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autumnslance · 3 months ago

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FFXIV Write 2024: 9 Lend an Ear

The Emperor of Garlemald was meant to be the most powerful man in the world.

It was instead poor comedy, of the kind his grandfather used to watch with such glee—the more subversive and borderline treasonous, the better.

Now Varis understood why.

His very much alive—for some meaning of the word—grandfather swanned around the palace now, stepping out of the shadows to taunt and lecture Varis. He never thought he would prefer the days when the old man ignored him, trying to deny his existence because he was no more than a memory of his dead father.

Another eldritch manipulator wore the body of Varis’s son. The monster’s death was no real loss, and Varis acknowledged the role he had played in Zenos’s development—but that boy had been wrong from the start. Perhaps due to the tainted influence of their bloodline.

And where did that leave Varis?

A pawn who had been made aware of his nature by ancient beings who used his name, his throne, his people, in their games.

There had to be something he could do. He was the Emperor. He had fought tooth and nail, wresting the crown from his uncle and cousin in order to continue the path to glory and greatness, to conquer those realms that had eluded his grandfather’s grasp and bring the light of civilization to the savages who had defied them.

He had wanted to prove himself better, prove that Solus had been wrong about Varis. But Solus zos Galvus had been a mirage, and Emet-Selch’s plans for Garlemald were far more insidious.

Every servant was a potential spy. Every soldier and guard as well. The walls had ears and eyes, and a hundred masters to report to. These had been facts of life for as long as Varis could remember, but now the webs were not obstacles to be navigated, weapons to command.

They were cocoons, and he the fly caught in the spider’s web. The more he struggled, the tighter the binding.

Gaius was gone; he had been Solus’s loyal hound, but the man’s honor and dedication to the role of Emperor itself, the mentorship he had granted Varis years ago, might have made him an ally, had his own ambition not been tangled in Ascian schemes and lost to the Eorzean Champion’s hand.

Regula...that loss still stung. He had fought beside the Black Wolf’s killer, sacrificing himself in favor of an Echo-bearer and his soldiers. Damn the honorable fool. Varis had been aware of Regula’s carefully-concealed sentimentality, his morals and honor, his drive to prove himself as much as Varis—it was a reason they had become true friends as young men, despite the disparity of their births.

He walked across grand courtyards, along ostentatious promenades, to the severe edifice of the family mausoleum. The people whispered of their Emperor’s respectful devotion due to the frequency of the visits.

It was where he went to get away from his shadowy puppet masters.

He ignored the grand central chamber, the crypt where his grandparents’ bodies were entombed. It was difficult to dismiss the idle thread of thought about the real Solus Galvus. Had he been dead when Emet-Selch occupied his form? Had he been alive but buried beneath the Ascian’s persona?

(Would he have loved Varis as a grandfather should?)

He shoved the speculation aside as always, continuing along the chambers shaped like the omnipresent chain links to where his parents and wife lay. He barely remembered his father, but his mother had always stood with him, even arguing with his grandfather on Varis’s behalf, and aiding him in his bid for the throne until the day she died.

She had found and arranged his marriage to Carosa. The demands of royalty, and their son’s...behavior had strained the relationship, but they had persevered, and her loss was one of the few times in his adulthood that he had allowed himself tears. His mother’s death had been another.

He stood in the chill of the mausoleum and imagined their faces, warmer than the stone likenesses, ever willing to listen and then aid in planning a course of action. So many of the servants within the palace and among the high houses had been their spies, and he had lost those networks on losing them.

Gaius. Regula. Mother. Carosa. The few he could have relied upon, could have trusted. All gone.

He said nothing of his troubles and frustration. The dead could not hear, while even these walls might, and he still had to maintain the charade of implacable Emperor. But allowing his roiling thoughts to run rampant here, in sight of their memorials, was soothing in a way he could not justify. It simply was.

He turned to begin his slow return to the palace. He stopped. Someone else had entered the mausoleum, intruded upon his solitude. Varis strode into the central chamber. If it was one of the Ascians daring to infringe upon this space—well, he could inconvenience them with a bullet again.

He stopped short as the lightly armored figure turned to regard him. Brunette instead of blond, but the features were similar enough to his own, and as strained as ever. “Forgive me for the intrusion, Your Radiance,” Nerva said, bowing low. “I was hoping to find you here.”

“What do you want?”

His cousin straightened. “To serve my Emperor, for the glory of Garlemald, as ever.”

Varis snorted derisively. If only Nerva had an inkling of how hollow that “glory” was.

“I know,” Nerva said, hands raised in supplication, misunderstanding Varis’s reaction. “My father fought you for the crown. But you won, and he lies dying for his trouble. We can, and should, put that behind us, for the good of our people.”

“Why should I trust you?”

“A fair question. Mayhap you shouldn’t, given Father’s scheming. But,” Nerva let out a breath, and with a slight shift, the demeanor of the Senator was gone. “Cousin, there are strange rumors about. And some lick of fondness from our childhoods remains enough that I am...concerned.”

Varis glowered.

Nerva shook his head, smiling thinly. “Of course, you can take care of yourself, and always have but...The things being said about your son. Some rather ridiculous ones about Grandfather’s shade haunting the palace. All while provinces secede unhindered and many of our troops stand stalled on Eorzea’s benighted doorstep. Varis��”

“None of it is your concern.” He walked forward again, tromping past Nerva. Who grabbed his arm.

Soldier’s instinct had him grip the offending limb, twist, spin, and Nerva grunted as he hit the wall, pinned by Varis. “You arrogant arse,” Nerva gasped. “I’m offering my aid—”

“It is none of your concern,” Varis growled. “The throne is mine, its troubles are mine.” He then looked Nerva in the eye. “You should leave,” he said, softly. “Take your father, your household, your loyal arms, and go.”

Nerva stared at him, then narrowed his own eyes. “You know I cannot do that. No more than you could. We are of House Galvus, and have our duty.”

If only Nerva knew what that truly meant. For a wild moment, Varis entertained the idea of telling him the truth, of confiding in his cousin, and urging him again to leave. Or keeping him as an ally.

Neither outcome was likely, and the second...Once, it might have been reasonable. But not since the civil war.

Varis shoved away from Nerva, turned, and walked out. As much as he wanted an ear to hear his troubles, to offer advice and aid, he couldn’t trust his cousin—nor did Varis want him entangled in the Ascian schemes. Nerva and Titus had managed to escape the worst by failing to win the throne. This was the closest he could come to protecting what remained of their family.

The confidantes Varis wished for were long gone. This was his burden, and the price of his victory.

#final fantasy xiv #ffxivwrite2024 #Lyn Writing #Stormblood #Garlemald #Varis zos Galvus #Nerva wir Galvus #other Galvuses mentioned

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a-court-of-lust-and-stardust · 1 month ago

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Love on Ice Chapter 12: The Headstone

Thanks for all the love so far!! We still have a ways to go before the story is over 😉

32 Days before Competition

The headstone read Here Lies Oleanna Archeron.

No In Loving Memory.

Not a trace of Rest in Peace.

And certainly not Always in Our Hearts.

Just a name.

Mama’s name.

Elain remembered the day Mama died so clearly. She had fallen ill with pneumonia one winter, and was bedridden up until the day she passed. Feyre and Nesta had been at the doorway while Elain knelt by Mama’s bedside, tears clinging to her lashes. Nesta was the one to pry Elain out of the room five hours later.

Elain had wanted a detailed engraving on the headstone, but she was outnumbered by her sisters and forced to concede. Even someone like Mama should be remembered and honored in death, Elain had defended. Her two sisters didn’t think so, and were fully content to not purchase a headstone at all had Elain’s sobs not convinced them otherwise.

Alone in the cemetery, she knelt down on the grass before the stone, placed the single flower at the base, and took a breath. “Hi Mama. It’s Elain.”

It was silly to introduce herself each time she visited, every three months like clockwork, because she was the only one who ever showed up. Nesta and Feyre hadn’t set foot in the cemetery since the headstone was placed in the ground. She doubted they ever would. Not even so Mama could meet her only grandchild. Maybe she would have been a better grandparent than she was a parent.

“I know you probably wouldn’t care to know this, but I’ve been doing okay.”

Mama was never big on feelings, unless those feelings were shame, anger, and disappointment. In all of Elain's life, Oleanna smiled only a handful of times. None of those times were at her. Shrugging it off only worked temporarily, before Elain had made it her life’s mission to bring a smile to Mama’s usually impassive face.

“Feyre and Nesta are doing well,” Elain chirped, eyes bright as she gushed about her sisters. Nevermind the fact that they weren’t as secure in their relationship as other siblings. Elain’s heart still swelled with pride at their achievements. “They’re still painting and dancing and there's no signs either of them are slowing down anytime soon. You’d be proud of them.”

She always had been. Feyre and Nesta, her pride and joy, though she was still capable of treating them harshly, too. Not quite to the extent Elain experienced, but enough to where Mama’s death brought them relief, not pain. Had Mama even known the hatred Feyre and Nesta held in their hearts? Would she have cared? There was no way to find out now.

“I’m still skating,” She confirmed with a half hearted chuckle, arms splayed wide before they dropped to her thighs. She said a bit softer, “Just like you wanted.”

If Elain wanted her Mama to be proud of one thing, it was how she hadn’t given up. Despite failures and hardships and insults, she persevered. She hoped that counted for something.

“The competition is coming up in a few weeks,” Elain revealed, fingers running through the soft grass at the base of the headstone. “I’m kind of…excited. I think. My emotions have been all over the place. At first, Lucien dropped out of the competition, and I went from angry to hurt to panicking in the span of three hours. Come to find out weeks later, he didn’t drop out at all. He was scheming this entire time, Mama. He has a new partner.”

That was as much as she’d say about her ex-partner, not wanting to dwell on it. There was no reason to waste her energy on rehashing the betrayal. In the end, it appeared she was better off without him. But nonetheless, it was news that Mama would have wanted to know. Anything pertaining to the world of skating, Elain was sure to tell her.

“My new partner is named Azriel,” Elain whispered, lips twitching as images of him came to mind. “He skated with Morrigan for a while, remember? I didn’t want to disappoint you this year by pulling out of the competition, so I did something brave and asked him to be my partner. We’ve been practicing for a few weeks now, testing our chemistry, rehearsing basic sequences, adding new spins and small lifts and it’s…refreshing. Skating with him feels natural. Although, you probably wouldn’t like him very much,” Elain said, twirling her finger around a blade of grass. “Everything he tells me is the opposite of what you’ve told me.”

Responsibility versus enjoyment.

Social isolation versus connection.

Consistent, grueling practices versus necessary breaks.

No, Mama most certainly would not have tolerated Azriel’s way of thinking. Elain herself was still growing accustomed to it.

“The word fun wasn’t in your vocabulary, but it sure is in his,” Elain continued, letting a tear drip off her nose. “He’s trying to convince me to let loose every now and then. Sometimes I don’t even know what that feels like anymore. It seems impossible to achieve but he’s persistent and I–I don’t know. I think I want to entertain the idea that I should let myself smile and laugh and not take things so seriously.”

She outwardly cringed then, picturing Mama’s objection.

“But I know that's not what you’d want from me,” She said hoarsely, scrubbing her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater. “So I’m going to try my best to be everything you wanted me to be. I’m going to focus my time and energy on skating, on bringing home the gold, and I’m going to do it for you, Mama.”

A pause.

A deep breath.

And then, “That’ll be the easy part,” she swallowed, stroking the petal of the flower she’d brought. “The hard part will be pretending that I’m not falling for him. Because honestly Mama, he’s the kind of man who is so easy to love. I’m not…there yet, but…” The words drifted off in the wind. She couldn’t say the rest out loud. Not yet.

Elain stood from the ground, not bothering to brush the rest of the tears from her cheeks or dirt from her knees. She hoped that if Azriel’s words somehow had enough influence on her…that if she grew into someone Mama disapproved of…if she sought out a skating partner and ended with a lover…that she would be forgiven in time.

With a kiss to the headstone, Elain murmured, “Goodbye, Mama. This is the year I’ll make you proud.”

Artwork by @chachachai17: Here

Divider: @saradika-graphics

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diwatafms · 5 months ago

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𝙞 𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙠𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙖𝙞𝙙, 𝙤𝙝-𝙤𝙝-𝙤𝙝 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙝𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙢𝙚, 𝙖𝙢 𝙞 𝙘𝙧𝙖𝙯𝙮? 𝙨𝙤 𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙮 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙖𝙩𝙘𝙝 𝙢𝙚 𝙗𝙪𝙧𝙣, 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙖𝙩𝙘𝙝 𝙢𝙚 𝙗𝙪𝙧𝙣, 𝙤𝙝

my name is [ DIWATA VASQUEZ ] … and i am from [ PHILIPPINES ] and i’m a [ MECHANIC ]. i lived in helltown for [ SEVEN YEARS ] because [ HER MOTHER DIDN'T HAVE ANYMORE PLACE TO CHOOSE FOR THEM TO LIVE ]. i am [ TWENTY-FIVE ] my pronouns are [ SHE/THEY ] and i am [ RELENTLESS, YOUTHFUL, OPEN-MINDED ] though some may say i’m [ STUBBORN, MOODY, REBELLIOUS ]. i also hear i look a lot like [ JANE DE LEON ] but, i don’t know if i see it. i’m here because [ SHE'D RATHER BE IN THIS TOWN THAN BE WHAT HER FATHER WANTS HER TO BE ] but, maybe there’s more to it than that. you never know with helltown.

triggers: abandonment tw; cancer tw; death tw

diwata spent the first few years of her life growing up in the philippines in somehow of a blur, as a kid, she grew up under her grandmother’s care whilst her mother worked abroad, hoping to give the best future she could offer. her father wasn’t really in the picture that he was never mentioned, not even once, as far as she could remember. not long after, her mother came home, only to bring the news that she would now be coming with her, in hopes that she gets a better life, better education compared to where she was at this point. and before she knew it, she was hugging the rest of the family she grew up with goodbye and came with her mother to the states.

her mother had multiple jobs, though they were all stable, giving them a little more than what they need when it came to funding everything she needed, most importantly, her education. in regards to that, she studied hard, not wanting to disappoint her mother. diwata persevered through the pressure of it all, knowing that her mother only wanted the best for her, and with all the hardships, the mother and daughter persisted, it was just them against the world, they didn’t have anyone else but each other. her studies went smoothly, she’d aced everything, went above and beyond, and she was about to graduate.

but the day they were supposed to celebrate turned into a tragedy when diwata’s mother suddenly fell ill. for the longest time, she hid the fact that she had breast cancer from her daughter, not wanting to derail her. though before she could even protest, diwata let her potential future go, only wanting to focus on giving the care her mother needed, no questions asked.

seven years ago, they moved to helltown, ohio, it wasn’t by choice, but the only option they had, and with the limited choice she had, diwata looked for the thing that she’d love doing the most and at the same time, would be a way of living for her and her mother, that was when she found the love of being a mechanic, and fortunate for her, she had somebody to teach her, somehow a friend her mother had all those years ago, taught her what she knows today. diwata remained optimistic through it all, wanting to be able to give her mother the best treatment she needed, but nothing was enough. until one day, two to three years ago, she lost the only family she had close for good.

speaking of her father, he suddenly thought it was time for him to come into the picture, coming to see diwata out of nowhere, one day, only a few months after her mother’s passing. for the first time in her life, she felt this kind of anger than really made her blood boil. she hasn’t had this feeling before. where was he when she needed to save her mother? what’s worse was, he didn’t come to see his daughter, meet her, but to find the only heir he has alive. that only fueled this change in her, spitting vile words, something she’s never done in her life, to his face.

i’d rather rot in this town than come with you.

and for years, that’s where she had been, living in helltown, denying her father’s unrelenting request, having all these attempts to get her to leave, even using the very thing this town has been dealing with for the past couple of years. though, even the unexplainable wouldn’t budge her.

#helltownhqintro #abandonment tw #cancer tw #death tw

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noaandreas · 9 months ago

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WHAT HURTS MORE THAN GOODBYE? THE ALMOST-GOODBYE.

