#the zine turned out so awesome though seriously!!

[cinnaworm]

my first page for the rwby prism zine - leftover sales are open :]]

[birbleafs]

[fic] A Tragicomedy In Five Acts

Series: Saiki Kusuo no Ψ-nan || The Disastrous Life of Saiki K. Rating: T Genre: Friendship, Humour, Breaking the Fourth Wall Character(s): Akechi Touma, Saiki Kusuo, Saiki Kurumi, Saiki Kuniharu, Saiki Kuusuke Warnings: None, save for the canon-typical shenanigans Summary: Akechi has made a habit of showing up unannounced, uninvited at the Saiki residence. The inevitable "bonding" occurs and Kusuo despairs; the world continues to turn. A/N: A piece I wrote for the Disastrous Life Zine, a charity zine. I wanted to share the uncut version here since I like how it reads more (it's not too different from zine version, though). Leftover sales are currently still live, so here's your last chance to grab some limited items if you had missed the pre-orders earlier! Thanks to the mods & other contributors over at @disastrouslifezine, for all their hard work on this project. Many thanks also to my bro Digi for the awesome beta work and for always being an all-round great pal ❤ Fic can also be read AO3. _______ i. It’s a problem Saiki Kusuo should have—could have—nipped earlier in the bud, when he’d been forced to spend a whole Sunday with Akechi Touma betting on horse-racing. But between Akechi being (begrudgingly) accepted as one of the PK Psychickers to Kusuo having to stop a meteor from slamming into the planet—well, a lot had happened. Akechi had since taken to visiting the Saiki residence at random, with little notice in advance. On his second visit, Mom had invited him in before Kusuo could intervene. If it weren’t for the cupcakes Akechi had brought along—not to mention the terrifying heat of Mom’s demonic glare at the first sign of a protest—Kusuo would have teleported him miles away without hesitation. That’s how Kusuo finds himself now—glowering at Akechi who’s sitting politely in his room and firing a running commentary about nothing and too many things all at once. Resigned, he leans back into his study chair and asks, point-blank: What do you want, Akechi?

