.

When you got out of the shower, you found you had received a message from Marcus: Truck bay. 0800. That was- you glanced at your watch - one minute from now. You took off at a jog down the hall, reaching the truck bay slightly out of breath and just a few moments late. Marcus and Baird were waiting for you there, and it took all your resolve not to shoot Baird a filthy look. “Sergeant,” you said, saluting.

“At ease,” Marcus replied. “We finally have a solution for the corpser problem. We’ve just received a shipment of sensors that need to be placed outside the base. They’ll pick up seismic motion and notify us of any incoming corpsers. I need you to place them.”

“How many are there?” Baird asked.

“Thirty,” Marcus said. “They’ll be placed in a one hundred mile radius around base. You’ll take two quads. I’ve already uploaded the locations and installation instructions.”

“You know,” Baird said, “I know a lot about this kind of thing. I could just take care of it myself.”

“And get shot in the back of the head while you’re focusing?” Marcus said. “No, this is a two-man job. Get your stuff and get going. I expect to see you back in about a week.”

Just great.

“You know this is your fault, right?” Baird said as you walked back to the barracks.

You laughed, looking at him incredulously. “My fault?”

“Yeah, if you hadn’t been so loud, Marcus wouldn’t be punishing us.”

You scoffed, half-assed comebacks tangling in your mind. You couldn’t even put together a coherent sentence and just shook your head, carefully avoiding looking at the man next to you - to even see his face would have made you angrier.

You left in a stolid silence, a duffel bag filled with survival supplies, ammunition, and a spare set of fatigues strapped to the back of your quad. At least it was a nice day out, sky blue, and temperature cool enough that you weren’t sweating under your armor. Well, at least it was a nice day until Baird opened his mouth again. “You remember how to navigate? Cause I’m thinking I should be in front.”

“Yes,” you said pointedly. “I went through the same training you and everyone else did.”

“Just trying to be helpful,” he said, and it wasn’t what he said, but the exaggerated empathy in how he said it, that made you snap for the second time that day.

“Why are you like this?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“Oh, I’ve just got a heart of gold,” he said. “Unfortunately, I think you have to be born with it, so you might be out of luck.”

You swerved around a fallen lamppost, choosing not to answer him. It took a good hour of riding before you reached the location for the first sensor, and by then you were well out of the city and passing through long-since deserted neighborhoods. “I’ll cover you,” you said as Baird crouched with the Microminer, a tool that could quickly bore holes into the ground into which the sensors would be placed.

“Don’t need it,” Baird said.

“Fine. I’m going to look around.” Gnasher across your back, you crossed the street, peering through the broken front windows of a small house. The inside was dilapidated, raided, and stripped, little left but shattered glass and shredded furniture. You moved on, feeling a little saddened. The side door to the next house had been torn off its hinges and you stepped inside, the thick, dusty carpet muting your footsteps. You entered the living room, your eyes rapidly processing the locust crouched inside the broken windows, then tracking the aim of its hammerburst to Baird, crouched defenseless in the street, and even as his finger began to tighten on the trigger, you drew your Boltok from the hip, releasing a single bullet. The locust’s fingers loosened and it fell slack, collapsing to the floor with a thud.

“What the hell was that?” Baird had looked up at the shot, with apparently no idea at all of what you had done.

“I just saved your life.” You grabbed the grub by the back of its armor, hauling the body up to drape it over the window-ledge.

“Oh,” Baird said. “Thanks.” He nonchalantly went back to positioning the sensor and you pushed open the front door of the house to rejoin him in the street.

“Must be hard for you to know I was right,” you said.

“Right about what?” he asked, not looking up from his work.

“You needing cover,” you said.

“Eh, maybe,” Baird said. “I react quickly, and grubs usually don’t aim that well.”

“You are something else,” you said incredulously.

“Why thank you,” he said, shooting you a sunny smile that irritated you all the more.

“You just like to think you’re the best one in the room,” you said. “You always gotta prove yourself. And you never trust anyone.”

The smile disappeared, and he didn’t answer for a long moment. “Yeah well, maybe I am the best.” The response was lame, and it seemed you’d shaken him a little as he simply went back to his task without speaking further. It was nearly noon by the time you moved on from the first location and continued westward, away from base, until you were soon out of the neighborhoods and into the bomb-pocked, empty lands beyond. Marcus had plotted a course that would allow you to spend the nights in areas that used to be populated, which would at least allow for some cover, but the desertedness of the expanses outside the city was a little disconcerting, and it put you on edge, pushing Baird away from the focus of your mind.

Together, you were able to place three more sensors before darkness began to fall, and as the moon rose Baird placed the last one for the day next to the road in one of the old neighborhoods. You parked your quads behind a small house, covering them with an half-shredded tarp, and went inside to prepare for bed. You unstrapped your body armor, setting it aside so you could put on a long-sleeve shirt under it to stave off the night’s chill, and as you leaned down to pick up the shirt, your necklace swung out from inside the collar of your T-shirt. You tucked it away quickly, hoping Baird hadn’t noticed, but you had no such luck. “Were those diamonds? If you pawned that, you could finally get yourself some decent guns that aren’t like, fourth-time hand-me-downs.”

“I’m fine with what I’ve got,” you said, slipping on the other shirt before putting your armor back on. No one ever saw the necklace, and it felt wrong that he knew. It made you feel vulnerable.

“Where’s it from?” he asked.

“What, we’re just making conversation now?” you asked.

He tore open an MRE bag and licked away the bit of runny chili that leaked over the edge. “Why not?” “Well, because we’re not really, you know, friends?” you said.

Baird shrugged. “I’m bored.”

“That’s fair.” You paused, feeling the weight of the necklace against your chest. “It was my mother’s.”

“‘Was’?” Baird repeated.

“She died on E-Day,” you said. “She got me to safety and gave it to me. That was about it.” It was a time in your life that you tried very hard not to think about, which was why you dreaded speaking about it.

Baird nodded. “Lost my parents that day too… Wow, aren’t we cheerful?” You chose some food from your bag and ate; it was a little sketchy, as the MREs tended to be, but it filled your stomach, and by the time you were done you found yourself getting a little drowsy; it had been a long day.

“Man, if only we had some dessert,” Baird said with a smirk as he tossed his empty container into a dusty corner of the room.

You scowled at him. “You’ve had plenty.” You stood, grabbing your duffel bag, and rolled out your bedroll in the farthest corner of the room.

“What, you’re not even going to give me a kiss? On our first night together?” he called across the room. You crawled into your sleeping bag, turning your back to him. “Good night, honey,” he crooned, and you closed your eyes, trying to relax despite the new irritation.

*****

You woke first the next morning as the sun began to rise, its early beams weak. Baird was asleep on the other side of the room, tucked soundly into his sleeping bag. For a few moments you considered pulling a prank on him… But no, you were better than that. And besides, you couldn’t think of anything good. “Wake up,” you called as you began to roll up your sleeping bag but he didn’t budge. “Baird?” Nothing. You crossed the room and nudged him with your foot. “Wake up.” He was still peacefully sleeping, his face relaxed and his breathing slow. “All right, then. You’re asking for it.” You unholstered your Boltok and fired a shot into the floor a few feet from his head.

“What the fuck?” he jerked upright, stumbling to stand while still in his sleeping bag and lost his balance, hardly able to catch himself before his face hit the ground with his arms so restrained.

“You’re a hard sleeper,” you said. “C’mon. It’s time to go.”

He sputtered indignantly as he tried to disentangle himself but you didn’t wait around, instead going outside to uncover the quads.

When he joined you, it was with a scowl on his face, which meant there was a smile on yours. “How else was I supposed to wake you up?” you asked.

“You weren’t,” Baird said. “We could have slept in.”

“Anything I can do to get this over with more quickly, I’ll do,” you said.

“Wow, you really hate me that much? I must be doing something right,” he replied.

You weren’t going to let his crankiness spoil your mood, so you spoke no further, instead climbing onto your quad and revving the engine before pulling away. He followed, and when you glanced at his face in your rearview mirror, it was still sour. He needed some time. It was a productive day; by evening you were through with placing a third of the sensors, which put you slightly ahead of schedule. As before, Baird had insisted he didn’t need cover, but still you didn’t stray far just to be safe. You were a few buildings away, eyes on a vending machine that looked promising when you heard a shout and turned to see Baird still crouched facing you, a grub behind him with his gun to Baird’s temple. Behind you, there were sudden sounds of movement and you turned to see some five or eight more locust, all heavily armed, emerging from the surrounding buildings. They remained behind you, falling still fifteen feet or so away. The message was clear. Surrender or he dies. You considered giving in, but then you remembered what had happened to Maria and so many others that had been taken prisoner by the grubs. No, you and Baird were getting out of here.

You set down your gnasher - you could never hit the grub and avoid Baird with that gun - and slowly began to raise your hands in surrender, ignoring Baird shaking his head. You quickly scanned the street, eyes settling on an old sedan parked some five feet away - that would be your cover. The grub holding Baird hostage relaxed as you neared a position of full surrender and that was all the window you needed - you drew your Boltok, sighting down the hefty barrel and loosing a shot before you dove for cover as the guns behind you began to spray. The grub holding Baird went down and he ducked behind his quad, resting the barrel of his lancer on the seat as he began to take out the grubs. From your position behind the car you drew your rifle likewise, beginning to pick them off; they hadn’t expected to need cover and so they had very little, and soon the last one fell.

“Don’t say it!” Baird said as he rose from behind his quad.

“What, that I told you so?” you said pointedly and he groaned.

“Yeah, that.”

“I saved your life,” you said. “Again.” You picked up your gnasher and began to search the dead grubs for any ammo or supplies that could be useful to you.

“What other choice did you have?” he asked.

“I could have let them have you and booked it out of here,” you said. “But I wouldn’t have.”

“No, of course not,” he said.

“Out of curiosity, why do you think that is?” you asked. By now, you had reached Baird, who had finished the placement of the sensor earlier and was now burying it.

“Because you’d miss me, obviously,” he said, standing and brushing the dirt off his hands.

“What’s there to miss?” you asked.

“All right, all right, you did it because it’s the ‘right thing to do,’” the last part came in a mocking tone. “I get it. Get off your high horse.” There were some times you could tolerate him - mainly when he wasn’t speaking - but there were also times that you just couldn’t keep your mouth closed. It had gotten you into trouble before and you were sure it would many more times, but you didn’t regret your honesty. Your conflict with him had gone on too long; it was poisoning your experience as part of the best squad you had ever been on, and it was turning the others against the two of you. And you were frustrated with him for more reasons than perhaps you were being honest with yourself about.

“You know, before I was transferred to Delta, I’d heard a lot about you,” you said. “One thing I heard was that you do a damn good job at hiding that you’re actually a decent person.”

“Yeah?” he asked, his tone confrontational.

“Yeah. My question is - are you really hiding anything? Or is this all you are? Cause I was a little starstruck by you when I first came over. I liked you. Then as soon as I got to know you, all the macho-ness and sarcasm took over - maybe that’s all there ever was and I just got tired of putting up with it.”

He didn’t answer immediately, and you couldn’t read his expression. Finally he said, his voice quieter than before, “You don’t realize how much the squad changed when you joined. I thought you were just going to be another soldier, you’d be another gun and some extra manpower.” He took a slow breath, his face conflicted. “But then everyone liked you. I liked you. Things changed. Instead of taking me on missions, Marcus started bringing you sometimes. When I was going to go on recon with Dom like we always used to, he’d be training with you instead.”

He was jealous? The Damon Baird, the blonde genius, was jealous?

“I don’t know if you realize how long we’ve known each other and how long we’ve been friends,” he said. “But it all changed when you came, and I didn’t appreciate that.”

“Was it fair to take it out on me, though?” you asked tentatively. You hadn’t expected the honesty and the last thing you wanted to do was push him back into his shell.

“Maybe not,” he admitted. “But you want to know the worst part? I wanted just the same thing I was pissed at them for. When I was going out to fix comm towers and satellites, I wanted to bring you with me. But you distracted me.”

“I did?” You remembered your first weeks with the squad. You’d known about Delta’s reputation, and you had spent the first stretch of your time with them somewhat in awe, trying to learn as much as you could. You remembered those missions with Baird. You had been nowhere near as forthcoming as you were now; you had been the perfect soldier.

“You didn’t mean to,” Baird said. “But you did.”

“You liked me,” you said, shocked.

“Don’t get a big head,” he said, his brow furrowing slightly. “But yeah, kinda. That’s in the past.”

“Is it?” you asked. “Because we obviously still have a problem.” That was generous - the problem was pretty much all on his end, but you knew you needed to handle it carefully. You hadn’t realized how close you were to him in the intensity of the conversation, but now, in the tense pause, you realized how blue his eyes were and how appealing, even chapped, his full lips appeared. Honesty looked good on him.

“You said you liked me,” he asked tentatively. “At first?”

You hated that your cheeks flushed, but they did, and you couldn’t help it. “So did you!” you said, realizing how childish the words sounded only when they had left your lips. His hand landed on your lower back and something caught deep in your stomach, a wavering tension. He drew you closer and you felt yourself willingly going as you looked up into his bright eyes so close, looking for an answer. He left it up to you and you took the chance, craning up into a kiss, gentle and searching, passionate but careful. He drew back just slightly, a familiar smirk appearing on his face, “I knew you were secretly in love-”

“Shut up,” you said as you wrapped a hand around the back of his neck, weaving your fingers through his hair, and pulled him back in.

The strangest thing about it was that being so tender with a man you had spent the last three months hating felt so right. At first, you had been fully aware of your attraction to him, but after things changed, his behavior had repressed it to the point you nearly forgot it had ever happened. But all those original feelings were rekindled now, warm and curious deep inside you.

When at last you pulled back, you just stood there for a moment, a little shell-shocked. “Are you gonna be back to the old you now?” you asked finally. “Not the candy-bar stealing whiny you?”

“I’m gonna be honest with you and make no promises about candy bars,” he said. “But I’ll do my best. And you’ll stop second-guessing everything I say and getting me in trouble?” “I’ll only do it when you deserve it,” you said.

“That’s fair,” he said. “All right, let’s get moving.”