Name: Noa Andreas

Nickname: tbd

Gender & Pronouns: Cis female & she/her

Age: 32

Occupation: event coordinator at the City of Briar Ridge

Origins: Briar Ridge, South Carolina

Neighborhood: Beach Front

Relationship status: Single

SUMMARY: Born and raised in Briar Ridge, Noa Andreas is the only child to loving parents who had always lived happily within their means. She had big dreams for her life, had always been desperate to get out of town and live in cities like New York or even somewhere abroad. As much as she romanticized her future life Noa buckled down and went to the local university to earn her degrees and take care of her family when hard times struck. In that time she gained a best friend and platonic soulmate along with some independence, only those good things didn't last forever. Now living in her childhood home taking care of her father and working her way out of debt, Noa makes a living as an event coordinator at Marineland.

UPDATES AS OF 11/2024: death tw / Noa's father passed away two months ago and would explain her "absense" and quiet around town the last couple of months. She's also moved on from Marineland and now works as an event coordinator for the city of Briar Ridge.

Welcome to Briar Ridge … [ NOA ANDREAS ]! Who is known as [ NOA ] and was recently seen leaving their home in [ BEACH FRONT ]. she is currently [ 32 ] years old. she resembles [ PRISCILLA QUINTANA ] and is an [ EVENT COORDINATOR ] at [ MARINELAND ]. They’re best known for [ always feeling out of place in a small town ] and also, [ persevering through the hardships ]. What is really important to know about them is [ she's the fallen angel, someone who gave up everything for her family at the cost of her own happiness ].

Growing up in a small town Noa always felt out of place. She was a big city girl at heart, and well, in everything she did. Noa followed the higher fashion trends in the likes of Vogue and was the girl already going to the salon to get manicures, pedicures, and her hair done by the age of thirteen. It all left her on the outskirts of the popular friend group she was a part of. They talked of simpler more common things most young teenagers did rather than look so far ahead at an adult life. Noa was the girl in designer jeans, heels, and hoped to be thriving in New York City one day.

Rather than get off to one of the big cities like she had been planning for, Noa ended up at the local university and studied business and marketing there. Her dreams had become distant when her parents had fallen ill one after the other and in need of constant care. At first, she split her time between classes and work, tying to earn enough to pay for a nurse that could come to the house a few times a week but she got lucky in the sense that her mother got better and was able to return to work. Noa was ushered off to live her life by her mother, she didn’t want her having too much adult stress when she was still trying to figure out who she was.

With university came finding her platonic soulmate. Or so Noa thought. When she and her friend met it was an instant connection and a bond that built up strong, feeling like nothing she had experienced before with friends of the past. They were like sisters and as an only child, Noa felt a connection she hadn’t realized she had been longing for her whole life. They quickly went from friends to roommates and to Noa it was the best thing in the world to gain a little independence, be close enough to home, and get to live with her best friend. They did everything together and Noa never really minded being the third wheel to her friend and her boyfriend. She dated but never really fell into anything serious the way her best friend had.

One day everything came to an abrupt end and Noa was left devastated in her friend’s abandonment. Suddenly with everything on her own, she struggled to pay the rent and utilities. Making it to classes completely exhausted caused her grades to slip as she had to pick up more work just to make ends meet. The last thing she wanted to do was burden her parents who were struggling on a single income so she kept it all to herself and tried to push through everything.

Then, things went from bad to worse. Noa’s mother collapsed at work and that was that. Without warning she was gone and not only did she have to process the loss, her father’s care was now in her hands. Not only was she eventually evicted from her apartment, Noa had also taken out too many credit cards just to cover the expenses of her father’s medical bills. Her credit pretty much fell into the negative and she had to move back home but there was no certainty that she and her father would be able to keep the home.

As soon as Noa graduated she applied to an open position at Marineland, they were looking for an event coordinator and she sweet talked her way into the job. Thankfully she had the ability behind the smile but given that she was a recent graduate with no real job experience yet in the field, she had to work very hard to prove she was worth the chance that had been taken on her. It was taking years to dig her way out of the mess she had gotten into with debt and seeing a light at the end of the tunnel, Noa couldn’t jeopardize that by taking it easy on the job.

Just when things were beginning to feel comfortable, maybe even easy, there was a shake up at Marineland with management. A new boss that she would have to prove herself to, especially since cutbacks were mentioned in the very first meeting. With her credit nearly restored and her finally living somewhat close to her means, Noa has never been more worried that she’ll be kicked to the curb and everything she had rebuilt would come crashing down.

#& | introduction.#& | biography.#& | pinned post.

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carryforthtradition · 1 year ago

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September the 29th

It’s my 52nd birthday today and I have been pondering about this day and what it means to me, to others and it’s historical significance.

birthdays

I was just on the phone to mum and I said to her; ”This day really should be about you mum, and a celebration of you bringing me to the earth; a thank you to the parents. I didn’t have much to do with that part of my arrival here into this world, it was because of you, the pain you went through to give birth and for taking care of me all my life, and still to this day.”

She did chuckle and mention something about stitches, but I tend to glaze over in those moments. My parents were wonderful when I was growing up (and have been all throughout my life and mum still is here helping me through). Me and my little sister were truly blessed to have such kind and loving parents, our life was magical and idyllic and safe and fun and nourishing and fulfilling. What more could you wish for as a child? I feel very fortunate to be alive at this time and will embrace being 52. Someone said to me the other day that being in our 50’s and 60’s are the best years because we have both wisdom and energy - let’s see - ha ha!!

Photos; Mum with me as a bump, little me, me on mum’s knee a few weeks, or days old, me and dad on a canal barge my parent’s hired for a holiday on the Norfolk Broads..

An unusual, recurring dream

Up until I was about 9 or 10, I had a recurring dream. I really believe that it was some kind of a ‘birth dream’; a record, a recollection of my exact arrival here or the time before I was born. Something given to me in my ‘Toolbox for Life’ that I would need as I grew to help me remember who I am. I still remember it clearly. I have spoken to others about it, some people look at me as if I’ve gone mad, some look interested, some have heard similar stories. (I’d be interested to hear from anyone else who has had a similar experience). There isn’t much information readily available about it, as far as I can see, but it really doesn’t matter. I remember it and it was a personal experience that still helps me today.

It went like this -

I’m in a dark, damp place with no light. The air is stifling. I can just about make out a wooden fence with a stile going over it in front of me, which I know I need to climb over, but my legs can’t move. Then I acknowledge that I am actually stuck in mud up to my knees as I can see a dim light glistening on the surface of the muddy ground; light of which I can’t see it’s source. Then in an instant, I am suspended, immersed in glorious, bright light, floating in mid-air, with no end in sight. No up or down or East or West, no time. Infinity. A sense of complete and utter freedom and serenity and peace. I am able to move in any direction I like, but I’m so content that I chose not to move and I just look into the light.

Theses two contrasting experiences would repeat all night until I woke up the next morning. Over the years, this, or course, stuck with me and I interpreted it many years ago. It tells me where I need to get to. I need to get over that stile. That is where I belong, in that illuminated eternal space. It is where I came from. This is a certainty for me and even more so as I travel further through life and through lived experiences. The mud is my karmic burden, debts, the things holding me back trying to stop me from being myself and returning to my true home in the Heavens. It is the challenge. The cultivation path which I chose is to help me free myself from all of this mud.

Believing in reincarnation, I do think that maybe I did have had something to do with my return. Although, as it goes, our memories are wiped clean before we arrive; giving us the opportunity in the human realm to pay back our karmic debts and fulfil our vows and to figure this all out as we go along our way through life. The many challenges thrown my way have never pushed me off track, I have persevered, got up again when I’ve been crumpled and kept going and I’m fortunate enough to have had an excellent foundation built for me by both parents and my family, and in my more mature days, since 2011, my daily spiritual practice of Falun Dafa (also known as Falun Gong), a Buddhist meditation practice which adheres to the Universal principles of Truth Compassion and Tolerance. It teaches returning to one’s true self, emphasising virtue - the guide to help me on my way. (What is Falun Gong (Falun Dafa)? | Ancient Chinese Spiritual Practice (faluninfo.net))

Photos: Me on my potty eating breakfast (glad some things have improved) toddler me on mum’s knee, me and my little sister, mum and dad one Christmas

providence

My birth day is one of historical significance; it is on St Michaelmas Day.

Link - Michaelmas, 29th September, and the customs and traditions associated with Michaelmas Day (historic-uk.com)

In Christianity, St Michael the Archangel was a noble warrior fighting against demonic forces. He battled against the dragon in Heaven, Satan, who was then cast down to earth with the fallen angels. He is a fierce defender of the people, the commander of the army of God leading Heaven’s Army in their triumph over hell. St Michael symbolises the victory of good over evil and is seen as the protector from darkness and evil as we come into shorter days. Another interesting part of my destiny is that I live in a town called St George. Saint George is the Patron Saint of England. St George’s Day falls on April 23. According to legend, he was a soldier in the Roman army who killed a dragon and saved a princess. St George was persecuted by the Roman army and eventually executed for refusing to give up his Christian faith. Photos: A little ink drawing I am working on!!!

"The China Tribunal, chaired by Sir Geoffrey Nice, QC (lead prosecutor of Slobodan Milosevic at the International Criminal Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia), conducted the world’s first independent legal analysis of forced organ harvesting from prisoners of conscience in China. The Tribunal examined all available evidence in order to determine what criminal offences, if any, may have been committed by individuals affiliated to state or state-approved bodies, organisations or officials in China that may have engaged in forced organ harvesting." -- https://endtransplantabuse.org/2020-china-tribunal-judgment/

the fight between good and evil

I’ve written before about my efforts over the last 12 years to expose the evil crimes of the Chinese Communist Party and it’s persecution of Falun Dafa and other spiritual groups in China; Uighurs, House Church Christians, Tibetans and others. Amongst many other things, I have organised briefings in, and spoken in Parliament, until 2020, I was the UK Manager for The International Coalition to End Transplant Abuse in China (ETAC), and I remain on the Committee. ETAC initiated the independent people’s tribunal ‘The China Tribunal’.

Quote taken from the 2020 China Tribunal Judgment - The International Coalition to End Transplant Abuse in China

the china tribunal conclusion

Quote taken from Final Short Form Conclusion China Tribunal

"“These individual conclusions, when combined, led to the unavoidable final conclusion that; forced organ harvesting has been committed for years throughout China on a significant scale and that Falun Gong practitioners have been one - and probably the main - source of organ supply. The concerted persecution and medical testing of the Uyghurs is more recent and it may be that evidence of forced organ harvesting of this group may emerge in due course. The Tribunal has had no evidence that the significant infrastructure associated with China’s transplantation industry has been dismantled and absent a satisfactory explanation as to the source of readily available organs concludes that forced organ harvesting continues till today” - " -- Final Short Form Conclusion China Tribunal

If you would like to learn more or help in any way - please look here - How you can help - The International Coalition to End Transplant Abuse in China

good prevails over evil

I’ve needed a tremendous amount of courage to be involved in exposing this new form of evil. I’ve really pushed myself through so much fear and anxiety and stress to stand up against such evil, this devil, this demonic force opposing life. Both these Saints are associated with Divine protection, honour and courage and, of course, the elimination of evil forces, which is why they resonate with me. In fact, I have always felt that I am being looked after since I was a little girl and practicing Falun Dafa has helped me to understand even more deeply that Divine beings are indeed watching over us. I believe I will be alive to witness the end of evil’s reign on this earth and will continue to play my small part in it’s demise so that all sentient beings can be free. Returning to tradition and to our traditional values have a huge part to play in this - which is another story, for another time. So hold on everyone! Keep going!

#Becky James #Falun Dafa #Falun Gong #evil #St Michael #St George

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tarnishedxknight · 1 year ago

Text

The way Carter responded to his touch not only made Basch feel good every time he saw it, but it only made him want to touch her more often, to give her that happiness and contentment he saw in her expression and eyes. She'd had a difficult life at times, had persevered through so much, and so any chance to comfort her and make her happy was one he was going to take. As her partner and lover, Basch felt an immense responsibility to take care of Carter. Not... necessarily in the sense of doing things for her so she didn't have to lift a finger, or pampering her, but more in the sense of tending to her well-being. The well-being of her soul. That was of great importance to him.

He'd never had this attention from another before, this all-consuming interest and love. Basch was so closed off before he met Carter, and so to find the love of his life and realize more and more each day that she felt the same as he... it was overwhelming in the best of ways. Sometimes he wondered if he truly deserved Carter, or if they were fated to be together at all. What if he was grasping at something and someone he had no right to, or wishfully thinking that he could be enough for such an amazing person as she? But then, she smiled at him a certain way and melted his heart.

And certainly the way in which they had handled this awkward and somewhat tense conversation about a difficult issue had been indicative of how well they blended with each other, how well they communicated. All the signs were pointing to this relationship being a healthy, loving, success thus far, and Basch didn't understand it. He'd never had luck in love. Not luck or experience or even the privilege. And now, with his first real relationship, he felt as though everything had fallen perfectly into place. As he told her he'd never love another the way he loves her, and she had vowed the same back to him, he knew it was true.

Now, with the unpleasantness of that conversation behind them, they were basking in the happiness of having come out of it stronger in their love than ever before. Sharing something like a nice, intimate, comforting bath after such a conversation seemed like the most wonderful thing to do. It still amazed him that he had someone in his life that wanted to do those sorts of things with him. He went from feeling and being very much alone to being closer to someone than he ever thought possible. He wondered if Carter was aware of all that she'd changed in him and for him for the better. Did she have any idea how much of his heart she'd saved from atrophy?

As they undressed, Basch was just as shy as Carter was. With her help, he was slowly getting used to things like this. Whereas for the latter half of his life he'd rarely let anyone see him without armor let alone unclothed, he now was learning to be more familiar and intimate with the one he loved. Being so fair-skinned, though, he couldn't hide the pink tint that developed in his cheeks. Seeing that she was also shy made him feel better, actually, for the two of them being awkward and shy together was very endearing.

Once she took his hand and bid him get into the bath first, he drew her to it, stepped inside, and sat down, gently tugging at her to follow, however she liked. He sighed at the glorious heat of the water. "The water is perfect, my love," he mused, encouraging her to get in herself.

"I treasure these time with you, do you know?" he said, a gentle smile on his face and his eyes full of love. "When it is naught but the two of us alone, and we can quietly each enjoy the company of the other, without the din of the world creeping in. I never knew the beauty of love until you, Carter. I never felt such love, nor did I know I could give it in kind. That I can now, I owe to you. In all of Ivalice, I never met another like you, my love. And even now, here in this time, I believe you are just as rare, and that there is no other like you... and that is why I shall never love again as I do with you."

It was as if no words were ever enough or perfect in their meaning to describe how he felt for her and all that she had done for him. She deserved to know, and so he often tried, but words failed him every time. And so, Basch fell silent then, letting his smile and gentle touches serve him better where words had failed to suffice.

@starcchild

There was no one else for him, Basch knew. Carter was, as Natasha had once put it to him, his person. Most certainly, she was. She understood him, forgave him, loved him... and all for nothing in return seemingly except for his own love and devotion, which he gave freely. She was so precious to him, and he wanted not only to love her but to protect her from all the pain and danger in the world. That may not be possible, but he was going to try his damnedest anyway.

In that moment, as Carter was thinking how good Basch had been for her, Basch was thinking the same of her. She had taken a very lonely and starved heart and brought it back to life, massaged love and warmth back into it, and made it beat strongly again. She had taken a mostly broken soul, clinging to cold duty and thankless honor, and given him more reasons to not just survive, but live. And finally, she had been so patient with him when he did not understand this world he found himself in now, and patient with his various traumas and other difficulties. At one time, he'd thought such things made him unworthy of love, that he'd be alone forever. How wrong he had been.

This... had not been an easy conversation, by any means. His heart had almost physically hurt from it, and he'd feared losing Carter altogether. But somehow, healthy communication had prevailed, and their relationship had emerged stronger for the experience. Love was, after all, constructed of difficult moments and compromise as much as it was happy moments and getting along. Basch supposed that two people could never really know if they were right for each other, if their love could survive any adversity, until something went wrong. Until they disagreed, until there was a fight, or as it had been in this case, until a misunderstanding shook everything up.

Basch smiled and then chuckled, cupping Carter's face. "Nay, not nearly as incredible as are you," he said. "You mean everything and more to me as well, my love. I will never love another the way I do you." He knew that for a fact. This love, all-consuming and seemingly so positive for both of them, was unlike any other he'd ever known in his life. Perhaps there is truth to what some poets say... That there is but one mate for your soul, and only a small chance of finding them. And to think that he had "traveled" five thousand years into the future before finding his soul mate was utterly extraordinary to him.

