#the way the sun shines through a gap in the trees that's created when you cut down something diseased and dead.

[mactiir]

The very funny thing about having finally recovered from depression after being depressed for literally decades is. Even though I'm no longer depressed. My kneejerk initial reaction when I get overwhelmed is like "fuck it time to die" and then, because I have spent a lot of time and intention and money on therapy, my IMMEDIATE next thought is "no you won't babe, eat some broccoli. Go for a run. Go see ur friends" and the moment I've done any combination of those things I'm like singing showtunes about how good life is. Like ok brain i understand you spent the last fifteen years in a critical state but maybe we can do the broccoli first next time. Vegetables before defaulting to Habitual Symptoms please.

[millersamour]

different devils (series prologue) - joel miller x f!reader

“We’re all in the same game; just different levels. Dealing with the same hell; just different devils.”

Word Count: 3.2k

Pairing: joel miller x f!reader

Series Summary: You're one of Jackson's longest, and most reclusive inhabitants. You're Tommy's patrol partner. You raised an adopted son. Now spending every day doing what you can to keep the devil at bay. Until Joel Miller shows up, with a fourteen year old, and the same kind of demons.

(collage made on pinterest)

Series Warnings: set during outbreak, violence, descriptions of body mutilation, use of weapons, reader is 21 in prologue but 34 in main story, age gap (joel is 56), eventual smut (will tag accordingly), darkish! joel, reader is also a violent survivalist, reader has a similar joel/ellie dynamic with an oc!, raider/cult subplot, typical disturbing stuff in media about zombies/apocalypse situations

Prologue Summary: After nine years of surviving the apocalypse you meet some people who offer you the chance to start over.

A/N: straight up no joel in this :/ sorry lol, this is just character plot because i love angst and slow burn!!!! we support traumatized morally grey fmcs in this house <3

-

Prologue

March 2011 

You had been tracking a doe for about an hour when you heard the sounds. Deep gurgling and clicking echoing from somewhere you couldn’t see. 

Fuck. 

The deer seemed like a lost cause if there were any more than a single one of those unforgiving creatures lurking nearby. 

With one last glance to the deer, its light brown fur shining in the morning sun, you tucked the bow underneath the thick leather strap of the quiver at your back and made quick work of climbing a thick tree.

You watched the creature below from about twenty feet in the air. The deformed body weaving between the trees, dragging its feet through the wet vegetation. Growths emerging from its skull covered any trace of its former humanity. Bright fungi absorbing the very idea that this thing had ever bore resemblance to a person. The bow in your grasp followed its movements as it veered left, and thankfully, away from your campsite. 

Not wasting any arrows today.

With a sigh of relief, which sounded more like a huff of annoyance, you surveyed the area a final time before deciding to make your way back to Leon. You dismounted the tree, landing the last few feet with a thud and took off back into the thicket. 

Rope and sticks had been used to hold up what had once been a tarp, now just a small sheet of plastic, to create a makeshift tent. It was completely useless against the cold but it had kept you dry from the torrential downpour that had plagued your travel the last few days. The first signs of spring were always welcome after months of cold and snow, but you couldn’t deny the pang of guilt you felt after surviving another winter. 

Leon was awake now, nursing a small fire. He grinned as he watched your form emerge from the treeline. The early morning gave you a respite, where it could just be you and Leon. Not what you had become part of. 

“Anything good?” He asked, eyes trailing from your face to glance at your empty hands. 

“No” You shook your head. “Damn clicker came outta nowhere and spooked the deer I spent an hour tracking” You huffed, slumping beside him. 

Grimacing, he handed you a thermos and you sipped. Warm water flooded your mouth and sternum as it landed in your empty stomach. You hummed, savouring the temporary warmth and handed it back to him. He pulled a small bunch of cloth from his backpack and you grimaced at the only remnants of food you had left.

It had been almost six months since you and Leon had been on your own and almost a full two years since you’d left the QZ.

-

You had only been twelve on outbreak day. But you could recall those memories like it had been yesterday. Stepping off the school bus, doing homework, and eating dinner with your parents, before heading off to bed. You remembered the soft pink of your bedroom. The quilt at the foot of your bed. The toy rabbit you’d slept with since you were born. 

But the sounds of alarms and glass shattering and screams had woken you. 1:02 AM flashing bright green on your alarm clock. You had crept downstairs. The noises outside drowned out by the fear of what would be waiting for you. 

Standing at the bottom of the stairs, you saw the pool of blood first. Crimson leaking into the cracks of blue kitchen tiles, staining the grout. You had hesitated before entering, not knowing what you would see once you turned the corner and passed the door frame. 

Her hair was splayed on the floor like a halo. Strands matted with blood. Her body, stiff in death, looked like she had been knocked back, like someone had shoved her. Peeking around the corner, you saw a huddled form leaning against the fridge; its white exterior marked with streaks of red, fingerprints smeared across family photos and a drawing you had made for your father’s birthday.

Quietly you had called out.

 “Dad?”

The hunched form had looked up at the sound, neck craning in an unnatural way. Strained breathing, like someone was trying to speak with lungs full of water, and growling sounds punched passed his lips. Sounds you had only ever heard in nature documentaries, sounds of pained and hungry animals who relied on teeth and claws and blood to survive.

Suddenly everything was happening to someone else. Like you were watching your life unravel from someone else’s eyes. 

It wasn’t you when your dad slowly rose to his full height, his hands and mouth covered in your mother’s blood. It wasn’t you when he lunged forward, hands reaching for your small form. It wasn’t you who ran away, taking the stairs two at a time while he slipped in what was left of your mother; still warm. It wasn’t you who had thrown open your parent’s bedroom door, slamming it behind you. Who had searched in the dark, for salvation, for safety, for something that could keep the monster at bay. 

The banging on the door was only getting louder, and you had hoped this was all some kind of nightmare. The kind where you woke up crying and your mother would be there to stroke your hair and sing until you drifted back into a peaceful slumber. 

But it was real and you had found the bat that your dad had kept stuffed in the closet.

Your small fingers clenched around the handle and you struggled to keep yourself upright. The image of your mother, her soft skin and dimpled smile flashed against the images of her broken body, of her abdomen peeled open. You could still hear the strangled breathing of the creature outside the door. 

No longer your father, only wearing his face. 

You pushed your back against the wall, feeling the reverberations through the wall as he slammed his body against wood. It was cracking and wouldn’t hold for long. 

It wasn’t you who had watched the door splinter. Who watched him shove his mangled form through. Left shoulder broken. Arm dangling loosely at his side. It wasn’t you who struggled to slow your breathing as his unseeing eyes stared into the darkness, streetlights peeking through the blinds to illuminate his grisly appearance. But it had been you. It had been you who had clenched her jaw, teeth grinding against teeth. Tightening your grip and stepping behind him as he wandered into the center of the room. It was you who heard the floorboard creak and had raised the bat before he even turned around. It was you who had swung and swung and swung. Until what had been your father no longer was. 

Just a bloodied heap on the ground. 

You had been found a few days later, hiding in your closet. Bat sticky with dried blood, still clenched in your hands. They had taken you, kicking and screaming, to what would become the Phoenix QZ, and your home for the next eight years. 

-

Movement startled you from the memories you pondered often, trying to conjure images of birthday parties and the photographs that lined your childhood home. But, all you were left with was the weight of two corpses and the shame of survival.

 Andy came through the tree line. His blonde hair stuck to his forehead and his smile bordered on feral. You had to stand to see what he was holding in his hand. 

Rabbits. 

“Little early for your ass to be up, isn’t it?” You chuckled, walking over to examine his prize.

“Early bird gets the worm” He grinned, holding the rabbits higher up. “Just taking a page from your book” 

He wasn’t wrong. In the last six months, you had been almost solely providing food for the four of you. Feeding Leon had been no problem, it was something you’d been doing for the last five years. But, Andy and his brother, Warren, hadn’t been pulling their weight. And you often had to remind them that they begged for your help and you had offered it to them, if they helped keep Leon alive. 

The commotion must have alerted Warren, because the older brother emerged from his own makeshift shelter. 

It had been a while since you’d caught anything substantial. Relying mostly on birds, fish, and other small wildlife to feed yourselves. But with spring slowly making its appearance, you knew there would be animals everywhere in the coming weeks. 

But rabbits, especially three of them, were enough to excite the four of you. Grinning at each other for the first time in weeks. 

Andy and Warren were whopping, hollering expletives in excitement. You moved to grab Andy’s arm, needing to shut them both up. But movement to your left had you throwing yourself out of the way.

The clicker. 

Fuck. 

You should’ve killed that stupid fucking thing when you had the chance. It was on Andy before you even had the opportunity to scream. It grabbed at his chest, seeking grip wherever it could find, and sank its teeth into the skin of his throat. They fell forwards together, limbs tangling together, wrestling for purchase. 

Warren came from behind, the branch in his hands colliding with the side of the monster’s head, sending it flying off of Andy. He slammed the wood into its skull, watching as it twitched and went limp against the wet ground. 

Andy lay on the ground, clutching his chest and reaching towards his neck. His eyes locked with yours. Panic stricken, wild. You knew that he was dead. They all were. As soon as one of those things got a decent grip, it was over. But that didn’t mean it was okay. It had been almost nine years, and everyone still fought like hell against the inevitable. 

Warren was crouched beside his brother, trying to stop the bleeding. He pulled off his own shirt and you winced, seeing the scars that littered his back. The same ones on both Leon and yourself.

With a hand on your bow, you pulled an arrow from your back and gently nudged Warren’s foot with your own before taking a step back.

“Warren” You warned, your voice low.

He jolted, eyes leaving his brother to meet yours, glancing between your face and the weapon in your hands. His hands pushing wet, bloody fabric into his brother’s wounds.

“I..I can’t… what?” 

“We have to do it and leave” You glanced over your shoulder at Leon, who had stepped further back, watching with a frantic gaze. “We can’t stay here. Warren, none of this is fucking easy, but Andy’s gone.” 

The older man, only twenty-three himself, looked back towards his brother. Andy’s breathing was shallow, ragged. He had already lost so much blood.

It never took long. 

Warren’s body shook as he sobbed, as he understood what you meant. You had to put Andy down, and you had to do it quickly. But his shoulders slumped and he shook his head. 

“Warren..” You warned again. “You need to step away from him..”

He huffed, breathy and wet, and crawled away from the fading remnant of his younger brother. You didn’t have to look to know that Leon was gone, probably behind a tree, hands over his ears. It was the plan. When shit hits the fan, get low and stay low. Until you call it clear.

You sighed, stringing the bow. You aimed, closed your eyes, released a quiet breath and let go. 

Andy lay limp on the ground and you hoped that wherever he ended up, it was better than this. 

Shaking your head, you whistled your signal to Leon and set your bow against a stump. The teenager came peeking out and your heart clenched at the tear tracks carving through the dirt on his face. 

“Look out!” He screamed suddenly, eyes flicking behind you. 

Before you could even register, the side of your body made contact with the ground. Looking up you saw Warren, huffing, eyes red rimmed. He held the branch again. You threw up your arms, ready to deflect the fatal blow, but it never came. 

The deep cut of a shotgun rang out through the air. And you caught the way Warren’s eyes widened and then rolled to the back of his head before he slumped to the ground beside you. Scrambling, you sprang to your feet and launched yourself towards Leon.

“Easy there little lady” an unknown voice spoke up, shotgun in hand. “I’m not gonna hurt’cha, I just need you to put your hands up”

The sound stopped you in your tracks. You could see Leon with his arms already in the air. 

Another rule: do everything you can to not get shot. Smart kid. 

You twirled back towards the man with a smirk. 

“You just killed my buddy there, not sure if I should trust you” 

The man with the gun tilted his head slightly, confused, but kept his gun trained on your form. He was older, probably mid fifties, with dark skin and dark hair that was peppered with greys.

“He was going to kill you” It came out unsure. He was right, but why?

“Occupational hazard?” You quipped back. 

He sighed and looked over his shoulder. Fuck. You were hoping you could distract him long enough to either get the gun, or at least to get Leon out of here. But if anyone else showed up, you were screwed.

“Maria!” He called out. “Over here!”

A woman came from behind him, presumably Maria. Her eyes widened at the sight. The clicker, Andy and Warren, Leon and yourself. You were almost twenty-one, but the hunger made you look closer to Leon’s age, only fourteen himself. 

Maria tapped the man on the shoulder and jerked her head, needing to speak to him. He nodded and refocused his gaze on you. 

“Don’t. Fucking. Move.” He grunted. 

You nodded, looking back at Leon and offering a small smile. They didn’t seem like raiders, or slavers. They looked clean and well fed. They didn’t look FEDRA either, but you weren’t about to test the limits of their mercy. Either way, they would either kill you or they wouldn’t. For Leon’s sake, you hoped whatever happened, if it came to it, it would be quick. 

They spoke a few feet away, glancing back towards the two of you every couple seconds. The man struggled to force his gaze away, turning back to the woman and grimacing at the words coming out of her mouth.

“Maria-” He went to grab her arm but she slinked away and came to stand before you. 

She offered her hand. You hesitantly accepted, coating her fingers in dirt and blood. She barely spared it a glance before rubbing it into the denim of her thigh. 

She smiled gently. “I’m Maria, that’s Elton” She said, motioning to the larger man behind her. She seemed tough. You felt more comfortable under her gaze, more than anyone who had looked at you in the last two years. 

You offered your name and turned towards the younger boy. “That’s Leon” You motioned for him to come over.

He took a few hesitant steps before lacing his fingers through yours and reaching his other hand towards Maria. She took his hand, shaking it. Anyone else could have missed it, but a flicker of something, maybe longing, passed over her face when she locked eyes with Leon. 

“Are you related?” Came from Elton. 

Leon’s hair was lighter than yours and his features were still coated in a thin layer of baby fat. So, most people believed that he was your brother, half at least, and you never corrected them. But, something in Maria’s eyes and the way she watched you, made you want to be honest. You shook your head.

“Known him since he was eight, been taking care of him ever since” You didn’t often talk about Leon’s biological family. They were FEDRA officials, but when rations started dwindling a few years after the outbreak, they didn’t hesitate to drop the youngest of their children off on the steps of the QZ’s orphanage. Where you had been for the last three years. 

“How old are you?” Maria asked, glancing between the two of you. 

“I’m fourteen” Leon blurted, looking up at you with wide eyes. You squeezed his hand twice. A signal you had first used in the orphanage, after you’d been beaten for stealing or for lying. Leon would sit beside you and read, occasionally squeezing your hand. You’d squeeze back twice if you wanted him to keep reading, three times if something was wrong.

“I’m twenty-one” You speak, not meeting Maria’s eyes. 

“What are you doing out here?” Elton’s voice came over Maria’s shoulders again, kinder. You realized that the two of them had to be related. Father and daughter maybe?

“It’s a really long story” You try, unsure of how to explain the last decade of your lives.

“Give us the short version” Maria tries, placing her hand on your shoulder.

“We..um..we escaped raiders before the winter…” You fumble. Yes you had been with raiders, not exactly prisoners, but these two didn’t need to know that. Not yet. Maria’s eyes softened and she looked back at Elton, who’s face betrayed him at that moment. You could tell he was confused. Not many people survived the winter the way you had done. 

“You’ve been living out here?” He asked, glancing between the makeshift shelters and your bow, the only real weapon you had. 

You nodded. “Here and there, I tried not to stay in one place too long…” 

They both nodded, movement was essential. Unless you had the means to defend yourself and your camp, it was better to stay out of the way. You’d learned that when the Phoenix QZ tore itself down. 

“Where are you from?” The question came from Leon. You know that he noticed their clothing, their guns, the way they seemed sated and well-fed. Leon always noticed details, things that a lot of other kids deemed unnecessary. 

“We come from a community”

“A QZ?”

Elton laughed at that. “Jackson’s not like a QZ. Sure we got walls and jobs, but ain’t nothin like one of those prisons” 

“Jackson?” It was your turn to ask a question.

Maria nodded. “We’re a community that helps each other out and keeps each other alive. As long as you earn your keep and stay out of trouble. You could come back with us.”

“And we should trust you? Why?” You had reason to be defensive, to be unsure of what these strangers were promising. 

“You’ll just have to find out.” Maria smiled, looking back towards Elton.

For the first time in a while, you felt something like hope. That you had survived the last year for a reason. That Leon could finally have a real home.

“Take us there” 

You felt Leon’s grip tighten. You squeezed back twice.

-

Thanks for reading!! Please like/reblog if you enjoyed <3

[makipedia]

reflections; maki x reader

:as long as your back is turned to us

:master list

Gojo felt what Maki was going through.

He felt the same loneliness she felt in her chest, the feeling of her heart sinking into the abyss created by your absence—the same one he felt when he lost his one and only. He felt the misery of getting herself out of bed, to be met with the daybreak that reminds her of her solitude. Her eyes don't carry the same fiery twinge in them. The fire went out a while ago, but it's still painful to see the dullness in her gaze.

He gets it, even though she doesn't want him to say it out loud simply because of the corniness.

He sees himself in Maki. The way she walks like she has a ghost over her shoulder. She doesn't yet—but she will, soon enough. He knows, she will be the one to keep moving.

Maki's shoulders weigh almost a ton as she looks down at her lap, her hands resting in the small gap between her thighs. She'd been depriving herself of so many things that she swears she feels your head in her lap, your hair in her fingers, your lips hovering over each others.