“Your mother is lovely as always,” Akechi replies instead, dancing around the question. “I’m grateful she’s gone from remembering me as ‘Pee Boy’ to ‘Kusuo’s Friend Who Only Ever Wets His Pants Occasionally’. Surely that’s a sign we have gotten closer.” It sounds just as terrible as the first—only a simpleton would be okay with that as a defining trait, Kusuo retorts. In any case, we’re hardly more than classmates. So, why are you here again? “I thought you would have realized it by now with your telepathy. But I suppose I can explain it for the sake of the readers!” Akechi beams, holding up a small case in his hand. Don’t just casually break the fourth wall, Kusuo frowns, even as he leans forward for a closer look. Akechi pops the case open and turns towards the game console. “I was recently gifted this game by my cousin, who assured me that, while underrated, it’s still a cult hit among fans. I thought it would be fun to play it together.” Kusuo stares flatly at the title OVERWORKED displayed on the disc as it slides into the console drive, already unimpressed. That is such a blatant rip-off. “Oh, no, it's a completely different game from the one you’re thinking of!” Akechi says. “Here you play as the overworked waiter of a cafe who serves multiple orders at once and takes over the cooking whenever the head chef throws a tantrum and storms right off.” How is that different from OVERC***ED? It is totally OVERC***ED! “Regardless, shall we have a play-off?” Akechi offers the controller to him. “Winner gets this box of cupcakes. I got them from the best pâtisserie in town, which is no easy feat. Why just this morning I left home at the crack of dawn to secure a spot in the queue, and even then, there were already about 30-odd people ahead of me! Who knew it was so popular—A-ah!” Kusuo yanks the controller easily from Akechi’s hand towards him with telekinesis, a glint of determination in his eyes now. Best two out of three levels. Loser also has to leave immediately. Akechi grins knowingly and cracks his knuckles, reaching for the second controller. “You’re quick to assume victory, Kusuo-kun. Very well, then!” Thirty-seven minutes later and Kusuo’s left staring at the final scores, appalled. He would have won if his character hadn’t kept freezing in place and glitching at crucial moments, messing up in the kitchens and sending out wrong orders. How is he always losing to Akechi like this? Clearly the universe is still conspiring against him. “You were so close to beefing my lask score dhoo,” Akechi says shamelessly through a mouthful of strawberry frosting. “And my, deez fupfakes are s’per dhasty!” Are you taunting me now? Kusuo scowls enviously at the cupcake in Akechi’s hand before he huffs, slinking back into his chair. Well, I’ll be staring dejectedly out my window for a bit, so feel free to eat your cupcakes and then leave. But Akechi only laughs then and, to Kusuo’s surprise, moves to place a chocolate cupcake before him. “You’re so melodramatic, Kusuo-kun. I never said the winner can’t share.” ... I guess you didn’t. They spend the rest of the afternoon eating cupcakes. _______ ii. This again? It’s been a month, but Kusuo already feels a sense of gloom settling over him when Akechi steps into the genkan. He would have been fine with leaving Akechi outside blathering away through closed doors for the entire day while he pretended not to be home, but obviously Mom is having none of that. “I’m so glad you’ve been coming over to play with Ku-chan!” she greets cheerfully. “I couldn’t believe it when I first heard, but you and Kusuo are getting along well, huh, Akechi-kun!” Dad says with a sagely nod, looking every bit the part of the morally upright, reliable father. Bold of you to believe such delusional notions of camaraderie, or that you even look the part of an admirable adult, Kusuo comments drily, before turning to leave. “We don’t just get along,” Akechi chimes in reply. “You could even say our friendship is super-califragilisticexpialidocious!” GET OUT. If looks could kill, Kusuo’s current expression is pure genocide. But his parents are already fawning and AH-HYUU-!!-ing at Akechi’s words, tears of joy gushing down their cheeks like an endless waterfall. Kusuo watches in quiet despair as Akechi is readily accepted into their fold with welcomed embraces, a key development in this romantic soap opera. Oi, what’s with the misleading narrative?! We’re not in that kind of fanfic right now! Dad and Akechi hit it off well enough, one thing leads to another, and Kusuo suddenly finds himself roped into playing MECH-O ARENA VR on the WAB station in Dad’s study. Seriously, stop it with the terrible rip-offs of actual games already, Kusuo frowns as he watches Dad’s and Akechi’s characters flitting about on the screen to fight off an incoming attack. “I suppose it’s not very original, is it?” Akechi says, punching the controller buttons in a flurry of movements. “But it’s different enough that we can probably avoid any unwanted copyright lawsuits.” That’s completely beside the point. Dad’s wholly immersed with the game now, so it’s impossible for Kusuo to get rid of Akechi without Dad throwing a childish fuss about losing his new gaming buddy. Not to mention Mom’s uncanny ability to appear with coffee and snacks each time Kusuo had tried to inconspicuously retreat back into his room, all while exuding an ominous aura that effectively dissuaded his need to leave immediately. Good grief—everyone’s being such a pain today, Kusuo sighs, before he finally relents to Mom’s cajoling to team up with her against Dad and Akechi in the final round. He figures it can’t get worse than this anyway. That is, until Kuusuke gets involved. _______ iii. When Kusuo returns home from a quick grocery trip for Mom, he walks into a surprisingly empty living room. He can hear Dad and Kuusuke’s voices from upstairs but for some reason he’s not quite able to perceive the atmosphere within—it’s as if his senses are partially blocked by a cognitive fog with the study engulfed in a dead zone. Must be that prototype “router” Kuusuke had installed in Dad’s study yesterday. Kusuo has zero interest in his brother’s tiresome antics, but is compelled nonetheless to check on them, if only to ensure Kuusuke isn’t playing Mad Scientist and coaxing Dad into yet another deranged human project. He opens the door, nearly lashes out in shock with telekinesis when he sees Akechi staring through the doorway with a creepy, owlish expression. “Oh, were you actually surprised, Kusuo-kun?” Akechi says. “My apologies for frightening you like that.” Kusuo studies the room cautiously, only to realize he’s unable to hear anyone’s thoughts with telepathy. He glares at his brother in suspicion. “Welcome back, little brother!” Kuusuke greets him with a Cheshire grin. “I see you’ve got yourself a new playmate. Hmm? Ah, you must think it strange that I've taken to Akechi-kun so readily.” Strange and highly dubious, Kusuo counters. What are you scheming? “Well, Akechi-kun shows the most potential and capacity for mental growth amongst the lesser primates close to you—” What a disparaging worldview. And stop deflecting! I know you can still understand me. “—So, he may yet make a good test subj—Ah, I mean, a good friend! Interesting specimens tend to gravitate towards you, after all. Though his propensity for peeing sure is troubling, isn’t it? Haha!” You can excuse questionable human experimentations, but you draw the line at incontinence? Kuusuke attempts a nonchalant shrug. “Priorities, amirite?” “But this is amazing, Kuusuke-san,” Akechi says, glancing up in awe at the blinking device on the ceiling. “The telepathy canceller really does block our thoughts efficiently!” “It’s child's play compared to Kusuo’s abilities,” Kuusuke says, seemingly modest, but Kusuo doesn’t miss the devious glint in his eyes when he reaches into his coat pocket to pull out what looks suspiciously like a detonator with a giant red button. “Still, with this, Operation SM☆SH can now finally commence—” Wait, Operation what?? Kuusuke, don’t you dare...! But Kuusuke is already pressing the button, and the study is plunged into darkness as the lights flicker off and the blinds draw shut. Alarmed, Kusuo wrenches the detonator away from Kuusuke’s grip with his telekinesis. What did you just do?! There’s an electronic whirr, a blinding flash, and Kusuo finds himself suddenly staring at a large LCD screen as it emerges from the ceiling. Music blares from overhead speakers as a cinematic opening sequence begins to play. “There you are, Kusuo!” Dad looks up from behind the coffee table where he’d been fiddling with the game console. He adjusts the VR headset over his eyes. “It’s time to finally beat you at SUPER SM☆SH BUDS as payback for last time! HII-YAAAH!!” ... Oh. So it’s just another game. “That’s right!” Kuusuke claps his hands together, blissfully ignoring the heat of Kusuo’s baleful glare. “I heard about your horse-racing bet from Akechi-kun and found this as the best way to even the odds for other types of games.” “The idea came to me while peeing in the shower; to find ways you could play and not get bored easily, Kusuo-kun,” Akechi adds in unnecessary detail. “But I didn’t think Kuusuke-san could actually pull it off.” “Here, Kusuo,” Dad says, waving his controller. “Come choose your character—” But Kusuo’s already teleporting away, fleeing the wretched upheaval within his own home to hide at Cafe Mami for the rest of the day. _______ iv. Akechi corners him after school three weeks later. Kusuo is surprised and unsurprised all at once; he had worn the germanium ring to class, after all, in a bid to avoid spoilers for the direct-to-streaming release movie adaptation of a book he’d been fond of. It’s easy to ignore everyone’s spoilery chatter when it isn’t droning directly into his mind—he’d kept his fingers stuck into  his ears each time class ended, oblivious to the strange looks thrown his way, and had even hidden away in the restroom cubicle during breaks, successfully avoiding any interaction with the usual human nuisances. Until now, that is. “Let’s walk home together, Kusuo-kun!” Akechi calls, jogging after him. I’m suddenly deaf and sound has eluded me, Kusuo deadpans as he breaks into a sprint, determined to leave before Akechi starts blabbing spoilers. “I noticed you weren’t quite yourself today,” Akechi continues, catching up with him.  “And I thought it might have something to do with the ring on your left index finger that you’ve fondled precisely seventeen times throughout the day.” What an awful way to describe it. I didn’t fondle anything. “Perhaps the material of that ring works in the same manner as the telepathy canceller—which would explain why you seemed uncharacteristically skittish today since you’re pretty bad at discerning people’s intentions without your telepathy.” What are you? A psychic? But Akechi only persists. “I realized later that you’d always leave whenever anyone started talking about that new movie on Netfl*x—” Can’t hear now, Kusuo slaps his hands over his ears. Gone horribly deaf. “And I figured it must be that you haven’t watched it yet for some reason, like maybe your home internet is down because your father forgot to pay the bills for three whole months and so it got cut—” How did you even..? Kusuo grimaces. N-nope, not listening! 100% deaf! “I know you don’t have a mobile phone to watch it on either,” Akechi continues. “So, that’s why I wanted to invite you to my house today, to watch it together. Oh, don’t worry, I know absolutely nothing about the movie. In fact, I’d only heard Kaidou-kun screaming out the title just ten minutes ago.” Kusuo pauses then, glancing back at Akechi in hesitance. Akechi only meets his wary gaze with a knowing smirk, and says, “We also have strawberry shortcake in the fridge.” _______ v. I don’t suppose there’s a good reason this time either, Kusuo sighs wearily, closing his book. Still, there’s a glimmer in his eyes; he knows Akechi had come bearing gifts—a selection of coffee jellies topped with cherries and chocolate drizzle. “I’ve made a habit of crashing your place unannounced, haven’t I?” Akechi offers a contrite grin, watching as Kusuo helps himself to a spoonful of jelly. “I do apologize, but whenever I get restless, I find myself wandering here by instinct. Admittedly, I was worried about being a bother, but your mother is always so welcoming at the door despite that dreary, constipated look in your eyes—” You are being a bother. Like a persistent mosquito that thinks it's summer all year round, Kusuo grouses with his Most Annoyed Expression, knowing how ineffectual his Feigning Ignorance Face had become over time. Also, have you graduated from pee references to shitty jokes now? Disgusting. But Akechi takes it all in stride, undeterred by Kusuo’s ugly grimace and acerbic jibes. “—Plus, it’d be considered extremely rude if I didn’t come in after that, and I certainly do not want you to think of me as rude. You’re a friend I hold in high regard, after all. I always have, ever since I found out it was you who saved me from the bullies back then.” The earnestness in Akechi’s words stumps him, if only a little. And though Kusuo is careful to keep his surprise from showing, there’s a part deep down in his not-so-granite heart that feels a touch of warmth at the sentiment. Akechi’s already placing the Scrabble board on the floor, so he misses the ghost of a smile that crosses Kusuo’s lips. Did Akechi honestly think he could beat a psychic at Scrabble too? How naive. “You’re probably thinking how naive I must be, believing I could beat you at a board game with your powers and all,” Akechi notes cheerfully, almost as if he’s a mind-reader himself. Kusuo frowns, slightly disgruntled by the fourth-wall breaking once more and wishes they would give it a rest for once. Overusing a trope gets really tiring, you know? Still, he smiles again as he takes a seat across from Akechi—who is now shuffling the Scrabble chips while nattering away about the history of board games and how the loser would have to give up his share of coffee jelly (as if Kusuo would allow it to come to that again). Two Sunday visits per month only, Kusuo says, lifting several chips into the air with a wave of his hand. If you beat me... I’ll allow it. Akechi’s eyes widen, before he breaks into a playful grin. “Very well, then. May the best man win.” Kusuo only lets out a soft laugh. Perhaps it’s not too late to pick up where they had left off in grade school. —End—

[angelofthequeers]

Salt-Kissed Lips

Disclaimer: I don't own ML.

My contribution to the Leap of Faith zine by @ladrienzine now that we’re allowed to publish our works! It was so awesome to work with everyone involved and it really solidified my love for these blushing dorks!

“Isn’t it fascinating?”

“Father!” Adrien’s heart nearly leaps out of his body through his throat. But when he whirls around, Gabriel Agreste is far from angry.

“I always knew they existed,” the older man says in a hushed voice. His grey-streaked blond hair, madly gleaming cold grey eyes, and pale skin tinged a sickly blue by the light of the gigantic tank are more than enough to give him the look of a mad scientist without the need for some cliché white lab coat. “Everyone called me crazy. But I always knew my Emilie was taken by one of them!”

Adrien’s not exactly sure what to say. Oh, he’s not surprised to see a real mermaid in the flesh; his father’s been obsessed with “the blue tail in the moonlight” that he’d seen just after Emilie’s disappearance for so long that Adrien would’ve been more surprised to find that they didn’t exist. It’s just that he’s never seen Gabriel quite so…unhinged before now.

“They want to take my Emilie?” Gabriel says. “I’ll take one of them! I need to make some phone calls, Adrien. Soon, the whole world will know that these things are real and I’m not crazy! People will stop avoiding you and thinking of you as the crazy man’s son! Take a good look at that thing and know that it’s the reason your mother is gone!”

Once Gabriel’s gone, Adrien turns back to the massive tank that’s part of the marine park in which Gabriel works. The brilliant blue eyes that glare back at him are so full of venom that it’s a wonder they’re not shooting jellyfish barbs at him – wait, can mermaids even do that? Can they speak human languages? Or breathe air? What can they do?