Their conversation had reached a positive and constructive conclusion, and Basch actually felt good about it. Surely, this was how healthy couple worked through their problems, right? Carter was his first and only lover, so he didn't really know what relationships were typically like. He was trying his best, and he could see that she was as well, and somehow they were creating something beautiful together.

He loved the excitement mixed with a little shyness that he saw in her eyes as he agreed to have a nice bath with her. And the way she always checked with him to make sure he was comfortable with what they were doing was... refreshingly different from what he was used to. In his own time, he'd been on his own. No one ever asked if he was alright. Well, perhaps Ashelia had on occasion, if he hadn't guarded his expression enough and she noticed he was preoccupied, but beyond that, no one honestly cared. He was just supposed to be perfect all the time. With Carter, however, it was okay to not be okay, and they had both seen and supported each other in that state countless times.

"Aye, you are pushing me, and I am happy to let you," Basch said with a nod and a smile. "With each push I lose a little of my modesty, and that helps me to be closer to you instead of always closed off," he said. Modesty, isolation... both. They were interchangeable for him, but... no longer. Even so, as they made their way to the bathroom and Carter began to undress, Basch couldn't keep from grinning. He had flushed a healthy shade of pink by the time his own clothes had been discarded and he glanced over at her, encouraging her to undress at her own comfortable rate with his adoring eyes. "You are a rare and unique beauty, my love," he complimented her, being of course utterly oblivious to how good he looked himself.

Once all unnecessary clothing had been done away with, Basch held out his hand to her, a shy smile still lingering on his lips. Less modest, he was, but still very modest to some. But Carter had taught him that nudity and intimacy was not the same as lewdness and impropriety. For so many years, Basch had restricted himself severely, associating all potential activity of this nature with some sort of failing in his character if he gave into it. But here, in the privacy of their own bathroom, within the self-made boundaries of their loving relationship, this was alright. It was more than alright... it was wonderful. "Shall we?" he said to her.

#starcchild #basch x carter #{ knightly avenger } ᵐᶜᵘ ᵛᵉʳˢᵉ #{ my pain is my pain and yours is too } ᵇᵃˢᶜʰ ˣ ᶜᵃʳᵗᵉʳ

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arrowflier · 3 years ago

Note

Prompt is anything about Mickey acknowledging that Ian’s past of sexual abuse still affects him, maybe during the 13% debacle when Mickey’s being mad and tells the family at breakfast, Ian gets sad and quiet instead of defensive cause he knows he misspoke but he doesn’t know how to explain the feeling of like not being whole and Tami schools Mickey private bc she knows a little bit how Ian feels?

Content warning: references to child abuse/ sexual abuse of a minor

"Guess who I ran into on the L yesterday?" Ian asked as he made for the coffee machine.

"Dunno man," Mickey answered from behind him, skating a hand over his hip as he moved to take a seat at the table. "Why were you on the fuckin' L anyway, where'd you go when I was hangin' with Sandy?"

He sat down between Carl and Tami--it was a full house this morning--and stole a piece of bacon off Carl's plate even as he hunched over it protectively.

"Oh you know," Ian said, "just headed over to that weekly gay orgy at the rec center."

Mickey flipped him off, but Tami chortled next to him. She handed him another slice of bacon in apology--off Carl's plate, not her own--and went back to feeding Fred.

"Alright, funny man," Mickey said as he chewed, "so who'd you see there then?"

"Linda," Ian answered, unphased. He didn't seem to notice the way Mickey's chewing slowed, or the way Carl abruptly straightened and pushed back from the table.

"Yeah," Ian continued, "she was back for some kind of hearing? Apparently Kash's new boyfriend called the cops on him or something."

Ian took a long sip of coffee, then frowned as he lowered the mug.

"He, uh," Ian started, then stopped to take another drink. "Linda said he found some pictures?”

Mickey stilled.

“What kind of pictures?” he asked suspiciously. Carl took that as his cue to abandon ship, shoving the rest of his breakfast over toward Mickey as he hightailed it out of the room. Tami stayed, stuck with a babbling Fred in his high chair and completely lost as to why the room was suddenly so tense.

“Of me, I think,” Ian answered quietly, not meeting Mickey’s eyes. “Or some other boyfriend maybe? I don’t know.”

“Another boyfriend,” Mickey parroted, and Ian shrugged.

“Yeah,” he said. “I mean, I guess.” He set his mug on the counter, braced himself against the edge with both hands. “I kinda feel bad for him, you know?” he added. “It’s not like he asked for stuff like that, I just sent it.”

Mickey’s hand hit the table hard enough to shake the cutlery.

"The fuck did you say?" he asked flatly.

Ian didn't react, but Tami froze next to him with a fork halfway to Fred’s mouth. Mickey ignored her stare.

"You really just tell me you feel bad for that fucker?" Mickey continued, voice rising. "The guy that fuckin' molested you? The guy that shot me cause you dared to fuck someone your own fucking age?"

Ian was quiet. Too quiet, and it hurt to see the way he bit his lip and looked away, like he couldn't face it. Couldn't face the truth--couldn’t face Mickey, either.

"Mickey," Tami murmured, slowly lowering her fork to her plate with a muffled click, "maybe you shouldn't--"

"No," Mickey said firmly, cutting her off. "What I should do is track that fucker down and cut off his fucking dick, so he can’t touch another teenage kid for the rest of his goddamned life.”

“That’s what I should do,” he went on, ignoring the way Tami waved at him frantically under the table. “But Ian here,” he said, “wouldn’t want that, would he? Cause Ian thinks Kash loved him, and he won’t fuckin’ admit his first boyfriend was a disgusting-ass pedophilic bastard.”

Ian shoved himself back from the counter, and stormed from the kitchen. A second later, the front door slammed, and Mickey collapsed back into his chair in resgination.

Before he could feel too sorry for himself, Tami intervened.

"Dude," Tami hissed next to him. Mickey looked over to see her scrunched face, her lip curled. "Are you really shaming him for that right now?"

“The fuck you know about it?” he muttered. Even Fred seemed to be judging him, that chubby little face pouting, and Mickey didn’t like it one bit.

“I know enough,” Tami said, then sighed.

“Look,” she started slowly. “I don’t know anything about this Kash guy or whatever, alright? But it sounds like Ian was just a kid when they got involved.”

“Barely even old enough to do anything, probably,” Mickey groused. “Bastard picked him up as soon as he fuckin’ saw him.”

“And it went on for a while?” Tami guessed, and raised her hands when Mickey looked at her suspiciously.

“Hey, I’m just getting my facts straight,” she defended. “But if you ask me, Ian’s got more on his mind with this than whether or not his old boss is a good guy.”

“How the fuck would you know?” Mickey asked. “He’s had plenty of fuckin’ time to think about this shit, he ought to hate that guy’s guts by now.”

Tami bit her lip, but persevered.

“I know,” she said softly, “because it took me even longer, okay?”

At Mickey’s curious glance, she expanded.

“There was this teacher,” she told him, not meeting his eyes. “And he made me think I was special.”

Tami laughed, a short, sharp sound, and shook her head.

“He paid attention to me, is more like it,” she admitted. “And I ate that shit right up, because God knows my dad didn’t back then. And it never even occurred to me that what we had was wrong.”

She finally looked up.

“Then he brought his new girlfriend by,” she said. “His new, teenage girlfriend. And he said all the same things, and she ate it up, too.”

Mickey just watched her.

“So yeah, I get it,” she finished, tracing a scratch on the table with one finger. “And what Ian needs right now? Is not your fucking judgement.”

She stood abruptly, her chair screeching as it scraped back, and scooped Fred out of his seat.

"You should think about what he's going through right now," she said as she settled Fred on her hip. "Instead of how it makes you feel."

She moved toward the back door, opened it, then paused.

"Because being confronted with the truth isn't easy," she added. "And he might be a victim, but he doesn't want to be."

Then she was gone, the kitchen silent, just Mickey sitting there at the table with two rapidly cooling plates of eggs and bacon that weren't even his.

"Well, fuck," he said to himself. Then he levered himself up, and made for the front door

---

As it turned out, Ian hadn't gone far. As soon as Mickey opened the door, there he was: hunched over right there on the steps, head in his hands.

Mickey sat next to him without speaking. Ian shifted over to make room, but otherwise didn't acknowledge him.

"Hey," Mickey started hesitantly. Then he swallowed, wiped sweaty hands on his thighs, and tried again.

"I'm sorry."

Ian didn't bother to lift his head.

"For what?" he asked tiredly. "I mean, you were right."

"I was?" Mickey responded, then cleared his throat. "I was," he repeated more confidently, then, " but I still shouldn't have fucking said it."

Ian sighed, and straightened. "It's okay," he said, smiling weakly. "Kash was an asshole, I know he was. And I know it was wrong, now, but I just..."

Ian stopped, shook his head.

"Never mind," he muttered. "You wouldn't get it."

Mickey inched closer. He raised an arm to wrap around Ian's shoulders, and thought about the bright-eyed kid he fell for all those years ago, ignored by his family and utterly devoted to a man that should have known better.

"No, I wouldn't," he agreed softly, squeezing Ian's shoulders and stroking that hand down his arm in a gentle caress.

"But tell me anyway."

#daily speedwrite #gallavich #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #fanfic #tami tamietti #tw: child abuse #i wish i could spend more time on this serious topic #but its late so maybe another time

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enjeolmii · 4 years ago

Text

coffee - s.jy

genre: mostly angst, a little fluff towards the end

word count: 1.7k

warnings: overdose on caffeine, passing out, i think that’s all :))

"Y/n, you should stop drinking coffee. You have to watch out for yourself, too," Jake says slowly, sitting his hand on your shoulder with the other one on the heavy cup you are holding. "Four is enough."

Your eyes shift to his expression, one that conveyed clear emotions of concern. This was supposed to be your fifth cup of the day.

Studying for the exams has never been so stressful. The amount of pressure dangling on your shoulders is much unbearable than how you expected it to be. Having parents who never supported your dream certainly took a toll on you, and living with a flawless sister all your life was never any help for your self-esteem. Being the low-grade sister between you two gave you comparisons aplenty. Everywhere you look, no matter where you go, you always find taunts and mockery preying on you. All your life, you got discredited by most of your relatives in light of your sister.

And you want to prove them wrong.

Getting higher grades is what it is. All she's ever good at is cheating off of her friends' answer sheets. It's a secret she threatened you to keep. Ever since she saw you and Jake hanging out alone in the swimming room, a picture she'd taken is all it would take for your parents to wash their hands of you.

And then, there's also getting the favor of all your family. She's prettier, sweeter, hard-working, and smarter. Everyone is biased on her nonexistent efforts, yet you - who has tried everything she can do to show her utmost best to be acknowledged by the people around her - were forsaken and left overlooked.

But it wasn't until Jake happened.

Only he saw the struggles you faced and outweighed. He conceded how far down the road you'd made it yourself and never forgot to make you feel worthy of his praises. He is the only one who understood the motive behind your desperation, and he is the only one who supported your dream.

So you wanted to make him proud. This exam will serve as the last movement to get into the performing arts school you long sought to join. To lose this opportunity means losing all you endear, and you wouldn't be sure how well you will hold up if you let this chance slip away.

That is all you can say for five cups of coffee.

"As much as I would love to stop, I'm not yet done studying. I need to ace this test." You peel his grip off of your cup, squeezing it as you offer a hesitant smile of reassurance, and he lets out a sigh.

"You aced all your activities and went home bringing the highest grades in your class," His palms find purchase on your shoulders. "You are doing so well now. Why do you put so much pressure on yourself?" A short silence follows your sigh.

"Jake, I have only been compared to my sister all my life. This is the only time I can prove them wrong. I want to feel incomparable, too. I want them to know that I am not a punching bag that they can just play around with," You clarify through clenched teeth, a recollection of all the memories flashing past your eyes. "You know that better than anyone."

Your boyfriend couldn't help but feel bad for you. He understood. All those times you leaned on him when you felt like giving up, every moment you called him and texted him asking for motivation, he knows how much you went through, and it casts him down that you never acknowledged how much progress and improvement you have shown.

You became more assertive and bolder, and he is happy that you are finally standing up for yourself. However, he couldn't learn to accept seeing you lose long hours of sleep over studying. For days, you ran on caffeine to help you stay awake and scan through your textbooks as long as you were satisfied. You pushed yourself to the limits, bypassing the pleasure of taking a rest and instead etching all significant terms on the topic of your exam in your mind. You disregarded the accomplishments you made for yourself and went on thinking that you never achieved enough to get a compliment from your loved ones, which is what Jake could not understand.

"Yes, I know that. But drinking more coffee isn't going to help you, is it?" He signifies, and you let a dry laugh through your nose.

"Give me one reason caffeine doesn't help." You smirk at him. Sure, your method is trash, and everything about it is not entirely definitive. But, can you really do anything about it? No, well, not that you know of. Your sister is studying in the same field, and it is only a matter of skill to win against her. If you gain a point or two higher, it is more than enough to crush her pride and bring yours up. The hidden thirst you have for acceptance is slowly showing, and you all but feel determined to see how far you can take it to get the better of her.

"Too much of it doesn't bring you to the top. It brings you to a hospital bed."

Your smile vanishes at his answer. What he said is true, but to hear an accurate response to your insincere quest only irritates you. You set the mug down on the countertop before crossing your arms, feeling the weight of his hands on your shoulders disappear, and you poke your tongue to the side of your cheek. "So what do you want me to do?" You assert, voice laced with irritation and disinterest.

"Take a break. Continue studying when your mind's not exhausted."

"My mind is not exhausted."

"Babe, you've been in front of your books since early sunrise. It's already two in the morning." He protests, and you look at him with a tinge of bitterness.

He shoots you worried gazes as his hands travel to yours, squeezing and swaying them side to side, and you sigh. "I don't care what time it is. I can take a rest tomorrow after the exam." You retract his grip from yours, taking the coffee cup back in your hands before stepping back into your room. "I need to study."

"Y/n... Please!" Jake follows close behind you, continuously begging. Suddenly, your head becomes heavy. Pain strikes your upper nape every time he calls for your name, ears abruptly ringing at the volume he whines. Black spots appear in your vision, along with the feeling of getting lightheaded. Your eyes shut tight in discomfort. As though your head will fall off the moment you move it around, you lose all senses, the sound of him calling you blurring away.

One moment, you groan with a hand rubbing slow circles at your temple. And another moment, the shattering sound of your mug against the floor reaches your ears, legs giving out as you feel your boyfriend's arms supporting your fall.

Panic replaces the distress in Jake's expression. Frantically, he lightly shakes your body in an attempt to wake you up, and when all taps and raps decline, he locks his arms around your arms and knees, hastily lifting you towards your bedroom.

Through the piles of answer sheets sprawled on the floor, he tiptoes his way to gently lay you on your bed, snatching the pillows under your head to pile them beneath your feet.

A heavier sigh escapes. He moves to sit by your side against the headboard, looking down at your vulnerable form as he sweeps strands of hair away from your face.

"You're so stubborn, you know that?" He utters through whispers. "You just never learn to give up, even when you know it's going to be hard on you."

Running his fingers gently through your hair, he frowns. He admires it of you - how you always manage to get what you want.

It's how he fell in love with you. It's how you caught his heart. The confidence that inclined his interest when you represented the class's agitated thoughts towards your unqualified professor, not a single fear of the consequences ahead.

Then, having made known that you were never able to use that confidence in front of your family hit a soft spot in his heart. So he wanted to help you get the recognition you desired, stayed with you in your highest and lowest, up until now.

"Why can't you see the significance behind everything you have outdone? You've fulfilled enough to show your family that you are incomparable, yet you're never satisfied with yourself," The air grows silent. "I guess you want to hear it directly from them. Is that how you're going to be? Thinking of yourself the way others think of you... Do you know why I love you? Because you are a kind, persevering, and confident person. I didn't love you because you are smarter than your sister. Hearing confirmation from others isn't everything, love, there are still other people who think you are flawless."

A few more minutes of stroking your head and one good look at your subtle breathing are all it takes for Jake to get up from the bed before bitterly watching the spilled coffee wither onto the corridor floor across the open door. "Now, look at the mess I'll have to clean," He stressfully stretches his neck, eyes closed. Just as he takes a step away to tidy up the mess, a hand reaches to grab his arm.

"I'm sorry," You mumble, eyes still closed. "I was getting too competitive I didn't realize you were here for me. I didn't mean to get mad at you," You tug at him. "Stay here, I'll clean that later when we wake up. For now, let's go to sleep." You make space for him on your bed, a small smile pulling at his lips as he gladly lays down beside you, setting his arm under your head while you wrap an arm around his body. "Thank you, love."