The dim light of the time just after dusk casts a small shadow of her body on your wall—the outline of her head and her torso painting a hollow shape on the discolored paint of your wall. She turned her head to look at the rubix cube still sitting on your nightstand. She remembers staring at it for a long time—she can't recall the exact interval—remembering how you carefully held it when you were mixing and solving it so easily. She always watched you do it with admiration glimmering in her eyes, a soft smile on her lips as she watched you solve it again and again.

She remembers watching you solve that damn cube with several different methods, swiftly moving it around and showing her different sides each time you solved it. You even made a checker pattern out of those colors, rotating it with the cube in your fingers and your wrist flicking every which way as Maki would look at it with her eyes shining in the minuscule light of the sun that shone down on you both through tree branches. Your back was always against the tree, slouching as you kept your legs crisscrossed. Maki would sit adjacent from you, her hands in her lap as she watched you tamper with it and listened to the boys talk about boy things.

She sighs, getting up from the edge of her bed and standing tall on her feet, her breath coming out shaky as she blinks the sleep out of her eyes.

"Maki? It's Gojo."

A knock, a gentle one from a gentle hand, Maki lifts up her head to look at it, "Come in."

The knob twists and in comes Gojo and his tall, lanky figure as he slightly ducks his head before entering, looking down at Maki with an unusual frown on his lips.

"There are...rumors...going around, about Y/n," he started, his voice low as the dry air stills and Maki's chest tightens. A knot forms in her heart out of her heartstrings, a knot so tight that no fingers could undo it—unless they were yours, because only you knew the way through the maze of layers to her heart.

"That they're the one who started that fire that went down in the city. The color of the flames and cursed energy residue weren't a coincidence to the Higher Ups. So now they labeled Y/n as a special grade curse user."

Maki's heart ached in her chest as her throat tightens, her nails digging into the skin of her calloused palms. Her mouth dried itself of all the saliva, her teeth grinding together making her jaw clench.

"That's not true," she grumbled, stepping past Gojo and moving to grab her red spear case. "They wouldn't."

"The Higher Ups say they do. That isn't the same Y/n you reunited with last year. They're listed as a murderer and a curse user, there's nothing you and I can do about it."

Maki stops after slinging her case over her shoulder, her hand gripping the string and her fingers tightening around it. Her eyes lowered, her bangs covering them as she looked at the floor where her heart dropped straight through.

You'll never be a curse user to her. You'll never be put in the same category that Suguru Geto was once in, the same man who obliterated her right leg last year and mouthed her off using her family name. You'll never be like that man, you're kind, you have the biggest heart she's ever seen, you're nothing like him, you'll never be a curse user to her.

"Maki...can I pitch in my two cents about love?" Gojo turned his head to look back at her, his lips parted as his patience dangerously hangs off of the soft flesh.

"...Don't keep your thoughts to yourself. Don't do what I did, I did that, and I lost my one and only. Don't do what I did."

Maki takes a deep breath and tries to ignore him and his advice, her hand reaching for the bronze doorknob and twisting it before pulling the door open. She steps out into the air conditioned hallway, the air gently caressing her face as she swallows dryly.

Gojo followed after her like a shadow, ducking his head and walking out into the hallway to meet with the others who were going down to the cafeteria. The two of them walked in uncomfortable silence, the atmosphere between the two of them thickening until one of them could cut it with a butter knife. Maki kept her shoulders squared as she tightened her grip on her case.

"Can you guys believe it? We're gonna be first grade sorcerers!" Yuji chirped, earning head turns from everyone else in the room (Megumi, Nobara, Panda, Toge and now Gojo and Maki). Nobara shook her head almost disapprovingly as she crossed her arms, looking at the entrance to the cafeteria and watching Maki walk behind Gojo.

"You guys ready for today?" Gojo chirped, a grin on his face as it beams to the rest of the room. The air in those four walls felt moist with a gloomy mood, like it'd just stopped raining and all that was left was a wet cold that stuck to everyone like tape. "You guys ready to become first grade sorcerers?!"

"Yeah! I'm so ready!"

"That's the spirit, Yuji-kun! C'mon, guys! Cheer up!"

Everyone stayed silent as Yuji stood up from his spot, looking around at his classmates with a blank expression on his face. Gojo did the same thing, glancing around at everyone, save for Maki, and sighing.

"These moody teenagers...alright! Let's roll out!"

Gojo and Yuji marched out with high heads and shoulders, grinning cheekily while the others clumped up and followed far behind them with unimpressed expressions.

"I guess we should be happier. A lot of us have been working hard for this achievement," Panda glances at Maki with a knowing look, earning nothing but a cold shoulder from her as she kept her focus straight ahead of her. Panda sighed in defeat and slumped his shoulders, then picked them back up.

"Maki! Maki! Wasn't this why you became a Jujutsu Sorcerer?"

"Yes. I don't need you fawning over me like I'm some superstar."

"Aww, c'mon! It'll really piss off your family when they find out you're finally getting somewhere!"

"No reason to fangirl over me. Be happy for someone else like Fushiguro."

"I'm a second grade sorcerer, so I didn't hace much farther to go, you're still a fourth grade because of your family. It's a great achievement, senpai."

"Shut up," Maki grunted, gripping her case tighter as her nose scrunched up and her eyebrows furrowed, her forehead creasing under her bangs. "It's nothing to glorify. It's just a promotion."

"Would you take the compliment if it was from Hatake-senpai?"

Her jaw clenched as her heart stopped for a split second, only to start again and send a shiver up her spine that made her head twitch slightly. She took a deep breath, exhaling slowly as the silence filled the gap between the handful of them.

"This isn't about them," she answered firmly, her fingers keeping their chokehold around the strap slung over her shoulder. The others stayed quiet while Nobara punched Megumi's shoulder and told him off for bringing you up.

Maki kept her shoulders squared the whole way down the mountain, listening to the others whisper and converse with one another. Her heart sank a little as no one said a word to her, but she was glad anyways, she knew all of what the others would have to say would be dry and uninteresting and it wouldn't maintain her attention for long before her thoughts would wander back to daydreams of a life with you.

———

"So, Y/n. Tell me more about this girl," Mahito grinned cheekily, resting his arms behind his head as he looked at you with a twinge of attitude in his hetero chromatic eyes.

"I've already told you what you need to know! What more do you want?"

"Wellll...what's she look like?"

"Nuh uh. I ain't tellin' ya, you'll just kill her."

"Pinky promise I won't," Mahito sticks up his pinky finger, looking at you with pleading eyes. You look at him, your gaze sharp and cutting through the air like a swift strike of a katana.

The two of you were walking down to a train station where you both would massacre several cars of people; you and Mahito agreed that he would transfigure one half of them and you'd kill the other half. Mahito would leave his half out for someone to find them (hopefully Gojo) and use them as a distraction.

You sighed, clicking your tongue and quickly crossing pinkies with him before wiping your hand off on your pants.

"She's got this beautiful evergreen hair...it's always soft, even when it's sweaty and shining in the sunlight from a day's worth of training. Her bangs are always even, like she uses a ruler to cut them when they're getting too long. Her eyes...they're like embers like ashes from a fire that lights up the scenery. When she looks at me, it's as if the whole world quiets down to pay attention to the hue of her irises and to listen to whatever she may have to say, whether it be an insult or a compliment. Every word that would fall from her lips is like more than music to my ears, like a song of a siren, to call my undivided attention even when she's yelling at me. She can do no wrong in my eyes, she's the image of a perfect girl; her beauty should be in museums all over the world and should be studied by scientists, she's better than any model you'd see in Vogue. It takes my breath away every time I think about the sunlight shining on her beautiful skin, it's so ethereal and out of this world. To touch and caress the smooth skin of her cheek is winning in life, because it's smoother than a hardwood dresser—"

"I'm about to fall asleep," Mahito deadpans as he looks away with a small sigh. That pulls you back to reality as you look at him with a frown, your eyebrows furrowing and creasing on your forehead.

"You're the one who asked," you roll your eyes.

"Yeah, you could've said she has green hair and pretty eyes and that would've been fine," he looks back at you with a cheeky grin. "I didn't need all that extra stuff."

"You got a glimpse of what human emotions are like, Mahito," you veer off to the side, Mahito following after you like a shadow as you wandered over to a vending machine and pulling out your card. Mahito looked over your shoulder and watched you swipe it and picking a sprite, watching it fall into the pit.

"Is it normal for humans to talk that much? About someone they love?" He looks at you with a curious expression as you step away from the vending machine with your sprite in your hand, cold and moist against your cold and dry skin. You pull out your phone and hold it to your ear as you walk next to him.

"I mean, it is for me. I've only ever seen people talk like that in movies and in Romeo and Juliet."

"What's that? And why do you have your phone out?"

"People can't see you so I have to make it look like I'm talking to someone. And Romeo and Juliet is a tragedy play written by Shakespeare."

"Who's that?"

"A famous playwright from over 400 years ago."

"What's a playwright?"

"Shut up. The trains are about to get here," you frown as you begin to separate from Mahito. He giggles cheekily before skipping off to the right side while you went to the left, shoving your phone back in your pocket. You stand there among many other people in that station, your face making you look like you're dying with the circles around your eyes. People occasionally turn to get another look at you to see if you're standing there at death's door or not.

The train slides past the wall, quickly stopping in front of the clump of people with phones to their ears and briefcases and purses and other things in their hands that step in all at once. You politely let a woman and her child go in before you, watching them with heavy eyes and a heavy heart as you go in after them.

You stand there, amongst functioning members of society, with your presence unknowingly casting a shadow on that same child from earlier. You stand there, a curse among humans with the intentions to wreak havoc upon the walls, to taint them with the devil's paint a shade of crimson red. You stand there, with your fists clenched and your arms glued to your sides as your head hangs low in shame.

One of your hands release its own death grip, freeing the stiff, cloudy shadow that was threatening to spill through the cracks of your hand as it flows onto the floor of the train. The child from earlier looks down in curiosity as it spreads across the whole floor and makes it impossible for everyone to see the bottom of it. The shadows reach the cameras around the car and seeping out through the tiny slits of train doors and switching cars and covering other cameras.

You look up with dark eyes as another shadow forms in your other hand, seeping out to the people all around you and reaching their throats and mouths and ears. Some people begin to choke on the shadow, others begin to bang their heads against the walls until blood starts gushing out from their wounds. You watch them suffer, watching them writhe in agony with regret in your eyes as you watch the child from earlier, look up at you with tears in his eyes as pleas for your help escape his lips and fall upon deaf ears.

You make a cutlass out of a shadow and swiftly raise your arm, blood soon paints your skin and the walls and other people's shirts around you, tainting the pigments with red. A thud, then you swing for the mother, too, not watching but listening to the body fall to the floor next to her child. You listen to the gasps of uninfected people as you dash to them, striking them down with your blade and getting it dirtied up. You slay civilian after civilian, until you're the only one standing in a room full of bodies and blood coating the floor. You're sure the people in the other cars were already dead or beginning to die off, as you opened the door to another car and watching people choke and slam their heads against the poles and the walls.

You put them all out of their misery, blood dripping from your cursed blade when the last person falls to the floor and lands on top of another one. You look at your work, horrified at what you've just done to all these innocent people. A tear threatens to escape from your eye before you whip your head back around and move, on autopilot, to the other cars and slaughter every last civilian.

The train stops soon enough at the Shibuya train station, where the doors open and a bunch of dead bodies and transfigured humans spill out from the doors. Blood pours from the sides and trickling down on the tracks. A man stood there in front of you with wide eyes at the blood coating your hair and skin and shirt.

Your gaze sends fear shooting up his spine and rooting in his feet to keep him frozen. You raise your blade, flipping it in your hands as you make a gash right through his chest, watching him fall to the ground of the station. You watch the other people shiver in fear as you walk past them, more shadows seeping from your palms and strangling people, snapping their necks, stabbing them in their hearts and slicing their heads off.

You trudge through the field of bodies, stepping over arms and legs and heads and getting blood all over your boots. A man in the center of the station turns around at the sounds of blood squelching under footsteps, and his eyes widen at your appearance.

Gojo's lips part in shock as he watches you stand there like a slasher from a horror movie, your blade shining in the ceiling lights. Your eyes pierce through all six of his, your lips pursed into a line but your gaze says many things in many tones. Gojo pauses for a moment, watching you stand there like an entity of doom, looming over the yards of bodies that cover the off white station floor like a leaning tower.

"Y/n—"

"Best friendddd!" Mahito chirps as he emerges from the train on the opposite end of the station, a grin on his face as he happily skips his way out. He watches you and Gojo prolong eye contact, the two of you practically holding a staring contest in the middle of a battlefield. Gojo loses a fight for once, blinking to moist his eyes and watching you disappear all of a sudden.

You reappear next to him, tilting your head up to meet the line of his eyes as he looks down, a shadow on his face.

"Where...where have you been?" He mutters, his eyes still wide. "It's true, then? You—"

"Killed all those people?" You cut him off, clenching your jaw as your eyes narrow slightly. “Those few weeks ago? Yeah. That was me.”

“Why?” He squinted. “You’re a curse user now. There’s a bounty on your head now. Did you even think about that? About what that would do to your reputation?”

“I don’t care,” you frown. “That doesn’t matter to me. I’ll keep killing people for as long as I’m alive.”

“And keep this burden over your shoulders?! And keep hurting yourself as much as the people who care about you?!”

“Who really cares, Gojo? You shouldn’t care about me, I’m not that kid you were teaching last year.”

“No, you’re not. You’re a kid. A child! Going around and killing people like it’s nothing, like it doesn’t affect you, too! And don’t tell me that it doesn’t! You cannot stand there and tell me you don’t care after slaughtering all those innocent people for nothing! You’re a kid! You can’t grow up too fast, you can’t turn into a criminal when you’re this young!”

Yet you stood there, acting like you don’t care. Your eyes hood as you stare back at his wide blue eyes, uncaring and blank as you stayed frozen in your spot. You act like you don’t care but your heart sinks in your chest at the hurt in Gojo’s eyes.

“I don’t care.” You huff quietly. “Stop acting like you’re my father. You never really had any responsibility over me, anyways.”

“If that’s the case then I do now— don’t walk away! Don’t turn your back on me, on Panda, on Toge, on Yuta, on Megumi, on Nobara, On Maki! Don’t leave us hanging here and act like you were never there!”

You stood there with your back to him anyways, your gaze focused on the floor and the dimmed foreground ahead of you as you froze in your spot. He’s right; you’re turning your back on not only him, but everyone else— but really you couldn’t bother with everyone else, but not Maki. You couldn’t turn a blind eye to her if she were here right now, to see you in the light of a murderer. You couldn’t, only if she were present. But she isn’t—you aren’t even aware she’s here, Shibuya.

You turn your head back to look at him, glaring at him with one eye. “Really? Using Maki’s name against me like that?”

“If it brings you back to us then yes! I’ll use her name over and over again if it means you’ll come back to Jujutsu High! Everyone misses you—Shoko, Panda, Toge, Maki, the first years— you ditched us! You ditched people who cared about you!”

“I didn’t ask them to care about me! I never asked you to feel like I was something to you! I didn’t ask Panda to care for me! I didn’t ask anything of anyone!”

“We cared because we can! You were our friend!”

“You were never mine! I hated all of you! I played pretend because I had to!”

“Then why did it take you so long to kill Maki?!”

Your heart stopped for a moment—causing a pang in your chest when you realized you were only holding your breath. You blinked, almost flinching at his retort, catching the twinge of desperation in his eyes and hearing it in his voice as if he was literally begging on his knees. You swallowed the lump in you dry throat, your breath coming out in short bursts as your chest quickly rises and falls.

“…I no longer have any correlation with her,” you finally step away, your hand tightening around the handle of your blade, slightly shaking from the nerves coursing through your body and circling back from your fingertips and to your wrists and shoulders and reaching your knees.

Gojo frowned, crossing his fingers in the air.

“I’ll do it! I’ll put up my domain!”

You kept walking, muttering incantations under your breath as you kept your focus on the stairs of the station ahead just up ahead. Gojo clenched his jaw as he watched you not even take a second to turn around and see if he was lying. His eyebrows furrowed further, his teeth grinding together as he looks at all the other people around him, along with the transfigured humans.

His eye twitched as he put up his domain once he was sure you were out of range, taking one more moment to look up the stairs that you just crossed.

His lips parted, his heart began racing in his chest when the realization dawned on him that he’d just lost someone else; his eyes water for a split second before he blinked it away, breathing shallowly as his gaze remained focused on the stairway.

He muttered, with a soft breath and trembling lips, his heart sinking in his chest and forming yet another hole, “May your travels be filled with turmoil and pain for as long as your back is turned to us.”

[aalixsturns]

a night to remember

The sun was setting over Los Angeles, casting a warm golden hue across the city. Matt Sturniolo leaned against his car outside a small café, nervously adjusting his hoodie as he waited. It was the first time he was meeting you in person after chatting online for months. You had connected over your shared love for music and your favorite YouTube creators, and now, here you were, ready to see if the chemistry you felt through the screen would translate into real life.

As you approached, a gentle breeze rustled the leaves around you. Your heart raced as you locked eyes with him. Matt’s dark hair fell effortlessly over his forehead, and his eyes sparkled with excitement. He wore a casual but stylish outfit that highlighted his laid-back charm.

“Hey! You made it,” he said, a smile spreading across his face as he opened his arms for a quick hug.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you replied, feeling the warmth of his embrace.