It was about a two-hour ride to the next location, and you rode mostly in silence apart from the sound of the vehicles. As Baird revved up the Microminer, you said, “Please tell me you won’t resist me covering you this time.”

“What’re you talking about?” He looked up at you with a bright smile. “I don’t need it!”

“You son of a bitch!” you exclaimed, though you were laughing. “I’m doing it anyway.” “Suit yourself,” he said, setting to work.

*****

“How’d it go?” Marcus asked as the two of you reported back to him several days later upon finishing the mission.

“Well,” Baird said. “We got them all placed. No issues.”

“Yeah, except him almost getting himself killed a few different times,” you said. “But I took care of that.”

“I-”

“I did!” you said, cutting off Baird’s protests.

“…Yeah,” he admitted.  

That was all Marcus needed. He could see his purpose had been fulfilled, and there would be peace in the squad again. “Good. Go talk to Henry and fill out the relationship paperwork.”

“Excuse me?” you asked.

“Soldiers in relationships. There’s paperwork to be done,” Marcus said.

“Who said we’re in a relationship?” Baird asked.

“Did you ever wonder why I chose the two of you for that?” Marcus asked. “I need you to get along. I figured you’d have a couple days of arguing before you’d break down and remember how much you used to like each other, and then you’d be back to where you were two months ago.”

“Did they do it?” Cole’s voice interrupted the conversation as he and Dom rounded the corner.

Marcus nodded. “Ha!” Dom said. “I knew it! Hand it over, Cole.”

Cole grumbled, but handed Dom a finely-crafted bowie knife, which Dom stuck in his belt.

“What was the bet?” Baird asked.

“I thought you’d be together by the end of this mission, and Cole thought one of you would have seriously injured the other,” Dom said.

“I came pretty damn close,” you said.

“Oh, you weren’t the only one,” Baird countered.

“Save it for the bedroom,” Cole interrupted, face painted with exaggerated revolt.

“Get out of here,” Marcus said, but the corners of his lips had quirked into a smile before you turned to go.

“See you around,” you said to Baird, planning to head to the bathrooms for a much-needed shower.

“Yep. Hey.”

You had turned to leave, but the word stopped you.

“Thanks for covering me,” he said, true earnestness in his eyes for once.

“You’re welcome.”

[neoarchipelago]

Bridegroom's Oak Tree (John Wick x Reader part one)

AN: so this was a detailed request so there will be two parts to it, here's the first part guys! A bit of a AU here !

Request: "Hi, could you write one where John wick is a mafia lord falling in love at first sight with a teacher who is shy and doesn't know he is a mafia.And recently I read about this tree in Australia which has its own mailbox. People who are single write letters to the tree and anyone can pick any and respond to them. So far the tree is responsible for 100 marriages. So maybe you can write one where John wick, the mafia.. Writes a letter and finds it responded by the teacher. They both remain anonymous. But he falls for her. He is also kind of afraid as to how she might react when she finds out... All that" request by: @cynic-spirit

Word count : 2 306

Warnings: none

_______________________________

Klaus Ackerman was a nice old man. He had worked at the dodauer forst forest for the past 45 years. He knew everything single path and tree that covered the forest. He also had been a guardian of the Bridegroom's oak tree for just as long. He had seen so many young, and old people come to the tree to find love.

The tree's story was after all, a bit like a fairy tale. The name of the tree came from a very old story that everyone knew. The daughter of the head forester and the son of a chocolate maker were in love but her father disapproved. They exchanged letters secretly by leaving them in the whole in the tree trunk. Eventually they ended up getting married under the same tree not long after the father of the maiden had given in.

The beautiful story eventually led people to think that the tree attracted the soulmate of the person who would write a letter and place it in the hole in the tree. Klaus had seen many letters being answered to, people finding their other half, getting married and then coming back to thank the tree with various offerings during their honeymoon. Unfortunately he had also seen many letters still waiting for someone to answer to them. One in particular, from a young man still lingered there waiting for someone to pick it up.

Klaus remembered the man quite clearly. It wasn't particularly the way he looked, standing at the bottom the tree looking up, in his perfectly clean three piece black suit. It's not the way he looked absolutely unshakable with his hair gelled back, his beard tamed and his dark eyes, that made him remember the man even after all those years. It was the way he kindly smiled at him and spoke to him with his raspy yet soft voice.

Klaus had been through a rough time. His only daughter was sick, and the two jobs he was accumulating wasn't enough to pay for all the bills he had. He was a tired man, and the black suit man saw it. John Wick, he had introduced himself. Klaus had politely introduced himself as well. The conversation had gone by effortlessly, the calming aura of the man eventually leading Klaus to tell him the problems he was going through.

Klaus was shocked when the man pulled out a heavy amount of money and offered it to him. He couldn't possibly accept it, no. He would never be able to pay it back. But the man had insisted, claiming he didn't need that money as much as Klaus. Klaus was still reluctant to accept the god given money but Mr Wick had finally found a way for him to accept.

"How about you take the money, and in exchange, I want you to watch over the letter I wrote. I put it in the tree hole, but I'm not from here. I won't be able to know if one day someone answers. I want you to send me the answer if it ever comes, to this address. Give me your word, that until your last day here, you will do that."

Klaus had looked down at the small paper with the address that the man was giving him, and finally accepted breaking down into thankful tears. And so he had been doing exactly that. The man was gone, leaving for New York again. The worn out piece of paper was still in Klaus's pocket. Waiting for the letter in the tree to finally be picked up. But many years had gone by and no one ever seemed to be interested in the small letter, with the blue lettering.

Today was another sunny day, and Klaus had started his afternoon shift. He trailed along his usual path, his old legs not going as fast as he used to. He'd soon have to retire, but the he wished he could fulfill the man's wish.

Finally reaching the Bridegroom's Oak, he noticed not so many people were there today. It was sunny, yet a bit cold, and the wind brushed the trees making them sing. He approached the ladder that reached the hole in the tree and watched as the postman who usually came around at this hour stepped down.  

"Ay, good afternoon Mr Ackermann."

"Good afternoon Nevil. How are things up there?" Klaus asked with a small smile.

"Many letters as usual! But hey! That letter you're always asking about, it's finally gone!"

Klaus blinked. Gone? But it was there yesterday! Shaking off the panic he felt, he smiled at the postman. It had to be picked up, that was the point. Now he only had to wait and see who would come and put her answer into the tree.

Klaus waited near the tree all day. He watched as people passed on by, climbing the ladder and putting their letters into the tree hole. He watched closely every letter being dropped off, trying to find something that would make him recognize Mr Wick's letter.

The evening drawing near, he sighed, looking up at the burning sky as the sun began to set. He tiredly watched people walk on by when his eyes fell on a small letter, in blue lettering, held by a young woman. Klaus jumped up walking towards the lady, who strangely, stood at the bottom of the tree, looking at it.

"Excuse me miss?" Klaus's shaky voice rang.

The young lady turned around, looking at him with her beautiful (e/c) eyes.

"Hello, do you need anything?" She asked in a sweet voice, a kind smile on her lips.

"That letter, did you answer to it?" He asked.

"Oh, yes. I don't really think it'll lead to anything though. I'm not from Germany so. It's a bit of shot in the dark." She said looking down at the Mr wick's letter.

"Where are you from, If I may ask?" Klaus asked.

"From New York. In the United States. I'm here on a small vacation."

Klaus smiled. Maybe the tree was really magic?

"Would you allow me miss?" He asked. Earning a confused look from the lady.

"You see, it is my last day working here. I am old, and getting retired. I have been waiting for a long time for this letter to be answered. It isn't mine, do not fear. It's… a friend's. Would you allow me to put it in the tree? As a last act of duty."

She shyly smiled at him and gave him her letter.

"Of course, it'll be a pleasure. I have to go in anyway, my plane won't be waiting for me and my friends either. Thank you sir."

Klaus took the letter in his hand. A simple folded letter, in black lettering, the handwriting was smooth and perfectly clean. He smiled at the lady as she turned and walked away. Klaus smiled to himself. Finally he could fulfill his word, and retire as well. He had grandchildren to play with, but first, he had a letter to post.

__________

Back in New York, things had changed for John since his trip to Germany. He had become the head of the Mafia here in New York, earning his place at the High table. The baba yaga was a feared man, strict, dangerous and everyone knew it. It had taken him focus, commitment and sheer will so finally be the man he was today. Many years had passed, he wasn't as young as when he put the letter in the tree. He had lived a lonely life, but somehow had gotten used to it.

Today's High table meeting ended, as everyone excused themselves. John stood up and walked out. He didn't like to stay too long near the other members of the High table. He preferred his house. Reaching his car he got in the back seat as his driver greeted him. John greeted him politely and leaned back in his seat. The car started as John sighed. It had been lonely years yes. People he knew had found that perfect love and had now many children running around. He wished he had that kind of happiness as well but perhaps he wasn't made for it.

John looked up at his driver as the car rang, through the Bluetooth of the car. John nodded as the driver looked for approval in the rear view mirror. Answering the call John sighed.

"Yes?" John asked in a deep voice.

"Pardon me Mr Wick, but a letter has arrived for you." The voice rang.

"Alright, and why are you calling for a letter Jack?" John asked slightly annoyed.

"Well it was sent by Klaus Ackermann, and you specifically asked to be informed of any correspondence from this person."

John stared at the car seat in front of him. Had he heard correctly? Did someone answer his letter? After all these years, impossible. Klaus probably sent a letter to tell him he was retiring and no one answered his letter. John shook himself back to reality.

"Put in on my desk, thank you Jack."

With a final 'Yes sir' the call was ended. John looked at out of his window, deep in thoughts. He wasn't expecting anything else at all from Klaus, not after so many years. He felt curious and a bit hopeful, but at the same time stupid for putting such expectations in a letter he wrote so many years ago. He sighed. No point in wrecking his mind now. He'd get home soon enough and see what was the letter all about.

____________

You watched over your class as time passed. Today you had decided to make a simple test, just to make sure your students have been learning correctly your class. It wasn't a big deal and you had warned them there would be one so you were expecting good results.

You had been a teacher in a high school for only 4 years, but you enjoyed it. You were young, and a bit shy, but your students were all nice to you and you were pretty glad of it. New York was a welcoming home to you, but you felt lonely. You recently got home from a travel to Europe where you ended up on a road trip with a friend for the past week, ending up in Germany. Your friends had taken you to the Bridegroom's oak tree, where they had insisted that you take a letter to answer to because Magic would be the solution to  your loneliness.

You had complied, being tired of their jokes, and had picked up a beautiful letter with perfectly handwritten blue lettering. You had read the letter as you visited the city with your friends, not really paying attention to the landscape but getting lost in the paragraphs that seemed to build cities just for you. You were almost pained, knowing that there was little chances that the man who wrote the letter would answer to you. You had written your letter, finding some beautiful paper and a black ink pen, to write a letter as beautiful as the one you had picked.

You had thought about it all afternoon before finally deciding to bring the letter back to the Oak tree. You had stopped to admire the tree, taking a last thought on your action before being approached by a worker of the Forest. You had smiled to the old man and talked to him. Lastly he had asked to take care of your letter and in a last gush of hope and magic you let the old man do his last act of duty.

Falling back into reality you looked around at the classroom. "Five minutes left everyone" you said in a soft voice, earning a few groans.

You smiled softly. You had given up on the idea of your letter ever finding the man who it was destined to. You remembered the words inked in the little letter that now rested in one of your favorite notebooks, the one that never left your side. You sighed. Hope tends to breed eternal misery.

You looked at your watch again. Two minutes left and your day would be over. You had to grade the tests and then you could take a bath and probably order some food. You were waiting just for that. The bell rang you smiled at your students.

"Time's up guys! Please leave your tests on your tables, have a nice evening guys, and Don't forget your homework!"

You earned a 'yes miss' from running students, making you chuckle. You sighed, looking at your now, empty classroom, and stood up to pick up the tests. You hummed a soft tune, as you walked through the rows of seats and tables. A knock on the door made you jump, spinning around.

You blushed at the man who stared at you with dark eyes. He was tall, wearing a black suit. You looked away feeling intimidated by this man, who looked handsome and who had just heard you sing in your small classroom.

"I..hum.. hello…" you tried to say.

"Hello." He answered, smirking at you.

You felt tiny for a second as he walked closer to you, making you realize how tall he really was. You tried to keep eye contact with his beautiful dark eyes, but it only made you even more intimidated.

"May I help you...Sir?" You said in a low voice, but with a smile.

"You can, indeed. After all, you answered to my letter Miss (y/l/n)." He spoke in a deep voice.

You froze. Impossible. You looked down to see the man hold a letter, in black lettering. You shot your head back up drowning in the man's eyes.

"It's you…" you let out in a whisper.

_____

Tags: @thatbemyhouse @magdazwolska

[southboundhq]

MEET KITTY,

FULL NAME › Katherine “Kitty” Elizabeth Briar AGE › twenty two GENDER › Cis female (She/Her/Hers) FROM › Boot Hill, Arizona RESIDENCE › Villas Adobes community (Downtown) OCCUPATION › employee of the Painted Sky Boutique NOW PLAYING › You Don’t Own Me by Lesley Gore

BIOGRAPHY,

trigger/content warnings: adultery, substance abuse, alcohol abuse

Kitty was her mother’s last and most grand attempt to keep him. This was her final display of her true love and devotion, pulling out all of the stops, but it was still not enough. If there was one thing that a man hated the most it was when his mistress didn’t know when to give it up. Lorelai Briar was a pitiable creature; one who thought herself untouchable in the arms of a powerful man. He’d held her at night and forged promises of forever from temple kisses and extravagant gifts while he had his fill of her. Lorelai never imagined that he would discard her and return to his wife, but all flames of petty desire are doused by reality sooner or later. What use does a man with four children have for yet another child born of a fleeting affair? Lorelai was never meant to be anything more than a fun escape from the band of gold which shackled him to his wife’s doorstep. Love and children have no place in a formula so temporary, and so he decided that it was over. In the end, Lorelai held him tightly in her arms and whispered sweet words that were meant to sound delectable upon the eardrum, and he left all the same. It didn’t take Lorelai very long to realize what a terrible mistake she made by getting pregnant, but some mistakes are much too strong to remedy with a few crocodile tears. She lost him, and now she would be stuck with the memory of him everyday. Lorelai would lie awake at night, hands clutching her swollen stomach and praying that her daughter would be different than herself; than her father.