Jake looks at you, smile growing wider before placing a long kiss on your forehead. "I'll always love you no matter what."

You mirror his expression, snuggling closer to him as you say, "I love you, too."

a/n: i saw that there are lots of you who are preparing for exams right now... if you are one of them, then thank you for reading this and procrastinating a lil bit :D i wish you all the best!! drink your water and stay healthy always!!! 💖🥰

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bts-hyperfixation · 4 years ago

Text

Soulmates

JJK X Reader soulmate AU

Warnings: Minor character death(car crash, only mentioned nothing graphic), Drinking

I don’t know if this is what you (the requester) were going for? this is somehow where I ended up

Everyone in this world has a soulmate. Someone that is meant to complete them and make them feel whole.

Your other half can be identified by the matching birthmark hidden somewhere on their body. There are also a lot of people whose marks are so close to matching that it almost feels like the real thing… almost. Sadly, many don’t ever get to experience the love of their true soulmate, so they settle for the closest they can get.

Jungkook was convinced he was one of the lucky few. Looking at her made his heart feel like it was going to burst. Every time he saw her the world got brighter, the birds started singing a little louder, and his stress nearly melted away entirely … nearly. But at 17 no one is going to pay attention to nearly.

Their birthmark’s matched so closely, each sporting a small puzzle piece on opposite wrists. You wouldn’t even bat an eyelid at the loved-up pair as they walked together hand in hand. And he loved her so completely, and her him, that they never thought to question it. Madly in love until the day she died.

Jungkook spent weeks almost comatose when the news of her car crash reached him. Couldn’t move, eat, sleep. To lose your soulmate so young was said to be a fate worse than never finding them at all. Even after coming through the other side people could tell he wasn’t the same carefree young boy he had been, most likely never would be again. His eyes’ looked far older than his years now, his soft features much more angular.

Three months after her death he resolve to never fall in love again, happy in the knowledge that he got to know her even for such a short amount of time.

….

You met Jungkook at a party. Someone from Uni decided that 24 was the right age for a big birthday bash. They hired out an entire club and set up a series of activities for people to enjoy. A mechanical ball on the main floor, a ball pit to the side, a BBQ in the smoking area, and a bouncy castle in the downstairs 90’s themed area. It really was an amazing event. You however spent most of your time watching the quiet Korean boy in the corner, every time his eyes met yours you felt compelled to move to him, talk to him, dance with him, anything that would get his attention on you. At the time you put it down to the alcohol. It took you exactly 3 and a half drinks to pick up the courage and interrupt his current conversation.

He was very sweet, really sweet considering he clearly didn’t want to be talking to you. It was evident in the way his eyes shifted and the nervous playing with his sleeves, still you persevered. Something about him wouldn’t let you give up, not yet at least. Your saving grace came when your favourite band came blaring over the speakers. “PRETTYMUCH” aren’t an underrated band per say but it’s difficult to find someone who knows them in your circle, so when Jungkook’s face lit up at the same time as yours you knew you had your in. So with the Phases remix blaring through the club you took your opportunity.

“I love this song!” You took his hand and pulled him on to the dance floor before you really realised that’s what you are doing. To start with he was frozen, a little shocked by your boldness, but as you gave it your all he joined in, loosening up for the first time that entire night. After that it was a lot easier to talk to him, you actually went into the smoking area to talk more about shared music interests.

After you went to get a drink you got caught up with some others and he came to find you. It felt like an electric shock when he’d grabbed your hand to get your attention, but there were a lot of balloons around so that would explain the residual electricity. By the time the party was over, and the club was closing, you didn’t want to leave him, not just now but ever. You found yourselves wandering around aimlessly, talking about nothing until the sun came up. Looking back it was then you decided Jungkook was it for you. You had never really believed in the soulmate tradition until you met him.

Weeks go by of you texting back and forth. You found out the reason he was so into music was because he was a musician himself, he even promised to perform for you sometime. A lot of promises were made in those messages.

‘There’s this amazing Restaurant in the city’ you claimed promising to take him with you next time.

‘I really want to see this movie’ he said promising to pay for tickets when it came out.

‘We should go see this band together’ The number one promise between the two of you, quickly racking up a lot of different acts to see together.

So when one of those bands turned up on the roster for the local you’d bought tickets immediately sending him the confirmation. Your stomach had fluttered thinking about seeing him in person again. And so you counted down the days as they passed. Picked and repicked your outfit. Talked yourself in and out of going. Eventually the day arrived. The doorbell signalling his arrival was deafening, ringing out through your small studio apartment. You took a few deep breaths before opening the door.

He was flawless, your tipsy memory hadn’t done him justice. A broad chest draped in a white long sleeve tee, ripped skinnies straining against his thighs, his hair swept into a James Dean quiff. You might’ve laughed at the way your outfits had accidently matched (a black crop with white skinnies) had you been capable of making a noise.

“Ready to go?” He asked nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. You’d nodded, blushing when you realised you had been staring.

It was a short bus ride into the town centre. Spent in relatively comfortable silence arms brushing against one another in the limited space on the crowded vehicle. The club was packed wall to wall when you got inside, no hope of getting to the front of the crowd, or so you’d thought. Jungkook grabbed your hand winked at you and began heading in the opposite direction of the stage. He led you up some back stairs and on to a balcony you hadn’t ever noticed before.

“I’ve played here before, almost no one knows this is here, but it will give us the perfect view.” He dropped your hand in favour of leaning over the railing. You couldn’t help but feel cold at the loss. The performance was great, you found yourselves screaming lyrics back and forth at one another. Some people had cottoned on to your little hiding spot and soon it became as packed as the rest of the club. Whether he was trying to protect you from the others or he was pushed there you will never know, but Jungkook ended up caging you to the railing, head resting on your shoulder.

After the show you’d decided it was time to ask him how he felt. The club was still busy, but the two of you had been in a quiet corner on your own nursing drinks and chatting aimlessly.

“Do you believe in soulmates?” You asked, broaching the topic carefully. You watched closely for his reaction, but he gave nothing away. Instead he just shrugged.

“I did once.” It was too blunt, you knew you should’ve stopped but you couldn’t, now you’d decided to tell him it was like verbal diarrhoea.

“I didn’t think I did, I mean I’ve never seen any ‘matching birthmarks’ and every couple I know is perfectly happy… but then I met you and I keep thinking about it, and you, and how I feel about you.” You watched as his face goes from pensive to a deer caught in the headlights.

“I… I have to leave now.” He got up and ran into the crowd before you even had a chance to reach for him. He dipped through a back entrance of the club and into the night before you could even push through the first layer of people.

The ride home had seemed a lot longer. Holding back tears had proved extremely difficult. Of all the reactions he could’ve given you that might’ve been the worst one. Somehow you found yourself thinking even him laughing in your face might’ve been better. You left the lights in your studio switched off that night. Made a beeline for your bed and passed out face down.

It would’ve felt like a bad dream when you woke up… if it hadn’t been for the crusty mascara tracking down your cheeks. You’d picked up your phone from where it lay abandoned next to you. Battery on 12%. You’d decided then it’d be best to run damage control, at least save the friendship.

Y/N: I’m sorry about last night…

You hadn’t expected his reply to be quick, so it’d surprised you when the typing bubbles appeared immediately; and furthered your sadness when they disappeared moments later without a message.

For days you spiralled. Going over the moment again and again in your head. Each replay turning the memory into something worse than the original.

Eventually you plucked yourself out of bed, deciding to face the problem head on and talk to the friend that invited you both to their birthday in the first place.

She met you at a café downtown during her lunch break. It was obvious by your red rimed eyes and sniffling nose that you had been crying but she was nice enough to ignore it for the most part. You caught up on her life for a little while until you physically couldn’t hold back anymore.

You told her exactly what had happened between you and JK, watching as her expression got both more understanding and pitying as you got closer to the end. Whatever you thought she was going to tell you was no where close to the story you got. You sat mouth wide open as she told you about the accident, and the way it affected Jungkook. It made you want to cry all over again. You didn’t know what to say once she had finished, stewing in your own thoughts for a while. The main thought that kept coming to the front of your mind was one that made you feel so evil. But you had to get it out

“What if she wasn’t really his soulmate. What if he was never meant for her” Its barely above a whisper but your friend heard it.

“He truly believes that she was” She replied squinting at you. Her break ended shortly after that leaving you alone with your thoughts.

…

It’s almost a month later when you see Jungkook again. Hadn’t heard a single thing from him since the concert but at least you knew why.

This time it was someone pool party. You honestly hadn’t been expecting to see him there. Didn’t even know you had mutual friends past that one girl. You didn’t think twice about your birthmark when you stripped down to your two piece. Why would you? Everyone has one. You were lay out on a sun-lounger with a drink when you spotted him. Tucked away in a corner once again, the only difference this time was his attention was already on you. He looked as good as ever, hair damp and slicked back, Long-sleeved neoprene shit covering his torso but trunks showing off his amazing thighs. You’d forced yourself to look away form him but could still feel the intensity of his gaze on you.

Eventually you couldn’t take it anymore, too hot under the sun and his stare you decided to change out of your swimsuit into a sundress for the evening. Heading inside you found your way into someone’s bedroom to get changed. Perhaps you should’ve checked to see if the door the locked though, because just as you had wiggled out of the bikini top Jungkook burst into the room.

“Ah shit… Sorry… I um.” His hand had flown in front of his eyes as he’d slammed the door shut behind him and you’d immediately reached for the flimsy dress pulling it over you torso so he could reopen his eyes.

“What in the actual fuck Jungkook?” you whisper screamed not wanting to draw attention to the two of you hidden away.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I didn’t think… I just needed to see…”

“See what?! My boobs? I think you managed that one perv. You haven’t spoken to me in weeks and now all of a sudden you can’t wait long enough to knock.” You came across a lot meaner than you had meant, you just hadn’t been prepared for him to want to speak to you again.

“No I’m sorry I’ll go, this was a bad idea, I was probably seeing things anyway.” He mumbled looking sheepishly at the floor/

“No wait it’s okay, I really want to apologise don’t leave.” You took a deep breath and waited for his eyes to meet yours properly. When they did you could see the shock behind them.

“Why do you need to apologise? I’m the one that ran off, I never even told you why and I fucked up and I’m sorry I just…” You reached for him then, wanting nothing more than to comfort him and then realised it wasn’t your place, arm dropping heavily back to your side. “I felt so guilty with you, not because of you, because of me.” You nodded in understanding.

“I found about your soulmate after I confessed to you. I’m so sorry I didn’t know. I never would’ve brought it up if I had known you had already found yours.” You’d broken eye contact with him then unable to watch the sadness in his eyes and not be able to do anything about it.

“That’s why I felt so guilty though because the way I feel about you is so similar to the way I felt about her, how I still feel about her deep down. I was so confused because you’re only supposed to get one soulmate, and if I could feel the same way about you in such a short time… it just feels like I’m betraying her by loving you.” He stepped forward reaching for your chin and forced you to meet his gaze. “The today when I saw your birthmark on your thigh I could’ve cried.” He uses his free hand to unzip the shirt he’d been wearing. He pulled his left arm from the sleeve exposing his birthmark to you. A puzzle piece to fit perfectly into your own.

You’d gasped at the revelation you were right. He was meant to be yours. And yet it didn’t feel right. The anguish on his face was clear, the internal fight he had obviously been having with himself ever since the concert.

“Letting yourself love me now doesn’t mean you loved her any less” you whispered, allowing yourself to move even closer to him, wrapping him in your arms. He’d nuzzled into your neck allowing tears to stream down his cheeks and onto your shoulder. You’d felt every bit of stress leave his body as he cried. Emotions he hadn’t even know he had been holding onto, finally letting himself really breath since he had lost her all those years ago.

You’d lost track of the time, just stood with him, holding him until the final few sniffles came. His cheeks had been puffy by and red when he pulled away, wiping his face on the sleeve still on his right arm.

“Do you want to leave? We can go back to mine” You’d asked carefully, not willing to let him go home alone after feeling like that. He’d nodded weakly, sliding his arm back into the shirt before taking your hand in his. You’d headed for the door only to be brought back by the hand he had on yours. He’d pulled you so close you could see the flecks of gold in his irises, watched your reaction before leaning in and kissing you. It was salty with left over tears, but you wouldn’t change you first kiss for the world. Everything felt like it clicked into place in that moment, the world tilted on its axis. The exchange was short lived, a chaste peck followed by a few smaller pecks before he let you lead him all the way home.

Masterlist

#JJK #Jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #bts soulmate #bts soulmate au #bts fic #bts angst #bts fluff #jungkook soulmate #jeon jungkook #jungkook soulmate au

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xiaomomowrites · 4 years ago

Text

homecoming

Genshin Impact | TartaLi/ZhongChi

Summary: “You must not give up now, alright? I, too, wish for Childe to come home. I wish to see him again, and frankly, it scares me how much I want him by my side once more,” Zhongli acquiesces, “I miss him dearly, and all I want is to be able to hear his laugh again. You feel the same about your sister, do you not? But Aether, this kind of loss is something we both must grieve. But what is grief, if not love persevering?”

Aether opens his mouth to begin responding, but his jaw quickly snaps shut as the fate between his palms disappears.

Keqing and Mona gasp loudly from where they sit back at camp. Aether startles, and pulls back to look at him with wide golden eyes.

All four of them look up to the sky, and are astonished to see a single golden star hurtling toward the ground they sit on. Aether gasps, barely containing his scream.

“Oh my god,” Traveler inhales sharply, “oh my god, you-”

“Get out of there!” Mona yells, and suddenly she’s standing up on her chair. Keqing places a steadying hand on the small of her back. “It’s going to crash right into you! Move!”

Or, Zhongli and Aether just want Childe to come home. Their wishes come true.

Find it on Ao3!

A/N: Oh my goodness I wrote this in one sitting before throwing it at my editors and wishing them the best lol. I wrote this in honor of finally pulling Childe, and wow was this a treat to write! And yes, I wrote my own team reacting to Childe coming home. Aether isn't on my team anymore (I benched him back when I was WL3), but I wanted to include him because it isn't Genshin Impact without our favorite traveler. My main team consists of Zhongli, Mona, Chongyun, and Keqing! But now that Childe is with me, he'll be slowly making his way into my main party :)

Just a heads up, Keqing and Mona were written as best friends here, but you can interpret their relationship however you'd like haha

And once again, this fic was inspired by some twitter fanart that I will link in the end notes! Enjoyyyy <3

Aether is especially jittery this morning.

The blond is bouncing off the walls so early in the morning that even Zhongli was taken aback by his energy. The ex-Archon watches him with wary eyes as the traveler paces back and forth in front of the breakfast table, muttering to himself about ‘fates’ and ‘primogems’. Vaguely, Zhongli hears Aether mutter the numbers ‘one hundred and sixty’ and ‘thirty-two-eighty’ as he paces, and the deity ultimately decides he wants nothing to do with what Aether is scheming. The sun is rising and Zhongli has always loved watching the star rise with every inhale. The day starts when the sun wakes up, and it ends when the sun begins to rest. Zhongli closes his eyes, ignoring Aether’s anxious pacing in favor of the serenity of the wilderness they chose to camp out in for the night.

Mona and Keqing clamber out of their shared tent together, pinkies linked as usual. Keqing still dons her elegant silk sleeping robe and her lavender hair spills past her shoulders in cute, candid waves. Her eyes are still slightly hooded with sleep but she’s quick to blink her drowsiness away in favor of the day to come. Mona, on the other hand, is in the oversized tee shirt she bought from Majorie and her usual black tights. Her dark locks are out of their usual twin pigtails and flow down her back, tangled, and significantly less put together than Keqing. She yawns obnoxiously as she shuffles closer to the group.

The astrologist sniffles. “G’morning.”

“Good morning, friends,” Keqing greets with a small smile of her own and drags Mona to sit across from Zhongli. He offers her a smile. Mona blinks in response.

“Good morning, ladies. Did you sleep well?” Zhongli responds, and takes Mona’s glare as an answer in itself. “Still not a morning person, I see.”

“Never will be, Mr. Rex Lapis,” Mona sighs, thanking him quietly for the cup of tea he hands her in passing. Keqing makes a beeline for their makeshift kitchen to make the unruly bunch some breakfast. Zhongli always handles the tea, as picky as he is about his morning tea, and Keqing always handles breakfast.