The café was cozy, filled with the rich aroma of coffee and the soft hum of conversations. They settled into a corner booth, the dim lighting creating an intimate atmosphere. You chatted about everything—favorite movies, music, and the silly things you had done during quarantine.

As the night went on, the laughter flowed easily, and the initial nervousness melted away. Matt shared stories about filming videos with his brothers, and you found yourself drawn to his infectious energy and genuine personality. He had a way of making everything seem lighthearted, and you could see the passion in his eyes when he spoke about his craft.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” he suggested, glancing out the window as the sun dipped below the horizon. “There’s a park nearby that’s really nice at night.”

“Sure, that sounds great,” you replied, your heart fluttering at the thought of spending more time with him.

They left the café, strolling side by side under the twinkling lights that lined the street. The air was cool, and you could hear the distant sounds of laughter and music from nearby restaurants. Matt turned to you, his expression softening.

“I’m really glad we met,” he said, his voice sincere. “I wasn’t sure how this would go, but you’re even cooler than I expected.”

Your cheeks flushed at the compliment, and you smiled back. “I could say the same about you. It’s nice to finally see you in person.”

As you entered the park, the path was illuminated by soft lanterns hanging from trees, creating a romantic ambiance. You walked a little closer, feeling the warmth radiate from him as he playfully nudged you with his shoulder.

“Want to play a game?” he asked, mischief sparkling in his eyes. “Let’s see who can spot the most shooting stars.”

“Okay, but I’m definitely going to win,” you laughed, tilting your head back to scan the sky.

They lay down on the grass, side by side, pointing out constellations and joking about their favorite childhood dreams. With each shooting star that streaked across the sky, you felt a connection deepen between you, an unspoken understanding that this was something special.

Matt turned to face you, his expression serious yet soft. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” you said, your heart racing.

“Do you believe in fate?” he asked, his voice low and contemplative.

“I think everything happens for a reason,” you replied, meeting his gaze. “Like us meeting tonight.”

He smiled, that familiar sparkle returning to his eyes. “I feel the same way.”

With that, he leaned closer, brushing his fingers against your hand. The world around you faded as you felt the warmth of his body next to yours. You held your breath, heart pounding, as he closed the gap between you, his lips gently pressing against yours.

It was soft and tentative at first, but then deepened into something more passionate as you melted into the kiss. The stars above seemed to shine brighter, and for a moment, everything felt perfect.

As you pulled away, both of you breathless, Matt grinned, his cheeks slightly flushed. “Well, I think we definitely found a shooting star.”

You laughed, feeling a rush of happiness. “I think we did.”

That night marked the beginning of something beautiful. Under the starlit sky, you knew this was just the first of many adventures together. With Matt by your side, the future felt bright, filled with laughter, love, and countless memories waiting to be made.

[apocalypticavolition]

Let's (re)Read The Eye of the World! Chapter 48: The Blight

Concept art by Filip Štorch and shrunk down just a tad or five, rendering his signature illegible. This reread compresses lots of things - for example, I fit spoilers for the whole of The Wheel of Time into every post! If you don't like that, it's best to be somewhere else.

This chapter gives us our last new chapter icon of the book: another tree at night, but this one twisted and bent over. It's got kind of a look of a flipped Aes Sedai symbol, with the tree making up the upside down fang (appropriate since saidin got the corruption and all) while trying to obscure the upside down flame of the moon. I don't think this symbolism ever means anything, but it's fun. This kind of icon means "Blight", or occasionally the worst of the things from it.

A large steel mirror, carefully turned down, away from the sun, now, glittered atop each tower below the high iron cup where signal fires could be lit when the sun did not shine. The signal would be flashed, to towers further from the Border, and by those to still others, and so relayed to the heartland fortresses, from where the lances would ride to turn back the raid. Were times normal, they would.

I can't help but feel that this kind of set up is actually less effective than signal fires would be. You have to figure out where the sun is, hope there's no clouds in the way or that it's not too early or late in the day to catch the light, angle the mirror appropriately, and hope the people at the other side manage to catch the glint of the tower and are also able to relay it down the line. Much simpler to just have the signal fires which can be lit at any time and are easily protected from the rain. Am I crazy?

“To escort you here means we may not reach the Gap before the fighting is done. I am robbed of the chance to stand with the rest, and at the same time I am commanded not to ride one step beyond the borderpost, as if I had never before been in the Blight. And My Lord Agelmar will not tell me why.” 

If you liked fighting Trollocs so much, you shouldn't have become a Darkfriend. This is the Wheel punishing you, bub. All the other squadron commanders are gonna fight just fine cuz they're not filthy traitors to existence.

Eastward they would join other steel serpents, from Fal Moran, behind King Easar himself with his sons at his side, and from Ankor Dail, that held the Eastern Marches and guarded the Spine of the World; from Mos Shirare and Fal Sion and Camron Caan, and all the other fortresses in Shienar, great and small. Joined into a greater serpent, they would turn north to Tarwin’s Gap.

Is Jordan just describing the movements of armies here, or is he creating the imagery of the Great Serpent itself preparing to strike against those who fight to slay it?

Rand nodded. He could feel it, too, though he could not say what it was exactly he was feeling. The wrongness went beyond the first warmth he could remember out of doors this year; it was more than the simple fact that it should not be so warm this far north. It must be the Blight, but the land was the same.

Rand's Shadowsense is about as refined now as it's ever going to be.

The Shadow can only corrupt what's already there - the land's the same, there's just something wrong with the area the Shadow's claimed.

“Flowers can kill in the Blight, and leaves maim. There’s a little thing called a Stick that likes to hide where the leaves are thickest, looking like its name, waiting for something to touch it. When something does, it bites. Not poison. The juice begins to digest the Stick’s prey for it. The only thing that can save you is to cut off the arm or leg that was bitten. But a Stick won’t bite unless you touch it. Other things in the Blight will.”

Good to know that stick bugs are thriving in the post-apocalypse due to Aginor's horrible experiments.

The big youth glared at the obscene forest through which they rode as he might have at an enemy, or the banner of an enemy. He caressed the axe at his belt as if unaware of what he was doing, and muttered to himself, half growling in a way that made the hair on Rand’s neck stir.

Lan: Keep quiet or we might get killed.

Perrin: WOOF WOOF WOOF!

At least when Mat's making noises right now it's cuz he's throwing up. Get it together, Perrin. It ain't like there's wolves in the area to be encouraging you to focus on your powers.

“No two among the Ogier have found it in exactly the same place. The Green Man seems to be found where he is needed. But it has always been beyond the high passes. They are treacherous, the high passes, and haunted by creatures of the Dark One.”

Really this just makes the Green Man sound more and more like a Fantastica immigrant, since a key point of the world of The Neverending Story was that it couldn't be mapped because places didn't have spatially defined relations to one another, but instead travelers ended up where they needed to be going. I wonder if Jordan ever read the book.

For one brief instant the sun’s rays caught the shattered tops, and Rand’s breath stilled. Not hills. The broken remnants of seven towers. He was not sure if anyone else had seen it; the sight was gone as quickly as it came.

Remember what I was saying about the inefficiency of the mirror towers?

Nothing that big could live in a lake that size. Those couldn’t have been hands on those tentacles. They couldn’t have been.

Not gonna lie, the fact that our heroes never had to fight this bizarre aquatic Shadowspawn (or really any of the horrifying beasts of the far Blight) is one of the biggest disappointments of the series. And honestly as much as I'd like to blame my usual scapegoat, it's not as if Jordan did much with the Blight after this book himself.

“It is a simple thing,” she said, “a bending, so any eye looking at us sees around us, instead. We cannot have the eyes that will be out there seeing our lights tonight, and the Blight is no place to be in the dark.”

Moiraine says that it's a simple thing, but we don't actually see it get used that much. Rand picks up the trick in the mid-series, but he is of course the extreme end of the scale. I don't recall any other big instances of it getting used, which make me think that it's a simple weave geometrically but demanding of so much Fire and Air that Moiraine is one of the few modern Aes Sedai who can cast it.

“There,” Egwene said as if it were settled. “I know. I will make you my Warder, when I’m an Aes Sedai. You would like being a Warder, wouldn’t you? My Warder?” She sounded sure, but he saw the question in her eyes. She wanted an answer, needed it. “I’d like being your Warder,” he said. She’s not for you, nor you for her. Why did Min have to tell me that?

Probably because if you were hellbent on keeping Egwene's love no matter what you'd end up dying halfway through book two. Gotta love Moiraine's, "I can find shit for all of you to do in Tar Valon" claim too. That's "not technically lying" for "You all can spend five minutes getting instructions on where to go next as we march you lot through the Prophecies, then leave immediately."

The Warder was still awake, seated not far from him with his sword across his knees, watching the night. To Rand’s surprise, so was Nynaeve.

Not gonna lie, I kinda wish that every book had had a subplot that Rand (or one of the other six major characters) was completely oblivious to until right before the climax when suddenly all the subtext comes rushing to the forefront. It would have been fun.

“I will never shame you.” The gentle tone, like a caress, sounded odd to Rand’s ears in the Warder’s voice, but it made Nynaeve’s eyes brighten. “I will hate the man you choose because he is not me, and love him if he makes you smile. No woman deserves the sure knowledge of widow’s black as her brideprice, you least of all.” He set the untouched cup on the ground and rose. “I must check the horses.” Nynaeve remained there, kneeling, after he had gone. Sleep or no, Rand closed his eyes. He did not think the Wisdom would like it if he watched her cry.

The saddest thing is, at the end of the day, Nynaeve and Lan will marry and she will have the sure knowledge of widow's black. She's going to outlive him by centuries.

The other sad stuff of course includes: Lan's spent his whole life making himself miserable for no reason (he's still an amazing fighter after he and Nynaeve bang it out), he's making Nynaeve miserable for that same lack of reason, and Rand and Nynaeve don't have a relationship where he's able to comfort her in any meaningful way, so the best he can do for her is pretend that he's asleep.

Depressing chapter end, but don't worry: next time things get scary instead!

[magnaswingwritings]

Black Bulls Month 2023 Prompt #2: Winter

Pairing: Magna x Luck

"Mags wake up!"

The sound of Luck's voice combined with the feeling of his hands gently shaking him woke Magna up. The room they now share was cold in contrast to the warm comforter that covered his body. The fire mage attempted to roll away from his partner before speaking up, voice heavy with sleep.

"It's too early to fight"

"Come on Magna wake up!"

One grey eye opened making eye contact with blue, "What?"

"It's snowing outside!"

Magna groaned as he sat up, arms spread in a stretch to shake off the residual sleep. When he looked out the window there was, in fact, snow falling. There was also one other detail he noticed.

"Really man? The sun isn't even up yet!"

Luck laughed at the fire mages outburst. " So? There's plenty of moonlight. Let's go fight in the snow!"

"No way, man. I'm going back to bed. Try again when it's actually daylight." Magna curled back into bed and pulled the covers over himself.

Zzt!

"Ahh!" Magna yelped as he fell off the bed and landed on the cold hard floor. "That's it if you wanna get your ass kicked that bad then fine!"

"Hahaha, hope you're prepared to lose!" Luck cheerfully responded. Lightning Magic already surrounded his legs as he zipped out the window.

Focused on the task at hand, Magna ran out of their room and outside to meet his partner on the snow covered training ground. Snow melted around his bare feet due to the warm mana that enveloped him. He made it to the training field and noticed that Luck was nowhere to be seen. That he must be hiding somewhere in the trees.

Pulling a fire bat from his grimoire, he held a fire ball out in preparation for Luck's attack. He was waiting for the feeling of static that came from his partner's mana whenever he was about to strike. But the feeling never came.

Luck, of course, knowing that was what the hot head was doing had decided to change things up. Nothing was more fun than keeping Magna on his toes. As he moved from tree to tree, he suppressed his mana and grabbed handfuls of the freshly fallen snow as he passed until he finally settled on a good spot to prepare to make his move.

He observed Magna closely while he got ready. Aside from still being in his pajamas, he noticed the way each breath was visible in the cold, the patches of earth that surrounded his bare feet from the snow melting. He also noticed the flakes that were falling were melting off his partners exposed arms, which created a light shine on his muscles. Clearly, the fire mage had the advantage in this terrain.

It was time to make his move.

Using lightning to propel his shot, he threw two oversized snowballs, one behind the other. Magna must have sensed his mana because almost immediately he tossed the fireball he had been holding and hit it right in Lucks direction.

The first snowball made contact, creating a blast of steam that melted the second. Having to improvise since the second ball didn't make its mark. Luck zipped across the training field through the steam cloud and tackled his partner into the ground. They rolled around in the snow for a moment before Magna finally caught hold of the lightning mages' wrist and shifted his weight so he was right on top him.

"Hah! I got you now!" Magna was triumphant in his expression. His burning palms squeezed Luck's wrist for emphasis as he pinned him. They were both breathing heavy, noses barely touching, pink dusted their cheeks. It was unclear to them how long they stayed in that position staring at each other. Luck was the one who moved first, closing the gap between them in a short and sweet kiss.

"A-ah" Magna’s face went from pink to red at the sudden action. They've kissed before, but never outside where anyone could see them. The shock of his partners action caused him to loosen his grip on him. The extra wiggle room was just enough for Luck to shift his body weight to flip them. The air leaving their lungs in the process.

"Haha I win this time Magna!" He laughed breathlessly, a smile plastered on his face

"H-hey, that's a dirty trick! I definitely won before you pulled that stunt!"

"Oh yeah?" Luck leaned over him and closed the gap again. This time, he was a little bit more aggressive with the kiss, licking the others' lips for entry. Tongues pushing each other for control of the kiss before they both parted for air.

"Fuck. Okay okay you win." Magna murmured, facing away from the lightning mage. Luck just chucked at his partners flustered expression. The laugh made Magna's chest warm with affection, so he turned his head back to face Luck.

His blonde hair was covered in snow, his skin red and lips blue from the cold. He was shivering on top of him, but in spite of all that, he still had that beautiful warm smile. The smile he used when it was just the two of them.

"You dummy you're freezing. Let me up so we can go warm you up."

"At least I remembered to put shoes on. Who's the dummy now?" Luck laughed as he picked himself up off of Magna.

"I have fire magic snow doesn't freeze my skin!"

"WHO THE FUCK IS YELLING IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT!" A voice bellowed from inside that could only have come from their fearless Captain.

The boys stood there for a moment, trying to contain their laughter. They were so dead if Yami found them, but the situation was just so funny to them that the stifled laughter came out as snorts. Magna threw his arm around Luck before finally whispering , "Busted. C'mon let's get outta here."

So together they went back inside to enjoy the rest of their winter night... and avoid a grumpy Yami.

[molleym]

I've chosen "Chasing Light" as the theme for this photo collection. It's all about capturing the beautiful moments when daylight transitions into evening. The theme showcases the stunning way light transforms landscapes and evokes emotions. Each photo captures a beautiful moment, allowing one to appreciate these experiences.

Image 1 -

Title: Moonlit Highway

This image features a full moon rising majestically above a highway. A green road sign “Exit 10 to Highway 74” stands out against the night sky, while the moon's bright orange glow contrasts beautifully with the streetlights illuminating the road below. This setting captures the tranquility of nighttime travel, bringing out feelings of adventure and possibility under the moon.

Image 2-

Title: Sunset Drive

In this photograph, the silhouette of palm trees lines the road as the sun sets in the background, creating a breathtaking veiw with shades of pink and orange. A single car drives ahead, reminding one of the loveliness of a sunset drive. This image conveys a sense of freedom and serenity.

Image 3-

Title: Twilight Bridge Crossing

I captured this photo while driving over a bridge at sunset, this image shows a stunning sky filled with vibrant pink and orange hues. This photograph embodies the thrill of exploration as day transitions into night, highlighting the beauty of a summer night.

Image 4-

Title: Palm Tree Sunset Silhouette

In this captivating scene, the setting sun peeks through the gaps in the palm trees, casting a warm glow on parked cars in the distance. The interplay of light and shadow creates an enchanting view. This image serves as a reminder to cherish those stunning moments when you have the opportunity.

Image 5-

Title: "Moonlit Tower"

Description: A full moon shines brightly in the night sky, partially obscured by a thin layer of clouds. The moonlight illuminates the tall metal tower. Power lines crisscross the sky, and trees line the roadside, framing the background.

“Chasing Light" not only captures the visual beauty of these moments but also emphasizes the emotional connections we have with light and nature. Each photograph invites viewers to reflect on their own experiences with nature, reminding us of the transient beauty found in the world around us.

[sughoshperur]

Tadiadnamol Trek: Discovering the Splendor of the Western Ghats

Introduction

Nature has a magical way of captivating our hearts, and for nature enthusiasts and adventure seekers, trekking is an ideal way to immerse themselves in the beauty of the great outdoors. India, with its diverse landscape, offers a plethora of trekking opportunities, each with its unique charm. One such gem hidden in the heart of the Western Ghats is the Tadiyandamol Peak Trek, a mesmerizing journey that takes trekkers through lush greenery, misty mountains, and enchanting valleys. In this blog, we'll explore the Tadiandamol Trek and the experiences that await those who dare to embark on this unforgettable expedition. Let me take you through our journey of Tadiandamol.

The Jewel of Coorg

Tadiandamol, standing tall at an impressive altitude of 5,735 feet, is the highest peak in Coorg. Also known as Thadiyandamol, the name translates to "large mountain" in the local Kodava language. Nestled in the heart of the Western Ghats, the trek to the summit of Tadiandamol promises breathtaking views and a chance to be one with nature.