Lorelai tried to love her daughter. She held Kitty in her arms and rocked her like a loving mother should. She fed Kitty and did her best to provide for them two of them on her own. Blue eyes lined with a thicket of dark lashes would flutter like the wings of a monarch butterfly as Kitty looked up at her, but it did little to soften the disgust she felt whenever she thought about her father. In truth, his departure spoiled any good relations that Kitty might have had with her mother, and the chasm that stood between mother and daughter only deepened as the years went by. Everyday, Kitty would ask her mother to tell her about her father, and everyday her mother ignored her. “He was scum, Kitty. He ruined me, he ruined us. You should be thankful that you didn’t turn out like him.” Little did Lorelai know that Kitty had acquired all the worst parts of both adulterers even though she had only been exposed to one of them. She wore her father’s manipulative tendencies and her mother’s coquettish ways like a silk scarf, and naturally, it horrified her mother. There were no heart to heart conversations about boys, makeup, and school to be had between the two of them. From Lorelai’s affair spawned an even more dangerous entity than she hadn’t anticipated. Kitty was her mother’s most grand mistake, and seeing her face reminded her of that everyday.

When Kitty entered the ninth grade, Lorelai remarried. “This is the one,” she said, “This is the one we need.” Kitty broke out in a fit of laughter, causing her mother’s smile to melt into a scowl. There had never been a ‘we’ between them, only you and I like two spiders in a mason jar. This marriage was what Lorelai needed, not Kitty. It was just as sudden and ridiculous as her affair with Kitty’s father, and it showed that Kitty’s mother learned nothing from her past choices. Paul Edwards was everything that Lorelai had been looking for in a man; Tall, single and a bank account that would take years to empty. It wasn’t love that reflected in Lorelai’s green eyes, but twin dollar signs that grew larger by the day. Kitty hated the man with his toothy smile and the way he tried to insert himself into their already shattered dynamic. Within a blink of an eye, their little two bedroom house in Midtown turned into a four bedroom home in Villas Adobes. Kitty tolerated him largely due to the money he would give her in an attempt to buy her love. It turns out that love in the Edwards house looked a lot like diamond earrings. Paul and Lorelai’s whirlwind relationship led to another pregnancy, and finally Lorelai got it right. Now, she had the well-off husband and baby boy that she had been wanting for so long. The only problem was that there was little room for a Briar in the Edwards household.

Lorelai got her happily ever after, but Kitty still only knew half of herself. She once thought that she would drown in all of her questions about her father, but she started to ask less and less as she grew older. She could hear her mother’s words ringing in her ears, “You can’t miss something you never had, Kitty”. So, she took her mother’s words in stride and put him out of her mind. Much of Kitty’s adolescence was spent sneaking out of her house at night and sneaking back in just before the sun came up. Truthfully, all she had to do was walk right out of the front door since her mother and stepfather were so focused on themselves and her darling little brother, Wesley, to care about what Kitty was up to. It was then that Kitty discovered that she could get away with almost anything when her mother and stepfather’s eyes were permanently focused elsewhere.

It didn’t take long for her to meet other girls who were just as reckless as she was and would rather be anywhere  else than stuck at home. They weren’t nice girls, and neither was she for that matter, but perpetual boredom was the common ground each of them could bond over. And so The five were formed, all daughters of difficult parents, constantly hungry for more of everything. They became her home away from home as they traveled the streets at night, leaving boys and girl alike spellbound with a single touch. Together, they chewed away at the town like powdery pink bubblegum and spat it back out through red lacquered lips. No party worth attending in little o’l Boothill was complete without Pretty Kitty and her circle of devils to get it started. Sunny afternoons were spent secretly chugging expensive bottles of champagne from her stepfather’s gilded cabinets while her more adventurous friends dabbled in little baggies of snow-white powder. Kitty, of course, sampled the drugs here and there whenever she really wanted to escape the made up paradise that her mother was trying to maintain.

It was only when Kitty graduated that she realized just how aimless she truly was. There were no bold dreams of leaving Boothill and going to college or becoming more than she already was. Sure, Boothill was about as exciting as watching paint dry but it was home. A regular C- student, she hadn’t given her studies any real attention. “Katherine has so much potential, Mrs. Edwards,” her teachers would say and her mother would proceed with feigning interest in her daughters education. “but she just doesn’t push herself. We’re worried that she isn’t being challenged enough”. Kitty did enough to get by and that’s how she liked it. Chances to sneak out with her friends to go to some party always took precedence over her studies, and neither her mother nor her stepfather bothered to hassle her about it. They did, however force her to start working. “You have to find something, Kitty. You don’t expect to live off of Paul for the rest of your life, do you?” Would bleeding Paul dry of his money truly be a bad thing? Wasn’t that exactly her what her mother was doing anyway? Nevertheless, the weekly allowances ended almost immediately and she found an open position at The Painted Sky Boutique. She’d spent almost all of her allowance there every week that it was only right that she fill out an application.

Four years after her graduation and much of Kitty’s life is still the same. Same circle of girls armed with fangs too sharp for human skin, same oblivious, perpetually uninvolved mother and stepfather, and the same wasted potential. Every paycheck earned from the boutique is still being used to fund her booze and drug filled weekends with the exception of a few dollars saved here and there to finally move out of her stepfather’s house. Whenever she passes her old teachers on the street or when they come into the boutique, they always give her that watered down look of disappointment. “Don’t give up hope, Katherine. This won’t always be your life.” She only smirks. It’s not the ideal life, but it’s hers. She has no use for their pity because she is not their failure, and she is not her mother’s mistake.

❝ when you are young, and beautiful, you can be very cruel. ❞

CENSUS,

FACECLAIM › Kristine Froseth AUTHOR › Jay

[artificialqueens]

Sweet Music Playing in the Dark: Ch. 1- Fire Escape (Craquaria)- Dill

hi everyone!! it’s been a while since i’ve submitted on this blog, but i decided to give it another go! this is the first chapter of a new fic i wrote a while ago and i’m (finally) almost done with the next chapter! you can find me @ drdill on AO3 as well as the remaining chapters of Home (the first fic i wrote)

I hate elevators.

You wait for half an eternity in the lobby fresh off your 9-to-5, only to crowd into a little 4x6 room just like every tired, irritable person around you, then stop at

Every.

Single.

Floor.

Don’t get me started about the summer when sweat becomes a factor. It’s a free, disrespectful sauna. If I didn’t live on the eighth floor, I’d take the stairs, but what sociopath would willingly do that?

It’s a Friday in late May, particularly Memorial Day weekend. The chipping cream-colored paint in the lobby paired with dirty maroon rugs welcomes me off the sunny Brooklyn streets. Most people around are eager to escape for the next couple of days, but I’m sequestered to my apartment to research the new summer color trends. How riveting. The bell rings as the doors open. Walking on quickly, I press the button and seclude myself in the corner. I feel like a fucking sardine, begging no one tries to speak to me as I put my earbuds in. Every “excuse me,” and quick neighbor catch-up is silenced by Bowie and the drums of “Fame.”

Though I’ve never spoken to anyone in this elevator, I somehow know all of them. There’s Joanne, who’s always in a hurry for no goddamn reason, Alan, the workaholic accountant whose undereye bags could be an airport carry-on item, Mike that calls his wife when he gets in the elevator, then gets mad when the signal cuts out, some others whose habits are mildly concerning, and me- the art school dropout. It’s a melting pot of people pretending to have their shit together until they step foot into this building.

I count the floors: 2, 3, 4, 5, and one by one, they shuffle off while I bob my head to the music. Finally able to breathe, I shift out of the corner when I notice a new guy hiding behind Mike. He’s shorter, no more than five and a half feet with umber hair that’s faded on the sides. His wardrobe might as well be a walking Gap advertisement- a powder blue button-up and khakis paired with matching brown belt and shoes. One last person gets off on the seventh floor before it’s just the two of us, causing more confusion when I realize he’s going to the same place I am. Why haven’t I seen him before?

He’s oblivious to my stare, scrolling through his phone. I’d be lying if I said he was my type, but I’d be lying more if I said he wasn’t pretty cute. His pants hug his hips nicely, showcasing his ass before my eyes wander to the front of his-

Pull yourself together, Giovanni. You can’t mind-fuck a stranger in the elevator.

A small hop and the doors open to the eighth floor. He follows me out, still ignorant of his surroundings, ice shuffling around in his coffee as he takes a sip. I reach my door and fumble with the keys when I notice he’s unlocking the door next to me.

That’s…Kevin’s place, as in my very loud, dark-skinned neighbor of 2 years, not this puny white guy. Based on his physique, there’s a zero percent chance he mugged Kevin, so why does he have a key? When he opens the door I hear him enthusiastically say “Hi, Muffin!”

Muffin is Kevin’s cat, so he clearly knows him well enough to be chill with the world’s most evil cat. Regardless, I get inside, throw my stuff on the kitchen table, and give Kevin a call.

“What’s up, G?” He sounds like he’s in a car.

“Hey, I just watched a very small white man walk into your apartment way too happy to see your demon-child.” I’m talking in a low voice as if he’ll hear me through the concrete walls.

His laugh erupts through my phone. “I’m sorry, girl. I totally forgot to tell you!”

“Kevin if this is another guy you met two weeks ago that ‘is definitely the one,’ I’m gonna move out. He’s clearly not your type.”

“Calm down, bitch! It’s just my friend Max. He’s moving here from Seattle in a few weeks and wanted to get a feel for the area. I invited him to stay at my place for the weekend while I’m gone. I just dropped him off from the airport.”

Ah, so that’s Max. Kevin’s mentioned his friend from college a few times but never gave much description. I was imagining someone a bit…taller. And more muscles for a guy with a black belt. It’s underwhelming.

“Rude of you to leave without saying goodbye, but I guess I’ll survive sitting alone outside.” Kevin and I have some intense solidarity from hating our neighbors and sharing a fire escape. Not a day goes by in warm weather without a quick chat on the metal platform. It all started with a false alarm one Tuesday night, causing both of us to run out like idiots and get to talking.

“I’m just going to visit my fam. My sister’s been bugging me to come and see her new house.”

I sigh dramatically. “My blunt and I will miss you dearly, princess. See you Monday?”

“You bet! Love you girl!”

“Love ya, bye.”

I hang up and think about my next move. Do I go over and say hi? That’s way too forward. Do I stay inside all weekend and act like I don’t know he’s here? Well, that would just make me a rude fake-neighbor. Neither sound too appealing at the moment. I settle for a compromise: I will introduce myself…tomorrow- let him get his feet wet a little bit in Brooklyn. I’m sure I’ll be seeing him around more often if he’s moving here soon, anyway. Satisfied with my plan, I make myself a grilled cheese because I haven’t eaten since breakfast, and get to work on my research.

—-

Dusk falls over the city and I’ve spent too long staring at Pantone’s Tumeric and Pepper Stem swatches with reference photos from fashion week. I form a makeshift portfolio for the editors and close my laptop. For finishing ahead of schedule, I roll a celebratory blunt and head for the fire escape.

A deep blue swallows the sky with a bright yellow streak as the sun sets over downtown. The temperature has finally cooled down as I step through my window and touch my sandal on the serrated metal beam. Supporting myself on the railing, I feel the night breeze run across my skin and catch my v-neck before raising the blunt between my lips, sparking the lighter quickly, and inhaling deeply. A quick burn runs through my throat on the first drag, eyes closed as I let the remaining smoke exhale to the sky. The streets are pretty peaceful at this hour, probably because there’s nothing around me but nail parlors, shoe stores, and boutiques that close at 6pm. My temporary neighbor has been suspiciously quiet all day. Normally I can hear Kevin washing his dishes or watching TV when I’m out here, so maybe he’s gone out for the night.

I’m about halfway through my joint when I hear blasting, stark trumpets from behind. Confused, I turn around and detect the sound coming from Kevin’s window, slightly cracked. I creep over to investigate, walking softly so the platform doesn’t rattle, slowly peeking through a slit in the curtain to see Max belting what sounds like “Boogie Wonderland” and dancing around Kevin’s kitchen. Now I can see why they were friends in college.

He’s cooking dinner- some type of pasta, adding pepper on beat and shimmying his shoulders. Those hips of his get put to work, scooting across the floor to grab the garlic bread and place it in the oven. It’s mesmerizing; hilarious, yet adorable, and I can’t look away. I start to realize how long I’ve been staring and get out of sight before he sees me. Somehow, I’m comfortable spying on this man but not knocking on the door and greeting him. Congrats, Gio. You’re officially a creep.

Max must be in a disco mood when the song fades out and “Relight My Fire” immediately follows. I’m giggling at the situation I’ve found myself. This definitely beats the same three Nicki Minaj songs Kevin plays on repeat while he cleans, so I might as well enjoy myself while it lasts. I finish the blunt as I begin dancing around the fire escape like an idiot, bouncing around and singing lightly to myself:

“Relight my fire,

Your love is my only desire,

Relight my fire,

Cause I nee-”

Spinning with my eyes closed might not have been the smartest idea. On my third rotation, my left sandal gets caught on the ladder as I started to move forward. My right knee hits the platform first, followed by my right hand, then elbow, then hip. A loud crash supported by sharp pain in my knee is enough to know I fucked up, and I will probably be getting some company out here soon.

The music ceases. Shit. I hear footsteps getting closer, my back facing the windows. The curtains are pulled back as a voice says “Oh my God!”

I look over my shoulder and see Max open the window and pop his head out. His face reads as really confused, but concerned.

“Are you okay?”

“Oh! Um, yeah. Yeah I’ll be okay,” I reply as I try to push myself up, hissing when I bend my knee. Looking down, I see a trail of dark red run down my leg. Great.

“Here, let me help you clean that up.” He motions me to come inside the apartment. Knowing that I fully don’t own band-aids like a dumbass, I have no choice to accept. I scoot my way over to the window and take his hand.

“‘Tis but a scratch,” I joke, lifting my leg onto the windowpane. He’s laughing while gently pulling me into the apartment. I take my previous statement back about his lack of muscles. His bicep is about to pop through the shirt sleeve, and I wouldn’t have a problem with that.