“I assume young Chongyun will not be awake for awhile,” Zhongli chuckles, bringing his cup to his lips.

Keqing scoffs from the kitchen, “You can expect him around noon, Zhongli-xiansheng.”

Xiansheng.

Try as he might, he’s associated the suffix to a certain ginger. A ginger who he misses dearly, but hasn’t seen since he left for Snezhnaya in a hurry. Zhongli’s heart swoops. He left without so much as a goodbye, leaving Zhongli to pick up the pieces he left Liyue in and the unfortunate state of his heart. The thought of not seeing Childe ever again ate at him continuously until he felt hollow inside, and all he had left was a familiar ache every time the ginger came back to haunt his dreams. All Zhongli wanted was to know if the latter was okay, but with the way he had deceived him, he wasn’t sure if he deserved to know. As someone who greets death as if it were an old friend, never seeing Childe again simply because the circumstances do not allow it upsets him far more than he’d like to admit. Life, human life, was too short for Zhongli to be sitting around wasting time. But no matter how many times he’s preached this to himself, the ex-Archon still struggles with taking the steps to make contact.

How would he even begin, anyway?

The Harbinger was stuck with his Harbinger duties. Childe had a family to tend to and treasure hoarders to chase. It wasn’t like Zhongli could warp to Snezhnaya and sweep him off his feet; that would be inappropriate and selfish of him. And yet the idea of seeing him again, of hearing his laugh, watching him smile, pay for his food with that adorable expression of his, it almost makes him want to leave to see him right now. But he can’t. The situation simply does not allow it.

Right?

“Two minutes!” Aether suddenly yelps, making Mona jump in her chair. She whips around to glare at the overzealous traveler. Keqing’s head snaps in his direction and almost drops the pan she’s frying fish on. She clicks her tongue in mild annoyance. Zhongli frowns, his curiosity getting the best of him.

“What are you so anxious about, Aether?”

“You don’t understand, Zhongli!” Aether whips around, his crazy eyes locking onto Zhongli’s amber irises. “This team needs an archer. We need an archer. This is non-negotiable! I can’t keep bothering Keqing to shoot those stupid water birds if she can’t throw her hair pin that far! We need arrows, Zhongli, arrows!”

Keqing makes a small noise of offense.

His arms flail in the air, desperate to make everyone in the room feel the panic he is currently sinking under.

“Alright, alright,” Zhongli hushes him, unsure of why his friend was so disgruntled in the first place. As far as he knew, it was another normal day full of daily commissions and mindless material farming. “We need someone adept at long range fighting. But what does that have to do with your current state of distress?”

“Mona said that today, his chances are increased by two-hundred percent. Right, Mona?” Aether’s gaze suddenly locks onto hers. She blinks.

“Yeah,” she responds, “but we had this discussion already, Aether, Childe’s rates are increased but that doesn’t guarantee you the fifty-fifty-”

“Childe?” Zhongli interrupts, interest suddenly piqued. “What does this have to do with Childe?”

Fifty-fifty? The more the conversation went on, the more confused Zhongli grew.

“Agh!” Aether scrambles, “I have to go! It’s happening!”

Zhongli watches with twice the amount of curiosity he had two minutes earlier. The mention of Childe has his heart racing faster than he’d like to admit.

Aether frantically pulls out a bag full of intertwined fates and rushes out to the open field ahead of them. The bag is absolutely loaded, filled to the brim and overflowing with these small, circular things that, in his six thousand years of living, he has never seen before. They are colored blue and pink, and they mix together and sparkle so divinely that Zhongli finds himself entranced by their color alone. He has read about them and their uses in the past, but he has never seen someone actually wish upon them.

Mona sighs around her teacup. “He gets like this every time I tell him someone new is coming,” she shakes her head wistfully, “I always tell him to stop spending so much of his mora on these fates! They’re not good for the economy-”

“And what do you know about the economy, Mona?” Keqing chuckles, coming around with plated food for the trio, “you spend the entirety of your paychecks immediately on the newest hot astrology item. Not that they’re not important to you but I’ve told you before that you ought to be careful with how you spend your mora.”

Mona’s jaw drops. “What!” she fumbles, “I am plenty responsible with my mora! And the things I buy are completely valid and of high rarity, thank you!”

“Hmm, is that why you almost starved and ate nothing but mushrooms for three months?” Keqing teases, nudging Mona’s mouth open with chopsticks holding fish. The astrologist pouts, but opens her mouth to eat, anyway. She’s right, but Mona would never say that to her face.

Zhongli doesn’t pay attention to their bickering.

Instead, he fixates on the way Aether scurries out and dumps the bag of fates out on the open field before picking them up, one by one, until ten of them are bunched up in his arms. Aether flops down on the grass beneath him and folds his legs underneath himself. The traveler hunches over the fates, huddling them close to his chest, and Zhongli can barely see his mouth moving as Aether begins to wish upon ten stars. With every word spoken, each fate slowly starts to disappear. The more his mouth moves, the more the fates begin to disintegrate from his arms.

A loud whirring noise above their heads suddenly takes place. It gets louder as it gets closer, and Zhongli cranes his neck to see stars hurtling toward Teyvat. He feels panic bubbling up in his chest as he sees the bunch go straight for his friend.

“Aether!” he yells, “Get over here, it’s dangerous out in the open!”

“I’m fine!” he hollers back like a stubborn child. “Ugh, dammit!”

Zhongli looks back up, and is baffled to see that one of the stars has turned purple. What in Celestia’s name-

Barbara appears before them, and Zhongli’s eyes all but bulge out of his head. Celestia, he’s too old for this. The young nurse is not the only thing to appear, though. Zhongli observes the various weapons that litter the ground and surround Aether’s feet. The blond observes them with a scrutinizing gaze, nudging the three star weapons with his foot and pushing the four star weapons aside for later. How peculiar.

Mona, on the other hand, smiles and waves a hand at her fellow water catalyst. “Barbara!” She hollers, “It’s good to see you!”

“Mona!” the young idol responds with a blinding smile, before focusing her attention back on Aether. The traveler sighs, gives her a quick hug in greeting, and sends her on her merry way back to Mondstadt after apologizing profusely for the inconvenience.

Keqing snickers. “It’s always so funny watching him get so intense about wishing.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Mona adds, “Remember how much he screamed when he finally got us?”

“Oh yes,” Keqing smiles around her cup, “I remember him throwing these strange artifacts at me and shoving a sword in my face, demanding that I use it, as if I don’t already have my own weapon!” She waves her hand dismissively, reminiscing her days when she was first introduced to the team.

Mona tips her head back and laughs heartily. “Oh, yes. He took my book away from me and gave me my lovely eye of perception. I must say, it’s a bit of a downgrade from my five star weapon, but I do feel as if I deal more damage this way.”

Keqing hums in agreement. “Likewise.”

Zhongli is quiet.

All he remembers from joining Aether’s team is being pulled at the last minute and being tackled into a hug as soon as he appeared. The traveler had all but pushed the skyward spine into his hands, and told him to hold onto what looked to be archaic petra artifacts. Zhongli had cocked his head, confused, but followed along anyway. What Aether was doing seemed important, regardless, and he decided to support his endeavours from there on out.

Now he watches with bated breath as Aether curls around another set of ten fates. Zhongli is beginning to understand what he is doing, but he fails to decipher what Childe has to do with any of this. His rates are increased? What in Celestia’s name does that even mean?

Aether begins wishing upon ten more fates and the abrupt whooshing above their heads starts up once more. One of the stars morph midair into purple once again.

Keqing and Mona sigh.

Zhongli just wants to understand.

Aether punches the grass beneath him.

A young woman appears before them along with another unnecessary plethora of weapons. She’s blonde, just like the last one, but she dons two pigtails and an eyepatch. A strange electric bird hovers around her, too, and Zhongli can’t help but wonder why she is dressed the way she is; she’s covered in purple and black, cocking one hip as if she owned the world. Zhongli is unsure about the energy she exudes. But in fairness, it is far too early to judge one’s character on nothing but appearance. Still, he watches carefully.

“Fischl,” Aether breathes, slumping against the floor, “hello.”

“Traveler,” she greets. “What exactly am I doing here? I will have you know, as Prinzessin-”

“Der Verteilung, you have many duties at home you must attend to, lest the kingdom you rule with grace and elegance burn to the ground without your remarkable leadership,” Aether finishes for her, “I know, I know. Sorry about that, I didn’t mean to grab you. You can go home.”

Fischl harrumphs. “I’m relieved to know you are aware of my importance. Good day to you, strange traveler.”

And then she’s gone.

Zhongli sighs, pushing himself up from the table and ignoring the way his knees disagree with the sudden movement.

“Where are you going?” Keqing asks, helping herself to another cup of tea.

“I’m going to talk to Aether,” Zhongli declares, “He seems...rather troubled, and I wish to help.”

“He gets like this every time,” Mona reminds him, voice softer than it was two minutes ago, “it’s really nothing new.”

Zhongli shakes his head. “It does not make it right to let him sit in his anxiety like this. Perhaps he could use a friend.”

Mona shrugs and lets him go. As he walks away, he hears the girls behind him begin to talk.

“Does Zhongli have a thing for Childe?” Mona asks in a hushed breath. Keqing’s eyes widened comically.

“Not that I know of? Why, did you sense something?” She leans in closer, ever the gossip. Mona shuffles so they’re speaking in hushed tones, even though Zhongli can definitely still hear them. He chuckles, shaking his head disapprovingly.

The ex-Archon pads over to where Aether sits, frantically bunching together ten more fates. Zhongli sighs, and bends to sit next to him. His back screams in protest. Goodness, mortal life is getting to him.

“Aether,” he begins, “I worry for your health.”

“I’m fine, Zhongli. I’ll be fine as soon as he gets here,” Aether answers without even sparing the elder a glance. He picks up fates and observes them carefully to inspect their quality, as if he were picking ripe apples out from the grocery.

“And who exactly are you waiting for?” Zhongli asks, indulging the blond for a moment.

“Childe!” he yells, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. The latter sighs. He, too, wishes for Childe to appear, but it simply did not work like that. One cannot summon another’s presence upon demand. Childe was too busy for that, anyway.

“Aether,” he begins, “you are anxious, friend, and I implore you to take a break from this please-”

“Zhongli,” traveler shuffles on his knees to look at him, “I have spent the last three months working my ass off for these fates, I’ve spent more mora than I’d like to admit, and I’ve spent far too long in that godforsaken spiral abyss scraping for three hundred primogems each time I freeze my ass off in floors nine and ten and it sucked, Zhongli, but I’ve worked hard and I need this, okay? I need Childe to come home. Because I need to get stronger, and I need a stronger team because I need to find my sister because I know she’s out there and, and-”

Zhongli raises a hand to quiet him. Oh, there was much to unpack here. His heart breaks for his friend’s state of distress. He places a comforting palm on Aether’s shoulder, lowering himself even more to look his friend in the eyes. The traveler looks a bit haggard, obviously from waking up early in anticipation. Zhongli wishes he could take his pain; he wishes he could take away the longing he desperately felt for his sister. But unfortunately, there was nothing he could do, so he offers his best comfort, instead.

“It’s alright,” Zhongli mutters, “I understand. You have worked hard, and you deserve a win. But Aether, whatever comes will come. Whether or not you ‘win the fifty-fifty’, you will be pushed in the right direction toward your sister, I promise you that. No amount of artifacts or talent books or weapon upgrades can compare to the strength you already harbor, looking for your sister every day despite knowing where she is. You face a battle against the unknown, and that in itself is commendable. Acknowledge your strength, Aether. You have come very far.”

Aether sags against him, letting himself lean forward until his forehead thumps against Zhongli’s chest. The contact is comforting. Everything about Zhongli is so warm and homey, and he smells of sleep and sandalwood. The calming effect is immediate, but his brain is still plagued with anxiety. Oh, Aether can’t bear the thought of Childe not coming this morning. It makes the blond sick to his stomach. Zhongli pats the top of his head soothingly.

“I know you miss her, but you will find her,” Zhongli continues. Aether squeezes the single fate in his hand anxiously. The blond fidgets with the single intertwined fate, pressing it up against Zhongli’s stomach as he squeezes his eyes shut, willing the tears to go away. He’s so, so tired.

“You must not give up now, alright? I, too, wish for Childe to come home. I wish to see him again, and frankly, it scares me how much I want him by my side once more,” Zhongli acquiesces, “I miss him dearly, and all I want is to be able to hear his laugh again. You feel the same about your sister, do you not? But Aether, this kind of loss is something we both must grieve. But what is grief, if not love persevering?”

Aether opens his mouth to begin responding, but his jaw quickly snaps shut as the fate between his palms disappears.

Keqing and Mona gasp loudly from where they sit back at camp. Aether startles, and pulls back to look at him with wide golden eyes.

All four of them look up to the sky, and are astonished to see a single golden star hurtling toward the ground they sit on. Aether gasps, barely containing his scream.

“Oh my god,” Traveler inhales sharply, “oh my god, you-”

“Get out of there!” Mona yells, and suddenly she’s standing up on her chair. Keqing places a steadying hand on the small of her back. “It’s going to crash right into you! Move!”

Aether scrambles backward as soon as he sees the pseudo asteroid plummeting directly toward where they’re both situated. “Zhongli!” he yells, “Move!”

The man in question shakes his head, unable to look away from the shooting star.

“It’s alright,” he responds, a sudden calm washing over him at the sight. Something about it feels so undeniably right. His heart tugs impatiently, desperately wishing to make contact with the ethereal being threatening to crash right into him, like a magnet reaching for its other half. “It’s alright, Aether.”

Seconds before it lands, Childe materializes right in front of him, arms flung wide open and a smile so bright that Zhongli almost winces.

The wind is knocked straight out his lungs upon seeing Childe’s gleeful face in front of him. It’s no longer a dream, Zhongli realizes. Ajax is here and he is very real and he is definitely plunging toward him at breakneck speed. This is no longer a figment of his imagination, and he has all but less than two seconds to comprehend that before the ginger barrels right into him.

Zhongi regains himself and digs his feet into the ground, summoning geo shackles from the ground to wrap around his ankles and lock him into place. He braces himself for impact.

Keqing screams. Mona looks away. Aether watches with wide, disbelieving eyes as Tartaglia comes plummeting out of the sky. He lets out an ugly mix between a sigh and a broken sob of relief. Finally. Celestia knows how much Aether needed this. He’s never been so happy to see an obnoxious red head of hair in his life.

Childe, Tartaglia, Ajax, slams into Zhongli at full force and immediately latches onto him like a lifeline. He wraps his arms around Zhongli’s neck, legs winding around his waist, and clings to him like a koala around a tree. Zhongli responds in kind, pressing Childe to his chest with strong arms that hold him impossibly close. The weights around his ankles drop as soon as he stabilizes the both of them, and the ex-Archon swings him around gleefully.

Tartaglia laughs, the noise slightly muffled from where his face is pressed into Zhongli’s collar. Tartaglia squeezes him tighter, and Zhongli eventually has to put him down because his back simply does not want to cooperate today. Tartaglia looks at him then, a little winded from his trek through the sky of all things. Cerulean eyes meet gold, and the sight of his freckled cheeks in front of him makes Zhongli feel as if he can do anything, gnosis or not. He is so filled with joy, heart so full of glee that he feels like he might burst. Celestia could redact his position as a god in its entirety and in this moment, he wouldn’t care. He couldn’t care, because immortality has been nothing but a curse to him so far, and growing old with the love of his life is all he ever desired.

“I can’t believe it,” Zhongli breathes, “you’re here?” he cups Ajax’s face gently, holding him as if he were made of glass.

“You called,” Childe responds, hands grasping at Zhongli’s waist. The Harbinger leans forward until their foreheads knock together. “I heard you, xiansheng. So I came.”

“Huh,” Zhongli says dumbly, “that’s all I had to do?”

“It’s all you had to do, idiot,” Childe scolds him, “I could feel you overthinking all the way from Snezhnaya!” he thumps a fist against Zhongli’s chest playfully. And to his delight, the sound that echoes is no longer hollow. Zhongli’s smile reaches his eyes for the first time in an abysmally long time.

“Childe!” Aether screams. They let go of each other in favor of looking at the one who made their reconciliation possible. “You son of a bitch!”

Childe’s eyes widen at the unprovoked insult. “What did I do?!”