“I’m sorry,” he says. Whether or not she can hear or understand him, he at least needs to make it clear to himself that he’s not his father. The sight of the girl with long dark hair in pigtails, a vivid scarlet tail dotted with black scales, and matching scales across her chest and face, almost like a mask, is like mild indigestion in his gut.

This is wrong. Okay, so Emilie might have been taken by a merperson, and Gabriel’s got every right to be full of grief. But keeping a mermaid prisoner and turning her into an exhibit to be gawked at for the rest of her life? There’s no way Adrien can justify this to himself. The hatred in her eyes isn’t helping, and neither is the fact that…wow, she’s stunning.

Oh no. Does this make Adrien a scaly?

Snap out of it! That’s not important right now!

The seed of a daring idea suddenly sprouts in his mind. Should he dare –?

Gabriel will be furious.

But this is the right thing to do.

But can he disappoint his father?

It’s not like Gabriel’s been much of a father since Emilie’s disappearance. He’s pretty much been raised by Nathalie, his father’s assistant.

He can’t let this happen. If he sits back and lets Gabriel turn this mermaid into an aquarium animal, he’s just as bad as the man that people associate him with. And if there’s one thing he’s not, it’s Gabriel Agreste.

“Hey.” He lightly taps the glass. The mermaid bares her jagged teeth and recoils, her black pigtails billowing around her like seaweed. “I’m gonna get you out, okay?” When she doesn’t seem to comprehend him, he points at himself, then at her, then up at the top of the tank. The hostility fades from her face, replaced with a puzzled frown. “Just hold on.”

Adrien bolts up the stairs out of the room as fast as humanly possible. He can’t be caught – he just can’t – if he’s caught, Gabriel will totally end him – whatever love the man has for his son can’t be any stronger than his rabid obsession with avenging Emilie.

Once Adrien’s outside and at the edge of the tank, he pauses. Is he really going to do this? Betray his father like this? After all these years of searching for the thing that took Emilie…

But this mermaid isn’t to blame. And she’s not a thing. Besides, will Gabriel really just up and be a better father once he’s turned this mermaid into a freak show? Or will he continue to obsess over her and soak up the glory of such a discovery?

Before he can once again doubt himself, Adrien sticks his hand into the tank and splashes, hoping to attract her attention. Once she’s up here, he can grab her and haul her out, smuggle her through the park somehow, down to the beach nearby –

Something grabs his wrist and yanks him into the tank. He yelps, although this is a bad move as his mouth is instantly full of water – he can’t breathe, the mermaid’s eyes are boring into him, he’s gonna be fish food –

He struggles even harder when the mermaid grabs his face. But rather than try and devour him with her terrifying teeth, she wrenches his mouth open and blows bubbles into it. Adrien reflexively swallows…and whoa, he’s not drowning! He can breathe underwater as effortlessly as in air!

“I’m Adrien. What’s your name?” he says to test this, and his voice rings in his head like echolocation in the marine documentaries he loves watching.

“I don’t trust you enough to give you my name. What do you think I should be called?” The mermaid’s voice is melodic, like she’s singing as she talks. It’s a sound that Adrien would gladly record and hoard for himself to listen to again and again; a sound that’s just as beautiful as the girl to whom it belongs.

“Um…” Two strips of red seaweed woven through her pigtails float above her head, almost like antennae, making her resemble a very fishy insect, especially with her wide eyes behind the red scale mask and her black-spotted red tail. “You kind of look like a – a ladybug…”

“Ladybug…” the mermaid says slowly, as though testing the word. “Ladybug. I am Ladybug.” She tilts her head, examining Adrien as though he’s a particularly interesting specimen. Which is ironic, given their positions. “You’re not like the other one. He’s full of hate.”

“I’m sorry about him,” Adrien says. He instinctively reaches out to take one of Ladybug’s pale, red-webbed hands, but stops himself just in time in case touching a mermaid is offensive or uncomfortable for her or something. “He thinks a merperson took my mother years ago. He’s been obsessed with avenging her ever since.”

“We don’t take humans,” Ladybug growls. “Humans beg to come with us. Many of my kind are humans that we saved from their own lives, whether they hated them or were in danger or simply discontent.”

“You think my mum…hated her life?” Adrien tries to wrap his head around this new information. Would Emilie really have gone freely with the merpeople? Left Gabriel? Left…him? Sure, their lives hadn’t been perfect, but no life is, right?

“I don’t know,” Ladybug says. “But if you help me escape, I will gladly share more information with you. I’ve always been fascinated by humans. My friends warned me not to come too close to shore…I should have listened to them…”

“Right! Yeah!” Adrien says. “If I lift you out, I can carry you out of here. There’s a beach just outside here. You can breathe air, right?”

Ladybug smiles and nods. The sight should be terrifying, what with how her sharp teeth are bared like he’s a tasty morsel, but it’s actually kind of cute and makes her look gorgeous, even if the blue tank light is making her appear rather ghostly. Swallowing, he kicks for the surface and emerges into the warm air with a gasp, then hauls himself out of the tank and leans at the edge to dip his hand back in. Ladybug’s head surfaces just a moment later. Now in the natural light of the late afternoon sun, her skin has a rosy glow to it that just enhances her prettiness, and Adrien’s stomach does a flip-flop as he carefully drags her out of the water.

“Thank you, Adrien,” Ladybug says. Adrien takes a moment to adjust her in his grip, shivering at the way her glittery, slippery tail hooks around his arm for extra support. It doesn’t feel earthly, but it also doesn’t feel like the fish he and Gabriel have caught many times before on the rare occasion that Gabriel would spend father-son time with him. Or maybe that was just a way to keep an eye out for mermaids.

“So…you guys “save” humans, right?” Adrien whispers as he stumbles through the building. Thank god that it’s after closing time, so he’s not bumping into people everywhere he turns.

“Yes,” Ladybug says. “We’re not kidnappers. We only take humans of their own free will.”

“Uh…how exactly do you do that? Just constantly blow bubbles in our mouths?”

Ladybug giggles. The sound nearly makes Adrien fall over and cry at the unfairness. How can one person – mermaid – have such a beautiful voice? Maybe Ariel had been truer to life than he’d thought.

“Our kisses have many effects on humans,” she says. “We can entrance them. We can cure them. We can cause disease in them. We can also turn them into one of us.”

“Whoa. Seriously?” Adrien’s brain wants to implode at this overload of information, though thankfully it doesn’t betray him as he carefully pushes the entrance doors open with his shoulder and sets off down the path to the beach. “You can actually make me one of you?”

Ladybug once again regards him with her curious head-tilt. “Would you like that?” she says. “Your father is not a very nice man, is he?”

“He’s doing the best he can,” Adrien says automatically. “He’s still not over Mum’s disappearance.” But even as he says the words, he knows they’re a lie. When’s the last time Gabriel had hugged him? Spoken to him for a purpose other than to issue an order? Spent time with him outside of obsessing over merpeople and dragging Adrien into his vengeful crusade?

And it’s not like anyone else likes Adrien either. When your father’s loony and mermaid-obsessed, people don’t generally see the point in assuming that you’re any better. Crazy by association, he’s been branded. Either that or other mermaid fanatics pester him for information and access to his father.

“The transformation is reversible,” Ladybug says as though reading his mind. Who knows, maybe she can? “If you ever decide that you’re unhappy, you can return to the land. But I wouldn’t be able to associate with you if you chose that. It would be too dangerous for –”

“Adrien! Come back this instant!”

Adrien gasps and ducks behind a thick clump of bushes, praying to every deity above that there’s no sign of them sticking out for Gabriel to see.

“Son! You know how important this is to me!” Now there’s a plea in Gabriel’s voice. “Bring the mermaid back! Do it for your mother!”

But if Ladybug’s right, Emilie would want him to do the exact opposite: to free Ladybug, not take her back to captivity. Squaring his shoulders, Adrien takes a deep breath and then makes a run for it down the sandy trail to the beach. He doesn’t remain unspotted for long; after a few moments, Gabriel shouts his name.

“Bring my mermaid back or you’ll be in more trouble than you could ever imagine!” his father bellows. Adrien’s lungs are burning – his legs are like jelly – he’s fit, sure, but this could be a literal matter of life or death – just a little further, over the soft sand and down the wet, crunchy layer –

The minute his legs hit the waves lapping the shore, Ladybug wriggles and squirms until he loses his grip on her. Although they’re in the shallows and she can’t swim, she’s able to gracefully roll further into the water until the waves catch her and pull her out. Adrien’s heart stops in his chest at the sight of the beautiful mermaid in the light of the setting sun, her tail such a beautiful, deep red and her blue eyes just as piercing as they’d been in the tank.