“I’m Kevin’s friend Max, by the way.”

“I’m Gio. I promise this isn’t a normal welcome to the neighborhood.” I’m shaking my head smiling.

“It’s better than the homeless guy that showed me a magic trick outside the coffee shop earlier,” he giggles.

He puts my arm around his shoulder and rests his at my waist as he walks me over to the kitchen chair, slowly drops me off, and props my leg on another. The apartment is lit dimly, only the lights above the stove and oven providing a yellow tinge to the room. I see a large pan of chicken alfredo and I’m suddenly hungry again. He turns off the burner, runs a washcloth under some cold water, and kneels next to me, lightly dabbing the wound to soak up the blood.

“Hold that there while I get some ice to help the swelling.” Our hands lightly brush against each other as he gets up to go to the fridge. I’m trying to understand the amount of care he’s giving me. He’s such a nice guy; I’m a complete stranger and he’s treating me better than most of my exes.

He grabs a zip-top bag from the drawer and starts filling it with ice.

“So, what brings you to Brooklyn?” I ask him, acting like I didn’t speak to Kevin hours ago.

“I’m getting relocated for work. The publishing company says they need my ‘talents’ in the New York office.” He’s using air quotes, blatantly unamused.

“Jeez, don’t sound so excited about it,” I smirk. He gives a soft smile, closing the freezer door.

“It’s not that I’m unhappy about the job or moving here, I just want more time write my own stuff instead of editing other people’s work.”

“You’re a writer?”

“Trying to be.” He shrugs, coming back to my side and lightly placing the ice above my scrape. I wince as the cold towel touches my skin.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I reply. “It sucks not getting to do what you’re passionate about, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah.” It’s silent for a little bit- the tales of a struggling artist.

“Do you want some wine? I probably shouldn’t drink the whole thing by myself.”

“Red or white?”

“White.”

“I could have a glass or two.” He smiles and heads back to the kitchen to get glasses and a wine opener.

“So,” he says twisting the corkscrew in, “what’s your story?”

I sigh deeply. “Moved here from Philly, dropped out of art school last year, haven’t told my parents yet, working at a fashion magazine on complete luck.”

“Holy shit, how’d you manage that?”

“I modeled for a photographer to make some money right after I withdrew from classes, and he was friends with an editor there who was looking to hire an assistant.”

“Okay, that actually doesn’t surprise me.”

“That he and the editor were close?”

“No, that you were a model. Do you want ice?”

I’m slightly taken back while he pours two glasses.

“Wait, what?”

“Ice?”

“No. Well, yes, but no the other thing.”

“What? I’m not blind. You’re cute.” What a charmer. I’m looking down, containing the huge grin on my face from his line of sight.

“Thank you.”

He hands a glass to me and heads for the bathroom. I shudder when it touches my tongue, further supporting my hate for dry wine. However, it’s free, therefore I will drink it happily. Upon returning, he brings some ointment and various sized band-aids.

“I wasn’t sure what size you’d need,” he laughs.

After drying the area around my wound, he applies the ointment, then gently places the bandage overtop. Every action thus far has been with such tender composure, as if he’s performing surgery. Wiping his fingers off, he grabs his wine and sits next to me- not on in a chair, on the floor with his legs crossed. I think he’s suddenly my type.

We exchange stares with silent smiles, finally giving me time to admire his soft, chestnut eyes that crinkle each time he grins, as well as the little, curled hairs resting on his forehead.

“You’re pretty cute, too,” I blurt out.

“Oh, thanks,” he says, a bit flustered at the compliment. His eyes look away, only to avert to my ice pack that starts leaking. I feel a drop of water run down my leg onto the floor.

“Let me get you a new one.” he starts to stand up. “I can get it.” I sit up and reach, getting used to the pain.

Our hands meet one another’s again as we grab for the washcloth at the same time. A tension begins to form in the air when we lock eyes less than a foot from each other’s face. His lips are slightly pursed, breathing heavier than normal.

It feels like slow motion as I lean in closer and shut my eyes. I feel his left hand relocate from my knee to the base of my neck, our lips separated by centimeters, foreheads touching as I feel his breath right under my nose. My lips brush lightly against his when-

DIIIIIIIIING

The oven timer provides as much warning as the fire alarm. We jump away at the sound, hearts pounding from shock. Max starts regaining his composure before jumping up and shutting it off. He rests his arms on the counter, sighing before looking back at me, holding back a laugh.

“I think my garlic bread is done.” His head falls in his hands as he starts to laugh from embarrassment. I join in as I stand up for the first time, limping over to the counter, and grabbing a potholder. He opens the oven door for me, red-faced as I place the tray on the stove, still laughing.

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” He asks me.

“I’ve been waiting for you to ask me that since I smelled the garlic bread,” I giggle. He hands me a plate.

—-

I think I stayed at Kevin’s for about three hours. We talked about books, bonded over our dying love for Emma Stone, and gave each other new album suggestions while washing the dishes together. It felt so natural, to the point where we finished the bottle of wine even though I couldn’t stand it. A yawn builds up and I curse myself for getting tired, wishing I could stay until the sun rises.

“I think my bed is calling me,” I tell him. He nods.

“I guess I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah, and this time, I’ll try not to trip on the fire escape.” His giggle becomes my new favorite sound after hearing it so much.

Our goodbye was a quick hug, nothing more than the attempted kiss before dinner when I duck out the window and climb into my apartment.

Having this one close to home will be dangerous.

[bolbianddolanhouse]

BNHA AU [self insert]

Nani the heck is this? read here!

Chapter 1: *plays Joji’s Yeah Right*

“...and heres your living quarters, fully furnished and with groceries that’ll last a while” said my case worker as I meekly followed next to them.

“thank you! its really nice.” I said, trying to not sound sad.

“I know its tough being young and by yourself, but I believe in you Miss Palma! Don’t hesitate to give us a call if you have questions or need other arrangments.”

“thank you for your kind words, I’ll keep that in mind” I said as politely as I could because I knew I wasn’t going to call them for shit. “Ill get my luggage out of my car, its not much so I’ll be fine if you need to leave”

“oh alright, Ill leave you to settling in and remember that a UA staff will be coming by with your uniforms tomorrow in the afternoon.”

oh jeez I forgot about that, not looking forward to get fat shamed in this country, let alone by a school staff. “oh right! it almost slipped my mind that here you wear uniforms in high school! hehe thank you for the reminder!”

“no problem! Bye bye”

oof! I was getting tired of pretending to be polite to that case worker. The past 3 months has been tough with the whole being sent away from my family and finding a school with nearby housing. At least I can sleep well without thinking where I’ll end up next. I unpack my 3 suitcases of clothes, personal belongings, cosmetics and other nessities. I take out my framed photo of my family and place it on my bed stand, I miss them and the doggos. I try not to cry and continue to put my things away. I made myself dinner, took a bath and laid in bed; and I’m thinking if I should call my parents to tell them I got settled. I checked the time, it was 4am their time, I sent a text instead. 

[Hola mama y papa! ya estoy en mi apartamento, es muy lindo. Llama me cuando puedas, te extrano mucho y tambien a los doggos!]

I haven’t talked to my parents in a week because of the whole phone arrangement and being too busy with the entrance exam. Now I guess I’ll sleep and do some school supply shopping after meeting with the staff member.

-the next day-

Its saturday and its gloomy out and I wake up thinking, great! even the sky knows its going to be a rough day today! I get dressed, eat and gluzzle down my daily 2 cups of coffee. I scroll through my private social media handles to check on my friends, looks like they’re having fun, without me. I suck in the tears because I know DAMN well they’re sad I’m gone too. I distract myself with memes and I think maybe I should make some tea? and some cookies too? do i even have tea? I go through the cupboads and pantry, the case worker wasn’t kidding when they said that I had groceries that’ll last a while! I had 2 different types of tea, dry pastas, canned goods, snacks and some traditional ingredients for japanese and mexican cusine. I go searching for a kettle or teapot and I find a juicer in the way back of the top cupboard. There was a note on the juicer that said ‘to the next tenant, my wife didn’t want to take this big, messy thing to our next place, hope you find use out of this!’ I laugh at the idea that there was probably a lovers quarral over the juicer. I make tea and some green juice, just so I can get rid of the bundle of kale in the fridge, I hate kale. I make some cookies too but its just so I can get my mind off things since I was so nervous on meeting this staff member. Right on the dot, at 3pm, theres a knock at my door. I look through the peep hole and I see this woman with blue eyes and dark purple-ish, black hair in busniess causal attire. I open the door and put on my best ‘everything is ok’ face.

“hello! are you Miss Palma?”

“yes I am! are you the UA staff member with the uniforms?”

“I am! its so nice to meet you, I am Kayama sensei or better know as Midnight”

“Midnight? Ok um, would you like to come inside?”

“oh yes, thank you! Now I understand that you live alone?” she said as she walked in to the apartment.

“yes thats correct, I got here yesterday and settled in”

“oh wow, and at such a young age! Well If you need anything or need to talk about anything thats bothering you, please let me know! This whole you being separated from family and home worries me” She said in the most sincer tone that I almost started crying. I haven’t heard single person talk to me so genuinely since I left America and I need a trusted adult to help me, I heavily considered her offer.

“oh thank you for your offer, I might need some help in a few weeks BUT for now, may I offer you some tea? coffee? green juice? maybe some cookies?”

“green? juice? whats in it? I’ve never heard of green juice before”

“oh right! its a California health culture thing. Its the juice of pinapple, apple, kale, lemon and cucumber. The combination of the fruits and vegetables is for a healthy disgestive system and energy for before or after exersize”

“that sounds tasty! Ill have green juice please”

I serve her the juice and sit across from her in the living room. I see the clothing bags and think that thats alot of clothing bags just to give me 3 sets of uniforms. She drinks the juice and wanted to say something about my expression when I saw the bags but her eyes widened and she looked at the cup of juice.

“OH MY GOODNESS! this is the best and freshest juice I’ve ever had NO JOKE! You said this is a thing where you’re from? I need to invest in a juicer to make this at home!” she said so shocked and I was surprised to recieve the praise like I invented the juice.

“I’m glad you like it! Its like a little slice of my hometown to me to you” 

“oh? ok back to business! I see you eyeing the uniforms, you want to try them on? I brought some sizes up and down from the given mesurements.”

“um ok sure! Let me take these to try on in my room, ill be right out”

I take the bags to my room and I zip them open and I see the white collared shirts, gray blazer looking thing and skirts. I think oh jeez my ass is definately not gonna fit in these bitches. I put on the shirt and blazer that best fit and lastly the skirt, SUPRIZE! you can see my ass cheeks hanging out from the bottom. I walk out of the room to Midnight.

“ok so I found a shirt and top that fits well on me BUT the skirt...” and I turn around and show her my exposed ass cheeks peeking underneath.

“oh dear, thats definately not in regulation! Ok so you need a longer skirt? like... another 6 inches?” she said as she takes out a measuring tape from her purse.

“um yea, if thats doable”

“it is but we won’t have that ready until the 1st day of classes, so I guess for now, try on the pants and see if any of those fit”

Great. I’m going into a new school, misgendered and foreign passing. 2 of the pants in the clothes bag fit well....too well. We said our good byes and I had at least 2 sets of uniforms ready until I get a proper pair. No matter, at least my ass won’t be hanging out at school. I go school supply shopping and came upon the holy grail of stationary, SCENTED PAPER AND GLITTER PENS. Of course in the pastel rainbow colors and matching lead pencils. I get a whole matching set along with a backpack, water bottle and coffee tumbler. I was going to soon regret that matching set (more on that later) but I was just SO happy that I was pink, pretty and sparkly. 

-Fast forward to the 1st day-

I was in a much better mood because the sun was out, the coffee smelled particularly good, I made myself look cute but toned down for a good 1st day impression. I grab my keys and think I think I’m forgeting one detail? What could it be? and I thought Oh! I need to text my parents that I’m happy and I’m going to school now! I am noticably happy that the nice front desk lady of my housing noticed and wished me luck on my 1st day. I get in my car and I have 1 hour to get to school but its only a 8 minute drive and I wanted to circle to find parking and see where the entrance is so I can teleport from wherever I parked. I pass the gates before seeing the parking and I think oh cool its just right there! but Ill still teleport in the front. I park and I don’t even get out of my car, I just hug my backpack and teleport in front of the gates. I start walking toward the gates and try to not smile like an idiot but I start to notice all the looks and stares. And I think oh they just don’t recongize me because I look foreign or didn’t see me at the entrance exams. As a enter the 1st year doors I hear 

‘yo you see that guy? he looks as pretty as a girl! Guess his favorite color is baby pink? Are they wearing eyeliner? I wonder how long is his hair? That bun is tastful, no homo tho!’

I FORGOT THAT PANTS ARE THE BOY’S UNIFORM AND MY SKIRTS ARE STILL BEING TAILORED! I socially already fucked up, guess I won’t be making friends anytime soon. But I guess I’m glad they think I’m a pretty girl in the boy’s uniform? I walk up to the table at the furthest hall on the right that says International Student Check In thats me. I get greeted by a man with a boombox looking thing on their neck, black pants and jacket, small triangle sunnies and yellow hair. 

“HEEYYY welcome to UA!”

“oh thank you! I am Itati Palma, American student”

“okay lets see, palma palma paruma AH found you! OH YOURE THAT JAZZY SAX GIRL THAT TURNED HERO!”

oh jeez who put that on my record?! “hehehe yea thats me”

“coolio jazzy girl! Heres your schedule, pins and a note from Midnight”

“pins?”

“yeeeaahh! pins to put on your uniform to let other students and staff where youre from and get to know you better!”

I open the small manila pouch into my hand and two pins fall into my palm, the American and Mexican flag. I look at them and tried not to cry, I missed my home and chill life in Cali.

“hey hey! your classes are on the 3 hall on the right, door all the way down.”

“oh right!” that snapped me out of my sentiment, “thank you again! Mr?”

“they call me Mic sensei”

“Mic? ok thanks!”