“What did you do?” Aether is quick to rip his shoe off and fling it at Childe’s head. It misses, but only narrowly. “What took you so long, asshole!”

Tartaglia cocks his head to the side. “You were wishing for me, too? I only heard Zhongli’s voice, comrade!”

Aether squawks a noise of indignation. “You-!”

“Aether,” Zhongli interrupts their squabble. His hand never leaves the small of Childe’s back. “Thank you.”

The traveler lets himself slump forward, exhausted from draining all his emotional energy so early in the morning. “You’re welcome. Couldn’t have done it without you, Mr. Zhongli.”

“Is everything okay?” Keqing hollers from where she’s helping Mona down from her chair. “I hear a lot of yelling!”

“Everything is fine!” Aether yells back. Zhongli takes that as their cue to make their way back to camp.

When they arrive, the sun has risen well up into the sky and looms over all of their heads. Chongyun finally clambers out of his tent after he’s completed his ten hours of sleep. His light blue hair is ruffled adorably and he rubs the sleep out of his eyes. He stretches, yawns, and coughs when he takes too deep of an inhale. The exorcist summons one of his famous popsicles and sucks on it absentmindedly in place of a proper breakfast. He’s exquisite.

“Morning everyone,” he greets, nodding at the girls at the table. “I heard a lot of screaming. Who’s the new guy?”

Chongyun watches Childe blearily through sleepy eyes. He blinks, before taking in the newcomer. The first thing the young exorcist notices is the obnoxious head of red hair that barely looks styled. Next, is the mask he wears askew. And finally, the abnormal length of his femurs. Chongyun’s eyebrows furrow. He scratches his head. Why are his legs so long?

Childe leans into Zhongli’s side and grins wickedly upon noticing his vision.

“A cryo wielder, huh?” he snickers, “this is going to be fun.”

Mona is horrified to see the way the two never leave each other’s side.

Where there is Childe, there is Zhongli. Where there is Zhongli, there is Childe. Frankly, it is quite concerning. Do the two ever separate? Do they ever have an individual thought? Do they share those, too? Honestly, Mona thought she and Keqing were attached at the hip. But the fact that they can at least go to the bathroom separately says a lot more than what she can say for Zhongli and Childe. Seriously, these two act as if they’re never going to see each other again.

Regardless, Mona can’t bring herself to be surprised. From the moment she met the wild card that is Tartaglia, she knew that he and Zhongli were a good match. It was undeniable that the two had chemistry. Mona may not have been there for Aether’s adventures in Liyue, but she has seen enough of these two to know that they have quite the history. Although, that’s not the only thing about them that catches her attention. What was especially strange, however, was the way their pinkies would twitch anytime one would stray too far from the other.

It has been happening for a little over a week. Take, for example, this morning when the two had taken over the kitchen to allow Keqing to sleep in. Tartaglia moved to the far left side of camp to gather some ingredients, and Zhongli’s pinky had twitched and stretched out to where Childe was, not too far from him. At first, Mona had thought it was a Liyuan custom that she had no knowledge of, like the way Zhongli always told her to raise her pinky whenever she would drink. But this felt different. It looked effortless and candid, almost like Zhongli had no idea that it was happening.

The second occurrence was later in the afternoon when Aether had given them a new list of commissions for the day. Tartaglia was practically vibrating with excitement at the mention of four separate battles, and even offered to handle two of them on his own while the other four (Keqing requested a day off) separated and completed the other two. Aether had looked at him pointedly and shook his head no. They either did this as a team, or not at all.

Mid battle, while Childe was up against a blazing axe mitachurl, the jade shield that Zhongli had put up for him withered and dropped as soon as the mitachurl raised its weapon to swing violently at Childe. The wild look in its eyes made it very clear that the creature was out for blood, ready to defend the land that belonged to it. If Childe were to fumble for even a second and meet the brandished blade of the axe, it would have been the end for him.

His eyes widened.

Almost immediately, both of their pinkies twitched in place and stretched out as if reaching for the other. Mona watched the duo from the sidelines with curiosity as she and Chongyun froze a group of hilichurls together. She had sent out an illusory Phantom to continuously deal hydro damage and allowed Chongyun to go crazy with his claymore. The astrologist had sat back and observed the two on the opposite side of the battle field.

It had gone like this: the jade shield drops, their pinkies flutter, and Zhongli whips around with a level of ferocity and speed she’s never seen before to frantically summon a geo pillar right in between Childe and the mitachurl.

The Harbinger moves backwards just in time for the pillar to bear the brunt force of the swing, and his head snaps to where Zhongli stood. He stares at him, pointedly unamused with Childe’s recklessness, while he holds two hilichurls away from him with the butt end of his polearm. Childe grin and nods his thanks, and Zhongli rolls his eyes at the overzealous soldier. With a flick of his wrist, the geo wielder summons another shield to encompass Tartaglia as he lets loose on the battlefield. Though this time, Mona can see how the ex-Archon doesn’t let him out of his sight.

Childe switches to his melee style then. He forgoes his bow in favor of his hydro blades and launches forward while the mitachurl’s axe is stuck in Zhongli’s pillar.

Mona gasps, and a hand flies up to cover her mouth. Chongyun’s attention snaps to where she stands and gives her a once over to check for injuries. She waves him away, telling him to shut up even if he hadn’t said a word.

Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but the water Childe summons bends the sun’s rays a certain way until a very obvious, very crimson, very rare string of fate is revealed between Zhongli and Childe. It hangs between them languidly, but anytime either of them moves away too far, it’ll be pulled taut. They’re linked together by an invisible thread that Mona has only ever heard stories of; they were stories that spoke of a whimsical and eternal love that lasted liftimes and exceeded generations. The first time Mona had heard about it, she scoffed at the idea of having your partner chosen for you. But as she stands now, looking at Zhongli and Childe as they treat the battlefield as if it were a dance floor reserved for them, it felt almost illegal for either of them to be with anyone other than each other.

Her mind comes to a screeching halt when she realizes just how long Zhongli must have waited to meet him. Six thousand years, Mona ponders. But doesn’t the wait make the reconciliation all the more delicious?

Would you look at that, the astrologist thinks smugly, they’re tied by the pinkies.

It was never an accident, after all. These two souls, regardless of the six thousand year old gap between them, were meant to be together.

Oh, she has so much to tell Keqing when she gets back.

Lovely fanart!

My twitter!

#zhongchi #tartali #targlex chapis #Genshin Impact fanfiction #genshin impact #zhongli #childe #zhongli x childe #tartaglia #rex lapis #they're in loveeee #soulmates #red string of fate

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toujoursmiraculous · 3 years ago

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Thoughts and Reaction to WISHMAKER

Oh I'm so excited about this one! Marinette's little soft looks she gives Adrien in recent episodes before snapping herself out of it is adorable. Not overwhelming, just nice. Poor Adrien doesn't know what he wants to do. But the thing that hurts me most (probably because I was always in the same position he is in, so understand more than hurt from it) is the fact he thinks that with Ladybug adding more people to the team, he won't be needed and thus won't be Chat Noir anymore. OOOF it hurts! Poor Adrien doesn't realize that if Ladybug didn't give these Miraculous out, Shadow Moth would've gotten their Miraculous from them a long time ago. I rewatched all episodes out now in chronological order, and it's so obvious she cares about him and could not be able to do what she does without him. What needs to happen is for her to not only tell him that, but express it somehow for him to believe it.

"Come on, Plagg. It's time to start thinking about our future." OUR future. He's including Plagg in that future. Good! I definitely understand what this episode is trying to get across about jobs and careers, but a majority of people can't and never end up doing a job or career they love and gives meaning. Some struggle just to find something they can do with their circumstances, much less something that'd make them happy. A very good message though to encourage young kids to look into many interests and try to find what you enjoy to life to end up doing that makes an impact on the world to spread the positivity and happiness. Hey hey hey Alec, how dare you go after Andre the Ice Cream Maker?! But good on him for not letting it affect him at all, he's doing what he loves so the criticism doesn't matter. "Pistachio and pecan for the clear-sighted young man!" "Who? What young man?" "Hello Marinette." I love Luka so much and Andrew's voice is so smooth. x3 I've wanted to learn the violin for years, I have one, but have never been able to do much with it. Luka having and playing his violin makes me incredibly happy (and adore him even more). "Whoa. You definitely have a gift for finding the right words at the right time." "Adrien." "Ah, well, most of the time." LOL But this entire scene. Luka saying you haven't told him about your feelings have you, her noticing he's sad, and Luka being like let's go talk to him and help him then! Just. AWWW! Poor Adrien has so much pressure to find something he wants to do or his dad will make him do what he wants instead. That's going to make it even harder for him to find something... I remember a spoiler from a long time ago, of Adrien baking with Marinette. What if he finds he loves it when that happens, and it's what he wants to do? :o Ahahahaha when Luka goes and sits next to Adrien, Adrien looks up at Marinette expectantly to sit down too. Probably thought by him. but she went the safe route and went next to Luka. xD Adrien, thinking he knew what Luka and Marinette want to do. Luka knows what he wants but it isn't what Adrien or the rest of us thought. Marinette thought she knew but now she's not sure at all. So all three are kind of confused and it's complicated. Life's complicated. Have you noticed, this is the most honest Marinette and Adrien have ever been about something so deep and personal to them? And they're able to do it around each other. Because Luka's there. He's like their emotional guide to help bring them closer and I love it. "Nothing, my mind is empty!" "I'm completely lost!" - Marinette and Adrien say together. Dang. When Luka explains Marinette and Adrien's "inner music" that felt like the most deep and personal scene this show has ever had. "You two will eventually find what's already in front of you," he says before he knew. As they look at each other. Oh lovely foreshadowing moment here. "But you can't hear it clearly, just let the melody flow." In other words, let things happen as they should. Don't force anything. If it feels right to do something, do it. If it doesn't, don't. Wow that violin is so beautiful. Adrien and Marinette's reactions in

sync, the surprise at the tune, the contentedness, and wordlessly looking at each other before getting up and sitting closer. Such a beautiful scene, this has me in awe honestly. "I've wasted my life!" oh I'm sure that hit hard with some of us older viewers. :c I have trouble sometimes not thinking this way, but there's always still time to change how things are. I love that everyone's dreams are either sweet and positive or just plain silly. Like CrocoJagged.

Hey, hi there, son! I absolutely lost it LOL this was brilliant! And the way he runs away on his hind legs it's too much XD "Hey Adrien, go hide behind that tree!" and then he drags Marinette along to hide her. So funny he's the one taking control in this situation. He's really shown his superhero potential in this and Optigami, even when not suited up. oooh Marinette wasn't where he brought her. That was sus. "HEEEELP I DON'T KNOW HOW TO SWIM!" "If we get hit, we'll reveal our secret identities!" "What do you mean, m'lady?" "When I was six I wanted to be the Knitting Fairy, and the Knitting Fairy didn't wear a mask!" The fact she's distracted and Chat Noir had to be paying attention to pull her to safety was such a Ladybug move. What do you mean you're not needed, Chat?! Obviously you are! Also she's giving you information about herself! LISTEN. She never used to and doesn't have to tell you these things, she's choosing to! And she even asked about you and your childhood! "You must have just forgotten!" or didn't have one. I honestly didn't have a dream as a kid, either. I don't know, I never wanted to grow up and be anything in particular that I thought I could do. I didn't have wishes of things I wanted to do for fun much either. I don't know why exactly, but I had a dad that's enough like Gabriel so maybe that's why. (My sister proceeded to tease me about being a sentimonster, since there's that "Adrien's a sentimonster" theory going around). "But Dad, crocodiles know how to swim..." "I didn't when I was a kid!" THIS SCENE XDD I love it! "If Chat Noir and I get hit, you must come back to this exact moment." Yeah it was at that point my suspicions of Luka finding out about them both seemed to be very likely to happen. "Nobody can know about our secret identities." At this point I was going omg omg omg omg the entire time lol The fact that Adrien would decide to have his identity revealed so he could learn more about himself to help him in the future. o.o This poor boy! And here's Luka finding out about Marinette being Ladybug! The dramatic zoom in! Viperion goes "Marinette?!" literally with Chat less than a foot away and he doesn't even budge. He's really that sad he's not even paying attention to what's going on Dx Okay, Ladybug calling on her Lucky Charm just to have the plushie squeak in her hand got me lol "My childhood dream is being what my parents wanted me to be!" Adrien seems happy. And he's himself, it looks like, so I don't know if we just got it cut off short or if he is exactly what his parents wanted him to be, so he's happy knowing that information?

This back and forth between a serious moment and a hilarious one! Shadow Moth's horrified Adrien's Chat Noir lolol not even the same kind of reaction that was in Chat Blanc when he found out . Okay but back to Luka. I think he was much too far away to hear what Adrien was actually saying, but he can see that it's Adrien standing where Chat Noir was.

He sees Adrien's where Chat Noir was.

The realization that Chat Noir is Adrien.

Understanding exactly what it means for Marinette to be Ladybug and Adrien to be Chat Noir. It's interesting how the people of Paris were able to still have jobs that was as close to their childhood dreams as possible. The man that wanted to be Santa makes toys. Mr. Banana wanted to be a cucumber and while he's not one, he wears a Banana suit every day. Jagged wanted to be a crocodile so the closest he could get was to have one as a pet. Marinette wanted to be the Knitting Fairy and look at all she can knit and sew! Alec: "When I was a kid, I just wanted people to be happy!" so sad that his bullying made him want to make others miserable instead. But it's nice that he wants to start now trying to make others smile and be happy c: "Sorry Alec, but when you're a superhero, even your dreams have to remain a secret." But she told Chat Noir hers. If that's not her going in the direction of outright telling him who she is....! Please let Luka be the one to help Ladybug with Chat Noir and Adrien with Marinette. Please. They need it. They have to have Ladybug realize her feelings for Chat and be willing to tell him everything. And they need Adrien to open his eyes and realize his feelings for Marinette. Once those things happen, they'll be okay. Except Adrien still doesn't know what his dream is because that was taken away by Second Chance. Personally, I think his dream of wanting what his parents wanted him to be, is what he already is. He just doesn't know it. As for his future, that can be up to him to start finding! "Thanks to you, our secret identities were persevered and nobody discovered who Chat Noir and I really are..... uh, not even you, right?" "Not even me. Luckily Wishmaker never hit you or Chat Noir." LIES Funny that he was "Truth" before, but now he's spitting lies. HOWEVER don't worry, I understand very much why he's lying and with the way Marinette is, this would be something she'd worry about and obsess over and Luka doesn't want that for her. He knows he can handle it, and she'll find out about it later when she's meant to. I just think it's ironic and funny lol And ooooof the way Luka's face fell after she left. Poor bb. "It was nothing, Marinette. You know you can always count on me." Luka's going to be Marinette and Adrien's best friend in a way that Nino and Alya just can't be. I can feel it. "We're all okay. Thanks to Ladybug and Chat Noir."

Oh. Oh you dorks! It's like they somehow know deep down they're Ladybug and Chat Noir with that look at that line. They're looking at each other like they know to some extent... I'm sure nothing happened in an episode we have yet to see but, it feels a bit weird, don't you think? "I may not remember my childhood dreams, but that's okay! It's time to focus on the future and find my inner music, like Luka said!" AWWW good for you my precious sunshine boy! Keep being you. Also Adrien's disturbed look at Plagg killed me again.

Marinette: "I'll do it all! .... I'll be Luka's best friend and I'll love Adrien!" Yeah see, that's it! You guys are best as best friends, and Luka will one day find someone else and he'll be happy to have you as his best friend when that time comes too. As far as all the other stuff, that sounds very busy and exhausting, but if it makes her happy! "How can you love other people if you don't love yourself?" Oh dang, that's such a good line to have put in this show honestly! Nicely done. So this is definitely one of if not my favorite episode. Chat Blanc's been my favorite but this is at least up there with it! There's so much to take from this episode, and so much that can come from this episode's events that I'm both extremely excited and scared to find out what happens next.

#ml #miraculous ladybug #ml spoilers #ml season 4 spoilers #ml spoilers season 4 #wishmaker spoilers #luka couffaine #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #chat noir #ladybug #viperion #thoughts and reaction to wishmaker #toujoursmiraculous thoughts and reaction

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lokilickedme · 4 years ago

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The Queen of Springtown

I’m going to tell you a story. It’s a true story. There’s a bit of conjecture here and there to fill in empty spots, but not a lot. It’s a story about my grandmother - my paternal grandmother, not my maternal grandmother - I feel the need to specify who exactly it is because mom’s mom has a bit of a story too, but that’s for later.