“Adrien Agreste!” Gabriel’s emerging from the sandy path now. His eyes are wild behind his glasses, and he’s practically frothing at the mouth. Whoops. Adrien is so grounded.

“Adrien!” Ladybug holds out her hand. “Come with me?”

Stay with his fuming father, who’ll probably lock him away for ten years for letting a mermaid go? Who hasn’t even really raised him while obsessing over Ladybug’s kind? Or go with Ladybug, who’d only shown him hostility out of self-preservation and had given him even just a little closure about his mother?

“How can you steal years of work from me?” Gabriel shouts. “Your mother would be ashamed to even call you her son!”

Time seems to stand still as Adrien makes his decision and sprints out into the crashing waves. His hand closes around Ladybug’s just as Gabriel reaches the ocean, and the mermaid grips him tightly and heaves him out until he can’t even touch the bottom.

“Adrien?” Gabriel says. Adrien looks over his shoulder, directly into Gabriel’s eyes.

“My mother would have been proud of me for doing the right thing,” are his final words to Gabriel Agreste before Ladybug tugs him into the orange ocean. When he tries to breathe and gulps in water, he realises that Ladybug’s bubble magic must have worn off…but then she’s cupping his face and kissing him, and all he can do is inhale seawater and kiss back, his eyes fluttering closed, her lips plump and salty…wait, why can’t he kick anymore, why don’t his legs work, how can he breathe so much better than before…

His eyes fly open when Ladybug pulls away. The first thing that catches his eyes is the glimmering black tail that’s replaced his legs, with brilliant green fins instead of feet and green fins up the sides of the tail. Then he looks at his hands and finds green webbing between his fingers, and there are black scales going up his torso diagonally – and there are gills on his neck –

Holy. Heck. He’s a merman. Ladybug had been telling the truth! A melodic giggle escapes the mermaid beside him, and it’s a trip to realise that he can see her clearly despite the growing lack of light.

“You make a very handsome merman, Adrien,” Ladybug says, kissing his cheek. She takes his hand and interlinks their fingers. “Are you ready to go now?”

Adrien looks back towards the shore, where Gabriel’s face can be seen above, twisted in fury and distorted through the water. Then he looks at Ladybug and her shining eyes and pretty smile, and his decision is made.

“Let’s go, Ladybug,” he says.

[thespacenico]

haven’t posted here in a while, so here’s a short klance drabble commissioned by @helloklancee!

twitter | instagram | klancemas zine!

·:*:·ﾟ★ sweet spot ★ﾟ·:*:· - 2.1k word oneshot - getting together - college au

“Keith, I swear to god if you make me kill my boba—” 

“I’m not! I’m just, moving it around a little—stop peeking!” 

“I’m not!” 

“Lance, I can literally see your eyeball right now.” 

Lance closes his eyes and covers them fully with his hand for the second time, heaving an unnecessarily long and overly dramatic sigh. “Why can’t we just drink our bobas! Like normal people. What if I smash the side of “Then I’ll just buy you a new one,” Keith snorts, clearly amused by Lance’s antics. A moment of haphazard shuffling as he adjusts the position of Lance’s cup on the table, and then it stops. “Okay. Go.” 

“This is a terrible idea,” Lance mutters, blindly lifting the straw in his other hand. He hovers uncertainly for a moment, arm fully extended over the table as he relocates it to where he hopes Keith has moved his cup, then swings downward. 

There’s a loud pop! and when Lance doesn’t feel anything spilling over his hand and into his lap, he cautiously peels his hand away from his face, opening one eye to see that his straw has gone straight through the center of his cup’s lid. 

“Ha!” he crows, pumping one fist in the air and laughing gleefully at the incredulous look on Keith’s face. “Nailed it! I told you, they don’t call me ‘Sharpshooter’ for nothing.” 

“No way,” Keith shakes his head, crossing his hands in a time-out motion. “There’s no way—you cheated! You peeked again, didn’t you?” 

Lance sputters. “Wha—no! I did that all by myself, fair and square! Can’t you just appreciate my awesomeness for once?” 

Keith chooses not to respond, instead picking up his own cup and watching Lance through narrowed eyes as he takes a sip. Lance follows suit, squinting as he props his elbows against the table, takes a sip, and promptly chokes on a boba pearl. 

It’s worth it to hear the way that Keith laughs, bright and unabashed throughout the quiet of the shop. 

They’re in the midst of finals week, and technically they should be studying right now, but it’s always nice to get off campus and breathe every once in a while. It’s not unusual for them to go out together; in fact, it’s a pretty regular thing. 

Lance is Keith’s go-to, Keith is Lance’s go-to, meaning that outside of classes and routine schoolwork, they take up almost all of each other’s time. Keith had texted Lance about needing a study break, Lance had mentioned that he’d been craving boba for the past eighteen hours, and the rest is history.

That’s often how it goes. It’s just a little bit infuriating. 

Infuriating, in the sense that Lance has had a big fat crush on Keith since the first semester of their freshman year, and nearly a full year later he still can’t bring himself to make a move. It’s kind of ridiculous, because honestly, what would really change if they were to start dating? 

They’re like a package deal, together nearly every moment that they’re able to be. They go the the cafeteria together, they do homework together, they let each other crash in their dorm rooms—quiznak, they even alternate paying for off-campus outings, considering that they happen so often. 

“People don’t do all that with just anyone,” Hunk has told Lance, time and time and time again. 

Maybe not, but Lance doesn’t take this stuff lightly. He’s not sure he wants to risk what they already have.

They spend a while at the boba shop—longer than they should have—complaining about their professors, giggling through several card games, snapping a few very unflattering pictures of each other sipping on their boba. Lance snags an extra straw from the front counter and sticks one in each nostril, and Keith laughs so hard that he nearly falls out of his chair, which only makes him laugh even harder. 

The trip back to campus is no less lively. They sing their lungs out to A-ha’s “Take On Me,” as is tradition for them, and by the time that Lance is pulling into the parking lot outside Keith’s dorm, his cheeks are flushed with warmth and mouth smiling as they both climb out onto the pavement into the cold. Part of him wishes their night didn’t have to end here, but they both have a lot to do, and together they tend to distract each other, so. It’s probably for the best.

The sun set hours ago, but the moon is bright and full in the sky, the winter air crisp and inviting. Lance shoves his hands in his jacket pockets as Keith slips out of the passenger seat and walks around to the other side, shivering as he zips up his coat. “How are you not freezing? I feel cold just looking at you.” 

“You’re just cold-blooded,” Lance shrugs, and yelps when Keith pokes him sharply in the side, snickering at Lance’s half-hearted pout. “Hey! No one’s keeping you here, just hurry up and go inside if you’re so cold!” 

He can’t tell if he only imagines it or not, but if he didn’t know any better he’d say that Keith’s smile seems to falter slightly, as if the thought of parting with each other bothers him as much as it bothers Lance. “I… yeah,” Keith nods, and Lance finds his own smile wavering when he lowers his gaze to the ground, kicking at a pebble on the sidewalk. “I guess I should get back to studying.”

Lance mentally kicks himself, although he doesn’t even know what he’s kicking himself for. Keith sounds disappointed. Why does he sound disappointed? What has Lance done. What did he do. What was there to be done.

He opens his mouth. Closes it, as he searches for the right words. “Um, yeah. I probably should, too.”

It’s unclear if he’s made things better or worse from the expression that Keith wears when he looks up again, shifting restlessly from one foot to the other. There’s something almost shy about his posture, nervous energy radiating off him in waves as he takes a breath as if to say something, then pauses. He seems anxious, and that makes Lance anxious, because he doesn’t like the thought of being someone who makes Keith anxious.

“Hey, are you okay?” Lance pulls his hands from his pockets but they only hover uselessly at his sides, uncertain. Keith shuffles in place, silent and mostly avoiding eye contact, which is odd and rather concerning since hardly a moment ago everything seemed to be totally normal. Lance’s brow furrows. “Seriously, what’s wrong? You seem kind of—” The rest of his words die on his tongue before he has the chance to utter them, because then Keith quickly steps forward, leans in, and kisses his cheek. 

Lance’s brain sputters. Chokes and fizzles out, just like the new fizzy drink on the boba menu that he had earlier considered and ultimately decided against. He stands very still, frozen to the spot as Keith pulls away just as quickly, cheeks visibly flushed despite only the moonlight and streetlamps to make it out. 