I walk quickly to my classroom, I get to the outside of the door and think welp, heres to 3 years of being called pretty boy and other dumb shit. I open the door and I see 9 desks and 5 people already there. Oh jeez, what a small class size but at least nobody is staring at me. I sit in the middle seat, though I prefer the front desk but they were already claimed! Guess classroom culture is different here too. In front of me was a boy to what I thought was a Japanese native until they turned and I caught a glimpse of their pin, they’re Korean! They noticed my pins too and had a confused look as they gave me a once over.

“You’re an...american? and mexican? You traveled quite a ways”

“um yeah hehe, I am Itati Palma by the way!”

“hmm, nice to meet you Palma-san, I’m Jin Matsui”

“nice to meet you too!”

Before I could ask them where in Korea are they from, the door slammed open. A tall and muscular white-blonde girl walked in, I tried so hard not to stare at them but they looked so tough and wondered if that’s part of their quirk. She sat behind me and Jin and I turned around to get a better look at them. I saw their pins, the Russian and Japanese flag, shes also a foreign student. She looked up with a death stare at me and Jin but then her eyes widened and she smiled. 

“ah! fellow foreigners! Hello!” she spoke in a predominate Russian accent that matches so well with her image.

“um yeah! Hello, I’m Itati Palma”

“Hi, and I’m Jin Matsui”

“Palma-san and Matsui-san?Milana Mikhalia Oleshin, very nice to meet you!”

Oh my! A long and hard to pronounce name, I guess we aren’t at nickname or first name basis yet for everything to go smoother. I turn to my bag because I got a text, its my parents!

[Hola mija! Que bien que estas feliz hoy! Te amo y ponde bien en tus studias, dios te bendiga.]

Oh mom, you have no idea how bad I had it earlier. I look around and see everyone has nice, canvas school bags and I have my baby pink one with a puppy on it. And everyone had normal stationary and you can smell and see mine from across the hall. Oof, what I’d give to redo today. I look at my schedule and see that I have a short school day this semester.

Palma, Itati (F) (International)                             Intelligence Core Program [1-A]

Homeroom......9a-10am..........................................Intelligence Wing, room 1-A

Weaponery.......10:15am-11:50am.........................................Gym

Hero Course [Ethics and Laws].....12p-1:15p...........Hero Wing, room 1-A

Free Period.........2:50p-3:30p.......................................TBA

Intelligence Course[Statistics&Strategy]3:45p-4:40p..Intelligence Wing,room 3-A

Seems like a reasonable schedule, better than America. I didn’t know that Oleshin-san was peeking over my shoulder to read my schedule.

“YOURE THE GIRL THAT TESTED OUT OF GENERAL STUDIES?!”

I jumped in my seat “um yea?”

“I heard about you! The staff and school district are boasting that they got the potentially genius level international students. They said that theres 2 of them here at UA and they are jumping straight into course work! One has placed college level English and 3rd year Level Strategtic Thinking! And thats you!”

Jin turns around, looking bootytickled “erm, what? Let me see your schedule.”

He scans and compares it to his “well theres proof that you are one of those students, but then again, so am I”

I take a look at his, almost identical except they’re not taking the hero course, but second year english. What a weird turn of events that I’d be in the same class as other international students in the same school arrangments? I guess they’re my friends now.

A clean cut man in a blue jumpsuit with multiple patches on the arms opens the door. I just knew they were our teacher, it shows that he’s been through it all and has wisdom to bestow upon us. 

“Hello, good morning students, if you could all take your seats so I can get things started”

Everyone fell into place and was attentive.

“Welcome to the Intelligence Program, You can call me Diya sensei, I’m a retired secret service of Japan better known as Agent 99 code name ‘Space Cowboy’”

I tried so hard not to laugh at that code name, I wondered why he was called that. Maybe his quirk?

“Now to take roll, say present when I say your name”

He finished roll and said “huh, 3 international students? I expect impeccable work from you three. I won’t slow down for you”

I somehow wasn’t scared of that statement. Before moving on to explaining the coursework and lessons, a lizard bolted from the window and to Diya sensei. He let out one of the most high pitched yelps and retreated to the corner. How can a man so sharp and decorated, be reduced to a crying mess over a lizard? Matsui-san captures the fast lizard and wraps it in his gym towel to take outside after homeroom. Sensei regains his composure and continues class like nothing happened. After homeroom, we all had weaponery but we didn’t get to use any gear or weapons yet. Instead we got measured for our jumpsuits and PE clothes plus got settled in the locker rooms. To my surprise it was co-ed locker rooms since it was a small class size and only 3 girls. Everyone was respectful of eachother’s bodies and privacy. Next I was supposed to go to the ethics class but in Midnight’s note, she said that I start that class on Wednesday so for the time being, I have to report to the staff room to meet with them. I go to the staff room and on the way I see a class doing drills with quirks outside, it looked fun and everyone looked so focused. I get to the staff room and Midnight hands me my tailored skirts and 3rd set of uniform. I also got to know the other teachers and staff including the principal, a big ass fuckin rat. I was about to punt that bitch when they opened the door if they didn’t start talking. Other than that, it was a nice time and then there was lunch. I walked in the cafeteria and saw the long ass lines and said ‘fuck that’, so I teleported to my car and ate my packed food in there. Next was my free period, Midnight said that it was alright for me to wander around campus so I can get to know the place better so I can teleport from class to class. I wander around without my bag, just my phone and schedule with school map folded in my pocket. I go to the hero wing to find the 1-A room, nobody was in there, maybe its gym time for them? I pass by a group of 3 upper classmen, A boy with black hair and pointy ears, a taller boy with lemon colored hair and a girl with long sky blue hair. They all looked at me as I passed by and I felt intimidated because they have a strong presence to them but I didn’t know why or how. I hid behind the corner and heard them talking about me,

“did you see that? I made accidental eye contact and I think I’m going to be sick”

“hmm, do you think thats the international student Mirio? They had an american flag pin”

“Maybe? Theres no description of them other than they’re American and a 1st year in the Intelligence program”

“wait, sceret service? I thought they saved their school from a gang by disabling the leader? Why are we interested in her again Mirio?”

“She’s a true hero Amajiki! We could learn alot from her and maybe change their mind to be a hero, like they were meant to be”

What the heck was that Lemon boy going off about? A hero? Change my mind? Learn from me? I turned the corner to tell them off but they were gone and I wasn’t about to go looking for them. I wander some more and the bell rings and a swarm of students come out of their classrooms, I couldn’t naviagate around and I think, guess Ill teleport, BUT THEN I COULDN’T! Like when I was acting up back home and my mom would use her erasure quirk on me to prevent me from escaping. But my mom couldn’t be here!? Then what the fuck is going on? Then a man’s voice from behind me spoke,

“are you lost young lady?”

I turn around and I’m shaking in fear before I even see this mystery man. I see him and he’s a tall, dark long haired with eye bags. I knew right away he was the one who erased my quirk, his eyes glowed the same way my mom did when she activated her quirk. Mom i thought and how much I missed her and I couldn’t hold back my tears this time. I cried in front of this man I just met. He arched his brow then gazed his eyes on my flag pins. He gasped and deactivated his quirk.

“oh no I’m sorry Miss! I didn’t mean to scare you to tears, are you alright?”

I stammered “um uhhhh -sniff- I’m, I’m ok! um I’ll just leave” 

“no please, let me escort you to your next class, I feel terrible for making you cry. Especially on the 1st day”

I felt sort of better when he offered, I let him walk with me.

“you didn’t scare me, I cried because you and my mother have the same quirk and looking at your glowing eyes reminded me of her and how much I miss her”

“oh! same quirk you say? Were you a trouble maker?”

“nah, I would try to teleport away when it was time to do housework when I was younger and she’d disable my quirks so I couldn’t escape and HAD to do chores”

He laughed “what a woman! Say, your not from around here huh?”

“nope, I’m from America with hispanic roots”

“OH! you’re an ethnic American! That’s why you have two flags.”

“yup, I got here about a week ago and settled about 3 days ago”

“yeah, Midnight told me about you. You’re a very unique indivdual, how are your classes so far?”

“nothing interesting yet”

“well hopefully things pickup soon, oh i think this is your wing”

“um oh yea it is, thank you for walking me over, Mr?”

“Mr Aizawa, or better known as Eraserhead”

“Eraserhead? um ok thanks again!”

“no problem, see you wednesday”

“wednesday?”

“yea, I’m the Hero Course ethics teacher. See you then!”

Then this man deadass walks away after dropping that bomb on me? What a legend, can’t wait to sit in his class. My last class was more up my alley and the upperclassmen were so nice that I didn’t feel any different from them. I walked to my car to reflect on all the shit that happened today and what I am going to do to make school bearable. The drive to my place was pleasant but I saw a bunch of students walking together like they just became friends and wanted to spend more time together. I felt a little lonely when I got home, I remembered when I was in america and I would talk to my friends after school and how they’d wait for me after band practice to hang out. I took off my uniform and hanged up my new ones and had one really good cry. I haven’t cried that hard in months and it was much needed for my mental health. I washed up and ate and tried to just forget all the dumb shit of the day when I laid down to sleep.

-fast foward to Wednesday-

“hey Palma-san! did you do the online homework for stats and strats?”

“yee, did you?” I said knowing damn well what Matsui-san was going to say.

“psh! course I did, I was just making sure you did it so you might have something to do during free period”

“HEY! T-posing through the halls IS a viable thing to do! I was studying where everthing is on campus for future use”

“IS NOT WHEN YOU LEVITATE AND SCREECH IN THE BOYS BATHROOM WHILE I’M IN THERE!”

Before I could retort back, Oleshin-san butted in,

“aye Palma-san, you excited for your hero course class?”

“oof yee, the teacher is kinda hot”

“I SAW and I’m jealous! You have to tell me if the boys in that class are hot too!”

“ugh, don’t you two have better things to talk about than butts and boys?”

“I’m so excited tho! To meet anybody thats outside our program and learning new things?! I just hope they like me, I even made them cookies”

“Palma-san nani the heck!? I want a cookie”

“You guys can get a cookie during lunch if theres any leftovers”

I quickly change after weapons class and bolt to the hero wing. I walk down the hall and I’m really feeling nervous! I look at my coffee tumbler and felt calmer as I took a sip. Ok Ita, you can do this, no chickening out now I psych myself up as I stand in front of the door. I open the door, expecting everyone to be strewn about and talking...nope. I walk in and everyone is in their seats and sensei was standing up in the front and I disrupted them. Everyone was staring and I instantly get flushed and I check to make sure I was in the right classroom and said,

“did I fuck up?”

“no actually I was just talking about you, perfect timing!” said Aizawa with a smile. “why don’t you come up and introduce yourself?”

“um ok” I said as I scanned the room. I got up to the front, chugged down my coffee for dominance, did a quick spin for drama and put on my ‘I swear I slept a normal amount of sleep last night’ face. 

“Hi hello~ My name is Itati Palma and I’m from America! The reason I don’t look like one is because my ethnic background is hispanic, or in other words, both of my parents are from Mexico but I was born in America. My quirk isn’t the strongest or the most useful BUT I can be of better help in other parts of combat, so please, we don’t have to be friends but lets all work hard together” I bow respectfully and turn to sensei.

“nice speech kid, you can take the seat on the third row”

“um ok thanks”

As I’m walking toward my seat, sensei walks out saying he’ll be right back with more handouts. I sit and I feel all eyes on me, giving me the once over. The person in front of me has a bird head but normal human body from the neck down, the person behind me has half their face covered with multiple limbs and the person on my left has red spiky hair and was staring REALLY hard at me. I almost didn’t want to look at them until sensei came back, I just sat there blushing really hard.

“Kirishima! stop staring at her! Can’t you see you’re making her uncomfortable?!” said the boy with glasses making chopping motions.

“Oh sorry! Its just that I’ve never seen curly hair of that type in person, you have really nice hair and your backpack is cute”

“um thank you, I feel sorta out of place with it tho, everyone else has normal bags”

“tch, makes you look like a little girl” muttered the boy with the blonde hair.

“Kacchan thats so rude! I think their choice of bag is cute and different in a good way” said some broccoil looking ass.

“well um, not to change the subject, but I made you guys cookies! I got up extra early to bake them”

“Cookies?! oh how sweet of you!” joked the pink girl.

“Oh here, let me help you with that” said the boy with glasses as he stood up.

“oh no I got this” I take out a package of colorful napkins and the box of cookies and I toss the napkins up and activate my quirk to pass out the napkins. Then I opened the box and gave everyone a cookie and gave sensei 3.

“so cool! you passed out the treat without getting up!” squealed what I assume to be the invisible girl.

“THESE COOKIES ARE SOOO YUMMY TOO!” proclaimed the boy with a black streak in their yellow hair.

Everyone was in a better mood and I got compliments for my cookies, I was in my happy place. After class, as I was packing my bag, the boy with the glasses came up to my desk

“thank you for the cookie, Palma-san, you really know how to bring a crowd together”

“oh thank you, uhhhhh”

“hm? OH my name is Tenya Iida, sorry I forgot to introduce myself earlier”

“Iida-san? oh its alright, its nice to meet you” 

“I haven’t seen you around halls, sensei tells us your in a different program? Is it true?”

“Yes its true, also the school is kinda big and I can be easy to miss in a crowd because I’m so short”

“I see, well its lunch time! May I walk you to the lunch room?”

“oh thank you but I usually eat in the parking lot” I soon regreted my words because this square faced, glasses wearing ass gasped and grabbed me by the wrist followed by dragging me down the hall.

“You’ve been by yourself during such social time?! Now I have a better reason to bring you to the lunch group!”

“eating by yourself isn’t a huge deal” I say but looking back, thats all I’ve been doing.

“A true hero never lets a fellow classmate eat alone!”

I get aggitated and retort “well what if they want to be alone!” as I teleport out of his grip and 3 feet behind him. He sees the whole thing and stopped on the dime, he was shocked.

“you, you used your quirk to escape my grip? What is your quirk exactly?”

“Heck, um its Mid-range Telekinesis, I can levitate, levitate others and objects and teleport about 2 miles at a time.”

“thats incredible power! what do you mean your quirk isn’t strong or useful?! You’re gifted in so many ways!”

I wasn’t having fun anymore, he wasn’t letting me talk or left me alone when I said I wanted to. 