Preps for the Break

Pack light, have a backpack of minimum weight as much as possible, so you don’t get tired quickly because of the bag’s weight. Carry hat, sunglasses, sunscreen with you to protect yourself. Carry rain gears like jacket, umbrella because you can’t say when it rain in tadiandamol. A first aid kit is a must during a trek. Wear warm clothes. Carry amole amount of water and protein bars or chocolates.

The Journey Begins

We start our trek from Kakkabe, which is the starting point of the trek. It is a small village at the base of Tadiandamol Hills, iteasily accessible from the nearby towns of Madikeri and Virajpet. The base camp serves as a delightful retreat, surrounded by coffee plantations, vibrant flowers, and serene streams. Trekkers often spend the night in tents, preparing for the adventure that lies ahead.

The Trekking Trail

As the first rays of the sun pierce through the misty sky, we set out on our expedition. The trail took us through the dense forest, offering a soothing shade and an opportunity to witness the biodiversity of the Western Ghats. The trail is adorned with the beauty of blooming rhododendrons, aromatic eucalyptus trees, and the calls of exotic birds.

The initial part of the trek involves a steady climb, making it suitable for all kind of trekkers. As we moved further, the terrain became more difficult, with occasional steep sections that demand determination and perseverance. Along the way, we found numerous natural springs provide refreshing pit stops, rejuvenating us for the onward journey.

The Enchanting Ambiance

One of the most captivating aspects of the Tadiandamol Betta is the ever-changing weather. The altitude and the region's topography create an enchanting ambiance of mist and clouds, adding an ethereal touch to the surroundings. At times, the entire landscape is blanketed in a veil of fog, transforming the trek into a mystical adventure. We witnessed, as the sun shines through the gaps, it creates a play of light and shadow, painting a masterpiece in the heart of the Western Ghats.

Reaching the Summit

After hours of trekking, crossing streams, and navigating through the wilderness, we reached the pinnacle of one of the highest peak in Coorg. The feeling of standing atop the highest point in Coorg is truly exhilarating. The panoramic view from the summit is simply awe-inspiring, with the lush valleys and rolling hills stretching as far as the eye can see. On a clear day, one can even catch glimpses of the Arabian Sea in the distance.

Preserving the Wilderness

While exploring the wilderness, it is crucial to maintain a delicate balance between adventure and conservation. Responsible trekking practices play a vital role in preserving the beauty and ecology of the region. Trekkers are encouraged to follow the principles of "Leave No Trace," ensuring that they carry back all their waste and refrain from damaging the fragile ecosystem.

Conclusion

The Tadiandamol Trek is a delightful journey that offers a profound connection with nature and an opportunity to explore the stunning landscapes of the Western Ghats. From the moment we set foot on the verdant trail to reaching the summit and soaking in the breathtaking vistas, the entire experience is nothing short of magical. The trek to Tadiandamol peak Coorg was a soul-stirring adventure that leaves an indelible mark on the heart, reminding us of the raw beauty and wonder that nature beholds. So, if you are ready to embark on a trek that will both challenge and enchant you, head to Tadiandamol and let nature unveil its splendor one step at a time.

FAQ’s

What is the best time to trek in Tadiandamol?

Best time to trek is between October and February. During this period you can witness lush greenery around you.

What is the time duration of the tree?

It usually takes 9 hours up and down. Around 5 hours ascend and 3-4 hours of descend.

What is the total distance of the trek?

The distance is of about 15 kilometers trekking upto the summit and back to the base.

Is there any age restrictions for the trek?

Yes, any one above age of 10 years can join the trek.

Is it safe to trek during monsoon?

It is not recommended to trek during monsoon, because the trail becomes slippery and it would be difficult to trek.

To explore more places to trek around Bangalore, click the link below.

https://www.universaladventures.in/travel-guide/best-treks-near-bangalore

[cyborg-franky]

My friends: Why does your angst always hurt? Me: I do good fluff too! Also me: PoSts ThIs

Marco x GN Reader Past Marco x Ace SFW ANGST Spoilers Word Count: 836

The sun was shining brightly despite the wind that weaved through the trees, the grass danced at his feet swayed by the breeze that chilled his face and arms. He climbed the hill with purpose, flowers clutched in one hand, the other running through his hair when his goal was in sight.

He stared at the gravestones with a sad smile, setting the flowers down in front of the smaller one, he sat down crossing his long legs letting out a sigh. Marco plucked at the blades of grass as he tried to form his words, organize the thoughts and feelings that scrabbled around inside.

“Sorry it’s been awhile yoi” he finally spoke, glancing up from the grass tugged between his finger tips to stare at the stone.

“Everyone has gone their own way, living their own lives” he sighed, this was harder then he’d expected, he uncrossed and crossed his legs again adjusting “I live in Pop’s hometown now, I help people, it’s a good life”

The wind ruffled his hair, swaying all the beautiful flowers that had been planted around the grave, both men had lived colorful lives so it only seemed fitting their final resting place would match that sentiment.

Marco stared at the flowers, he placed his hands together in his lap, worried his nervous fidgeting would create a bare spot in the grass.

“I - I met someone, from the village, they are younger than me again, seems like a habit of mine yoi” he chuckled to himself thinking about the age gap between himself and his new partner.

“They make me happy, happier than I’ve been in a while” he could feel tears prick the corner of his eyes, he looked down at his hands feeling like he couldn’t face the grave any longer.

“I’ve not replaced you Ace, I could never do that, you will always be the missing piece, but I love them too, I love you both” Marco took a shaky breath, he brought his knees to his chest, folding arms to rest his chin against as he watched the clouds roll across the sky.

“I just wanted to tell you that I’m finding my feet again, that I miss you” the tightness in the man’s chest grew as he recalled the grinning freckled face he used to wake up to every morning.

Ace would have teased him at his lack of confidence right now slapping him on the back and chuckling. He felt the corners of his mouth twitch into a smile remembering the dark-haired man with fondness.

“I just hope you won’t hate me for moving on yoi” he felt the wind picking up, ruffling his shirt, whooshing past his sitting form. “I just wanted to say, I’m feeling better now, I’m living on, I think I can be happy again “he felt a weight lifted as he let everything out.

He blinked his half lidded eyes, feeling the tears forming, rolling down his cheeks, he laughed softly at himself. Taking off his glasses he dried his eyes with the back of his hand.

“I’m sorry Ace, sorry for back then and sorry for now, I just keep letting you down” he winced when his tears came faster, he just let them, he didn’t fight, he didn’t rub them away, just let them flow down his face, dropping down onto his knees.

“I’m sorry”

Marco let out a shuddering sigh he buried his face against folded arms and allowed himself to break, his body shook from the force of his emotions all rushing to the surface at once, feelings he’d tried to bury alongside his partner , but being here once more was too much.

“Forgive me for being happy without you” Marco mumbled into his arms, trying to calm himself.

The wind dyed down, he no longer felt the chill at his back, the sun seemed warmer, brighter, he looked up through tears, there were no clouds in the sky. He felt a comfort settle over himself, something touched his shoulder, such a feather light touch, his hand instinctively reached for it.

He blinked when he felt nothing but a large leaf that had fallen from the tree. Marco laughed softly, shaking his head, for a moment it had felt like.. like what? Like who?

He dried his eyes, this time no other tears replaced the ones he rubbed off his face. He stood up and bowed his head in a show of respect before he turned to leave.

--

“I was about to go hunt you down” you watched the doctor close the door behind him, taking off his shoes before closing the distance between you.

The blond said nothing as he gathered you up in his arms, signings he held you tight. You blinked at the phoenix but wrapped your arms around him in return.

You felt his face against your neck, a gentle kiss. “I love you” your confused expression faded away, smiling, and holding him tighter “I love you too”

[marvel-and-mischief]

Purple Carnations

Part of my Floriography Series

Pairing: Pero Tovar x F!Reader   Words: 1700 Warnings: eating meat, preparing dead rabbits for eating, nudity but not sexual, a swear word Synopsis: You come across an angry stranger bathing in the river

Purple Carnations: capriciousness

💐

The setting sun could be seen through the thin gaps between the trees, casting shadows throughout the woods you were standing in. Birds were settling into their nests with their chicks and dogs were howling in the distance as you trod silently over roots and tried to stay clear of crisp leaves and twigs that would alert anyone, or anything, to your presence.

You fingered the bow in your hand, clenching and unclenching your hand around the wood and feeling the weight in preparation of its use. The few arrows in the quiver on your back slid against each other when you moved too quickly, it reminded you that you needed to make more after tonight.

The only other sound you could hear was that of the river running along the edge of the woods. The water was calm and you ventured closer in the hope that an animal was taking a drink. It would be an easy catch, you’d be able to get back home before the sky turned dark and the wolves began to roam the area. Luck was rarely on your side but what you saw was more than unlucky, it was downright cruel.

A man was bathing in the shallow end of the river, back facing you and his bottom half, fortunately, concealed underneath the water. You were unable to take your eyes off the silver scars that lined his skin and tense muscles that flexed under his movements. And his hands, they were scarily large as they carded through black, wet hair, and it brought you out of your embarrassing state when you thought of this man noticing you spying on him and using those hands in punishment.

You felt yourself flush and in your haste to quickly disappear unnoticed your foot caught on a wayward tree branch, causing you to squeak in surprise and reach out to steady yourself against a large rock.

“Hey you!” came an angry shout from the river and you knew you had been caught. You spun back around to see the man facing you, his teeth clenched and face twisted into a furious scowl. “You think you can spy on me you -“

“Spy on you?” you scoffed in retaliation, suddenly feeling brave in the face of a man that could definitely beat you in a physical fight. You pulled an arrow out of your quiver and notched it into your bow but kept the weapon lowered, a precaution incase he came towards you. You had the high ground and a weapon that could reach him from afar and that gave you the confidence to answer back. “You must think very highly of yourself, Sir, if you think I was spying on you.”

“Then what were you doing?” He eyed his clothes that sat in a bundle a few feet from where you stood. You caught a shine of silver in amongst the fabrics and you knew immediately that he wasn’t worried about his dignity, he was keeping an eye on the weapons concealed at the bottom of the pile.

“I am looking for my supper,” you wiggled the bow in your hand and gave him a look that said ‘isn’t it obvious?’, “you shouldn’t be here.”

“Says who? You?” he sneered, crossing his arms over his chest as if he only just realised he was naked in front of you.

“Yes, says me,” you huffed in frustration.

The man grumbled something under his breath but didn’t move.

“I saw some deer on my route here, a mile that way,” the man pointed in the opposite direction to which you came, “I will be gone by the time you get back.”

Part of you felt bad for making such a fuss about this stranger being here, you didn’t own these woods after all, but the other part of you knew that you couldn’t trust strangers travelling through the path you frequently used and was so close to your home.

You paused a little too long and the mans patience was wearing thin.

“Or you can stay here and continue to watch me bathe,” he growled, and you heard the underlying threat in his words: when I am finished here, I will fight you.

“If I see you again I will not hesitate to let my arrow fly towards you.”

“My knife will be in your back before you get the chance.”

You rolled your eyes at his quip, not willing to argue that an arrow can fly quicker than a knife or that you knew you were closer to his weapons than he was, and left to find your supper.

-

You hear his frustrated grunts before you see him. You crept closer to see the man you had stumbled upon in the river just the day before, struggling to light a fire. The sparks he was trying to create weren’t enough to light the kindling he’d bundled together in front of him, and the more he became annoyed the more he was hitting his thumb rather than the flint in his hand.

You noticed the dead rabbits at his feet and subconsciously licked your lips. Maybe you could both help each other out this night.

“Do you need a fire?” Your question had him pulling his sword from his belt and pointing it in your direction which was, fortunately, far enough away that he couldn’t hurt you with it.

“I am beginning to think you are not just a pain in my ass but also a bad omen,” the man lowered his sword slowly once he recognised who you were.

“I think this is rather good luck actually,” you countered with a small smirk. You crossed your arms and leaned against a tree just as a rumble of thunder sounded overhead.

“What do you want?”

“You have food, I have fire, we should work together to not go hungry another night.”

“No luck with the deer?”

You shook your head sadly. This man hadn’t been lying, when you reached the area he had told you about there was plenty of evidence of the animals having been there, but there had also been proof of people, other hunters that had gotten there first.

The man seemed to be thinking seriously on your offer, looking forlornly at the piece of flint and metal in his hand. Another crash of thunder had him making up his mind.

“We have a deal,” the man picked up his belongings, along with the rabbits, and motioned for you to lead the way.

“It is only fair you share what you caught in my part of the woods,” you failed to hide the humor in your tone but it had the desired effect. The man huffed next to you.

“I do not see anywhere that states these are your woods,” he mumbled loud enough for you to hear. The rabbits in his hand swung into your leg annoyingly, and you were sure he was doing it on purpose.

“What is your name?” you asked just as your cottage was coming into sight over the hill.

“Pero.”

You told him your name and walked the rest of the way in silence.

-

Your cottage was small, only one room with a bed in the corner and a fire that took up most of one wall. Baskets scattered the floor holding everything you had foraged from the woods, mushrooms and berries, plants for medicines, vegetables from your garden.

You headed straight to the fireplace to get it started but kept one eye on your new acquaintance as you got to work.

Pero was studying your little cottage from where he awkwardly stood by your door. With your foot you pushed a stool in front of the fire.

“Sit, get comfortable, ready the rabbits for the fire.”

You thought by giving his something useful to do he would feel more comfortable, and it worked for a while. He skinned the animals and placed them on the metal spit you passed to him and then hooked them over the fire.

“Why does your husband not hunt for you?”

The question took you by surprise. It was obvious you were the only person who lived in this cottage, the bed only big enough for one, hunting for your own food, and bringing him back to your cottage was more than enough confirmation that you were not married.

“Because he does not exist,” you replied bluntly.

Pero reached out to turn the rabbits around but said no more.

“Why does your wife not keep you in check?”

Pero’s dark eyes glared at you.

“She does not exist.”

You pretended to nod thoughtfully, only to receive a huff of laughter from your usually moody friend.

“You are not from this land.”

A thoughtful look crossed Pero’s features as he turned his attention back to the fire.

“I have not belonged to any land for a long time.”

There was a sadness to his tone that you couldn’t help but pity. You hid it well, you didn’t think he would appreciate pity from a stranger.

“Why are you here?”

“Looking for work. You ask a lot of questions.”

“You are the first person I have spoken to in months.”

You found yourself opening up to Pero over supper. He listened in genuine interest as you showed him the many plants you had found in the woods, telling him what each of them did for different ailments. He told you about someone he once knew who could wield a bow better than anyone. You argued with him then, promising to demonstrate what a great shot you were the next time you went hunting. However it went unspoken whether Pero would be sticking around to see that.

You were nervous to go to sleep that evening. Pero was your only friend in a long while and you had a feeling he would be gone by morning. Pero mistook your nerves for his presence in your home, so he crossed the room in a couple of strides and handed you his dagger.

“So you feel safe with me here,” he explained and moved to make himself comfortable in front of the door, covered in a blanket you had given to him.

Pero watched you lit up in the dying flames of the fire, a content smile on his lips as your breathing evened out and you fell asleep. He was undecided whether or not to leave before sunrise, but for now he would fall into the best nights sleep of his life.

Permanent tag list: @autumnleaves1991-blog @phoenixhalliwell @computeringturtle @anu-simps @bts17army

[ahkaahshi]

our place [fushiguro megumi x reader]

pairing: fushiguro megumi x gn reader

genre: fluff with sprinkles of moments that might make your heart go :’)

warning(s): n/a

word count: 1.7k

overview: you’re not particularly fond of mornings, but you think you could grow to love them if you spent every one of them with megumi

Through bleary eyes threatening to take shelter behind the comforting darkness of your own eyelids and give in to the fatigue weighing heavily in your body, you watch your feet lazily trudge through dewy grass that wets your shoes. Your palms are warm from the fresh cup of coffee you’re nursing, but your knuckles are slightly numb from the brisk air your clothing’s barely able to fend off. There’s a deafening silence in the air aside from the crunching of grass beneath four sets of feet—two of which are a set of four paws—and you ponder the oxymoron that the absence of sound somehow seems louder.

Your foot catching on the root of a large tree when your eyelids flutter shut for a moment brings you to attention and your boyfriend’s hand to your arm. It’s as if he knew in that moment you would stumble, but you figure the connection isn’t hard to make, given you’re a night owl being taken out of a warm nest for an unexpected flight in the cold, early hours of the morning. Your eyes meet for a moment, a subtle flash of gratitude in yours that he acknowledges with a nod before the two of you continue your trek through the forest.

“Megumi,” you sigh, “how is it I’ve downed half this cup of coffee and still don’t feel a thing yet?”

He shrugs. “Maybe because it’s decaf.”

His words have your jaw slackening and a small scoff of disbelief leaving your throat. The way he looks at you over his shoulder, a twinkle of mischief in his deep blue eyes that reflect what little light there is, shows he’s expecting the reaction you give him. “I trusted you.”

“Then why are you so shocked?” he asks, “I didn’t give you caffeine so you wouldn’t be too energized to nap again before classes start.”

Though you’ve felt too tired to show any emotion since you’d been awakened by the man walking by your side, you can’t help but smile and chuckle in response. “Fine. I’ll let it pass since it’s actually considerate of you—even if it’s in an indirect way. I’ll just make my students read or do something quiet while I wait for the caffeine from the next cup of coffee I make to kick in.”