He clears his throat, reaching up to brush a piece of hair behind his ear. “Just, um. Thanks for tonight. I really needed it.” Lance stares at him, speechless, face burning as Keith takes a step back, mumbling. “Good luck with studying. And I’ll—see you tomorrow, I guess.” Then just like that, he turns and starts toward the front doors of the dorm building, leaving Lance standing rigid and flabbergasted on the sidewalk wondering exactly what the heck was in his drink. 

At least, he tried to. Lance doesn’t let him get very far. “What—Keith, wait.” 

Keith stops in his tracks, glancing over his shoulder at where Lance’s fingers have closed around his wrist, then up at Lance. Lance blinks back at him, almost as surprised by himself as Keith seems to be, but he doesn’t back down. For a moment they’re both silent, a thick, heavy tension settling over them. The air is electric, prickling at Lance’s skin and sending a shiver down his spine that he’s barely able to suppress. 

Lance’s heart is racing, beating painfully behind his ribcage as he searches Keith’s face. His gaze is more open and vulnerable than Lance has ever seen it, his expression an apprehensive mix of uncertainty and anticipation, like he’s waiting to see what happens next but is afraid of what that might be. Lance opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out, especially when Keith’s eyes widen ever so slightly, almost too hopeful for Lance’s poor heart to bear.

He makes a split second decision. 

Lance pulls a willing, albeit puzzled Keith back toward him, and kisses him. It takes a rather mortifying, agonizing moment for Keith to kiss back, but when he does, Lance can’t believe they took so long to make this happen. 

Once they get started, Lance can’t imagine ever wanting to stop. Keith’s hands slide up to rest on his shoulder and cup the back of his neck, eagerly pressing against him when Lance gently tugs him closer by the waist. And either Lance moves back or Keith moves forward, because hardly a second later Lance is backed against his car door and gratefully leaning against it, desperate for some kind of support considering how easily his legs have turned to jello.

Keith tastes sweet, which Lance can’t help but think is entirely fitting. It reminds him of all Keith’s favorite drinks, of the coffee he takes to class every morning with too much sugar mixed in, of the candies he always asks Lance to bring back from the store when he gets held up at dinner with his brother. Lance shifts slightly and Keith follows, voicing zero protest as Lance slowly turns them around so it’s Keith backed up against the car instead, fingers tangled in Lance’s hair. 

Every time one of them pulls away the other only drags them back in, noses brushing with every tilt of their jaw, blinking butterfly kisses against each other’s cheeks from the sheer proximity. Lance practically melts at Keith’s touch, humming when he brushes a thumb over his cheekbone, wanting to be closer and closer even though they’re already as close as they can be.

If he wasn’t cold before, then he certainly isn’t cold now. At some point Keith’s arms wind around his neck, one hand pressing between his shoulder blades, and Lance feels like he’s burning but not unpleasantly. 

His hands hover near Keith’s waist, slipping underneath his coat, playing with the hem of his shirt before pressing underneath that as well, settling his fingers over bare skin. And maybe it’s instinctive, or habitual, but Lance finds himself rubbing a single, gentle circle against his hips with his thumbs without thinking, causing Keith to make a small sound in the back of his throat.

He abruptly breaks apart, breath catching in his throat, and Lance immediately withdraws his hands from underneath Keith’s shirt. “Sorry, I—I’m sorry, was that—”

“It’s fine,” Keith rasps, breath hot on Lance’s mouth. He swallows, eyelids fluttering and hands gripping Lance’s shoulders tightly to steady himself. “Just… trying to—process.”

Lance relaxes, shoulders loosening as he slips back underneath his shirt and settles his fingers there. He’s quiet for a moment, eyes fixed on Keith as he tries to catch his breath, letting himself admire everything he’d tried so hard to ignore, way back when: the slope of his nose, the dip of his chin, the faded mark on his cheek from an accident when he was sixteen, even the place at the corner of his mouth where he knows a dimple would be if he were smiling. 

Having Keith this close to him, eyes heavy and cheeks flushed and breathing hotly against his mouth—it hardly feels real, after all this time.  

He lifts one hand to rest against Keith’s cheek without remembering when he ever told it to move. It makes Keith look up at him though, and he finds himself smiling when their eyes meet, tucking a stray piece of hair behind his ear. “You know, now that we got the hard part out of the way, I think now is a pretty good time to tell you that I have a big fat crush on you.” 

Keith laughs breathlessly, gripping the collar of Lance’s jacket. “I should hope so. I have a big fat crush on you, too.”

“How long?” Lance asks, with very thinly veiled curiosity. 

“God, I don’t know. First semester of freshman year?” 

Lance stares at him. “We’re both idiots.” 

Keith doesn’t ask why, only laughs again in agreement and leans forward to kiss him again, a gentle press of his lips against the corner of his mouth. “That’s okay with me.” 

(Needless to say, Lance doesn’t get much studying done that night. And that’s just fine with him.)

[preciousghouls]

excerpt taken from my stony fic for the stony zine application!

It’s a little past two in the dead of the night, but neither Steve nor Tony dare to shut their eyes and go to sleep, still somewhat in disbelief that after everything, they still have each other. They lay together on Tony’s bed, loosely wrapped in each other to avoid applying pressure to the areas where they’re injured, but close enough to feel their partner’s warmth. In a rare moment of peace, Steve recalls a conversation from (not that) long ago.

“I do wonder, at times.”

Tony hums, plucking at a loose string of the bandage around his arm. Steve swats his hand away with a disapproving frown. “About what?”

“Like, what if there weren’t any superpowers involved.”

Tony turns back to look at him, a brow raised. But Steve can tell he’s amused. “Time travelling isn’t crazy enough, now you wanna talk about fiction-like alternative universes? Damn, Rogers. Didn’t know you were such a dreamer.”

“C’mon, Tony,” Steve pulls the man closer to him, setting his head on Tony’s shoulder and closing his eyes. It’s easy to forget the cuts and bruises over his body when he feels like this. At peace.  “Just imagine. If the world was like this from the moment we met.”

Not perfect, of course, but it is perfect, because of the people he’s met. The people he’s had the honor of meeting.

Steve feels the vibrations as Tony hum thoughtfully. “Well, the world wouldn’t be the way it is if I wasn’t who I was. Who I am. I’d say I’m pretty okay with how this universe turned out.”

“Yeah?” He thinks he understands what Tony is trying to say. There are days, really rare ones, where adrenaline is coursing through his veins and he cannot rest, his mind needing to run. Those days are when Steve allow himself to wonder, to imagine what life would’ve been like if he’d woken up in the future to learn that the war is over, he can go and live his life a free man. A common man, as common as he can be, because he’d be the weirdest thing science had ever created, and he would be fine with that.

Tony turns to look at him with those honey chocolate eyes, “Yeah. You’re here with me now, aren’t you?” And he is just so beautiful no invasion could’ve stopped Steve from leaning in for a kiss right then.

They never did tell Steve the cost that comes with war, but now he’s seen. He’s lived through it. And it’s all that experience that has brought him here. He can’t lie and say this is the best outcome, the one his optimistic self has envisioned so long ago, but he’ll take what he can get. And what he can get right now is in his arms, and Steve thinks he’s pretty damn lucky, all things considered.

-

The topic of marriage comes unexpectedly, just two weeks after the battle, as the world is still recovering from its loss. The Avengers (all six of the original team, because they sent the rest on vacation , they aren’t responsible for the beginning nor the end) are forced to ‘get their asses off the field or be put down forcibly’, and Nick Fury is really quite terrifying when he wants to be, so they listen. But things are hard when you’re a superhero - what did you do when you didn’t have a world to save?

Let’s watch a movie, Tony had suggested.

So they sit in the living area, eyes glued to the screen stretching almost 2 metres long, watching The Incredibles, because they can’t deny they’re practically a family by now (also because Steve thinks he will be able to relate to Mr. Incredible, and being Tony’s boyfriend has its advantages, but no one points that out).

“This is such a grossly domestic movie to watch,” Clint mutters fifteen minutes into the film as he shoves chips into his mouth. Nosily, lower lip pushed out in a pout. Like a petulant child. His head is on Bruce’s shoulders, the latter’s hand in his hair, and no one misses the irony of the situation.

Natasha, of course, calls him out on it. She’s sprawled out on the floor, massaging Clint’s calf that he’s spread on the coffee table, legs over Bruce’s. She simply applies more pressure to her ‘massage’, and Clint cries out.

“Nat , what the hell!”