“please stop”

“hmm? stop what”

“stop, talking about my quirk like I’m some sort of show horse” 

“Show horse? no no no! I didn’t mean to-”

“STOP!” I didn’t want to hear it, I just wanted to hide. Tears were welling up in my eyes.

“what is going on here? Tenya, what are doing to that poor girl?” it was Midnight. “oh no, are you ok Itati?” and I start to cry when she made eye contact with me. 

“its ok, you’re ok! please don’t feel sad” she comforted me as she held me, “why don’t you go to lunch Tenya, I’ll take care of things here”

“but I- I mean-”

“please, she’s been through too much already”

He walked away, looking back every few steps. Midnight escorted me to the staff room so I can calm down a bit and talk about what happened.

“You want to talk about it?” she asked me softly.

“yea, the school culture is too much for me”

“how so? Are you not making friends? Are the classes too hard?”

“its mostly the students outside of my program, they’re too into their hero agenda to be the best that they aren’t considering other’s personal feelings or perfernces”

I then tell her about the 3 upper classmen that talked about me and what Iida told me as they dragged me down the hall.

“oh I see now, it almost feels like you’re being targeted and pressured.”

“yeah, I want to learn about this hero culture more but this is too much at once. It’s strange because back home, I was so used to be part of the crowd and stand out when I wanted to. And here it feels like I breathe a little too loud and I’m suddenly getting looks”

“ok, I’m glad you aren’t giving up. But if they start getting physical and racist, please let any of the staff know.”

“alright, Thank you Midnight! I don’t know what I’d do without you”

I go about my day and tell Matsui and Oleshin what happened after school. They weren’t too keen about it,

“That glasses wearing asshole!”

“yea not good on a future hero if you tell me”

“We got your back Palma-san”

“YEAH! we international students have to stick together, its scary being alone”

“yea Matusi-san is right. If any of those hero asses try any of us, I’ll flex on them and toss them in the trash!” Oleshin-san said as she flexed her strong arms.

“And I can portal us to safety or anywhere really” Matsui-san said as he jumped.

“oh guys! I’m gonna cry again!” I said because I was so touched by their words.

“and I’ll T-pose, screech and rise on them. Maybe levitate them in the trash too”

We all laugh as we flex and T-pose together in the school parking lot. They walked me to my car. We were about to part ways to head home when I said

“hey, um you guys can call me Ita, if you want”

“Ita? then you can call me Jin”

“oh we doing short hand! then you can call me Mimi”

“Jin and Mimi huh? ok! see you guys tomorrow”

“bye!”

“until tomorrow”

As I drove home, I thought Holy shit I just made friends.

-End Chapter 1-

<Previous - Next>

[myrunreports]

2020 Blue Sky Trail Marathon

Pat and I ran the Blue Sky Trail Marathon yesterday, 11/14/20, in the mountains just west of Fort Collins.  That was a tough one!  The race was scheduled for 10/17 and we decided kind of late to sign up.  We waited too long and it sold out, but we were able to get on a wait list.  Good news on 10/12 – we both got in!  Two days later, the race was cancelled due to wildfires in the area.  On 10/17, I ended up being evacuated for 5 nights due to another new fire.  Training pretty much stopped after that.  I continued to at least get my 1 mile per day minimum by running the hallways at the church camp we evacuated to and a few other longer runs in since then, but the longest was 12 miles.  And then last week – surprise!  The race is back on, rescheduled for 11/14.  There was an option to run it virtually, but I wanted to get one more real race in and this was a course I’ve never run before.  As we got closer to race day, I was more and more nervous about it.  On Friday, my weather app was showing high wind warnings all day for Saturday.  If Pat had suggested we bail on it, I would have agreed.  Luckily, she didn’t!  

We met up in Lyons at 6:30 and had a nice drive through the countryside on back roads up to the race, arriving about 7:30.  It was sunny, low 40’s and just breezy at that time.  Pat’s weather app predicted a bit of rain around 8:00, but my app didn’t so I didn’t have any rain gear.  The race started in waves of 25 runners every 15 minutes from 7:00 to 8:45, faster runners starting earlier (for Covid-19 safety).  Our start time was 8:15.  We were just waiting in the warm van before walking the ½ mile to the start when I noticed my window was wet – it had started raining.  A moment later and it looked like a blizzard – snowing hard and sideways as the wind picked up.  We saw a wave of runners pass in front of us running in that and started to reevaluate our plans.  Maybe we should just go get breakfast somewhere and then go home!  Luckily, that weather blew out maybe 10 minutes later and our excuse to bail went with it.  

The Blue Sky Trail marathon is actually 26.7 miles with 3500’ elevation gain/loss and has a 9 hour time limit.  That’s a very generous time limit, indicating this is not an easy course.  

It takes place on the trails between Horsetooth Mountain Park and the Devil’s Backbone Open Space west of Fort Collins.  It’s all on trails, but most of the trails are very rocky. The first 9 miles is an out and back with the longest climb of the course.  There were some icy bits of single track that were extra challenging for me.  I run in road shoes so no traction on ice or rocks.  The snow on the sides of the trail was dirty gray with ashes from the recent fires.  We finished that section in 2:20 and were back at the start/finish area.  This race allowed us to have drop bags here so I took off my windbreaker and swapped out my water belt for my vest.  I always pack way too much when drop bags are allowed. I had planned to take enough water for the whole section, but I really wasn’t drinking that much so I didn’t take all the bottles with me in the vest that I had planned to.  Weather stayed pretty much the same most of the day, high winds with some really strong gusts (up to 75 mph according to the RD!) that actually moved me around.  The sun stayed out and temps stayed in the low 40’s until the last couple hours.  The aid stations were awesome!  At miles 13 and 22 they had pierogis and at 15 and 20 they had quesadillas – getting something warm and delicious was a real treat!  I usually don’t take any food from aid stations but this was not your typical aid station food.  

We just kept on moving, no major problems.  We both said that we would not have been able to do this race alone. I’m so glad I have Pat for an adventure buddy!  On the first 9 miles, my right ankle was getting cranky.  Every time my foot rolled outwards a little bit, I got pain going up the outside of my ankle and up my calf.  I’ve had some pain there in the past but not any time recently.  Since I don’t run trails very often any more, my ankles aren’t as strong as they used to be.  I was worried this would turn into a real problem but luckily the trails on the second 2/3 of the race were a bit wider and even though they were rocky, my foot didn’t roll so much.  

I figured we would finish somewhere between 6:30-7:30 and we came in at 7:24.  Temps were dropping by that time and the finish line party was kind of anti-climactic. They did have some nice hot peppery vegetable soup for us but the beer garden was packed up.  At least they did give us a beer to take home though.  We gathered our things and started the hike back to the van.  It seemed a lot farther away than it did in the morning!  We were thoroughly chilled by the time we got there and the temperature was down to 34.  After a few minutes warming up and eating our soup we headed home.  Since my pinky toe problems at American Heroes in September, I bought shoes ½ size bigger and this was the first marathon in them.  Happy to find that they were great – no blisters or hot spots.  Pat, Cat and I ran the Longview marathon from Fort Collins to Loveland back in early October and that was all on concrete.  Pat really suffered with hip pain that day.  Even though this race took two hours longer, was so rocky and technical and had so much climbing, her hip was not a problem.  This is the last real race we will run for probably a good long while so a very nice ending to our 2020 race calendar.  

[lifeamongtheamazons]

A Little Dose of Fiction

Note: I’ve decided to start a serial kid’s fantasy on here to help some folks (and me) pass the time until this crisis is past. I’m taking feedback on where the story should go next, choose-your-own-adventure style! (The collected story will be posted online after all is done for your rereads.)

Enjoy!

The Closet Garden

Part One: Paper Roses

By Leah Webber

 Kids with yards really had it good. Tiny private kingdoms or battlefields or wildlife safaris, all hoarded by a single family. Where a tree could be a castle or the giant you were defending it from. Where scattered leaves were a fairy feast on laden tables while you charmed the king for a wish.

Sophie and Emma didn’t have a yard. They looked out the apartment window at the fluffy clouds skidding across the sunny blue sky and sighed. It had been a week since their mother told them they couldn’t go to school, or to their friend’s, or even to the park.

They did their hour of school-type stuff online, and they were allowed to watch a movie and two shows each day. Their mother even had them bake cookies and paint pictures with the frosting. That took care of the mornings. Emma and Sophie laughed and played and giggled over lunch, and mom didn’t get mad that they took too long eating.

But then the afternoon came, as it did each day. And they ran out of things to do inside the same four rooms, and the itch would start, somewhere in the fingers that made them want to reach for doorknobs. Somewhere in the toes that made them want to run down the apartment stairs and down the block to the little park. So they would drift to the windows, and look at the lone treetop they could see from the fourth floor, and dream of wings big enough to glide them there without passing the occasional person on the sidewalk below.

When they asked their mother for the sixth or seventh or hundred-and-fifteenth time if they could go outside, she pulled her headphones off, turned away from her laptop full of Very Important Work and said no. They would help her out very much if they could entertain themselves for a few hours until their father got home from the hospital.

So Sophie scuffed the floor with stockinged feet as they walked into the hallway and glared at the stack of toilet paper, cleaning wipes, and canned vegetables in front of the linen closet at the end of the hall.

Then she had An Idea.

“We could make our own park inside. We could make paper flowers!”

Emma craned her head at her older sister. “But we don’t have any tissue paper.”

Sophie pointed to the stack against the closet. “Toilet paper is tissue paper. It’ll be a white rose garden!”

Emma frowned. “Won’t mom get mad?”

Sophie shrugged. “It’ll only take a roll or two. Then we can have a park inside!” She grabbed a package off the top and tugged it open, pulling out a roll for each of them. Then she ran back into the living room to raid her mother’s desk for tape and push pins. Her mother, entrenched in her work once more, barely glanced at her.

When she returned, Emma was just trotting out of their bedroom with an armful of markers. “We can color some of them, and the leaves.”

Sophie agreed, and the two set to work on the hallway floor, furiously folding squares of tissue into petals and leaves, taking turns with coloring so no one hogged the best pink marker. Sophie dragged a chair in from the dining room and looked at the walls. Two rolls had not been very much after all, and they only had about fifteen flowers. Not enough for a whole garden. And the girls did not really dare to take more toilet paper, since their father had grumbled about what he went through to get the two packages they did have.

She pointed at the linen closet thoughtfully. “What if we did around the doorway, there?”

The previous summer, the two had both been flower girls at their aunt’s wedding, and much admired the floral arch in the ceremony. During the practice wedding with everyone still in shorts and flip flops, they had plucked blossoms off the bottom and whispered wishes. Emma pictured the doorjamb similarly draped with flowers, and nodded.

They shifted the pile of supplies into their parent’s room. Emma tucked the canned spinach under their bed in hopes her mother would forget about it. Sophie pushed the chair against the closet, climbed up, and placed a rose dead center over the door. She reached back a hand to Emma for a pin. “It’ll be the gateway to our garden. We go though the door, and we can be in our own secret yard.” She said.

“With a big tree, and a swing?” Emma asked wistfully.

Sophie stabbed the wall, grinning. “Bunches of big trees, with a swing and a treehouse, and a stream and a pond we could swim in!”

Emma nodded, passing more push pins. “And lots of flowers everywhere. With butterflies and bumble bees and birds and squirrels!”

Sophie held a rose up, judged the distance, and moved it further away. “And a unicorn that talks!”

“And a phoenix and a dragon and maybe a giant red panda with wings!”

They continued, adding a gazebo and a cottage with elves that made cookies, and freshwater mermaids in the pond, until the roses ringed the door and the pins were all gone.

Sophie pushed the chair back and Emma grabbed the closet doorknob. Sophie frowned a little and stopped herself from grabbing Emma’s arm to stop her. She didn’t want to see the towels and tablecloths that would puncture her nice fantasy. But Emma was giggling, bright-eyed and happy for the first time since school closed, so Sophie let her open the door.

A fresh breeze whispered out from the door. Willow tree branches hung across the opening, blocking the view, but there was light—Light! Coming from inside the closet. The branches swayed in the breeze.

Both girls stood frozen until a branch brushed Emma’s nose.

“Sophie!” Emma whisper-squealed. “We made a garden for real!”

Sophie struggled. This seemed like the sort of thing that fell under the solid rule of things-they-must-tell-mom. But mom was busy with Very Important Work, and they were under strict instructions to not bother her until dad got home. Besides, if they asked, she would probably tell them that they couldn’t go through because it was still the perilous “outside.”

And Sophie very much wanted to go outside.

So she decided. “Get your backpack.” She said, and ran to get her own, dumping out her textbooks and notebook paper printouts in a pile by her bed.

Sophie packed her favorite book and her puzzle cube, her blanket so they could sit on the grass if it was wet, and a rock she’d wanted to see in the sun. Emma packed her horse, a jump rope, a can of beads and a wooden spoon. They put on shoes and jackets, and tiptoed to the kitchen to grab handfuls of snacks. Sophie made two peanut butter sandwiches in case they got really hungry and filled their water bottles from the sink. Emma grabbed two apples and a fistful of sugar packets off the coffee tray in case there were unicorns.

They snuck back down the hall, where the door still lay open, dappled sunlight spilling onto the discarded squares of toilet paper striped with marker. The squares fluttered in a breeze that smelled like sunbaked lawn.

Holding hands, they stood carefully at the threshold. Sophie poked the dirt just inside the door with her sneaker. It felt like dirt, not hard like concrete, just a little give to it. The waffle pattern of her shoe stayed when she pulled her foot back. Emma, huffing loudly, marched through the willow curtain and pulled Sophie stumbling through the doorway behind her. They stood in the center of a ring of willow branches, almost running into the tree’s trunk. The girls froze. A bird chirped nearby.

Emma broke into a wide grin. “We’re really in a park! In the closet!”

Sophie looked around. The doorway was still in the willow branches, sunlight speckled on the old wood floor.

Emma laughed, hefted her backpack and raced out the other side of the branches into the sunlight. Sophie, shouting after her to wait, flew after Emma.

The closet door, rocking gently in the breeze, drifted until it leaned against the jamb and did not quite click shut.

 Want to know what happens? Come back tomorrow! Wanna make a suggestion on what happens next? Let me know!