This one’s about the one I’m going to call Elizabeth. Elizabeth was her middle name, it was a family name, it belonged to her mother and her grandmother I believe, though I didn’t know any of those people so I couldn’t swear by it. The family records are long gone if they ever existed.

Elizabeth’s last name was one of those romantically ridiculous names that still clung to old families at the turn of the century. It had a lot of extraneous letters at the end, a handful of unnecessary and partially silent sounds that looked beautiful in the flowery handwritten script of the time, a noble sounding -eaoux that did little more than tag a fancy sounding o onto the back end. A lot of fuss for such a little piece of sound. And when Elizabeth’s grandfather moved his family from France to Ireland and signed the manifests upon arrival in the new old land, he dropped the -eaoux and shortened the family’s name to four tiny letters and a single syllable. They were Irish now.

Elizabeth’s father carried the new name and the new heritage, and when he was of age he went and married an Irish beauty named - yep, Elizabeth. They say she was redheaded and blue eyed and fair skinned, though no pictures exist to prove it. All that exists is my grandmother, who supposedly looked just like her mama. She didn’t remember Ireland...she was too young when her daddy moved his family to a new land just like his own daddy had done, and she never really told anyone she was Irish. No one actually knew, once her parents were gone.

But you could tell. She looked it - flame red hair, china blue eyes, fair skin. She had the bones of whatever French nobility had been in her lineage from way back, but her colors were the Emerald Isle all the way. A beauty like you’d see in the movies, petite and ladylike and perfectly put together.

But my god that woman had a wild streak that dated right back to the Celts whose blood made up half of what she was.

(continued under the cut because long story)

So Elizabeth grew up in America, the daughter of an Irish mother and a French father. She had brothers and sisters, quite a few, though I never knew any of them. I believe I met two of them when I was too young to remember much about the encounter, but I’ve always found it hilarious that one of her sisters was named Bill. Bill, like the man’s name. I never found out why and I’m not entirely sure there was ever actually a reason. It was just one of those things.

The newly American family settled in Texas. And when Elizabeth was very young - probably not yet in her 20′s, though nobody knows for sure just how old she actually was because it’s likely she tended to fib a bit about her age to get into places she had no business being - she got herself involved with the Texas mafia.

Now let me tell you a thing or two about the Texas mafia. It wasn’t an official operation - not like the Italian Mafioso or the Eastern Syndicates or whatever the hell was going on between Florida and Cuba at the time. But it was every bit as dangerous and vicious and bloody and corrupt as any of those bigger organizations, and it was led for the most part by a man I’m going to call Big Joe.

This was the early 1940′s or thereabouts. Elizabeth was a party girl - up for anything, always out and about, girl-gang at the swing club, the works. And Big Joe saw her in the club one night, it may very well have been his club she was dancing at, and the proverbial first-sight thing kicked him hard in the gonads. This girl was a looker, and she was dancing with everyone in the place, whooping it up, living life like tomorrow it was all going to take a header into the sea. He had to have her.

And he did.

Big Joe was likely in his late 30′s, maybe early 40′s. There’s not a lot of information on him other than a handful of facts mentioned once and only once by my grandmother to my aunt - that Big Joe was a handsome man, big and tough and a snazzy dresser, and he always had enough money in his pocket to take Elizabeth anywhere she wanted to go and buy her anything she wanted to buy. And Elizabeth, party girl extraordinaire, was all up for that.

So Elizabeth and Big Joe become a thing. Everybody knows she’s his squeeze - and suddenly not a male soul in Dallas or the surrounding metropolitan areas will dare to lay an eye on her, not even a quick glance, because she’s Big Joe’s girl. And that means something. Elizabeth doesn’t know quite what it means because she’s likely not even 20 yet, but Big Joe is fun and romantic and he takes her on trips and buys her nice clothes. He buys her a ring, a blood red garnet, a ring that I inherit many decades later. He’s going to marry her, he says. She doesn’t care much one way or the other, she’s having too much fun dancing every night in his club, traveling with him, going shopping, rubbing shoulders with the rich and famous of the Southwest. She’s all but a star, protected and adored. Big Joe’s men follow her everywhere she goes when she’s not with him. And Big Joe starts going out of town without her a lot, taking care of business that he never tells her the details of.

She’s cool with that. He’s a businessman, that’s what he’s always told her. Things to take care of out of town. The Boss. He has a lot of operations to oversee, operations that make all that money he spends on her.

She has no idea what he actually does.

All she knows - or cares to know - is that when he comes back to town he ushers her around town in his big fancy black car, buying her furs and expensive dinners, showing her off to society. When he isn’t slapping her around...but hey, that’s part of the deal isn’t it? It’s the 1940′s, and Big Joe is very much a man of the era. Women grew up knowing they’d have to take the back of a man’s hand from time to time, and Elizabeth knew which side her bread was buttered on. She kept Big Joe happy, put a smile on his face, did the old grin-and-bear-it on the rest of it.

And then one night Big Joe comes banging on her door. He’s frantic. He pushes a set of keys into her hand - keys to the fancy black car that takes her everywhere - and tells her to keep it there, at her house. Don’t drive it anywhere, just keep it there. He’ll contact her soon and tell her what to do.

He leaves in another car with one of his men, and that’s the last time Elizabeth ever sees him.

A few weeks later she gets a letter from Big Joe telling her to drive the car into Grapevine Lake, on the far side by the shoals. Don’t open the trunk, he says. Put a brick on the gas pedal and put it in drive. Do it at night and make sure nobody sees you.

That night Elizabeth picks up her best friend and they drive the car to Grapevine to do as Big Joe said, sinking it in the murky green water on the far side of the lake. The two girls - just girls, barely even women yet - stand on the shore watching it disappear into the deep dark.

A week later Big Joe is shot to death. A deal gone bad maybe, or a competitor moving into the territory. Nobody really knows - grandmother never said. Don’t think I haven’t done my research...I know what I know, and according to a nearly nonexistent little trove of newspaper articles microfiched in a tiny little library in Azle Texas that isn’t even there anymore, odds are very likely that Big Joe went down in a shootout with the Dallas Police Department.

Elizabeth never opened the trunk of that car. At least she said she didn’t...it’s one of the many things that nobody ever knew or will ever know, because once she shut the door on that part of her life and moved on, it might as well have never happened. Getting this much out of her was outrageously difficult. Thanks to my very tenacious and very persevering aunt, what I’ve just told you managed to survive. It’s very likely my aunt was the only person she ever told, and it’s very likely I in turn am the only person my aunt ever told. And now my aunt is in her 70′s and in poor health, and this little unknown family story has started poking around at the back of my skull. I don’t want it to be lost. I don’t like the idea of soon being the only person alive who knows it. It’s not a spectacular story, but it’s testament to the fact that extraordinary things happen to ordinary people, probably more often than you’d think - and that those ordinary people sometimes take it all to the grave with them.

Elizabeth - my dad’s mom, my grandmother, the one I look like and act like and laugh like, the one whose cheekbones and eyes and hair and size I was born with, passed away twenty-something years ago. She lived through some extraordinary things. After the demise of Big Joe she married an oil roughneck, one of the semi-transient oilfield workers that were prevalent in the Texas Panhandle at the time, and had two children with him - one of whom was my father. The roughneck was the epitome of the James Dean romantic brooding bad boy type, handsome and manly, but unfortunately also a scoundrel who had a second family in another city that he went to every other month when he traveled to another rig for work. She left him when she found out. It was almost unheard of at the time, a young mother taking her two little kids and leaving her husband to be on her own, but she did it. And when my father was 12 she met and married a very tall, very handsome, very Cary Grant-esque railroad worker who loved life every bit as much as she did.

They were together for the rest of her life. I’ve never to this day seen two people more in love than Elizabeth and Jesse. I spent many summers in Texas with them and not a night went by that I couldn’t hear them giggling in the next room after lights-out, talking and laughing quietly until granddad’s wallshaking snores echoed through the house. It just about killed him when her heart gave out. But she was old, and she’d lived a life worth living. There was nothing in her face in those final moments that could ever convince anyone she wasn’t ready and willing to go when the time came.

I’d been married for a couple of years when she died, and my husband and I traveled to Texas for the funeral. The first night there, as my aunt brought out grandmother’s jewelry box and told me to take whatever I wanted, the story was passed from her to me. And when it was all told I opened a little drawer in the bottom of the jewelry box and pulled out an old garnet ring that I’d seen before, when I was a small child snooping in grandma’s stuff. I’d always been fascinated with it...it just looked like it had a story to tell. That’s it, my aunt said. That’s the ring he gave her. That’s all she ended up with.

It was the only thing I took.

The church was so full the next morning you’d have thought it was the final sendoff for some local celebrity. Everybody loved my grandmother, everybody, but this was sort of astounding. Some of them I knew from my childhood, from many many summers spent in the Panhandle, but people came from all over to say goodbye and nobody in the family knew who a lot of them were. They just showed up, some of them cried, some just stood in the back of the church all stoic in black suits. Some were very old. And when it was over and I turned around to watch a group of distinctly important-looking old gentlemen quickly and quietly leave the building, I looked over at my aunt and pointed at them. She arched her eyebrows in that way she always did, that way, the way that said What did I tell you?? - and I wondered if maybe all those years ago some of Big Joe’s men hadn’t pulled that car out of Lake Grapevine and found the trunk empty.

I mean...this is Elizabeth we’re talking about.

#true story

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neonponders · 3 years ago

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WIP Wednesday

Thank you for tagging me @lazybakerart 💗💋

I’ve got two big writing projects on my plate this week lol but one thing I’m kind of indulging is a break-up/getting back together fic that I actually started in this post, but I’ll share what I have so far underneath the cut ~

(and excuse me while I overshare, because I’m still stupidly proud of this The Mummy_au post that I made if anyone wants a taste of that)

Tagging (if you want) ✨ @ghostofjellyfishforgotten , ✨ @smashmouth-hargrove , and ✨ @withoneheadlight

(also just a heads up for the wip below: it’s once again me exploring my own asexuality through Steve, but I don’t know how far I’m going to go into it. Still, that might be a content warning people may need if they’re sex-repulsed 🌹)

Ch. 1

Sex with Billy was fine. Good, even.

When they finally moved past every look and touch being a threat veiled in a tease, Steve enjoyed looking at Billy. He enjoyed looking at Billy and discovering those California eyes already on him. He liked Billy’s hands. The man had beautiful hands; strong, thick fingers but...somehow elegant.

He liked Billy’s body, even though he sometimes worried that the guy seemed determined to break it ten different ways. Cigarettes, alcohol, excessive working out, and sometimes all at the same time.

Sex didn’t always mean Steve got to cum. Usually he didn’t, actually. But he enjoyed Billy’s kisses on his neck, and the taste of his tongue, and - admittedly - he loved just having all of Billy’s attention enraptured on him. Steve didn’t mind taking his dick inside because once he got used to it, that felt surprisingly good. When he managed the pleasurable sparks and sensational tingles that mounted into something explosive, he understood why sex was great. But for the more frequent, calm nights, he’d come to think of it as a weird yet pleasant massage.

So he took it. Because it was easier on his hands and knees, for one, and because Billy had a control complex. And Steve could hide his lack of enthusiasm.

Not to say that Billy was selfish or careless. Far from it, Billy Hargrove was an incredibly doting lover. Big surprise, there. Considering how the guy

Well

Existed.

Steve couldn’t really blame Billy for never noticing that he could go a long time without sex. Because Steve liked resting his hand on Billy’s chest while they watched a show or movie. It didn’t matter how much bare skin he had access to. In fact, the more coverage, the better. A clothed body is better to cuddle with than skin that can get sticky or irritated.

Steve liked kissing. He’d always liked kissing. Kissing was the reason he’d assumed he was like everyone else: the desire to kiss, crushes and girlfriends, masturbating, even the giddiness of sex with someone new.

But something fizzled out very quickly in Steve’s brain. Once hands and intent started moving beneath clothing, Steve just...didn’t want it. Suddenly a lot of things popped into his brain that he’d rather be doing. But he persevered because he loved Nancy, and her blooming sexual prowess and bravery was sexy.

Fun.

Billy was a whole big bag of new with an edge of scary that turned out to be more endearing than Steve thought possible. So it was easy to go like that for a while.

Normal.

Eventually he had to admit to himself that he didn’t like taking showers at 1am because he didn’t enjoy being covered in his own, and Billy’s, sweat. He didn’t like feeling the drips on his skin or the tackiness of too many skin oils on his hands.

He hated admitting to himself that he felt relief whenever Billy went out of town for work. He missed Billy, of course, but a lot of things had begun to snowball together in Steve’s life: changing jobs, managing bank accounts and savings, and there were a lot of truths Steve was facing outside of his relationship.

He was tired. Damn tired. He spent many days off wondering if people in their twenties feel this tired all the time or if it was just him. It must just be him. Because Steve sees Robin just as much as he doesn’t. She’s got goals.

And Billy

Billy has big dreams. He’s ready to work damn hard and already is. That’s why he uses his hefty gas money funds, to travel around. Scout the areas. Steve even drove him to the airport once, so Billy could really gain some distance over the weekend. Expand his network.

As if the universe knew, some bigwig passing through Hawkins on their way to Chicago ran right into Billy. A bigwig looking for a handsome, charismatic, young guy to mentor. It really couldn’t be more perfect than divine intervention. They’re Billy’s inlet to the business. Modeling, acting, freaking UNICEF ambassadorial work if he wants to feel extra important. If he gets big enough to have his face mean something around the world.

Within one conversation, he’s got a business card, and an appointment in a Chicago skyscraper next week to take measurements and do a rudimentary photo shoot. The manager warns him that it’s the agency getting to know him, but like any job interview, it’s his chance to interview them right back. Billy likes that a lot—feeling like he has a stake in something instead of just being a corporate pawn. And maybe he eats right out of the manager’s hand, but it’s still a shot. And he’s taking it.

He immediately goes to Steve’s work, fired up from seeing a future for the first time like he finally got the right prescription glasses. The only caveat is that Billy has to move out of Hawkins, which isn’t even a flaw, really. It’s as close to perfect as life’s ever been for him.

Steve can only listen quietly as he sits at the table in the break room. Because Billy’s got big dreams that are already coming true. Every detail of his enflamed speech is given over pacing feet; he can’t even bother to sit at the table. Billy’s got so much energy he’s already mentally and emotionally out the door.

Steve…isn’t. His mental health has been on a downward slope since before they graduated, and it won’t allow him to reach anywhere. He doesn’t have any dreams to steer him in any direction anyways.

Billy’s rant begins to wind down about what he wants to do; his fire about his dreams and his motivation simmers down to an even boil. Steve’s impressed and already proud of the person Billy will become, but Steve can also hear Billy’s frustration with him and their relationship.

For not keeping up.

Steve’s…kind of never been able to keep up. In bed or in life.

And perhaps the saddest part is that Steve doesn’t even have it in him to fight for it. For them. He doesn’t feel worthy enough to hold Billy back. So he doesn’t.

Billy snaps a little, “Why aren’t you saying anything? I’ve been talking about this for the last two years! Steve?”

He’d gotten distracted by looking at his backpack hanging on the wall. Steve’s throat hurt. Two years? God, it’s really been two years already…

He pinched his fingertips over the table as he began, “Billy, I support you. I know you can get there—wherever it is you want to be. I’m not going to tell you to stop or slow down. You’re going somewhere. But I’m…”

He took a breath to finally say it. “Not. I don’t know what I’m doing, and I don’t think I have the energy to figure it out any time soon. You should go.”

Steve can see the disappointment sinking through Billy’s features. And the anger that he’s so used to throwing up as a shield. Billy has so much energy coursing through him as it is, Steve can’t blame him for swinging right into the direction of livid.

The real surprise comes from how soft he speaks. No yelling. No hitting the table. No wrenching Steve up by his green uniform vest. They were long past those outbursts. Which…really just confirmed Steve’s decision. Billy had come a long way. He could go so much further.

“That’s what you have to say? Just like that…you’re really giving up on us?”

Steve knows he’s gaping like a stupid fish. But it isn’t just like that, is it? Billy’s been revving his engines to get the hell out of Hawkins ever since he got here in the first place. Steve tries to say as much, but Billy cuts him off.

“I thought you’d be excited for this. You should be hauling me out of here to pack my bags.”