“I’m sure they’ll love that.”

“I really hope you got me out of bed for a reason other than to frown upon my teaching methods.”

Megumi’s lips curl into a small smile and you swear he seems to glow just a bit amongst the silhouettes of the tall trees surrounding you, their branches heavy with leaves and moisture. His happiness is like a breath of fresh air filling your lungs; so much so that you’re reminded to take another deep one in an attempt at keeping yourself awake. His divine dogs—one a shock of white and the other seemingly its shadow—draw your attention when they approach him with a large branch in their mouths they’ve taken a shining to during your walk, and that he launches off into the forest for them to chase down again.

Something about the moment seems so surreal. Maybe it’s because the times the two of you get to spend together in peace outside of your home seem to be so few and far between, or maybe it’s because you normally scoff at the idea of being up and active before the sun rises. But, whatever it is, it creates an undeniable warmth in your chest that prompts you to push away any thoughts of yearning for the coziness of your bed, and reach out towards your partner instead.

“Try not to trip again, alright?” he murmurs, shoving his hands into the pockets of his joggers while you slot an arm between one of his and his torso, “I actually like this sweater and would prefer not to get coffee on it.”

“But it’s decaf!”

His lips pause in their action of forming a rebuttal presumably about how his sweater would stain, regardless of the presence of caffeine, and he simply shakes his head with a sigh upon realizing you’re joking.

The same silence that had once filled the crisp air returns, only interrupted by paws pounding the damp earth, but it feels more peaceful now. It’s calming, given the normally hectic lives you and your boyfriend lead as special grade sorcerers and teachers, and very much appreciated. Megumi’s pace is a bit slower and more relaxed than usual, as if he wants to stay immersed in the quietude with you and his dogs at his side. But you know he has a destination in mind with the definitive nature of his steps.

At the top of a hill whose grassy slopes had been decorated with worn stone steps that would indicate many a visitor had travelled up them, sits a stone bench you’ve never seen before. And, in front of it, a clearing where the leafy spires part just enough for you to see the small flicker of light burning at the edge of the horizon decorated with the distant buildings of Tokyo’s bustling cityscape. Your eyes remain fixated on the gentle colors the sun’s impending arrival starts painting across the dark canvas the sky provides as Megumi leads you over towards the bench so you can take a seat and bear witness to nature’s awakening.

You find yourself lost in it for what feels to be a long stretch of time until his voice brings your gaze to him instead. “Well, this is where I go.” The eyebrow you raise at his statement provided without any context coaxes him to elaborate, “You know, on those mornings I leave for a bit and come back, and you ask me where I went? This is where I go.” His long fingers card through the furry coats of his dogs where they sit on the grass between you.

Nodding slowly, you take another sip of the drink in your hand. “So, why’d you decide to take me here, considering it’s probably the only place where you can get away from the madness of everything?”

As the sun ascends skyward at what feels to be a faster pace than expected, you notice the most beautiful pools of cerulean form in his eyes more brilliant than you think you’ve ever seen them before. His hand finds yours, and your fingers intertwine. “Because I wanted you to be here with me.” There’s a pause, and his gaze shifts away from the sunrise to meet with yours instead. It’s an action that unwittingly reaffirms your importance given the beauty of the scene ahead. “I wanted it to be us here instead of just me.”

Gently, you squeeze his hand, relishing in the comfort of his touch that always brings a smile to your face. “So, what are you saying? That you think I’m actually gonna change my sleep schedule entirely just for you?” is your teasing reply.

“No,” he sighs, narrowing his eyes at your jest, “but maybe every now and then, we could go to sleep at a decent time so we can come here and watch the sunrise.”

Moving your face closer to his shortens the gap between your lips, but you stop before they can meet to answer, “We can do that.” Oftentimes, you find that Megumi’s straightforward manner of speaking doesn’t always match the true intensity of his emotions, but his kisses never betray how he’s feeling. They’re soft and tender, as if his intentions are to give you a few pecks and nothing more, but he’s always quick to chase your lips when they separate from his, even for a moment.

When your eyes flutter open once more, you watch his flit back and forth between each of yours in miniscule movements before pecking his cheek and resting your head on his shoulder. A long expanse of peaceful quietude follows, save for the chirping of newly awakened birds and the secretive whispers of the breeze through the trees.

“Do you think this could be our place?”

The sound of his deep voice reverberating in his chest sends subtle vibrations through your head, and his words bring small prickles of heat to your cheeks. “You want it to be?” A wet nose brushes against your unoccupied fingertips, guiding your hand onto a fuzzy, black snout that you give an affectionate rub.

Megumi nods and his cheek comes to rest against the crown of your head. “Yeah,” he answers, slinging an arm around your shoulders and pulling you closer to him.

“Better make sure none of your nosy students ever find out you’re coming up here, then,” is your warning delivered with a chuckle.

“They’re so desperate to be done with classes for the day that I doubt they’ll want to spend their free time tailing their teacher. Your students are the nosy ones, wanting to follow you on social media, or whatever.”

Each of your laughs permeate the cool air slowly becoming warmer with the sun’s expanding reach—from which you take shelter by burying your face in his neck.

“Megumi?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we just… stay here for a bit?”

You feel his arm move as he checks his phone. “Classes start in an hour.”

“Just a little bit longer?”

A notification appears on his screen, but he turns it off and tucks the device back into his pocket. “Sure,” he murmurs into your hair before pecking your temple.

He says it so nonchalantly, but you know he’s hoping whatever time he’s set in his head to leave doesn’t arrive for an eternity. Because it’s the same hope that settles deeply into your heart as the two of you hold onto one another and watch waves of light slowly wash over the dark sky, doing everything you can to cherish your company rather than agonize over the moment when you’ll have to let go.

In an exhale that tickles your skin, Megumi hums, “I’m glad you came here with me.”

[mybabygirlelsa]

So I was watching Frozen II the other day and the whole confusion about the voice visited again. Like, who's calling Elsa? Is it Ahtohallan? Her mom? Her own self? Jennifer Lee (I think) said that the voice belongs to Iduna, but that doesn't sit well with me. And then I remembered that I've written my own theory about it, which why not share it with you? 😂

It's probably very inaccurate based on the things we know, but it was really fun to write!

Hope you enjoy!

(A/N: italics are extracts of the book "Frozen II: The Junior Novel")

The Fifth Spirit

Very long ago, in a time no man can recall, humans weren't the dominant species on Earth. There were no rules, yet neither freewill.

Or so it was thought.

People lived under nature's laws -they interacted with it, respected it greatly but mostly feared it. Prophecies about nature's rage were foolishly believed and seriously taken into account.

But it wasn't nature they truly feared -it was its magic.

Humans never succeeded to understand magic -it was considered unreachable. Only a small group of people that repeatedly refused to take part in the "vision of civilization" decided to co- exist with the magical elements and spirits of nature. These people were the first human inhabitants of the Enchanted Forest and the ancestors of the future indigenous Northuldra.

As time went on, people grew more and more arrogant, thought they were capable of everything and gradually stopped believing in nature's power. They began sacrificing and falsely taking advantage of nature's goods. Seeing their audacity getting out of hand, the spirits of air, fire, water and earth sought help from Ahtohallan, the mythical river said to hold all the answers.

The then- small glacier, foreseeing the consequences of people's hauteur, sacrificed a part of herself and sculpted a female figure, with hair and skin as white and pale as freshly fallen snow and eyes as blue as shining ice. With her ancient magic, the glacier gave life to the woman, who was none other than the Fifth Spirit.

According to scanty myths, the woman had achieved great and extraordinary accomplishments in her previous life and the magical river had collected and kept her soul to be used for greater things when the right time would arrive. However, those speculations never came to be confirmed.

Nonetheless, why she was there and why she was chosen, that she never came to know. And a part of her wondered if she ever would.

People's conceit kept growing in an astonishingly fast pace while the Fifth Spirit was given a duty -to connect humans and the magic of nature, as well as protect the only home she would ever know in her existence; the Enchanted Forest.

Apart from her duty, she was also given a power no human had known and no spirit had possessed -the ability to create ice and snow, to control and bring winter. After connecting with the other elements, she was also gifted and given powers to represent all four spirits, such as wings, the ability to strike lightning and control the water, as well as the power to cause earthquakes.

The Fifth Spirit was sent to humans after fully mastering her powers and understanding her purpose. Under the guidance of the unseen deity, people began having faith in nature and underlying yet great respect.

However, this was not an easy task to achieve. It took her almost a hundred years to restore people's faith and trust -but she successfully accomplished it.

Each passing day her power grew significantly, and so did her fondness for her creator. To show her gratitude, she used her unprecedented power and expanded the length and height of her beloved glacier, making Ahtohallan an extension of her powers and mostly, herself.

To honour her child, Ahtohallan assigned to her a new task; she had to visit a chosen woman's dream and recite a poem that would soon be heard from every young Northuldra mother's lips -the lullaby of Ahtohallan. The old glacier also gifted her with a beautiful staff that could summon power and turn into a crystal necklace when unneeded.

Having already mentioned the lullaby, it's important to subjoin the meaning behind a specific lyric -"dive down deep into her sound, but not too far or you'll be drowned". The youthful spirit created a sheer drop that ended to an ice sheet to keep there the utmost truth, for only the most selfless souls would be fearless enough to ignore the warning, as well as brave enough to dive into the abyss. That, if anyone would ever manage to reach the frozen river. For the mighty Water Nokk -who shared a very special bond with the Fifth Spirit- guarded her secrets.

For the very start of her existence -as well as in the meantime of her mission to restore people's faith-, the Fifth Spirit would travel across the Earth to bring winter and joy to the children. She was the very first winter spirit  -Jack Frost made his appearance a lot later. Legend has it that she was the Snow Queen the Danish author, Hans Christian Andersen, spoke about in his fairytale. However, unseen as she was, this theory had never had a requisite basis and was never further explained.

As time went on, the forlorn deity was assigned tasks that aimed for specific, chosen people freeing their potential, resulting their lifework to be considered admirable, and almost magical. All spirits had agreed there were and there would be humans that deserved to be known for their own "magic". The Fifth Spirit helped people accomplish dreams and bring visions to life, as she was the only spirit that had the power to transform, painlessly get into one's head to guide and/or give advice and take a human form of any needed age as well as gender when one's achievement was considered of great difficulty. She even had the power to seek a specific ability she didn't possess -which would later on be declared hers- so her efforts could be crowned with success. 

She could do anything. There was only one thing she was unable to do; feel.

She was emotionless.

Even her fondness for her mother was taken away after the second century passed. It was thought that if she was given the ability to feel, she would show mercy and compassion and her unlimited patience would spare.

So forsaken she remained. Nameless and isolated, unseen and walked through by people, having to serve her cause on her own, merely meeting with the other spirits on specific occasions.

One of them was on the first day of spring every five years, when everything was blooming, blossoming and growing. A great part of the Enchanted Forest was her deed -she expanded its length and grew more trees, more grass, bloomed more flowers, added more bushes, a small river -where the Earth Giants would be sleeping in the future- that floated into a waterfall which ended at a sheer drop, a pit full of black rocks later known as the Lost Caverns. Because of this, the spirits gave her the appellation "The Reincarnation of Mother Nature" -the only name she was ever given.

For most of her existence -as long as she was waiting  for her next task to be handed-, she lived close to her glacier. Away from any kind of life, on her own, in her Ice Palace of memories. She spent so many years close to it, that her fondness returned and she wanted to praise her treasured river.

So she gifted her her voice.

Her act was pure and sincere and played a significant role in the Enchanted Forest's and spirit's future. The iconic and quintessential call would later on be heard, and then, much later, known worldwide as one of the most famous melodies of the Gregorian Chant -the "Dies Irae".

During one of her missions, on the fjord south of the Enchanted Forest, while she was making sure the protector of people, the famous warrior of old, Aren, had achieved his life-changing goal, something changed. Aren was a little bit like her, a protector who served people as his cause. She was protecting the Forest and was serving both nature and humans. Yet a big difference grew the gap between them; he was loved and surrounded by people.

He was feeling.

She wasn't.

Occasionally, she would roam the night skies to witness a life she had never known, to witness how people felt.

And remind herself how she couldn't.

She had been told to distance herself from sunlight, as if she was a single snowflake that would melt when she met with sun's light. She had been told humans were weak, mischievous and unpredictable creatures. She had been told she was greater and superior. Yet she caught herself longing to spend a day warm in the sun, longing to see people dancing...

Longing to feel.

And so she did. Painfully, her as cold and hard as ice heart melted and its first beats sounded like heavy raindrops hitting the dry soil loudly.

She had never felt so alive. She had never... felt.

However, her accidental action required a cost to be paid.

The same, previously mentioned scanty myths, referred to another woman's soul, which had been collected and kept by Ahtohallan. She was certain she would be the one given the great purpose and when she wasn't, her soul never reached the heavens as she swore revenge on the young soul of the Fifth Spirit. Hiding her true intentions, in Ahtohallan's chambers she remained, nurturing the young spirit like mother Ahtohallan did.

Once she learned the youthful deity had broken the laws she had been restrained from ignoring, the resentful soul brought her bitter foe to the Enchanted Forest, secretly from Ahtohallan, and for the first time in forever, she allowed her to feel.

While she burned her.

The Fifth Spirit was set on fire and was obliged to feel her skin melting, like snow on a bright, sunny day. It was unimaginably painful. Her haunting call, that was later on used by a young Northuldra girl, tore the sky apart and meant only one thing;

"Help me".

If it wasn't for Ahtohallan's and Water Nokk's intervention, the Fifth Spirit would have vanished. The evil soul was banished to the Lost Caverns, a place with no way out, where one would be at their lowest emotional point from that day forward. However, before she was sent away, the hateful soul put a curse on the traumatized spirit -when she failed to serve her cause, she would be burned. If the mistreating soul still existed, that no one ever confirmed.

After her adored water horse healed her with the water's curative properties, the Fifth Spirit swore not to feel again, and accepted the prohibition of getting any near the land where the future kingdom of Arendelle would come to be.

Thousands of years passed and the unseen spirit's heart had gotten colder than ice, preventing her from repeating her mistake. Ahtohallan and the other spirits mourned for her, for she was not who she had once been, and made great efforts to change the past's design, intentionally forgetting what had been done was unchangeable.

Despite her change -and most likely because of it-, the Fifth Spirit had dedicated most of her attention to her precious forest. Seeing this, Ahtohallan assigned her the task of looking after a young Northuldra girl, so the deity could be surrounded by her forest.

The Fifth Spirit and the young Northuldra were somehow connected. Iduna, the young Northuldra, would occasionally hear the eerie melody of the spirit, since the deity would "sing to those who hear". The girl would also be seen playing around with Gale, the feisty Wind Spirit. Iduna was connected with nature in an unexplainable way -she was different and destined for great things; she was chosen.

One day, ships arrived at the entrance to the fjord south of the Enchanted Forest -wooden ships full of people who were determined to create a home for themselves near the water. Soon, the kingdom of Arendelle came to be and the Fifth Spirit knew what that meant.

The newcomers were welcomed by the Northuldra's ruler when he met with their king on a cliff as the sun set. The leaders firmly shook hands at this meeting, which was seen by others only in hazy silhouette. Yet the deity saw everything clearly.

To demonstrate their goodwill and friendship, the Arendellians built a mighty dam in the Enchanted Forest. They placed it on the river that flowed into the Arenfjord, the deep blue body of water upon which Arendelle Castle had been built. The dam connected all the lands and made it easier for the Northuldra and their reindeer to roam. King Runeard, the leader of Arendelle, offered it to the Northuldra as a symbol of peace and cooperation between the two groups. But the powerful spirit could see past his facade.

When the dam was complete, the Arendellians threw a great celebration. Northuldra from all over the land gathered at the base of the dam to mingle and feast with the Arendellians. The Fifth Spirit tried to warn the indigenous tribe about the trickery behind the kindness for months but no one listened -they were all busy welcoming and celebrating with the frenemies.

The poor spirit could see how it would all end and attempted to warn young Iduna. But it was too late -the battle had already begun.

Arendelle had turned out to be harmful once again. And as the lush beauty of her beloved forest was being destroyed, as the chaos continued beneath her, she cried, with her plangent call shaking the trees and crumbling the ground.

Her cry echoed as another voice synchronized with it -a pleading for help. Her eyes spotted Iduna holding a young boy in her embrace, as the girl called for help in agony. The Fifth Spirit, overcome with grief of centuries, wailed her eerie melody, mourning for her forest.

As well as for herself.

Her end was near and she was about to meet her tragic fate. She had failed to protect the Forest. She had failed to serve her cause -and the curse continued.

The Wind Spirit heard her call and took the children to safe ground. But it was the only one who listened.

Overcome with rage, the Fifth Spirit cried sorrowfully one last time before a mist, as thick and impenetrable as stone, enveloped the forest, as a promise she would forever guard it from foreigners. Then she disappeared, since people had stopped listening.

However, this was not her end. The Wind Spirit carried the remaining bits of her body to the devastated glacier that grieved over her lost daughter for days, in the meantime causing great parts of herself to collapse. The Water Spirit, overwhelmed with pain as well, told the river about the girl the Fifth Spirit was assigned to look after. Ahtohallan understood the importance of the young Northuldra's deed and finally let the soul of the deity find its new body, knowing she would not return the same.