“Shut up and enjoy the movie,” she threatens in a soft tone, a smile curving her lips, neither of which making her any less dangerous. “Or I’ll tell Laura to burn your Lord of the Ring figurine collection.”

He pales almost comically; Steve bites down on his cheeks to stop from breaking into a goofy grin, while on his lap Tony just bursts out laughing. “Jesus Barton, you look ridiculous. I hope you caught an image of that, J.”

“Of course, Sir,” the ever attentive AI answers, tone one of amusement.

“Ah, JARVIS. Ever the efficient one,” Thor praises with a smile. The camera above the TV nods in greeting.

“You’re all ganging up on me!” Clint digs his face into Bruce’s shoulder. “We have the worst team Mom ever .”

Tony takes one exact minute to stop laughing long enough to answer in a mock serious voice, “Careful there, Sonny, or you won’t be invited to our wedding and end up being known as the prodigal son."

Clint just sticks his tongue out, “Like you’d even notice me in my stealth mode. I’ll disguise myself and tell everyone about your sex life!”

“Like my sex life has ever been private,” Tony beams proudly. “But you’ll have no one to tell, because the wedding would be private. Everyone invited would know exactly how awesome we are in the bedroom.”

There’s a collection groan throughout the room and a “Christ, Tony, this is a family friendly movie, we’re lucky Parker isn’t here” from Bruce that Steve almost misses because his heart is thumping so loud, so wild he’s amazed he can still hear them at all.

“Tony,” Steve breathes, because he’s still in disbelief. “You want to get married?”

And Tony seems to get the wrong idea, he still usually does. He stiffens in Steve’s arms, already trying to squirm himself out and away from the couch. “Uh.” Then, softly, “Fuck. You don’t?” Clearing his throat, in a louder voice, “I mean, of course you don’t. That was just a scenario y’know. You don’t have to take it seriously."

“What?” That’s just ridiculous, and Steve pulls Tony into a super hug. He’s gotten better at those, hugs that make them both feel warm and content that don’t actually hurt anyone. “No! I mean, yes! I mean-- I do want to get married. To you, Tony. I want to get married to you. ”

“Oh.” Tony seems to go complete slack upon hearing that, letting himself go limp in Steve’s arms. “Thank fuck. Thought I was gonna be rejected before I could even get out the ring.”

Steve’s grin is ear splitting. “You got me a ring?”

Tony’s red down his neck, and he groans. “Fuck you, Rogers.”

“Any time, Tony.” He means it, hoping his words convey his sincerity.

Judging by the way the entire room (including Tony, though his eyes are bright) groans in unison, Steve thinks himself successful.

-

The wedding is private. There are lesser people here than Steve is used to, but then again, that was before everything went to shit. Compared to the last gathering he’s been around, this is… good. Better than good. It’s his wedding day, after all.

He’s in a suit of Tony’s colors - gold, and red. And Tony, vice versa. At least, he thinks that’s how it works. Steve hasn’t exactly been contributing or giving a say as far as aesthetics are concerned; that’s Tony’s natural element, and Steve’s more than happy to indulge his soon-to-be husband (God, his husband ).

He’s in the waiting room, being ’done up pretty’, and his palms are sweaty and gosh, why is he so nervous ? Sam laughs as he dabs at the beads on his forehead, only for more to take its place.

“Don’t worry, Steve. It’s just you and Tony, and us .”

And when it’s put that way, yeah . Yeah, Sam’s right. It’s a ceremony with just them, the team, the family. They’re here to make something that has been happening… Official. That’s what this is. He clings to that thought.

Steve smiles, squeezing Sam’s wrist once. “Thanks, Sam.”

“Anytime, pal.”

It doesn’t stop Steve from tearing up when Tony walks down the aisle, arm in Rhode’s (there’s no one else more fitting). As he’d suspected, Tony’s in his colours - red, blue, white. Not America’s colors, but his , Steven Grant Roger’s, like how he’s in Tony’s, and not Iron Man’s. Once, they’d been unable to differentiate each other from their alter-egos.

Big man in a suit of armor. Steve had said that, once.

Every special about you came out from a bottle. Tony had shot back, then.

They had been so wrong about each other, and so what if took a war, a snap, sacrifices, years, for them to come to this point? They have so many flaws, but so God help him, Steve will do it all again in a heartbeat.

His eyes fall to Tony’s cufflinks, and he breaks into an almost laugh through his blurring vision. Tony smirks when he sees what Steve’s noticed - the dick shaped cufflinks Tony’d sworn he’d wear. Steve’s own cufflinks are relatively PG; it’s a palette, because art has been the one consistency in his life. And even now, his heart warms that Tony understands.

Rhodes’ own eyes are misty when he passes Tony to Steve with two hard pats to their joined hands. “Take care of my best friend.”

In a choked voice, “I swear.”

“We’re not the vows yet!” Someone shouts, and there’s laughter that resounds within the small hall.

Nick Fury clears his throat, and they repeat the vows. More tears pool at the corner of his eyes when Tony looks him in the eye, and says “I do”, but the tears fall freely when they exchange rings, because the rings were melted and molded from his dog tags, with his carved ‘Tony’ and Tony’s carved ‘Steve’. They kiss, one of the softest exchanges between the two, and their family erupts in cheers.

In a voice Steve thinks is filled with awe and pride, Fury announces, “I now pronounce you husband and husband.”

They part to loud applause, pressing their noses together, breathing each other in. Tony already has a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Hello, Mr. Steve Rogers-Stark.”

Steve smiles, pressing his lips against Tony’s again. “Hello, Mr. Tony Stark-Rogers.”

This is in no way an ending; the second half of their lives has barely begun.

-

The second half of their lives, as one may expect, isn’t all sunshine and rainbows. They stick with the team, reasoning it with ‘They need time to adjust. Just a little longer’ when all it’s really about is that they aren’t ready to part with all this. War has never been their choice, and the world will only ever truly be at peace when something like the Avengers need not exist, but they have found home in each others’ presence, and no one is quite willing to just let go yet.

It takes a little more than a decade before they figure a way to neutralise the effects of the Super Serum. There are risks - there’s always risks in science and experiments - but when they think about the reward and how there’s technically nothing much left to lose, they approach it light-heartedly. And maybe it’s some faraway God who takes pity on them, or maybe Tony’s just that much of a genius (Tony insists on that), but the process is smooth and the effects are immediate.

Steve will never forget Tony’s laugh when he sees the first signs of age catching up to the super soldier in the form of a single wrinkle across his forehead. It’s one of those moments Steve captures in his sketchbook when Tony’s gone to sleep and he knows he won’t be caught in the act. This particular sketchbook is a private one, something Steve hopes he can keep to himself in this world that isn’t quite his.

The team, supportive in a way only they can be, congratulate the couple. They have a party, one lasting two days and three nights, however impossible it may sound. There are no tears as Steve and Tony finally retire from the Avengers team, only smiles and laughter and warmth and love.

They move to a quiet place, off the grid, for retirement. The press do what they do best - they press , but the Avengers have also made some connections with powerful news stations, who convey their blessings and swear to keep reporters off their backs. Steve thinks that’s largely thanks to Pepper, and he thinks Tony knows that too, but that’s just one of the many things they’re content with keeping to themselves.

They adopt two dogs - Steve gets to name one and Tony the other, it’s only fair - and a baby girl. When Tony suggests to name their daughter ‘Morgan’, Steve has to turn away and hold back his tears. Tony doesn’t ask - he knows . Tony always knows. He simply stands there in silent support, because Steve always shares when he is ready to. And he will, even if that time is not now.

-

The nightmares never truly stop. Even now, albeit rarely, Tony dreams of the Chitauri, of the world’s end, of stepping into a battle 87.4% sure that it will be his end. But Steve is always there when Tony wakes, drenched in sweat and gasping for breath. He will hold Tony close, remind Tony who he is, that he’s safe, they’re here and only this is real.

For Steve, well, it’s a little more complicated, seeing as he’s literally a man out of his time, his world now even. And that’s the one thing that truly haunts him. Steve’s never forgotten who he really is. He never lets himself forget that he comes from a different timeline, messed this one up (too, the darkness in his mind adds) with his good intentions, and found his way to Tony (but at what cost?). That the time he has now is stolen, that one day this will all catch up to him.

He never forgets what really happens after New York. Not Ultron, not finding out what Bucky did and keeping the truth from Tony, not the Accords, not Siberia, not the time he spent as a fugitive in Wakanda.