Should Sophie and Emma:

A. Meet a unicorn

B. Meet a mermaid

C. Meet with peril

D. Meet with assistance?

[kyvir]

will you do a modern flowershop au where either sasu/saku works at the shop, and the other goes there to look for flowers, please? but they actually go to the shop to see the other? 🌸

Thanks for the request! This was a cute idea and I hope you like my version of this. :)

.

Sweet Summertime-

.

It was on a nice warm Summer day, the skies were blue and the wind flowing made it comfortable outside, or at least Sakura Haruno thought so as she made her was through town. She was wearing a white sundress. She loved dresses, they were cool in the summer time and girly enough to where she felt cute when wearing them. And today, she wanted to look cute.

She’d had to come to town for some shopping, and any time she was in town, there was a certain stop she just had to make. Though originally, she stopped because of her love of flowers- she always had to have something beautiful living up her home, but it didn’t take long for her to start going for an entire other reason, just to get a look at that flower shop’s owner.

Today she had a special reason for stopping by. It was his birthday. Sometimes when she’d stop in, they’d chat a bit, which was nice, though Sakura would have preferred more than that. Last week he’d told her his birthday was coming up, she’d asked when and he’d told her. When she asked what he’d had planned, he claimed he’d still be running the shop- that he wasn’t into celebrating. So, her shopping today had been only to find him a little something to thank him for running a shop that was so special to her.

The shop came into view as she was thinking over all their past interactions, which didn’t consist of much, but it was a lot to her. Sakura had been so busy with her life that she never took the time to date, but she couldn’t help her interest in this man. He’d caught her eye from the very first day she’d stepped foot in that flower shop, he was knowledgeable about his work and Sakura enjoying listening to him talk, so she’d ask any questions she could come up with, and she always ended up lingering for far longer than necessary, just to be around him.

She entered the shop, only vaguely aware of the bell chiming when she walked through the door, for she was already looking for him. She didn’t see him immediately, but she knew he’d be there. He was the only one who worked his shop. He’d told her before that it was a passion of his, and he didn’t really need extra help, so he ran it all alone. Though sometimes, his brother’s daughter would be there with him, however only being six, there wasn’t much she could do other than keep him occupied.

A couple steps inside and he appeared from the back of the shop, obviously hearing the bell from her entering. “Sakura.” He greeted her with a smile, but it was the briefest of smiles.

“Hello, Sasuke.” She smiled back.

They’d been on a first name basis for over a year and Sakura appreciated that. There was no other place she adored, like she did his flower shop. She admired him for a moment too long, yet too short for her. He was a stunning man, with perfect pale skin, a strong jaw and high cheekbones. He had the most beautiful, dark eyes and his raven hair was always in a perfect mess. She was sure he woke up just as perfect as he was.

“Welcome.” He said, disturbing her thoughts and she blushed before averting her eyes quickly. “What are you looking for today?”

“Not sure yet.” She told him, while taking a look around and walking to the table closest to her. Sometimes he’d help her make a special arrangement, and he was so good at it that it always surprised her, even after all this time.

He came from behind the counter to join her, making her all too aware of his presence. He smelled good. A mixture of cologne and flowers. It was a beautiful scent; one Sakura had grown to love. She inhaled deeply while staring at the flowers, though she wasn’t really seeing them.

“Well, if there’s nothing you have in mind, I have something I think you’ll like.”

“Oh?” She asked, turning to face him with interest. He was a few inches taller than her so she had to look up to meet those deep, black pools that were his eyes. Being this close to him sent a thrill through her that she just couldn’t ignore.

She couldn’t deny that she’d had a ridiculous crush on him since day one. It had been a couple years since then, but Sasuke had never made her feel as if he had any interest in her outside of her being his best customer.

“Yes, give me a moment.” He said before walking off. She watched him go behind the counter and into the back and with a sigh, she went to the counter to wait for him.

Sasuke was back a moment later, carrying the most beautiful arrangement she’d ever laid eyes on. And she’d seen many. Her eyes lit up as he sat the arrangement on the counter, it was already in a vase which she thought unusual, but she was too focused on the beauty of the arrangement to think much of it. Her hand automatically went up to touch one of the soft pink roses, they really caught her eye, though the whole piece was fascinating.

“I just made this, early this morning. It seemed perfect for the day. Clear blue skies, a cool breeze to make the summer heat bearable. I know you usually prefer the pinker roses, but these peach roses are nice too. The white daisy poms added a nice touch, and they contrast well together. Both representing a bright and sunny summer day. The blue delphiniums will remind you of the clear blue sky, the lime green carnations of the lifeful grass beneath your feet on the outside. The white monte casino and salal tips only add to the beauty this arrangement already is.”

Sakura was mesmerized by his words, and mostly by the man himself and she didn’t miss the fact that his eyes never left her during his whole explanation. She swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry as she met those obsidian eyes. She couldn’t help but look away, flustered that he could make her feel so much, with so little effort. No man had ever made her feel like he did. Ever.

“It’s gorgeous.” She murmured, though her thoughts were distracting her.

She was disappointed. Though she never really thought about it, she supposed she did keep coming to his flower shop time and time again, not only for the flowers, but in hopes that someday, something could blossom between them. But, would he ever take that leap? Did he have any interest in her at all? She didn’t know, but the majority of her believed he wasn’t interested. He had to know she was single, what with her buying flowers for herself every week, but he’d never asked. He’d never asked her anything aside from how her day was, or what kind of flowers she was in the mood for. She found herself pouting as she mulled over her thoughts.

It would be best if she just forgot about him. He obviously didn’t want to date, or at least… he didn’t want to date her.

“Well, I just had this feeling… that you’d be coming by today. I figured you wouldn’t know what you wanted, because you usually take my suggestions instead. So, I made this, hoping you’d like it.”

Heart skipping several beats, Sakura looked to him in surprise. Her pink lips parted as she stared at him with wide green eyes. Did he mean he was… thinking about her? He actually put this arrangement together, with her in mind? She couldn’t believe it. Her hope was suddenly brought back to life as she watched him, watching her. She had no idea how to respond to that.

“I love it.” She finally managed after what seemed like a lifetime. A deep rose color took to her cheeks as she turned away from him to look at the flowers instead. She was sure he thought she was some kind of idiot. “Um thank you… for doing this.”

It meant more to her than he would ever know.

“You’re welcome, Sakura.”

Sakura shivered at the way her name rolled off his tongue. She loved that voice, but there was something special about the way he spoke her name. But it could have been just her infatuation with him. She was sure she’d never get over this crush, because it felt like so much more than that.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” She muttered shyly as she searched through her purse and pulled out the small giftwrapped box. It wasn’t much, but she thought of him the moment she saw it, and to her, it was the perfect gift. She handed over the box, admiring the shiny black wrapping and silver bow on top. It was embarrassing to give it to him, but she had to do it. It was her way of thanking him for always being kind to her. “Happy birthday.”

He took the box hesitantly and she was sure he noticed the way she blushed so deeply. She could even feel the tips of her ears burning, it only worsened when their hands brushed each other’s.

“You remembered.” He chuckled lightly as he briefly looked over the box before looking to her again. His eyes were warm and soft then. “Thank you, but you shouldn’t have gone through the trouble of getting me anything.”

Sakura shook her head quickly. “No, I wanted to. Really.” She waved him off. Her mouth fell open when he immediately went to unwrap the gift. “Um… You’re going to open it now?” She was so embarrassed she didn’t know what to do with herself.

With a smirk and eyes that were all too knowing, he nodded. “Of course. Shouldn’t I open it while you’re still here?”

Sakura shrugged, shifting her feet nervously. She’d rather him open it when she wasn’t around, just in case he didn’t like it. “Well, if you want… I suppose.”

She watched anxiously as he took his time unwrapping the box. Her heart stopped when the paper was set aside revealing nothing but the black box beneath it. There was no hesitation then as he opened the box right up and gazed inside. Sakura held her breath, watching him for his reaction as he pulled the small keychain out from the box. It really wasn’t much, but when she saw it, when she took in the woodsy look of it, and how much variety there was, all the wildflowers, the sun, the earth- everything about it was Sasuke to her. When she saw it, he was the only thing she thought about.

The way those dark eyes of his lit up told her she was right, it really was perfect.

“I know it’s not much, but I thought-”

“It’s perfect.” He cut her off, his words making her swoon. Did he really like it that much? “Thank you, Sakura. This means a lot to me.”

“R-really?” She couldn’t believe it. But she was so happy, ecstatic even. She smiled brightly at him then. “I’m so glad you like it!”

He smiled back, his eyes returning to the keychain as his thumb traced over its edges. Sakura couldn’t help thinking that he appeared truly moved by her small gesture. It wasn’t expensive, it wasn’t the best gift, but Sasuke looked at it as if it was something he’d cherish forever, and that in turn, touched her in a way nothing else ever had. She was so glad she’d gotten that gift.

“Well… I guess I should be going.” Sakura told him, feeling a high unlike any she’d ever experienced before. She didn’t want to hang around and embarrass herself any further.

“Oh?” Sasuke frowned from across the counter, his eyes meeting hers once more. “Do you have plans?”

“What?” She blushed. “No, of course not.” She admitted to quickly for her liking and inwardly scolded herself. It might have been true that she had no life, but she could have played that off much better. “I mean… I don’t want to get in the way of your work or anything, and I was just going to head home… and put my flowers out.”

He was smirking now, and Sakura wasn’t sure what to make of that look, but she knew she liked it. “Well it’s not like business is booming today. Wednesdays are always slow. If you aren’t doing anything, maybe we could go out to lunch… or something.”

Did he just… Did Sasuke actually… Was he asking her on a date? Flabbergasted, Sakura could do nothing but gawk at him. She was sure she was dreaming now, there was no way he’d ever suggested such a thing. Biting her lip, she looked down at the counter, away from those dark eyes that she was certain could read her like an open book.

“Are you going to turn me down?” He asked, sounding amused.

Sakura was excited, anxious and confused so she didn’t know what to say and she just knew somehow, she would screw this up. “No. Actually,” She swallowed hard, willing herself to calm down. “I’d love that.”

“Hn. Good.” He smirked again and took her flowers and disappeared into the back of the store. He came back without the arrangement. “I put them back in the cooler. They’ll stay fresher that way.” He told her in explanation as he walked around the counter and came to stand before her.

She had nothing to say, and she couldn’t move or even breathe for that matter as she stared at him in awe, mind unable to grasp the fact that he really did ask her to go to lunch with him. When he offered her his hand and she took it, she finally smiled, relishing in the moment. She knew that this could have definitely been the start of something extraordinary, and she’d been waiting her whole life for it.

“Let’s go.” He said, smiling slyly at her.

“It’s about time.” She whispered back as they left his flower shop, and for the first time took to an entire different experience between them.

Sakura was happy, and she was so, so glad Sasuke had opened that flower shop. She felt sure she’d be spending even more time there in the days to come.

[thebridgelee-blog]

Sydney, Australia Trip Look Book+What to Pack for One Week Vacations+Follow-up on my Previous Reblogged and Recommended Post++BONUS TIPS

Hello everyone! I am quite thrilled to finally get the time to write this hopefully not-too-lengthy post, as I just arrived from my vacation to Sydney Australia when I sat down for this. I am so grateful for having been given this opportunity to travel all the way to Australia and sky dive as well! The whole travel was such an expensive experience, but all well-worth it. Today, I figured I would share what I wore for each day from the day we went to the airport to fly to Sydney up until the last day when we went to the airport to fly back to the Philippines. Hopefully, everyone would find my look book and tips on what to pack helpful.

Sydney Australia Trip Look Book

Day 1

For the first day, I wore my faux wool-knit shirt with a zipper accent from Oxygen and paired it with my knee-ripped medium washed jeans from Lee for the simple reason that they are the simplest but still good looking pieces that I have planned for my trip. I also layered it with my new pink leather jacket from Zara, which I fell in love with immediately the first time I tried it on. It was the perfect fit! I added a few accessories such as my silver ring, my trusty Skagen watch, and my marble beaded bracelet, which I used for all of my outfits because unfortunately, my faux turquoise beaded bracelet from SM Accessories started fading, a perfect example of one of my tips from my second blog post, which states to never buy fake stone bracelets from cheap stores such as SM Accessories, unless you are okay with risking deterioration. I guess it is just time to purchase a new real one. For my bag, I used my new authentic leather bag from McJIM Classic Leather, and I added a hint of edgy elevated style by adding my Kenneth Cole Reaction aviator shades to the side of my bag, which was meant for the straps of the bag. For my shoes, I decided this outfit called for my light grey rubber shoes from Reebok.

Bonus tip: When planning what to wear for the first day of the trip, wear your least favorite items. However, still look good by making sure the over-all aesthetics of the outfit is preserved. For me, my least favorite piece was my shirt from Oxygen, which I still love but not as much as my newer shirts. This is because you really would rather save the better pieces for the next few days of the outing as the bulk of the trip is done in the mid-part of the adventure. To help the simple shirt, I used my pink leather jacket, which, being a very new and nice piece, would contradict my point about using your least favorite items. However, since it is a jacket, I can still sport it again on the next few days unlike items such as shirts that you may only use once before washing.

Read on to find out what I wore on Days 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, and 7, plus what to pack to get a wide range of outfit possibilities for one week vacations in colder areas.

Day 2

For the second day, I decided to wear something a bit edgier, so I thought I’d wear my black leather jacket from Forever 21. I also wore my horizontal striped shirt from Cotton On, paired with my medium washed blue denim jeans, which, similar to the knee ripped jeans from the previous outfit, is  also from Lee. Keeping all of my accessories from the previous outfit, I wore my shades instead since majority of the time was under the sun, walking on the streets and the beach of Manly. Also, wearing the shades gave the outfit just a bit more edginess. For my shoes, I wore my Tinman camel color boots. To finish the look, I used the same bag, which I also used for the rest of the trip for one reason, which I will explain in the latter part of this blog post.

Day 3

For the third day, I wanted to wear something more casual, but still put together. I decided to go for a sweater look. However, I do not advise wearing only sweaters in such a cold place such as Sydney in winter, so I wore a long sleeves thermal underneath. Also, I kept on-hand my pink leather jacket, just in case it does get too cold.