The Fifth Spirit's soul travelled across the skies and on the Northern Lights above Arendelle it remained, looking after young Iduna, for she was destined to carry in her womb the reincarnation of the lost spirit.

And so, the spirits waited -waited for the Fifth Spirit to be reborn and return to where she belonged.

They waited for her to rise again.

[hanoella]

Affettuoso- With Feeling (Part 3)

Pairing: Bucky x Pianist!Reader

Set after the events of TFATWS: In an effort to start over and make a home in Louisiana, Bucky meets a friend of Sam’s who ends up being his landlord. With only a driveway to separate them, he finds that he’s not the only one looking for a fresh start.

Series tags/warnings: Slow Burn, Eventual Bucky x Reader, Mentions of Domestic Abuse, Canon Level Violence

Part 3 Word Count: 3k

A/N: Can you tell I don't really have a posting schedule? lol. I also introduced links to the specific pieces I had in mind. I'm using soundcloud because I don't think everyone has access to spotify. Trying to be reader friendly! This can be read with or without the audio, as I do my best to still convey the thought in the fic. Though if you can, I highly recommend :)

Thanks again for all your support! Every heart and comment motivates me and is just so wonderful

Read Part 1; Masterlist

---

A few days had passed since the night that Bucky had overheard your troubles. It had been quiet since, and you hadn’t left the house. The curtains were opened during the day and closed at night, the only telltale signs that you existed.

Doesn’t she have to work? Bucky thought to himself. He speculated all the different possibilities as he used the riding mower around the property. Maybe you were an heiress? You seemed pretty down to earth though. Or maybe you sold a patented idea for a ton of money. All this land had to have been expensive. And to not request actual money from him?

He eyed up the width of the gate for your fence. The riding mower couldn’t fit so he would have to use a push mower for your fenced off yard. He hadn’t seen one in the garage. Maybe the old shed at the back of your yard had one? Bucky parked the mower in the garage, taking a moment to make a mental list of everything. Depending on if he found anything in the shed, he might need to buy a few basic tools and a chainsaw for that fallen tree.

He walked out of the garage and over to the shed. The leaves were changing color and it brought a whole new atmosphere to the secluded forest area. Opening the gate of the weathered white fence, he looked around to see if you were out. No signs of life. Entering the yard and closing the gate behind him, he started walking to the back. Halfway through, he stopped at the fire pit. The grey stone blocks were starting to crumble, with a few of the bricks having fallen off. It would probably be really nice if he got a little bit of cement mix and filled in the gaps. Bucky made another mental note.

The shed had no padlock so he was able to open it with no problem. Amongst the cobwebs and bags of soil, was an older green push mower that looked like it might work. He gave the gas a pull and got no response back. Looking underneath, Bucky saw what might be the problem. He’d have to take a closer look later. Putting the lawn mower back onto its wheels, he pushed it across the yard, pausing when he saw movement though the glass doors of the back patio.

Craning his neck to avoid the glare, he saw you sitting at your fancy full keyboard. The way the piano was against the opposite wall, your back was to him. You had big over-ear headphones plugged into it, so he couldn’t hear the sound but he saw the flurry of keys being pressed down. Whatever you were playing, you played passionately. Hands and arms gracefully moved despite the speed at which they were moving. Enhanced hearing coming into play, he heard the muffled clicks of the fluttering keys. Suddenly, you pressed down forcefully, holding whatever chord you had struck as your shoulders gently relaxed. A deep breath. Arm creating a graceful arc as if you had studied ballet, you pressed gently on another chord. And another. Bucky counted three more times you did this before you let your hands gently fall from the keys to your lap. Several moments passed before slid the headphones off of your ears to sit wrapped around your neck. Another deep breath. This time as the breath escaped you, you stayed slouched, head tilting up to stare at nothing on the wall.

A buzz broke Bucky from his trance.

“Call me, new mission” The text from Sam on his home screen said.

He pocketed his phone, glancing through the glass one more time. There you still sat.

Unmoving.

---

The roar of the plane’s engine was just loud enough to drown out Bucky’s thoughts without being annoying. If it weren’t for the adrenaline of the recovery mission under the cover of nightfall, he probably would’ve been lulled to sleep. Beside him sat Sam, looking on his phone for the exact coordinates of the politician they had been sent to rescue.

“Here it is. I’m assuming there’s some sort of underground base since there are no heat signatures anywhere within the radius where he was taken. It should take us about ten more minutes before we’re directly over it.”

Bucky hummed in acknowledgement.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Earth to Bucky.”

“What does your friend do?” Bucky asked suddenly, sitting up straighter and turning towards him.

“… What?”

“What does she do? I’ve never seen her leave the house. Is she okay?”

“If you’re asking why she doesn’t leave the house, it’s because her contract doesn’t start for a while. She’s technically still supposed to be in physical therapy but she hasn’t found a place yet. You know, your whole routine gets messed up when you move.”

“For her shoulder?”

Now it was Sam’s turn to look at Bucky, trying to decipher the motive behind these questions. Bucky shifted his weight in the chair, antsy under the scrutiny.

“Never mind, I-”

“Yes, for her shoulder.” Sam said, cutting him off. He stopped himself from asking why Bucky wanted to know. There was an awkward pause before Bucky explained himself.

“I just wanted to know. I’m not used to seeing people so…”

“Similar to yourself?”

“I was gonna say isolated but fair point.” Bucky admitted. Sam leaned back in his chair, looking straight forward.

“She’s been through a lot… I know you heard some of it.”

Bucky blinked in surprise.

“I realized the window was open when I could hear you drive off.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s alright, it’s good that you know.” Sam said as he held up his hand to cut Bucky off.

“She’s just trying to get a fresh start. She’s in a raw emotional space and in the meantime is a little skittish. Just like someone else I know.” Sam jabbed his elbow into Bucky’s side as he enunciated the last sentence.

“Okay, okay, I get it. I’m trying!” He shouted as he held one hand up defensively and using the other to block the second jab Sam was trying to get in. Sam chuckled and then stood up, grabbing a parachute pack and tossing it at Bucky, who caught it without even looking.

“Figured you might wanna try an actual chute this time.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and mouthed Sam’s words mockingly with a grimace as he put the backpack on. Clipping it into place, he joined Sam at the side door of the plane.

“She used to play in an orchestra you know.” Sam said wistfully. “The piano. That’s actually how we met. She had volunteered to play a small concert before the dinner. It really helped raise a lot of money for the VA.”

Bucky stayed silent, prompting him to continue.

“Then that bastard she was engaged to beat her and then shoved her down a set of concrete steps when she tried to leave him. It was like a month after we all came back. She was in the hospital for a while. Broken ribs, broken shoulder, and a nasty concussion to boot. Neighbor saw the whole thing and called the cops but the courts were so backed up and the case fell through the cracks. Wouldn’t leave her alone after he got out. So, I pulled some strings and helped her move down here on the fly.”

“… That’s terrible.”

Bucky didn’t know what to say or how to react. They stood in silence, taking a moment to pay a respect of sorts to the trials you have been through. Then Sam broke the silence.

“She just needs time to heal in more ways than one. But she’s strong. Resilient.”

Putting a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, he squeezed it lightly with reassurance.

“Reminds me of someone else I know.” Sam said, finishing the conversation and pulling his goggles over his eyes, giving Bucky the opportunity to take the compliment without feeling too on the spot.

Pulling the door open, Sam shouted over the wind.

“Ready?”

Bucky nodded. Sam jumped from the plane and deployed the wings, the shield shining in the moonlight. Bucky jumped right behind him, using the glint of the silver star to guide his descent as he followed the man that gave the shield its meaning.

---

You laid with your head down on the kitchen table, letting the last golden rays of sun warm the side of your face. You were exhausted from going to physical therapy, especially since today had been the first appointment. All the measurements, all the exercises, all the stretching.

All the questions.

“So, how did you break your shoulder?” the young blonde physical therapist asked.

“Ah, I… fell down some stairs.” You said, looking down at your hands in your lap.

She didn’t look up from the papers, instead just raising an eyebrow.

“You also cracked some ribs and had a concussion?”

“… They were concrete.”

She looked up from the papers at you, analyzing. Her gaze softened and she asked no further questions on how these serious injuries had been obtained.

“Let’s look at your range of motion.”

You had practically stumbled into the house, kicking off your sneakers and plopping down at the kitchen table. Minutes passed by as you regained your breath, heartbeat steadying. The house was slightly cold since you had turned the heat down this morning. As your sweat cooled, you wrapped your arms around your legs in an attempt to keep you warm without getting up.

The sun feels so warm… You thought to yourself drowsily, feeling slightly less lonely. The sun was a cheap substitute for the warmth of a partner…

---

You jolted upright, the kitchen dark and cold. Neck and shoulder stiff from the awkward position you had dozed off in. Feeling the dryness of your mouth, you got up, stretching your neck gently while you walked to the fridge to get water. Chugging about half the bottle, you squinted at the clock. You had been asleep for about forty-five minutes. Groaning, you put the bottle down on the counter and walked into the living room to close the curtains. Grabbing one in each hand, you went to pull them together when you hesitated, noticing that Bucky’s apartment was dark for the third day in a row. The sleek motorbike that was usually parked under the slight overhang of the garage was missing as well.

He was probably on a mission, right? Not that it was any of your business. You shut the curtains and turned off the lights before lightly padded down the hall, stopping to adjust the thermostat. The heat kicked on, sending a puff of cold air your way. You shivered as you walked with a quickened pace to your room, shutting the door and heading into the master bathroom, turning the hot water on with just a tad of cold.

Waiting for the shower to warm up, you leaned over the sink and looked into the mirror. Dark circles under your eyes. Small scar on the bridge of your nose. Running your hand through the roots of your hair, you felt for the scar where the stitches had been. When was the last time you had a haircut? Or put on some makeup?

Some higher being must’ve felt pity for you since the steam from the shower fogged the glass, preventing you from tearing yourself apart any further. Stepping underneath the warm stream, you let the warmth seep into your muscles, then bones, filling every fracture and break with a temporary sense of wholeness until the emptiness of your heart and home caused it slowly to drip out until it, along with you, was gone.

---

The next morning, you weren’t motivated to do anything. You lounged around the house, sipping on coffee and browsing on your phone for furniture, clothes, even sneaking a peak at some pianos. Wanting to invest in one you’d use for the next several decades, you had put off buying one until the money from your contract with the orchestra started in a month. You were still well off, nowhere near struggling and probably wouldn’t ever be unless you decided to buy a mansion (which was a no). You just wanted to be careful.

In the afternoon, you popped a pain killer and muscle relaxer in preparation for the few hours you wanted to practice. Thirty minutes went by and the ever-present ache in your shoulder calmed enough to let you practice with relative peace. Sitting on the bench in front of the keyboard, you pondered what you might play to warm up.

Hmm, maybe a Chopin prelude? Short, emotional, familiar.

Your left hand held the soft deep chords as your right hand softly flitted around the higher notes. Breathing in and out with the music, you tried to ignore the ache that start to surround your shoulder.

Playing the last few notes, you paused before reaching over to the bottle of painkillers.

---

Shortly after finishing up, you dragged a small table outside next to the wooden bench swing that was hanging on the porch. Bundled up in a soft sweatshirt, long-sleeve shirt, wool lined leggings, fuzzy socks and slippers, you brought out your hot tea, several blankets, a pillow, and a book you had been meaning to read for months. You were determined to do something besides practice, watch TV, and scroll on your phone.

You settled onto the bench, wrapping the blanket around you, nice and toasty from the layers trapping in the heat of a thorough practice session. The extra medication had really helped keep the pain at bay. Tentatively sipping the steaming cup, you closed your eyes to further appreciate the sweet tones of peach and honey. Setting the cup in your lap with one hand, you used your other hand to flip open to the first page.

---

Bucky hadn’t expected the mission to get so complicated. Finding the base was one thing, navigating in and out of the expansive maze was another. It took a few days to successfully get the target out and back to the embassy. He hadn’t properly slept during that time due to taking shifts with Sam. Not that it was any different from how he slept at home.

The sun was letting its last few rays bless the earth when he turned onto the driveway. Taking it easy on the gravel, he eased his posture and slowed the bike. He put pressure on the brakes as he made it past the final wall of trees that hid the water that was reflecting the last bit of color left in the sky. Rolling casually into a stop, he parked and let out a deep breath, shoulders sinking.

A stray bird calling out turned his attention in the direction of your house. The porch light was on. That’s new, he thought. Squinting his eyes, he saw a bundle on the porch swing. Was that you? Quietly walking over while taking his leather gloves off, he confirmed his suspicions. There you were, lying on your side propped up by a large fuzzy pillow. Eyes closed and breathing rhythmically. Scanning the scene, he noticed the mug on the side table, empty except for the used teabag. Your book was closed, the page you were on marked by one of your fingers. You must’ve fallen asleep while reading.

“Hey…” Bucky said gently. No response besides a small nose scrunch.

He repeated himself a little louder, squatting to be at eye level while gently setting his hand on your arm and shaking you lightly. You groaned this time, eyes fluttering open, taking a moment to focus. You squinted and pushed yourself up into a sitting position, losing your place in the book and attempting to blink the heavy drowsiness from your eyes.

“Bucky?” You questioned hoarsely as you met his eyes. He was still crouching so you were looking slightly down at him. Brow furrowed, you searched the blue of his eyes before looking around to see how dark it had gotten. As you turned your head back to him, he stood back up, scratching the back of his neck just to occupy his hands.

“It’s starting to get cold. I didn’t want you to spend the rest of the night out here.” He explained, choosing to look out at the water, now dark. When he turned his head back, you had also turned your head to look at the water, exposing the side of your neck, the tendons and clavicle accentuated by the strain. Bucky swallowed and your eyes met his, oblivious.

“Ah, thank you. I must’ve fallen asleep reading. I just started going back to physical therapy so I’ve just been so wiped… Anyway,” you said, dismissing yourself mid-thought. He didn’t want to hear about all that. “…did you just come back from a mission?” You eyed the diagonal cuts of leather on his jacket, noting the missing sleeve that exposed the glint of the metal.

“Yeah. I was gone for a few days.”

“Okay. I’m glad you’re home safe.” You mindlessly said, picking up the book and other various items strewn about.

Home safe. What an unfamiliar phrase.

As the words echoed in his mind, you had opened the door and stepped in, turning your head slightly to look back at him.

“Thanks again… Good night.”

“Good night.” Bucky replied, watching as you shut the door softly behind you.

Slowly walking down the porch steps, he crossed the driveway to the garage. Turning his head just in time to see the last light turn off in your house, he stood with his hand on the knob, meditating on the effect that one short sentence had on him.

Glad you’re home safe. Was this what it was like when you had someone waiting on you at home? The tired eyes and gentle smile. Would that be what it was like when he came home in the middle of a night from a mission when he had someone to share a bed with? Gently shaking them to let them know he was home? Or would he try to sneak into bed without waking them? He tried to imagine what that sort of intimacy would be like as he entered his apartment and then his room. Unzipping his jacket and tossing it over a chair, he stripped down to his boxer briefs and climbed into bed, wondering what it would be like if it was already warm.

[monsoonblooms12]

Eumoiriety (Ethan x f!MC)

Summary: Four Years of Pooja Sharma's Birthday, from her first year as an Intern to her first year as an Attending.

Eumoiriety: Happiness due to state of innocence and purity💕

A/N: It's my baby's birthday and I went overboard. This is purely self indulgent and since I have zero to negative self control, this turned out way longer than I expected it to. Anyway, I hope you still like it💙

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey X f!MC (Pooja Sharma)

Word Count: around 3.7K (I am sorry!)

Rating: General

Category: A bit angst, A bit fluff

Warnings: None that I saw.

Prompts: @choicesaugustchallenge Day 29 - Birthday

READ ON AO3

Intern Year:

She walks barefoot on the green floor as the dews clinging to grass tips, soothe her like the cold breeze on a summer day.

A few golden rays filter through the canopy that acts as a barrier to the shining sun overhead. When they fall on the grass, the view looks like gold intermixed with emerald.

She wears a white gown, which flutters behind her, as her heart dances with the bees going flower to flower to get their prize of nectar in return for their favour of pollinating them.

There is a calm spreading through her soul, an ease, a slow infusion of tranquillity with her heart beats.

A swish makes her turn. Her eyes capture a silhouette, drifting farther and farther, as if taking her calm along with it.

It's replaced by restlessness.

There is a cajole, a whispered cajole, that urges her feet to run, her mind to think, her heart to wonder.

She follows. One step, and another.

The scene changes.

There are no more trees, no more green with the sun's shine.

At a distance, the waves crash on the sandy shore, their meet with their shore echoing in the silent surroundings.

She looks around and sees it.

The silhouette, now apparent that it was a man, standing with his back to her. He looks unbothered. As if he stole her peace and gave her his unrest in return.

She tries to walk slowly towards, footsteps imprinting on the sand, but the distance never seems to lessen or end.

She tries running, but to no avail.

The waves continue crashing, the footprints continue to get imprinted and the man continues to remain still and silent.

The only change has been in the sky, which is now leaden, dark with humongous clouds.

The thunder begins to cackle.

Once, Twice, Thrice.

She closes her ears with her hands, eyes shut to reduce the impact of the thunderous noise reverberating through every single one of her bones. But the roar keeps getting louder and louder until...

Her eyes snap open, but the echo from her sweven doesn't leave her. She turns around to find her phone ringing, straining her eyes with incredulous bright light (that she forgot to dim). The caller ID is barely registered, but the voice gives away the identity.