Not the way he felt when the burner phone had rung, the way his stomach lurched at the thought that something was wrong , and hearing Bruce on the other end, telling him that Tony and a wizard had gone to space .

He can never forget the first time he’s had his arms around Tony in two years, looking so thin, hollow, fearful . Can’t forget the hurtful words exchanged, even when (because) the Earth is already damned and there’s nothing left to lose.

The temporary truce five years later.

Tony’s lifeless eyes before Steve can make things right between them again.

“Steve.” Tony’s voice, gentle but firm. Something warm presses against his ear, then again at his neck, his forehead, over his shut lids. Tony.

“Tony?” His voice comes out small, like the sickly boy from Brooklyn who isn’t sure whether he’ll make it through the day. Steve doesn’t dare open his eyes, like he thinks once he does, he’ll find himself alone in a dark alley, and he can’t take that. But Tony is real, or so the voice coaxes, until Steve’s breathing calms.

“Tony,” Steve says again.

“I’m here, Steve,” the answer comes within a heartbeat.

Now that his mind is clearer, Steve realises the sun has long since risen, now high in the sky. They’re both still under the covers, and Tony is spooning him, chest pressed against Steve’s back. His hands clasp Tony’s, toying with his wedding ring.

“I love you.” Not thank you, or I’m sorry, because they’re way past that.

He feels Tony smile. “Good morning to you too, Winghead.”

-

One night, when Tony comes out of Morgan’s bedroom looking somewhat helpless and in awe and so full of love, Steve thinks he knows.

Brown eyes seek out the blue of his own, and Tony is all but whispering, “She told me she loved me 3000 times. My calculations -never wrong, by the way- tells me she loves you maybe 900 times, max? Wow.”

And Steve laughs, because now, he finally understands. He beckons Tony to join him and their two dogs on the couch, cradling him. “It’s not a competition, Tony.”

His husband all but snorts, sinking into Steve’s arms, absent-mindedly stroking the golden retriever’s fur. "Course it isn’t."

They both know Tony will never let any of them live that down, and Steve is more than fine with that.

[zinecuntroll]

3 decades of Queer Women making Herstory through Music

Written for Pink Washed Zine issue #3

by Raquel Silva aka Raquel Smith-Cave

             I turned 30 this year, more precisely last August and it’s also been 12 years since I had my first girlfriend. When I started thinking about my queerness more seriously back in 2005/2006 I quickly realized how it wasn’t that usual for girls to be fascinated by Linda Perry in boxer shorts and combat boots like I was at 5 years old. My mom says 4 Non Blondes “What’s up” was my favorite song back then and she even bought the CD so I could listen to it on repeat and not just wait for the video to magically appear on the TV. Thanks Ma!

              Through my teenage years I had “Baby Can I Hold You” by Tracy Chapman constantly playing in my head. Mind you, I always have a song in my mind and I burst into singing at the most unexpected times, it’s mostly an unconscious act which can be embarrassing in front of people who don’t know me well. Honestly I  don’t care much, it’s just a part of my nature and if I’m not murmuring or humming some melody it usually means there’s something wrong. So at around 15/16 I remember starting to sing the chorus for “But you can say baby…” out of nowhere in school breaks or while walking home. This happened constantly and exactly why my brain was stuck with this melody was a complete mystery to me. Maybe I heard it in passing or on the radio���? I could never find the answer but I did buy Tracy’s self-titled vinyl this year during Record Store Day and discovered it was released exactly 30 years ago. It’s a precious record, her voice is warm and familiar and her guitar is so soothing to the soul. I think I finally answered my teenage self on all that musical haunting.

             Cássia Eller is a Brazilian artist who made the 90s a really wholesome, magical, golden time for every lesbian in love with husky voices. Her hit song “Malandragem” was part of this series called Malhação but I only found out she was the mystical singer behind that iconic childhood tune years after listening to it on the show. She tragically died in 2001 and even after that she still created major impact in society, when her longtime girlfriend won custody of their son, after battling against Cássia’s father who had never cared about his daughter until money was involved. Cássia was a shy person who became a complete lion on stage. Humble and almost too pure to handle the hype. She just wanted to sing to people and exorcise her demons while making others happy. Which she did and so much more. Her legacy is tremendous, as it still resonates with so many of us today and the world hasn’t really witnessed anyone quite as ingenious as her ever since.

               It’s 2007 and I’m watching a live concert in a Portuguese music festival on TV featuring a wild ass singer with the screaming voice of my wildest grrrl dreams. It’s The Gossip! And Beth Ditto is rolling around the stage, singing her lungs out in front of a pretty chill crowd. I wanted to BE THERE. I probably discovered Gossip’s music through CSS who I was obsessed with at the time or probably from watching The L Word. The truth is: the more intrigued I was by the words of this fat, dyke, goddess the more comfortable I felt about my own identity. I was fat for most of my childhood and got bullied for it on a regular basis, just part of being in an all-girls catholic school life I guess. At 13 someone called me “Fufa” which is basically “Dyke” in Portuguese and it was the most traumatic experience ever. Years later I wish I could have thanked the girl who bullied me out of a closet I wasn’t even aware I was in. I don’t believe I was ever in the closet though. Honestly, falling in love with a girl was just as natural as having crushes on boys. It was just another question I had finally found an answer for. Beth Ditto’s pride in her queerness and blatant attraction to butch people while being a proud femme, fat, dyke made me feel represented in a way I hadn’t seen myself before and ok with my own desires. Ditto!

                The first glance of The L Word I watched I didn’t really enjoyed. The image was dark and the plot seemed so tragic. It was Jenny somewhere in the first season. After one year I finally watched the whole 2 or 3 seasons that were out by then. Tegan and Sara play in one episode and are featured in the soundtrack, which I still go back to sometimes to remember really great tunes. What a blessing to have Tegan and Sara guide you through your first acid trip and “coming out of that closet” am I right Dana? (RIP) My love affair with Canadian people started right there with Tegan’s goofiness and Sara’s witty remarks. By 2007 “The Con” came out and became a staple to the LBGTQ+ community. So much so that the band released a special covers album last year, with many queer artists recreating those magnificent songs. In the records that followed their sound was purposefully re directed to more pop melodies which I couldn’t relate to anymore. They did make good use of their huge platform by launching the Tegan and Sara foundation, which fights for LGBTQ girls and women all over the world with the help of some amazing queer people.

                 The other tiny Canadian who owns my heart is Ellen Page. Ever since Juno, my gaydar was just screaming out loud in every direction possible and I’m so happy that she is now able to be herself freely. Just like Juno, my musical top 3 included Patti Smith and Iggy Pop… but not The Runaways. For me it’s actually Nick Cave. I never gave too much attention to The Runaways, though I knew about Joan Jett and her extremely queer badass persona from being a teenager obsessed with punk rock and riot grrrl herstory. Until Kristen Stewart got cast to play Joan for The Runaways movie and I finally listened to their 70s records. I fell in love with Kristen and Dakota’s version of “Dead End Justice” as well as the original. Gaystew was born to play that part. Just last week I saw Bad Reputation, a documentary about Joan’s life with lots of awesome people speaking about how incredible she is, as both a pioneer for women in rock’n roll and an advocate for human and animal rights. At 60 she’s still rocking the fuck out of leather pants, inspiring kids to start bands, making everyone smitten by her confidence and flipping the finger to the all the hypocritical social definitions of gender, sex and music.

                It’s really difficult to write about Janelle Monáe. Not because I don’t have words but mostly because I have too many. Janelle caught my eye and ears with “Tightrope” where she’s prancing around wearing her uniform, as she proudly used to talk about her suit, an homage to her working class parents and Kansas City upbringing. I saw her live at the end of 2010, at a winter festival, where all my other friends went on to watch Sting’s daughter I Blame Coco and I stood front row waiting for Janelle. It was life changing. She danced, jumped, screamed and even painted something into a blank canvas throughout the whole set. Her band was impeccably orchestrated and the show was extremely cinematic, since many of Janelle’s inspirations are from sci-fi movies. Her music is layered and complex just like her personality. Over the years she has been extremely mysterious, one of the things I appreciated the most about her. This year that changed. After much speculation in the media, she said in an interview she’s pansexual, as someone who has had relationships with men and women, that’s how she identifies more comfortably. Above all she’s an artist with a very specific vision and talent, carving the path for Afrofuturism; to create space for black people but especially queer POC to conquer over the systematic racism, lack of opportunities and prejudice in our society. Her new record “Dirty Computer” is the materialization of that evolution, the most “Janelle” album ever. Covering everything from sexual freedom to political issues while using a pop funky beat. Reminiscing one of her heroes, Prince, who became a friend and mentor before passing away in 2016. And all I want for 2019 is to be in the same room as Janelle and take on another voyage dans la lune with all the other androids.