Bonus tip: When going for the sweater look in colder days, always have your jackets with you, but do not wear it. While yes it is a bit of a hassle to keep it on your arms the whole day, it will keep you warm when it is needed without destroying the sweater look when it isn’t

To continue the look, I paired my sweater with the same medium washed blue jeans from my previous outfit; and for my accessories, again, I used the same watch, bracelet, ring, and bag for the same reason stated from the previous outfits. I will not be mentioning these as they are redundantly seen (or not seen as I had long sleeves on all of the outfits to follow).

Day 4

For the fourth day, I decided to wear my very comfortable and relaxed fitted maroon tee from H&M. I paired it with my black denim jeans from Jag. Also, to layer the look, I added my dark blue jacket from Zara to give it a more elevated look since I found the jacket to look quite elegant but masculine. To finish the look, I put on my light grey rubber shoes from Reebok.

Day 5 (features the followup on the previous Reblogged and Recommended post)

For the fifth day, I decided to wear my new wool pea coat from H&M, which I purchased just the day before at the Westfield Mall in Sydney. This pea coat looks very similar to the one I found in H&M about two years ago, which I mentioned in my previous R&R post featuring a similar pea coat from another tumblr post. To match the coat, I used my dark charcoal knit short sleeve sweater from Penshoppe’s Relaxed Fit Collection. While normally, I do not like Penshoppe garments as I find that the design and quality usually looks cheap, having been there to try this on for my sister’s friend, I found this one to just dropped on my body so wonderfully well. It was very flowy but not baggy and loose. It was very relaxed, probably hence the name of the collection. Best part? It was just Php500. While I have scored items with the same price in the past from sales, this one was at full price, so it is really cheap for something I purchased in a mall. Check the store out if they still have it in your size and hopefully on sale.Anyway, to pair with the dark top, I put on my medium washed blue denim jeans from Lee. I also used my camel boots from Tinman.

Day 6

For the sixth day, I switched out my wool pea coat for my black leather jacket. For the base, I used my white fish scale print shirt, which I thrifted in Greenhills at Php250 because I thought it matched the sea landscape by the Sydney Opera House, which was where we went that day. Since the outfit looks very similar to Day 2 outfit, I decided to use my black pants and light grey rubber shoes to transform the outfit’s look a bit more. I also tended to use my Kenneth Cole Reaction aviator shades more as I was under the sun quite often that day.

Day 7 (also featuring another followup on the previous Reblogged and Recommended post)

For the seventh day, I packed all my clothes except my outfit for that day, which was my light grey beige short sleeve sweater and my black Jag jeans. To add as a layer, I used my very bulky pea coat. To finish the look, I used my camel Tinman boots. Side note: I did not realize up until I was reviewing and editing all my photographs that I wore a very similar outfit to the guy in the R&R post. The slight difference of the shoe color is the only thing hindering it from really looking similar to the clothes he wore. Of course, my type of shirt is different, but even the color is quite similar.

Bonus tip: When deciding on what to wear on the last day, wear the bulkiest things to save room in your luggage for souvenirs and other things you did not anticipate to bring home from the trip. For me, it was my coat and my boots that were the bulkiest, so I wore those to the airport that day.

What to pack when going on a one week trip in a freezing area to maximize outfit combos

Jackets and coats

I would suggest bringing at least two, so you can switch between jackets. I, however, broguth three and had a surprise fourth during the trip. While I did do that, I do not advise this if you have a small luggage. Mine is pretty huge. The luggage one can see above is not mine. Mine is quite larger than that, so unless you do have a large luggage, bring two.

Bonus tip: For smaller luggages, it is advisable to just have one of the jackets on the arms as hand-carry. This way, one can still bring two without having to put both in the luggage, which saves tons of space.

Pants

Normally on a daily basis, I would suggest wearing pants a couple more times (around 5) to preserve the quality and prevent them from fading from wash. However for trips, I always love to have choices when bringing my clothes, so even for a 7 day affair, which, if I were to follow my rule of using a single jeans five times, would only require one-two, I would suggest bringing three. Two jeans to have a decent amount of outfit combinations plus one more for those emergency bubbly semillon wine spills.

Shirts and sweaters

Thicker shirts and sweaters are your best friend. While one does not necessarily need to have thick shirts, it is advisable.

Bonus tip: If one plans on wearing something thin, he can opt to use a thermal undergarment. A short sleeve one is advisable for short sleeve shorts. However, if it is not available, a long sleeve one is fine as well. Your jacket, which will cover the long sleeve thermal will most probably be worn throughout the whole day anyway.

Accessories

Bring two to three bracelets and one to two watches to be able to have different options and combinations. While I did not have this option because my faux turquoise beaded bracelet faded, I do truly recommend bringing a bit more accessories for easy outfit transformations. Best part? It takes little to no space in the luggage!

Sunnies!

Always bring your shades! Shades are very versatile. It can be dressed up or a more elegant look or dressed down for a more rugged look. A simple classic pair can truly elevate your style. I suggest investing in a good and a bit pricey pair if you do not have one. I say pricey only because I find that sunglasses are one of those pieces worth spending on.

Bonus tip: Always have your shades with you when you are on the go. Whether it is being worn or simply hung by the side of your bag. Shades can instant add a little bit of style to a simple outfit, plus it gives one the option of wearing it when he is under the sun.

Scarves

Another easy way of transforming an outfit for the winter is a good scarf. I would recommend bring two to three different styles or designs of scarfs.

Bonus tip: If you do not have an infinity scarf, you can mimic this effect by wrapping a regular scarf around twice and tying the ends at the back of your nape just under the first layer of scarf to hide the knot.

Shoes

If you have the luxury of bring two pair of shoes, do that. If not, then do not. However, I highly recommend bringing two because shoes, being one of the bigger kinds of accessories, can instant change the look of an outfit.

Bonus tip: To pack shoes in luggages without dirtying the other garments, put it in a plastic bag. This way, one can keep it from touching the other clothes and still have it at its least bulkiest, without the box and all.

Bag

Always have one versatile bag both in terms of what can be placed in it and the the number of outfits it can make. For example, I brought my McJIM cross body leather bag. I could have chosen to bring my beautiful black leather  envelope bag, but I chose this one as it can hold more and it can definitely be worn more than one way. What do I mean by that? Well, this bag’s straps can be removed and in turn, transforms the bag into an almost briefcase style bag. What I love especially about this bag is that it has a very sleek vertical design, which I find to look very interesting and out there, yet still very classic and versatile. In a way, by bringing this one bag, I am able to bring two type of bag styles by just removing or placing back on the leather straps.

Other necessities

While I do not believe I need to mention this, I will anyway. Do not forget to bring your toiletries, shampoo, tooth brush.

Bonus tip: Bring a hairdryer always because some hotels do not have this, and often times when they do, the hairdryers are not that strong and will not do the job quickly for you. Every hairdryer is different, and most likely the one you are using at the moment is easy for you, so make sure you bring it for a more convenient time preparing in the morning.

Bonus bonus tip: Transfer your perfumes and hair products to smaller containers, which can be purchased at Beabi. I love their very basic and generic looking bottle, which are perfect for storing different items. They sell small tubes and pans, so I really advise buying one those for travels.

[rainbowcicada]

My SNS Imaginary Movie

Instead of a fanfic, I present to you, an entire movie that played in my head one night around 3am that had me laughing my ass off. This is my daydreaming in bed, shonen, SNS movie! Im not trying to write this as a proper fanfic, but only as how the fun happened. Synopsis: Our heroes are losing the fight against an Otsutsuki alien freak. Naruto loses Kurama! Sasuke is blinded! And they are trapped in another dimension. There, they are given the opportunity to embody Yin and Yang and turn the tides of the battle. But being Yin and Yang is more than they've ever imagined! My Imaginary SNS Movie: Sauce and Nardo are fighting a freak of an Otsusuki. The alien ass had ripped kurama out from Naruto. Sasukes in bad shape too. He's lost his right eye and only has his left eye with rinnegan. To make matters worse, their combined attacks weren't having any affect on this Otsutsuki. Hinata (whats she doing there?) used byakugan and sees that Narutos chakra is fading! He's dying! She's cries out to Sasuke that he's drawing his last breath! Sasuke instantly stops fighting the alien freak and runs to Narutos side. His only thought was to take Naruto to another dimension, even if it's a timeless unmoving dimension, anything to stop him from dying! His rinnegan activates, a portal opens, he leaps in with Naruto completely disregarding who ever else is on the battlefield! (sorry hinata) But as they are warping through, the Otsutsuki reaches through and rips out Sasukes left eye! The bastard adds the rinnegan to his personal collection on his arm as the boys disappear in the rinnegan warp. Our heroes are trapped in an unknown dimension. A blind, bleeding Sasuke confirms that Naruto is still breathing. His goal to enter a dimension with a different laws of physics seems to have worked. Somehow in this dimension a jinchiruuki doesn't die when it's separated from its bijuu. Something to do with time? For Sasuke, it feels like unknowable days pass by in the darkness. He's slumped over Naruto, just listening to him breathe. His blood, on Naruto's chest. Naruto finally wakes up. Sasuke snaps out of a daze and apologizes to Naruto. He says he's failed him. Sasuke- It doesn't matter that I've brought us to this timeless dimension, without my rinnegan, this is now our place of eternal rest. But Naruto doesn't seem to mind. He cries out how beautiful this place is. Sasuke had no idea there was even a PLACE to look at. A blue sky, a forest, and a temple. This dimension seemed to be a tiny planet, like in DBZ. Naruto is grateful that Sasuke saved him and he's confident they'll get back home somehow! But first things first, Sasuke needs a new pair of eyes!! It was sometime before Naruto notices the local wildlife. Cute, adorable, innocent harmless creatures......They kinda look like frogs. Hes horrified about what he's about to do!! But...for Sasuke...He kills a frog creature and rips out its eyes and screams as if it was his own eyes he was ripping out. Sasuke is hugged up against a wall and uncharistically freaking out because he has no idea why Naruto is screaming. Sasuke- Naruto? Naruto- Gamabunta forgive me!! Naruto offers him the bloody frog eyes to Sasuke, without telling him the source of the eyes. But neither boy has any idea how shinobis just magically transfer eyes anyways. But Narutos already committed and these frog eyes in his hands aren't any use to him. He assumes that maybe you just shove in the eyeballs while applying lots of chakra. He does so!! Both boys scream!! Sasuke bears through the pain and tries to connect his chakra to his new eyeballs. It works. Sasuke looks around him and notes that all the colors look different. He goes to a pool of water and sees his reflection...... Sasuke- Frog eyes..... He sighs and thanks Naruto anyways. But this doesn't solve their situation. They're still trapped in another dimension and without rinnegan. They explore the temple grounds. The temple door is sealed and flanked by two statues. The temple had a name, the temple of Indrashura and Ashindra. Naruto comments that name sounds familiar, but Sasuke already has a good hunch to what it means. He notes that one statue represents Yin and the other Yang. (dun dun dun!) The boys believe that maybe the old sage of six paths created this temple and if they can figure out how to enter it they can once again have Yin and Yang release. Naruto would be able to heal Sasukes eyes to their natural form. And Sasuke would be able to awaken rinnegan again. They stood by their respective statues, but no amount of poking and prodding the statues would make the temple door open. After trying everything they could think of, the boys exhuast themselves and take a mental break. But time is funny here. Hours feel like days, which feels like weeks, which feels like months. Sasuke spent most of his time meditating for the answer, obsessively!! His single goal was to activate rinnegan. He barely noticed what Naruto was up to. Naruto on the other hand was just trying to LIVE. I mean, he's not the one that needs to awaken rinnegan and what else can he do? He just wanted to enjoy his time here, with Sasuke. But Sasuke was being over there, meditating, far away and distant. It was frustrating! Why can't Sasuke just be here and now? And this tiny unchanging planet, the lack of stimulation was driving Naruto insane! Until one day, Naruto can't take it anymore! He curses the damn blue sky that's always blue, the glowing bright sun that's been in the same position since forever, and this green forest, it would be nice if it was another color for a change! Sasuke realizes Narutos really snapped and tries to calm him down. In doing so, he unknowingly steps on a yin yang seal that they simply hadn't noticed before. Suddenly the cheery sunny sky transforms to night. A full moon shines over a darkened autumn forest. And the fluffy innocent creatures transform into monsters!! The boys were stunned! The monsters come charging at them. Naruto and Sasuke give a each other a quick nod and can't help but smile. Beating up monsters that magically popped out of nowhere together? That sounds like fun! Monster after monster they slaughter! Releasing their pent up frustrations. The monsters just kept coming back, as if it was a game loop. Sasuke was both challenged and exciting to relearn how to fight without sharingan. After what felt like days, they grew tired of battling. Sasuke instructs Naruto to step on the YinYang seal. When he does, the world magically returns to its former sunny setting. At least they learned something about this world. But still the temple doors won't open, and still, Sasuke doesn't have rinnegan. They experience more time passing by and Sasuke became emotionally withdrawn. He felt it's his fault that they're in this strange dimension and could barely look Naruto in the eyes. Sasuke- I'm sorry you're stuck here with me, of all people. Was usually all Sasuke could manage to say. Naruto had enough of his obnoxious sulking! Naruto- Idiot! Don't you understand yet how I feel! I'm grateful you saved my life. I'm happy, that of all the people in this damn Universe to be stuck with, I get to be stuck with you! He slams his hand onto the Yang statue! Naruto- Sasuke..I..! The Yang statue starts to glow. Naruto jumps back startled, and the statue deactivates. Sasuke's eyes widen. Sasuke- Of course! I'm an idiot! He understands now what they need to do and stands by his Yin statue. But Naruto doesn't understand why the statue was activating when all he did was slam his hand on it, like he has done before. Sasuke explains. Previously, when they tried to activate the statues Naruto had his thoughts focused on Yang and Sasuke had his thoughts focused on Yin. Sasuke- Yin and Yang exist within eachother. At the heart of Yin is Yang and at the heart of Yang is Yin...Thats why...we need to think about the other... Naruto smiles widely and nods his head - YOSH. Sasuke tries to hide his smile but really can't. They place their hands on their respective statues. Naruto- For Sasuke... Sasuke- For Naruto... The temple doors open. (And now the movie playing in my head is about to get weird yo!) To be Continued