It's her sister.

With a flash, all the haze from the peculiar dream gets lost and bubbly happiness takes up the emptied space.

It's their birthday.

The first one since she came here. She had been so busy unknotting the twisted knots of circumstances in which she found herself tangled, that she had forgotten about the once unforgettable occasion of her life.

Maybe she has really lost that childhood she held on so tightly to, she thinks.

But not without a hope. Of a chance to get it back.

Maybe differently.

But the want to relive those carefree days, where the colour of pens you get as gifts, and the decision of who gets the piece of cake with the chocolate masterpiece on it were the only things that held importance. All other worldly, societal woes were secondary, trivial, uncared for.

She wishes her sister and she wishes her back.

3..2..1.. Happy Birthday! To Us!

They scream-whisper together, carrying on the years' long tradition.

The only thing different? They were on their cellulars, ecospheres apart, instead of snuggling and shouting together, and annoying their brother for an entire day.

Subconsciously, a tee-hee escapes her. Thinking about her brother, she takes a look at the clock. Correct 12:03 am on 12th August. If she knows him, he is probably counting the seconds.

At 12:05 am to the dot, another shrill echoes through the silent apartment. Her guess is correct.

On the other side of the screen, sits Idhayan arranging the cake so that Pooja can see the eloquent buttercream designs he has hand made on it.

In the background, there is a blurry motion. It turns out to be Alekhya.

She jumps onto the couch beside their brother, putting an end to his steady concentration.

He makes an irritated face, while she laughs.

And Pooja just watches, giggling alone.

The pang in her chest reminds her, once & once more, about just how much she misses them.

How empty, monochromatic her life is, with all these miles between them.

For the past year, every time any event took a turn for the worse, broke her, or hurt her, she wanted to go back to her safe haven.

The place where the chronicles of her life begun.

Many times, she had found herself convinced (by others as well as her self doubting mind) that she didn't belong here. That she didn't have the calibre, the skills to strive in this fight of dogs, in this race of horses where she felt like a donkey.

Or maybe a snail.

She dreamed of sleeping in her mother's lap when she first found herself in the crossroads of feelings and reason. Making her muddled head clear with words that never crossed the barrier between dream and reality.

When Mrs Martinez died, she imagined herself sitting on the swing, her brother's comfort brownies reduced to messy crumbs, as she let the mountain winds take away the burden of dread that pressed upon her heart.

And the day when Landry's backstab became eminent? She visualized her sister ripping him down, shredding him with knives of words because that's what he deserved.

She knew her father would have made them both coffee like he always did when he came home during breaks from piloting. He would have said a mere few words, which would have been enough for her to see the path ahead.

The mini virtual celebration ends, and the silence settles again. Tendrils of sleep come and go, but never stay.

She is left alone with her thoughts and worries, and a fear of the unknown which is hidden by the curtains of the future.

--------

The day passes like a swift blowing wind in a desert.

It's quiet, too quiet.

And probably for the first time in her life, she adores it. To be away from the hustle of a celebration, which would have been a noise in the cacophony, given the situation.

To get a period of silence for her thoughts to drift away, to think about the unknown, to predict a make or break.

The pages are turned swiftly by her fingers, one of which is clad with a minimal gold ring, another old ritual of hers.

The library harbours the overworked interns, who are now pushing the boundaries of time to find a way to help their friend out.

Their tired eyes pain with the lack of sleep, coffee fuelling through their veins, and mind engrossed in picking up any clue, any line, any tip that could be supportive for them.

Hours pass, no-one utters a word. Pens run on empty notebooks, hands managing to create only messy scribbles. Black and Blue fill the white as if it never existed.

The clock strikes the end hour.

They all get up.

They go home together, for discussions and relaxation.

At the doorstep, everyone enters before her, while she stands still, too engulfed in worries to notice the happenings.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

Confetti pops, her reverie is broken.

The smile shines like a jewel in a priceless necklace.

The arrangements are minimal, just champagne, cake and friends, but that's more than enough for her. To make her forget the dark fog of pessimism.

Maybe there is hope left.

-------

Second Year:

12th August.

The day that is drifting closer by the minute.

It has always been Alekhya's birthday for her.

On her phone, In her diary, In her mind.

People might regard it as a beautiful flaw of her nature, the flaw of always placing others before herself.

But to her, the instinct seemed natural, obvious. She had never delved into the whys, and she doesn't want to begin now.

For Alekhya, the circumstances became vice-versa.

And this was the beauty of their bond.

Strong, Pure and Selfless.

They never seem to realize that, though.

They hold onto the strings of simplicity, of sweet uncomplexity. And that is what helps them to bridge the gap between siblings and best friends.

After the tumultuous year, that very much resembled the completion of a voyage through the rough Indian Ocean, where storms ravage through days and endless nights, thunders crack, and waves that scale the heights between the ocean and sky to become mountains of water, crash on the feeble pieces of wood barely held together in the form of a boat, coming back to her origin, her hometown is a necessity.

Especially for her to find that normalcy again.

She survived.

Even though she fell, almost drowned, gasped for a breath more times she could count and nearly accepted her fate.

Until that is, the pale faces of the ones she holds close, the endless stream of tears that scale their cheeks, their breaking hearts, came to haunt her in her reverie and prevented her from closing her eyes & from letting that almost undetectable beat of heart stop.

The wishes from last year come back to her. This time, it wasn't virtual anymore. This time, it wasn't just painted in pixels, but written in buttercream letters, one which she could taste.

This time, the hugs weren't just virtual. They were very real, and very needed.

As she sits amidst the bushes of phenomenal florals, she lets her mind project in vivid colours, the extremities of the last year.

Her heart, breaking into tiny glass pieces, not perceived by the eye but sharp enough to draw blood.

The fear of losing and letting so many others lose along.

The coming close and going away, almost kisses and slide of unassuming hands, those which could easily be perceived as a mistake, but were anything but.

Competing in a nameless competition and almost dying in the process.

Getting the lost love back. Slowly, Gradually. (even if it felt too early to call it that)

And then... Her mind stops as the playful tunes start emanating out along with florescent light from the cellular, and the face of the one who has been a regular image of the thoughts that lull her to sleep.

On the other side, his voice is soft.

She can visualize him in the Diagnostics Office, leaning back on his chair.

Most probably on a break.

The new day hasn't even started for him, yet he remembers that it has, for her.

Their talks are interspersed with comfortable silence. For them, just the knowledge that the person on the other side is still there with them is enough.

All through the conversation, she waits.

In a hope that the irrelevant and unimportant date is written in faded letters somewhere in that brilliant mind of his.

As the line approaches its end, talks slowly halt, she feels a faint pang of sadness.

Maybe he doesn't remember it after all.

She bids her farewell, and as his finger hovers close to the end call button, she hears it.

Crystal Clear but still seeming unreal.

Happy Birthday, Pooja.

Her thanks are intermixed with a light giggle, unable to hold back the pleasure that erupts within her, along with the flutter called butterflies in her stomach.

Maybe there is always hope left, after all.

-------

Last year of Residence:

There have been countless moments when she has asked the time to wait, to slow its rushing footsteps that leave no mark behind.

Sometimes it's a beg, while in other vespertine hours, it's a mindless murmur.

This moment is one of them.

When a handful of sand is slowly released on a windy day, the swooshes and swishes carry them away, farther and farther, leave them with no choice but to fly along.

The minutes were being carried away by the same current, where they had no choice but to pass.

No one had the power to hold it, not even the mighties, the richest, the most supreme.

The conditions now extensively mimic the conditions during her first year.

Just this time, it was textbooks on internal medicine and medical procedure instead of ethics.

The wishes that day are hushed, the minimal party comprising of cupcakes and mug cakes and the gang, christened "The Invincibles" after they successfully tackle one hurdle and another but remain strong and together, in their PJs.

It must be one of the first nights since who knows how long when they spent their time doing an activity that doesn't involve colour coded tabs and complicated biological drawings.

And even though some of them make faux complaints about the wasted time, they all needed this break more than they could express.

The morning sun rays filter through the white curtains guarding the windows way too fast, making them unable to pinpoint the exact moment when the black of the night ceased to exist, when the sky became melanocrysus and when the golden took over the entire stretch.

A single text message pushes her to drop the blanket of laziness, the cocoon she inhabited. Getting up and placing a smile has never been as easy as it was now.

Come Over

------

The condo is inhabited by a stark silence when she reaches there.

She knocks. The click of the doorknob on the other side is almost instantaneous.

His hand wraps around her waist like a reflex deeply etched in his encephalon. For the first time in forever, their kisses are not chaste. Or momentary.

When he whispers a happy birthday wish against her forehead, that's what she would call intimacy.

The purity of the action touches her heart and makes it swell, with an emotion that she predicts will not remain unnamed any longer.

-------

First-year as an attending:

The celebratory vibes are in the air today.

Her stride is confident, heels playing a mellow harmony on the shining floors.

No one doesn't recognize her.

The intern who nearly lost her license to the Head of Diagnostics team, it was a journey that had thrown her off-road a million times.

Sometimes the barriers were pinpricks leaving no marks, and sometimes they were boulders crushing her.

And sometimes, one of these on-lookers would tear down her faith by stabbing her from the back, the cowardice of their soul, being mirrored in the blades of those knives of betrayal.

And yet she stands strong, her resolve unperturbed, as she faces the demons, those of others and those of her own.

It's a fight she has been learning to fight since she was eleven.

To curtain her tears with a glow in eyes, to hide the broken heart behind pretty lies. And just like practice makes one perfect, she has almost perfected the art of having to hide the real her inside.

As she passes the numerous congregations, amalgamations of patients and staff, she is greeted by wishes from old acquaintances whose kindness is apparent in their smile and by wishes of employed enemies, whose disinterest or sometimes blatant hate is too, completely apparent in their voice.

But they are not the ones she is worried about.

Interspersed between these two extremities are people who speak kind and in flattery lines with a sword behind their back.

Those who know how to hide their true intentions in the modulations of voice.

Every time she hears a wish where nothing is apparent, her heart stops for a while.

Strings of thought muddle her head and she tries to figure out the reality behind their words.

Sometimes she succeeds, sometimes she fails.

And sometimes she faces vehement opposition of her tired nerves who ask her to stop caring about those who are passing by.

But she never stops.

Her legs carry her to the Diagnostics office.

Her Office.

The swell of pride, of a fulfilment she last felt when she got into Edenbrook, make her head light.

She tries to stop but gives up the efforts soon.

If she has realized something through the twists of lawsuits and turns of almost dying, it is that if you keep waiting for the turns of the clock to approach a "right moment" for a chance to celebrate, you will probably keep waiting your entire life until your breath is being taken away and all that is left are regrets and missed opportunities of happiness.

So she twirls like a princess in her imaginary ball gown, beaming with satisfaction, and taking pride in giving herself the give of success.

Of making her loved ones and herself proud.

She gets so carried away in the train of thoughts, in which one bougie is connected by another, and one more, that she doesn't notice the person who preoccupies the room.

The halt is so sudden, that she almost tumbles upon the man. Almost.

She manages to get hold of herself, her hand on his back.

He turns, eyes meet.

If someone would have asked her what is cosmic, she would have said "The melt of glowing ambers into ice blue." Sure, she has looked into them more times than she can count or recollect. But every time their orbs meet, the reactions the action produces, she can only give the word seraphic to it.

When Ethan left for Amazon, she would often wonder why is she still keeping the lamp of hope alive. His absquatulation broke her, acted like a spark to her over-thinking mind. She would lie on her bed, eyes tracing the same lines on the ceiling above her over and over again, thinking just what she did wrong. She never reached the end of the path though, never really achieved the answer, even after meandering through a hundred courses of thoughts.

But now, she thanks her old self for living through it all. For not letting that lamp extinguish. For keeping it safe in a little corner of the labyrinths of her heart. Wordlessly, she hugs him, the plethora of emotions becoming quite too much to be expressed in minute syllables.

His whisper next to her ears, the innocently simplistic words induce a shiver in her spine.

But the last word.

4 letters, 1 word.

It hangs in the air like a diamond necklace around a maiden's neck. Like a tiny pendant that shines brighter than all elaborate jewels, all lengthy anecdotes.

It's enough, more than enough for her.

And as their smiles slowly spread like the slow rise of the golden sun, gently letting the rays spread through the humble earth. And those smiles, they shine together, brighter than the Sirius.

Happy Birthday, Love.

-------

Her casual gown, bearing floral patterns, flutters along with the soft grass, she feels a sense of wonder. Whether at the shimmering moon, the stardust spread through the stretch in the woods, or at the simplicity of her surroundings, she does not know.

Her unassuming footsteps walk slow, observant of her surroundings. After walking down the trail, she stops at the clearance.

At a distance, something shines under the silver moonbeams. Her mind beckons her to return back, but her intuition asks her to move on. She listens to the latter's plea.

A small cuboidal box and a bunch of white tulips lay peacefully out of place. She usually would have left it, just in case it was a trap.

But this time curiosity overtook reason and she picks the bouquet up. A small note amidst her favourite flowers.

I love you

No name. No initials. But she knew exactly who had written it. Not because he was the one who asked her to come here, in the heaven hidden amidst the chaos, but because those flourishes of his fanciful lettering would never escape her notice. Even if the only source of luminance was distant fairy lights on trees and the faint moonbeams.

Her eyes travel away from the articles. At a distance, the silhouette stands. The same silhouette from her sweven. But this time, there is no restlessness, no rush, no tension in the air. No thunder cackles and no waves crash. This time the silhouette waits for her, unlike the last time when it was her waiting for him.

He turns, only the shine of his orbs visible. And the shadow of the gorgeous smile that dances on his lips. The last time, his stone mask was too heavy, too powerful for any of them to break or move.

But this time? This time, the mask has fallen off, it has met the end of its existence.

He comes closer, the shadow now a clear image. He goes and picks up the cuboid and hands it to her.

"Open it" He whispers in a soft voice, that disappears as soon as it appears.

She takes it and opens it, as per his words. Everything is perfect and normal.

Except for the space in the middle.

Something sparkles, in silver lustre. Her first instinct is, Diamond? She decided to pick it up

It's a key.

She looks up to him, bewildered. Is it what she thinks it is?

Move-in with me?

She places the box of chocolates down, the key held tight in her fist.

And then she kisses him.

She doesn't have to speak a word, but he understands. After all, why would two intertwined hearts need verbal responses to know what the other one feels?

Only his home, can fill the brick walls of his house with love, and make it a home.

------

They both lay side by side on the lush grass, hands intertwined, hearts beating in unison, silence filling their souls like air fills their lungs.

They look at the stars and the moon. Or more appropriately, the gaze at the starry screen, but the mind plays significant moments from their time together.

Pooja's mind however thinks about the four of her birthdays since she set foot in Boston. The mundane softness of them, contrasting all the birthdays she has had in the rest of her years.

The photo frame of the interns from the first year. The group video call, her life from the second year. The PJ party from the third year. And the key from the fourth.

They are puzzle pieces of the saga of her life, the absence of friends from early years, the gap, the void now filled.

And after years of searching, she thinks she has finally found it. Hidden in the normality, the simplicity, the mundanity of life.

Happiness.

PS: If you are reading this, I am very grateful for you. Thank you for reading and I hope you have a great day🤎

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[bella-caecilia]

Could I possibly request #11 reliability?

Thank you for the prompt <3 I hope I included enough of the colour symbolism. Again, set somewhere in series 1. I hope you enjoy this Cobert fluff!

Brown – Reliability

She pulled his arm closer. Walking like this beside him was much warmer than walking alone or a few feet apart (something they had done very early on for a very short period, and Cora had hated it with all her guts) but it still wasn’t warm enough. It seemed rather impractical to only have the small area of their arms touch and spend each other warmth but this was the best they could do on a walk.

“I can’t believe Sybil will be presented at court next summer,” Cora voiced aloud what had been on her mind all day.

It was a day in October and after the sun had dried the leaves a little after yesterday’s constant drizzle Cora had waited eagerly in the doorway of the library for Robert to finish his correspondence and join her on their walk over the amber-coloured grounds. Robert was rather occupied today so that Cora had a lot of time on hand to ponder about the next season she was planning already. It was nice to have Robert now with her and to talk about what tormented her thoughts.

“But you have started the first preparations weeks ago,” Robert gave back. Their looks were directed at the path in front of them. Cora didn’t turn her head very often because, with the great proximity to her husband she had created, the expansive brim of her hat was precariously close to his neck. Their eyes took in the variety of brown and yellow nature that stretched along the horizon.

“I know,” she sighed. “But don’t you feel like she is still so young, our little girl? Presenting her at court means subsequently marrying her off to a gentleman, a Lord, faraway. This is all happening much too fast,” Cora whispered the last words into the wind, letting them being carried away. But Robert would get them nevertheless.

“Mary’s season was years ago and she still isn’t married. They will stay much longer with us than you think.” They passed by the place to usually take a short break on their walks. The bench under the large tree stayed empty today, though.

Yes, Mary wasn’t married, and Cora knew why it was so hard to find a match for her. They didn’t even speak of Edith. But Sybil, Sybil was a whole other deal.

“Don’t forget that it’s sweet Sybil we are talking about. She will charm every eligible gentleman because opposed to Mary, she is intrinsically kind and so very amiable. She is easy to love.”

“That’s because she is most like you.” Robert’s statement sounded like a corrupting compliment but his tone wasn’t any less serious than throughout their prior talk.