Steve tries to offer a small smile, but his voice betrays him. “I thought I kind of am? I didn’t take you for the long distance type.”

It’s not the response Billy wants. That should make Steve feel better than it does; the blatant display that Billy wants more of Steve. His excitement, his attention, maybe his companionship…

Steve doesn’t know what he wants—or rather, he does. That’s the issue. Billy’s wants and Billy’s problems can all be resolved by leaving one critical piece behind.

Steve.

Some more things are said, but Steve doesn’t do well on the spot. Especially when the limelight is Billy. Steve fails the tests and he fails the interview. Billy storms out, leaving Steve at the table, pinching his fingertips white before he unconsciously glances at his backpack again.

The backpack full of apartment lease papers. The papers Steve’s already signed because even with his insecurities, the mornings he woke up to discover Billy spooning him after having returned in the middle of the night were his best days. Because Billy’s silly insistence on hand poured coffee was his favorite drink. Because Billy was funny and weird like an artist and loony like a nerd with his video games, and Steve knew—or at least hoped that—Billy loved him the day he started holding his hand while driving that stupid, loud, beloved Camaro—

Because Steve’s heart was a magnet. It stayed where it landed and tugged back even when pulled away.

All he’d needed was Billy’s autograph to be given the keys. Keys to the rest of their lives, if Billy wasn’t already so far away.

Ch. 2

Robin gripped Steve’s arm, hard. A gargled sound escaped him as he grimaced and tried to pry her hand off. Her other hand pointed at one of the catalogues on the store’s many counters. When he invited her with him to pick out glasses, he hadn’t expected to walk out of the freaking optometrist’s office with bruises…

Nor had he thought he’d see a familiar face in the catalogue. Plenty of models were looking editorial chic, advertising that anyone could look as good in whatever glasses they chose.

Except Billy really did look good. The picture was just a vague image outside, the camera focused on Billy’s three-quarter profile gazing off past the photographer.

“I didn’t expect him to actually be working this fast,” Robin admitted. “It’s been…what? Seven months, give or take? I thought casting calls for models were competitive.”

“Not if you look like Billy,” Steve huffed with a quiet mixture of humor, sadness, and just a sprinkle of spite. A sprinkle of jealousy, if he was being honest with himself. The self-help book tucked under the covers of his bed talked about honesty. So he admitted honestly, “He looks that good and knows how to stand out in a room…good for him.”

He could see in his periphery Robin looking up and scrutinizing him. “Really?”

Steve shrugged with a nod. “Yeah. What’s the other option? Him struggling for work?”

Robin sighed and plucked a display set of glasses at random to try on and occupy herself. “That’s big of you, but everyone wants something cathartic. It’s annoyingly impressive that he landed the front cover of a magazine in less than a year.”

Steve opened the catalogue to give them both a reprieve. “You wanna get food after this? Take your mind off the audition?”

For all the good being a band geek did, Robin had experienced her own humbling experiences over the last few months. Like failed auditions to be in city orchestras. She and Steve were feeling very stuck in Kansas while Billy gallivanted around Oz.

• • • • • • •

The plot gets messy because years will actually go by, and Steve and Robin get married so that they can share insurance benefits (and be safe in their bi/lesbian open relationship, buy a house together, etc. It’s the life/happiness security Steve wants but obviously there aren’t any romantic feelings).

Of course this is when Billy happens to reenter Steve’s life. He’s got some hot-shot model he’s been seeing, and apparently Steve is married so there’s the added dash and twist of ~ cheating ~

I’ve been in some kind of mood, all right.

If you made it this far, thank you for reading lol.

#harringrove #wip wednesday #this is a long one i'm sorry lol #also do check out the mummy au linked above for a much happier wip lol #neonponders #lazybakerart #the art of steve in a blindfold can also be considered a wip?#i'll reblog it for everyone haha #ficlet #break-up/getting back together

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kopikokun · 4 years ago

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Spilled Drinks & Study Sessions༄ mark l.

↳ When you’re forced into a study session with your next door neighbour Mark, who also happens to be your academic rival in school, things go south very quickly.

pairing; mark lee x reader

genre; fluff, slight angst, enemies to lovers (more like friends, but anyway)

wordcount; 2503 words

author’s note; how the hell do you guys write e2l and make the transition so smooth? bro i could never. also, the header pic is different than what i normally do :/ it’s kinda eh, but i liked the picture so i had to do something with all that empty space

Request 26: Mark + “Oh, are you ticklish?” (73) + “Why are you naked?” (109)

— 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧. | 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬.

The animosity between you and Mark is intense and painstakingly obvious to everyone around you. Well, everyone besides your parents, you suppose.

“Can you stop being so loud? You’re distracting me,” you grumble, angrily flipping through your homework.

“Well, I’m sorry for breathing.” Mark rolls his eyes at you. “Would you rather I stop entirely instead and drop dead right here, right now?”

“At least it would be quieter if you did.” You press your pen down harder, taking your rage out on your poor, innocent worksheet. If you’re going to blame anyone for the excruciating torture your homework is enduring, you’d blame Mark. Even if it technically isn’t his fault, you’d still pin the blame on him.

“What’re you gonna do with my body? You wouldn’t be able to lift me, I mean, you couldn’t even open that can of Coke.”

Your cheeks grow warm, mentally replaying the image of a grinning Mark as he effortlessly opened your can of Coke, the soft hiss of its fizz taunting you. Mark had puffed up his chest triumphantly like he was some kind of hero. For crying out loud, he had only opened a can of Coke, not saved his country. It still bruised your pride though, having to ask for help from Mark, your sworn rival since middle school. Childish, you know, but you’re certain that Mark thinks of you as such too.

“Whatever,” you fumble for a name to call him, “nerd.” Mark snickers at you. “My fingers were just slippery.” He arches a brow, challenging you, and you scowl. “I wouldn’t be able to lift you because you’re heavy, fatass. Not because I’m weak.” You twirl a lock of your hair around your finger. “And look who’s talking, Mr. I-Can’t-Open-Doors.”

Mark flushes crimson as he silently fumes. “That was because I was pushing the pull door!”

“That’s even worse, Mark,” you tease, unable to suppress a smile. “Dumbass,” you mumble below your breath, enjoying the way Mark seethes.

“You’re calling me a dumbass? If I remember correctly, I was the one who placed above you last term.” Mark haughtily flips a page in his workbook. “Which I think is why your parents want me to tutor you.”

You throw a measly eraser shaving at Mark in rebuttal. “You know that’s not why I’m here!” Another shaving is thrown at Mark’s head, yet he doesn’t even look up at you. “In fact, your parents probably wanted me here so I could babysit you!”

Neither you or Mark are right. Your parents just chucked you together because they thought that after all those years of living beside one another and having weekly dinners together, you two would be absolutely wonderful buddies, and you can’t fault them for assuming such a thing.

Logically speaking, you and Mark are supposed to be the bestest of friends. As much as you dislike the word, it seems as if fate has decided that you two are meant for each other. Gross.

In almost every situation possible, you and dear Markie boy over here have been unwillingly strung together—from group projects, to assigned seats, you two just can’t get a break from one another.

Your parents had innocently thought that having a little study session while they went out for a double date with Mark’s parents would be beneficial for you two. Perhaps even fun. Fun, your ass.

All those years spent with Mark hasn’t made you friends, no, it’s made you rivals.

Yeah, so not sworn enemies, but what’s life without a little exaggeration?

You’ve always been a bright kid, some would even go as far to say that you’re ‘gifted’, but you think ‘persevering’ is a better word to describe it. You weren’t just born naturally intelligent or outstandingly athletic, no, you’ve had to work hard, insanely hard, for that. It hadn’t been handed to you all nicely wrapped with a little bow to match, just for you to tear it open and take. You’ve had to tolerate and undergo several sleepless nights, and many agonising hours of training.

Up until middle school you were top of your class in all aspects. You were idolised (well, as idolised as you could be for a middle schooler anyway), loved and acknowledged. It had been blissful.

That was until, little Mark with that stupidly cute gleam in his eyes came along, skipping over to you in those worn-out track pants and smiling toothily as he introduced himself as your brand new next door neighbour.

You have to admit, initially, you and him were close friends. You’d walk home together, sneak out to go to the convenience store together, share snacks together, the list goes on. You’d even given Mark your very first kiss, right on the cusp on your twelfth birthday. He didn’t know that it was your first kiss though, and he’ll never know. You’d rather be shot at point blank range than give up such private intel.

But when one day, in seventh grade, when Mark had begun closing in on you in rankings, outrunning you at the park and gradually being everyone’s new favourite, you found yourself isolated. Even one of your friends, a girl with straight long hair that fell past her waist, started hanging out with Mark more than with you.

And when you invited her to your thirteenth birthday, the first thing she’d asked was, “Is Mark going to be there?”

And at that same party, you saw her, kissing the boy you had been crushing on for the past year. And it looked like Mark really enjoyed kissing her too. More than he did with you.

From that point on, you began to distance yourself from Mark. It was gradual, slow, but you knew Mark could tell. When he finally surpassed you academically too, you started harbouring a resentment towards him, and the rivalry between you two started.

You were somewhat hoping he’d confront you, at least wonder why your attitude towards him had seemed to change in the blink of an eye, but he hadn’t. And that stung.

Obviously rumours had circulated in middle school about what was going on between you two. Kids, no, people love to talk. And talk they did.

It had been widely known that you and Mark used to be inseparable at one point in time, and it was jarring seeing how differently you two were acting around each other.

Mark and that friend of yours had broken up some time after that, and evidently she was pissed. It seemed as if she had begun spreading gossip about you, claiming that you had been some sort of psycho ex-girlfriend and that you had threatened Mark to break up with her, essentially, she was villainising you.

When high school finally rolled around, Mark’s ex had moved by then—you weren’t sure where and you didn’t care to know. The rumours eventually died down with her absence, and you thought that maybe, just maybe, you and Mark could finally make amends, bury the hatchet, as one would say. But that never happened.

Looking back, you’re a bit amused at what an eventful and dramatic childhood you had. All those scandals at just thirteen? What a boss bitch. Present you would not be able to stomach that.

You take a peek at Mark. He’s attractive. Of course he is. He had been a cute kid, no doubt, but as he’s aged, he’s matured into his good looking features. He’s not the rugged and manly kind of good looking, he’s got more of a sweet boyish look to him, and in your opinion, it adds to his charm.

“What are you staring at?”

Shit, you’ve been caught. No, caught? It’s not like you were doing something you shouldn’t have. “Nothing.” You reach forward to take a sip from the infamous Coke can. It’s lukewarm, but you gulp it down regardless, trying to appear unfazed.

“Were you checking me out?”

Disaster strikes just as those words leave Mark’s lips. The putrid sensation of warm coke leaves your mouth entirely, not because you’ve begrudgingly swallowed it all, but because you’ve spit it out from the sheer shock of Mark’s question.

“Hey! What the fuck?” Mark stands from his chair across from you and its legs scrape against the floor with a sound that makes your skin crawl.

You cough and sputter, gasping for air. Once you’ve gotten past that tight feeling in your throat, you wipe the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand. A few droplets of the sugary drink dribble onto your shirt. But fortunately, well for you at least, you’re not as drenched in spit-laced Coke as Mark is.

“Shit!” You lift your gaze to look at Mark, who’s surprised, to say the least.

Mark takes a breath to say something, the words on the tip of his tongue, but he clamps his mouth shut, opting to groan in annoyance instead. “Jesus, why’d you even do that?”

Your face burns in embarrassment. No way you’re going to admit to him that you were checking him out. Sort of. “I don’t know, it just went down the wrong channel, I guess.”

Mark’s lips form a thin line of dissatisfaction. “Yeah, okay, whatever.” He cringes as his shirt sticks to him. “ I’m gonna go change.”

He runs a hand through his hair, face upturned in frustration as he stomps up the stairs, his footsteps echoing throughout the living room. Your eyes follow his figure until he turns a left into his room.

You sigh. If you were home alone, you would have screamed in humiliation. The can of Coke on the table mocks you. You resist the urge to pick it up and hurl it into Mark’s neighbour’s backyard—well, your backyard.

A sliver of positivity presents itself in the form of you and Mark’s mostly unscathed worksheets. There are a few stray droplets here and there, but it’s barely noticeable. It would’ve been much worse for both Mark and you if you had drenched those as well. In fact, your homework wouldn’t be drenched in just saliva and Coke, but also in tears at that point.

You curse the can in your grasp, its aluminium smooth against your skin, before you dump it in the bin. Good riddance, bitch.

I should apologise. You can suck up your pride for that. No, this isn’t even about petty things like pride anymore. That shouldn’t matter. I should apologise, you think to yourself firmly.

Alright. Apologising. Sorry. You inhale deeply, gathering your senses and calming your jittery nerves. Why are you even nervous? It’s not like you’re professing your undying love to him. Chill the fuck out.

As you’re standing before Mark’s single, wooden door (which looks extremely daunting for some reason), it doesn’t dawn on you that perhaps you should knock first.

If it had, then perhaps you wouldn’t be staring at a shirtless Mark, your hand still wrapped around his doorknob and your mouth hung agape.

“Oh my God, Mark!” You cover your eyes, the door shutting behind you with a creak. You’re a bit ashamed at how fast your cheeks are overtaken by a hot, prickling feeling. “Why are you naked?”

Mark, though just as startled as you are, has the common sense to reach blindly for the stained shirt he just took off, holding it in front of him. “What do you mean why am I naked? Why are you here?”

You take a few steps back, your back pressed up against the door. “I- I came up here to say I’m sorry. You know, for uh, just now?”

Your hands slowly fall to your sides as you burn holes into Mark’s carpeted floor with your eyes instead.

“Oh, uh, o-okay. Apology accepted, I guess.” Mark’s voice cracks and he clears his throat. “Let me just uhm—”

You can hear his drawer sliding open and the faint rustle of fabric. All the while you keep your gaze glued to the floor, feeling your cheeks grow warmer by the second. Oh my God, you’re acting like a little girl who’s just held a boy’s hand for the first time.

This isn’t the first time you’ve seen a guy naked—for fuck’s sake, Mark’s not even naked. He’s all covered up where he should be. Why is the sight of just his bare body from the waist up making your mind go blank and your palms grow sweaty? It’s not like you have feelings for him anymore. No, you don't.

“You can uh, you can look up now.”

You steel yourself, looking up to face Mark. Why did you have to steel yourself? It’s not like he’d have taken even more clothes off once you looked up again. You feel like slamming your head into the wall.

You fiddle with your fingers, searching for something to say to try and ease the tension. “Uh, sorry. For spilling that Coke all over you, I mean.” You scratch the nape of your neck. “And for you know, walking in on you changing.”

“Why didn’t you leave?”

Your shoulders slump. “Huh?”

Mark chuckles confidently, like he’s unabashed. His cheeks are ablaze with colour, though. “I mean, why didn’t you just back out of the room when you walked in on me changing? Why’d you just stand there?”

You blink at him. Why didn’t you just leave? “I- I froze up, okay? Don’t bully me!” Your ears are burning.

“Yeah, okay, okay.” Mark raises his hands by his sides, that entertained smile never leaving his lips. “Let’s go back down, okay? I still need to finish my work.”

You chew on your inner cheek. “Yeah, whatever,” you try to find a creative name to call him.

“Yeah, I know. Nerd.” Mark raises his brows at you, still with that amused grin. You wish you could smack it right off his stupidly handsome face.

You huff, turning on your heel and practically booking it to the stairs. Mark catches up to you in no time with long, languid strides. Stupid long ass legs.

“Hey, wait up, loser,” he says, a hint of delight in his voice. He pokes your side and you jump, shoving his hand away and mustering a weak glare at him. “Oh, are you ticklish?”

You gnaw on your bottom lip. “No, I’m not, fatass!” Despite your harsh tone, your cheeks deceive you, blossoming with warmth yet again.

Mark smiles genuinely this time, although there’s no sarcastic edge to it whatsoever. “You getting shy?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Hey, don’t be upset!” The next thing Mark says is nearly incomprehensible, but you hear it. Oh, you definitely do.

“You look cute.”

Your head swivels to look back at Mark, and you realise that he hadn’t meant for you to hear that.

The faintest of smiles teases your lips, before you turn away, denying him the satisfaction of seeing you break out into a grin. “Yeah, whatever, Mark.”

Now, it’s Mark’s turn to be enveloped in heat as a red tint spreads across his cheeks.

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