“Sybil has a much stronger will of her own and is much more innovative than me,” Cora commented matter-of-factly.

“Well, it’s not me either from whom she has her innovatively modern streak.” Robert stirred them down a path they didn’t take very often in the warmer months because it avoided all the flower gardens and beds. But that didn’t matter in October.

“Right, and her stubbornness is also nothing she inherited from you,” Cora gave back sarcastically. Robert didn’t respond to this but with a silent snort.

“But she is sweeter in her stubborn demeanour,” Cora added in a low tone. She watched him from the corner of her eye, gauging his reaction to her taunting comment.

“Hmm, yes, I love you too,” he grumbled in response. His elbow nudged her slightly in the side against her corseted ribs. She chuckled lightly and patted his upper arm placatingly.

They walked together silently for a while. Robert at her side like a windbreaker, not really bothered by her teasing, Cora fell back into pondering. Her throat slowly lost the memory of her chuckle as her darker thoughts about the next London season pushed to the forefront of her mind again.

“I don’t want to let her go, Robert,” she whispered.

Now it was Robert who pulled her hands closer to his arm. His bigger palms covered hers in the crook of his arm. “Sybil won’t go if it isn’t right. She always knew her way, and it will be the same now. And I also know you will support her in what is right for her,” he assured, and his voice became so velvety that Cora wanted to bury her face in the crook of his neck or against his chest. “And I will be there with you.”

“I know you will. And I will make her season the most beautiful for her.”

“Of course, you will.”

Robert’s choice of route for their walk guided them to the edge of the forest that bordered the grounds in the south. A row of nearly scarlet-coloured bushes greeted them from afar. The spectacle of autumnal colours was a real treat on their otherwise by harsh wind and cold temperatures marked walk. As they plodded down the gravely way, mostly parallel to the woods, one shade of brown was relieved by another one and yet another one. Cora tried to link her arm more tightly with Robert’s to fully enjoy the comforting palette of warm hues of the brown leaves in the radiance of his heating body. She didn’t know what comforted her more the warm brown vision in front of her or his body next to her.

“Can we make a short detour into the woods?” she asked after a moment.

“If you wish so. I don’t want to overexert you. The weather can change again in no time,” he gave back.

“It will only be a few steps inside,” Cora assured.

…

Inside the forest Robert let Cora choose the way. Outside he had guided them down the paths as he always did. They had their usual route that he variegated here and there slightly. But Cora seemed determined now to explore the grounds and so he let her take the lead. Robert couldn’t quite tell what criteria affected her choice of paths. But knowing his wife, he assumed she followed where nature looked most inviting. He tried to see the trees around with her eyes. But he mostly saw oaks, beeches, and pine trees. One or two times he had to help her across broken branches that lay on the paths. He assisted her in gathering her skirts since it proved a quite demanding task with one of her arms linked to his.

Cora halted at a minor crossroads. She stood right in a ray of the October sun and looked into the depth of the forest.

“It all looks nearly golden,” she said. With her right hand, she pointed somewhere into the trees. “Look how the bark absorbs the warm light. The sun makes the trees shine.”

“I see,” he said, still searching for the exact point she referred to. The gap in the trees, that let in the light to illuminate the tree bark and Cora, also allowed entrance to the wind. A gust came their way, and it wasn’t only dead leaves that swirled around Robert but also the scent of Cora’s hair and perfume. It was a rather nice experience he wouldn’t have expected out here in the woods.

“I want to feel the wind, Robert,” she said as she looked down the narrowing path into the woods. She had to hold onto her hat because gusts tried to grip and abstract it into the distance. Robert furrowed his brow.

“Don’t you feel it?” he asked a little confused. As she turned her face to him, he noticed her rosy cheeks and nose.

“That’s not exactly what I mean. I want to feel it for real,” Cora explained. Her gloved hands now began fiddling with her hat. Only when she pulled out a long hat pin, Robert realised her intention.

“Could please help me for a moment?” she asked.

“Uhm, sure.” Robert let her arm go to ease her task and waited for further instructions.

“If you would please assist me taking off the hat. We can try to keep my hair at least a little put together.” Robert took hold of the brim of her hat and tried his best at taking it off carefully. Cora in the meanwhile secured her coif with her fingers that pushed underneath the hat slightly and pressed the curls to her head. Robert lifted the grey accessory ever so slowly and handed it to her afterwards.

“I feel like I can breathe again,” Cora sighed relieved. Robert had to chuckle. He could never imagine the nonsensical ideas his dear wife came up with. She shook her head slightly in the wind and instantly a few strands of chocolate brown hair tumbled down. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to experience nature armoured against all its merits with these extensive attires,” she explained a little annoyed. For a brief moment, he could Cora as the young girl she once was before he got to know her, running around freely in the woods and on the beaches in the American home of her childhood. And then, after a few seconds, there was the calm and properly dressed Countess again.

“You would freeze without it,” Robert reminded her.

Cora turned around again, looking into the light forest with her hat clutched to her front. She didn’t respond to his last comment but breathed in the fresh wind. Robert came up behind her. Her curls played in the wind. Her coiffure fell apart more and more, and she looked more enticing with every second. The chocolate curls danced while she stood there unmoving. Only the rise and fall of her shoulders, padded in her thick coat, told of the deep breathes she took and of the deliberate movement of her chest.

Robert approached her until he was able to wrap his arms around her. Tentatively he first rested his palms on her shoulders but he didn’t want to oppress her interaction with the wind. His hands on her waist felt much better anyway. Her hair flew around his face and tickled his cheeks.

Cora took good care, he thought suddenly. Nothing that affected their family, their dear girls, escaped her notice. Nothing that had to be done slipped through her fingers. She secured Sybil the greatest coming out ball and the most enjoyable season, and she looked so closely that Sybil would do well when their daughter would leave their caring arms. Robert needn’t worry about any of the girls’ future. Cora was there and she took care where he could never reach. He just had to give her all the stability and comfort she needed, all the stability and comfort he could give. He pressed his cheek to the side of her head. Her hair was soft at his slightly stubbly cheek, and he probably destroyed her coif even more but the wind had already done its deed so he didn’t really give it much thought. Cora leaned back against his chest so that their breathing of the wind synchronised. She was like a hot water bottle in his arms as the wind blew around them. His back and arms began freezing but Cora was pressed to his front, and he could bury his nose in her brown tresses. Knowing she was there with him gave him all the comfort and warmth he needed right now.

[stars-a-n-d-scars]

10 Days of Summer - Chapter 1

Hi so no one was really seeing this over on ao3 and I worked really hard on it, so I decided to give it a shot over here. The next 9 chapters will be coming soon, so follow me or the tag to see them!

- Mia x

*

It was the hottest summer Buckinghamshire had ever seen. The rolling fields were dusted with the final remnants of spring, as the less-resilient plants wilted and those suited to the sweltering conditions flourished. The sun sat high in the sky for so long that one began to wonder if the night would ever come. Of course, it always did, but was rarely accompanied by any sort of liberation from the fervor.

The only relief to be gleaned from the unnerving sensation of being cooked in your own skin could be found in the cool waters of a large, clear lake that sat beside a homely manor, nestled in the hills of the county. Hidden beneath the outstretched branches of various trees, the lake had been subject to many a morning swim or late-night gathering over the years. It was here, in fact, that the four marauders could be found, on the hottest day of August, 1975.

With Euphemia and Fleamont gone to France for the summer, the boys had taken the opportunity to spend their last 2 weeks at the Potter estate. Of course, James’ parents had been reluctant to let the boys stay there without a set of rules, and so they created a long list of guidelines, all of which the marauders had plans to break before their return to Hogwarts on the 1st of September. It had already been four blissful days of this, and they still had 10 to go when we join the group.

Sprawled in their various positions around the lake, James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew were all basking the shade of the trees, simply taking in this pocket of bliss they had found in a world that was becoming increasingly more war-like with each passing second. The sun was shining overhead and they were with each other. And in that moment, that was all they needed.

The silence was broken with a loud splash, followed by an indignant “OI!” Remus clambered out of the water and up the bank, his eyes fixed on is assailant, vengeance in his expression.

“You fucking moron! I was reading! You could have thrown any one of them into the lake! Merlin knows a good dip would’ve done Peter some good, but no! You had to choose me!” His outburst was cut short when he got close enough to take in Sirius’ expression. His face, far from showing any signs of regret, instead bore his signature Sirius Black smirk. One corner of his mouth was upturned, his nose scrunched in a way that suggested both innocence and the opposite. It was an expression that, on anyone else, would have looked out-of-place and frankly stupid, but that befitted Sirius’ features perfectly. Remus had often marveled at how it drew out his devilishly handsome side.

Having lost his train of thought completely, his wand limp in his hand, Remus decided the best thing to do was to go and find a nice warm patch of sun in which to dry off. Sirius, however, had other plans. Remus had barely taken two steps toward his towel before he was grabbed around the waist and thrown, for the second time that day, headfirst into the water.

Sinking was an enjoyable feeling. Down there, in the water, nothing could hurt you. It was all up to you. Sound became nothing but a detached concept, and time joined it in its alienation. You could sink forever, simply being engulfed by the soft waves of the water, and emerge not a second later. Remus did just that. As his head broke the surface, spluttering, he lashed out wildly and managed to grab hold of an ankle. Pulling hard, the owner of said ankle tumbled into the lake next to him, and Remus soon found himself floating, face to face, with Sirius, once again bearing that ridiculous grin.

As both of the boys tried to catch their breath, time stopped. And it was just them. Remus and Sirius, Sirius and Remus. Floating in that never-ending pool of possibilities. Breaths became heavy as an invisible force seemed to draw them closer, closer.

Their noses were nearly touching now Remus could see every detail of Sirius’ eyes from here. He could almost pinpoint the exact place where blue leaked into grey, which leaked into black. It was strange, really, how anyone’s eyes could be so captivating. Almost a point of curiosity. Eyes had a purpose. They captured light, which was then translated into information, which was then processed by the brain to take in the person’s surroundings. So why did all logic defy Sirius’ eyes to be so beautiful? They had no reason to be. It wasn’t to make it easier to see. It wasn’t to draw in a mate (because merlin, he needed no help with that), so why? Their breath mingled in the moist summer air, their lips inches apart. It was taking every ounce of restraint that Remus had in his not to close the gap and snog his best mate senseless, but then again, that was the norm when you were secretly in love with your best friend.

The tensions was shattered by the snap of a book closing.

“Alright, boys, I’m bored”, James announced, stowing Quidditch Through the Ages in the small bag he had brought down from the house. The boys sprung apart, all nervous coughing and straightening of hair. Remus hurriedly turned his back on his – what, crush? It was more than that. But he knew one thing for certain; now was not the time to figure it out. This was what he told himself as he climbed up the bank and rolled out onto the grass.

In an attempt to restore himself to his former state of nonchalance, Remus rolled his eyes sarcastically (quite successfully, given the situation he was actually thinking about).

“You’re reading that book again? You’ve barely taken your hands off of it all summer!”, he said, pulling Sirius up the bank after him (and definitely not thinking about the sensation of his friend’s warm, wet hand in his).

Sirius grinned. “Aw, lay off him Rem. This is the first year Lily had gotten him a birthday present. Honestly, I would be concerned if he read it any less than a thousand times.”

This comment was met with a playful shove from James, but the lovesick boy couldn’t hide his grin at the recollection of Lily’s favor. James shook the memory from his mind (with difficulty, it seemed).

“I’m bored. Let’s go to town, grab a milkshake or something.”

Sirius, always keen for an outing to the muggle town that was located less than a kilometer from the Potters’ house, agreed almost immediately. Peter followed suit at the mention of food, and began rummaging in his pocket for the stash of muggle money his parents had granted him for the holiday. Remus was somewhat more reluctant.

“I don’t know guys. It’ll be dark soon, and I don’t really want to go walking around a strange village in the middle of the night.”

“It’s not a strange village, Rem! Jamie grew up here!” (The use of the less-than-favorable nickname earned Sirius yet another shove). “Plus… there’s an antiques store. And last time I was there the owner said they’d be getting a new stock of books in this summer.”

“You know me too well”, Remus caved, and packed up his stuff. They went and dropped off their things at the main house, got changed into some town-going clothes and headed for the road that led down into the charming muggle settlement of Padbury.

**

It really was a lovely little town. Old cottages with thatched roofs skirted the border, with carefully-trimmed gardens of heather and honeysuckle. A beautiful old church sat in the town center, with a clock tower and a bell that frankly, shouldn’t still be operational, given it’s age. But, as many things in the town of Padbury, it seemed to be denied the effects of the passage of time, and instead chimed beautiful notes out over the countryside every hour.

The main road took the boys right into the middle of the town, where a collection of stores seemed to be waiting for them. The town square had everything, ranging from mechanics to diners, from supermarkets to florists. And, nestled in between a non-descript restaurant and a lavender-adorned wall, was a beautiful little antique store. Remus made a beeline for it, but was stopped in his tracks by James’ hand on his wrist.

“Come on Remus. Let’s go check out that comic-book store first! I love muggle comics, they’re so corny…”

Remus sighed, knowing that very few people could ever change his friend’s mind, and began to follow him across the street. But fortunately, Sirius was one of the people capable of performing that miraculous feat, and, in that moment, happened to be on Remus’ side.

“C’mon James. Remy doesn’t want to spend hours with you oggling at randos in spandex and getting inspiration for your next move at Evans. You take Pete over to the comic-book store, and Remus and I will go to the antiques shop.” Sirius shot a smile Remus’ way, which managed to both make his heart beat a million miles a second and stop it altogether.

James scoffed. “What do you want with an antique shop?”

“I have to get something for Reggie’s birthday, and he loves old dusty books and things. Plus, I have no desire to spend any amount of time dicussing whether or not Lily would think it was funny if you dressed up as Superman for halloween.”

Without giving James a chance to retort, Sirius dragged Remus back across the street and into the antique store before he even had a chance to register what was going on.

The second they entered the store, the rest of the world fell away. Somehow, the noise of the bustling street outside was silenced, and the only sound that could be heard was the ticking of an ancient grandfather clock that stood in the corner. Remus revolved on the spot, taking in every inch of the sequestered nook that they had just stumbled upon. Ornate carvings of all sorts sat in the windows, varying from animals to sprawling, intricate landscapes. Tapestries and paintings hung on the walls, each a moment of time, perfectly captured and eternalised on canvas. Furniture, bits and pieces and other oddments that had washed up in this place over the years were scattered haphazardly around the room, making for a display of authenticity that, although was now mostly gone from the world, seemed to have survived in this tiny corner of the English countryside. And the books. Oh, the books. They lined ever wall, and were stacked 10 high on shelves. Strewn and slid into every nook and cranny where they would fit. Not in any way categorized, but instead exactly where they were always meant to be. Delicate printings of Jules Verne, Ernest Hemmingway and even Shakespeare were mixed in with books as common as The Very Hungry Caterpillar. Remus closed his eyes and breathed. He breathed in the smell of dust and time. He breathed in the taste of the years these books had seen, the years he might catch a glimpse of between their pages. Be breathed because here, he could.

A soft hand rested on his shoulder and an even softer voice pulled him, somewhat reluctantly, from his reverie.

“Rem?”

Remus opened his eyes. It was Sirius. God, it was always Sirius.

“I’m going to look over here for something for Reggie”, he gestured to the carvings in the windows. “You take your time, okay? We have all day. Hell, we have all summer.”

Remus could do no more than nod as the comfortable weight on his shoulder lifted and he found himself alone again.

**

An hour and a half later, the boys exited the store with more books than anyone could possibly read, and two small, hollow carved flowers that Sirius had plans to enchant so that he could send his brother messages by placing a note inside his, and having it be transported to Regulus’.

They met up with James and Peter in the diner, and ordered four caramel milkshakes. When they came, Sirius whipped out his flask and added a little ‘extra flavour’, as he liked to call it. When the boys had finished their concoctions, they started to head home. However, it was quickly discovered that with the combined weight of Remus’ books, Sirius’ wooden flowers and James’ numerous gifts that he had gotten for Lily (“Maybe we should have gone with him, you know, for impulse control…”), it was going to be all but impossible to walk back to the manor. And so was hatched what was simultaneously the best and worst idea any of the marauders ever had. To rent a motorbike.

All they had to do was walk down to the mechanic down the street and rent one of the bikes they had going. They would only need it for a day, and would bring it back tomorrow. And so, the combined riches of James and Sirius making cost something of a trivial topic, the plan was enacted. The books were placed in a basket on the front, which was lowered so that Sirius could see. James’ takings from the trip were strapped (with slightly excessive security methods) to the back, and the flowers were placed in the side bags. After a few failed attempts at getting the bike started and close calls for the wooden ornaments, Sirius managed to be riding along next to the other boys at a steady pace. It took them no more than 20 minutes to get back home, at which point it occurred to them all that they were wizards, and could have easily bewitched all of the objects to float along beside them as they walked.

The boys ended the night collapsed around the living room fire. James charmed it so that it kept them cool, rather than warm, and Sirius entertained himself by making multi-coloured rainbows blossom from his wand. In the firelight, he looked over at Remus and smiled. Not a smirk, not a grin, a smile. And that smile what all it took for Remus to realise that he was totally and completely done-for. He was in love.

As Sirius went back to blowing bubbles, Remus began to drift off to sleep. The last coherent thought that entered his mind that night was this:

Merlin, it’s going to be a long 10 days.

*

I hope you liked it!!!