                 Annie Clark has also played around with the idea of being an alien or a cyborg, especially on her self-titled album from 2014. That’s when I saw her live for the time and I had to give into my friend’s obsession with her music. Last year St. Vincent released “Masseduction”, an almost perfect record, in my opinion. The song with the same title is most definitely an anthem for our generation “I can’t turn off what turns me on…” and after a long relationship with model/actress Cara Delevingne or that summer fling with Kristen Stewart, it was clear, Annie is queer. (Pun so intended) While songs like “New York” or “Los Ageless” can be associated to both of those relationships, Annie’s talent as an exquisite guitar player, fearless innovative sounds and unique live shows, have made her the intergalactic rock Goddess of our queer dreams.

                 Widely inspired by Annie Clark is my next musical Queeroe. Mackenzie Scott aka Torres. There’s something about debut albums that I really love and Torres self-titled LP from 2013 is definitely in my top favorites list. It’s really fucking sad music with raw emotion, as you can hear in “Honey”, “Jealousy and I” or “When Winter’s over”. Her second album “Sprinter” showed a very exciting evolution in her sound but it’s “Three Futures” from 2017 that encapsulates Mackenzie’s desire towards experimenting with her sexuality in a more explicit way. As seen in the video for the first single where she takes on gender roles as both feminine and masculine characters who are living the dreadful “American Dream”. Plus the cover picture for that record is her staring at a semi naked woman on a pole, marking 2017 as very gay year for music.      

                Laura Jane Grace’s voice first made waves through my ears because of the collab Against Me! did with Tegan Quin back in 2007 for the single “Borne On The FM Waves Of The Heart”. The song didn’t stick to me that long and although I had heard Against Me! was my kind of band I never took the time to really listen to them. Until 2014, when “Transgender Dysphoria Blues” was released and it rapidly became one of the most important records of my life. I started watching many interviews with Laura Jane about the struggles of coming out as a trans woman in this fucked up world, specifically while being part of the punk scene, where there’s not much space for anything other than toxic masculinity. I related to Laura’s journey and with every single lyrics on “True trans soul rebel” since it felt like the most authentic punk anthem I had heard in a while. I went to their first ever gig in Portugal in 2015 and screamed as much as I could surrounded by my family of misfits, all wearing black and their heart tattoos on their sleeves. I dug into Against Me! discography but other than the single “I was a teenage anarchist” which I already knew, nothing got me hooked as much as “Transgender Dysphoria Blues” did. Laura Jane’s name is very much appropriate, for her Grace is felt through her screams as much as her written words, something I found fascinating while reading her auto biography: “Tranny: Confessions of Punk Rock's Most Infamous Anarchist Sellout”. I loved every page of it, with original diary pieces, she takes us on a wild precious ride from her childhood and family issues to all the drama in the music industry or the tribulations of managing a band in this time and age. There’s really nothing more punk rock than being yourself and Laura Jane does it with so much effortless coolness and Grace.

            I tried not to listen to Courtney Barnett for months. I had seen the hype around her but didn’t feel quite ready to embark in that journey and my queers did I regret it… She played at Primavera Sound Porto in 2015 and I started listening to her on loop only weeks after that. The heartbreaking part is that I was also at that festival. The good part is that she came back in 2016 to another festival in Lisbon and I was there just for her (and Father John Misty). Which felt like the stars had aligned with my musical desires. She’s unapologetically herself but not in the way that you would say so about Cardi B for example. She’s wickedly smart with her words and unexpectedly brutal with her chords, right before she opens her mouth she looks like the sweetest person you will ever meet and after you are transported to her own island, full of genius puns, sarcastic inputs about daily life or the state of the world. My favorite verse is from “Pedestrian at best” and I almost got it tattooed… “Give me all your money and I’ll make some origami honey”. Which to me roughly translates to: Fuck Capitalism! She’s also very open about her long term relationship with her wife and fellow musician Jen Cloher, making them the ultimate indie rock’s queer power couple.

                 2016 was the darkest year of my life. I stopped listening to music for months, stopped sleeping and my panic attacks would strike me even if I was in the middle of a busy street. It was scary to lose myself in such dark thoughts but then one day I listened to Shura’s song “Too shy” and felt like a little bit of me was alive again. Her debut album “Nothing’s real” came out around that time and her lyrics for the title song were exactly what I felt through my depression. In this song she is writing about her own experience with a panic attack that makes you feel like dying. And they do. “Too Shy” is a beautiful tune about unrequited love because you are simply too fucking shy to ever go for it and ask your crush on a date. Being shy and anxious almost always go hand in hand, as an awkward, quiet, weird introvert myself, discovering Shura’s songs and story gave me hope and made me gather the lost pieces of my own identity, leaving all the pain, shame and constant anxiety behind. Music really is medicine for the soul.

                 Julien Baker also has one of the best debut albums I’ve ever heard. Personally, it’s very special because it marks the beginning of my current relationship, as my girlfriend surprised me with Julien’s “Sprained Ankle” vinyl just weeks after we started dating. That vinyl did not leave my record player for the last months of 2016 and whenever I listen to it now, I am instantly transported to that moment in time. I was finally getting back on my feet and everything was falling into place, Julien’s gigantic voice echoed my natural melancholy, embracing my demons with a new found strength.  I’ve seen her twice, both times a very out of body experience and had the pleasure to let her know how much her music has helped me. We hugged, talked and she even has the zine I make (CuntRoll) in her living room table because she likes it so much. She is someone I could definitely see myself hanging out in my group of friends and that’s what I love the most about this new generation of artists, who aren’t trying to be something they’re not for the sake of money or exposure. They embrace who they are and let the world decide if they wanna take it or leave it. And that’s exactly what we need right now, to accept and embrace people for who they are and the art they make. So we can all to the same in our own lives.

                 “Yeah I’ve got it I’m a man now…” are the verses that got stuck with me for weeks after listening to Christine and The Queens single “iT”. Yes, the capital T is on purpose as it represents testosterone, the hormone used by many Trans AFAB people to start the process of becoming more themselves. This androgynous handsome French creature original name is Heloise and since her worldwide success with her first record “Chaleur Humaine” she has shredded so many stereotypes through her music, her dancing and her style. I hate comparing artists but some people call her “ the French Michael Jackson” for a reason. My chin dropped while watching her cover for Beyonce’s “Sorry” which she transformed into her own song like it’s nobody’s business (please go watch it asap). This year she blessed as with her second LP just called “Chris” inviting the world to be a little bit closer to her. Chris is her nickname and presents us with a new image for Heloise, embracing her masculine vibe more than ever before, with short hair, loose clothing and talking proudly about queer issues in many interviews. The video for the single “5 dollars” is the epitome of gender fucking and the reason why I am even gayer now tbh.  (You should watch that also!) The future is genderqueer.

                 I stayed away from the hype of “Girls like Girls” back in 2015 because I’m mostly suspicious of pop artists using gay stories to go with the trend of pink washing, ie Katy Perry “I kissed a girl” is a fucking jam but also really fucking problematic, coming from a cis het white female who has no idea the struggles of being queer. Hayley Kiyoko is most definitely not one of those artists though, as she has slowly but certainly become the Lesbian Jesus we’ve all been praying for. With “Curious” she let us know there’s a new fucking boss in town and she’s so fucking gay. What a time to be alive, 20gayteen is real and we are here to witness it all. Hayley’s not the greatest singer in the world, but she uses the best of her skills to give voice to all the kids who struggled with feeling alienated because they couldn’t fit in anywhere. She creates videos which are more like short stories, where she not only acts, but also writes and directs with her own team, never compromising her vision to tell the stories she wants to tell. Stories that resonate with so many queer people and we all know how important representation is, especially coming from an authentic source. To have such a person in the mainstream is what Tegan and Sara were thriving for a few years ago but the result wasn’t very genuine, something that doesn’t happen with Hayley’s songs. Her album “Expectations” doesn’t have big hits, other than “Feelings and “Curious” but it’s the debut album of someone with a huge potential and vision to take up the space for ourselves to tell our own stories and no one else.

                Linn Da Quebrada is the musical Goddess of the moment. Eloquent, inspiring, caustic, no one is left indifferent after listening to her. And that's exactly what she wants, to leave us on our tiptoes waiting to be carried away by words of pleasure, empowerment, trans feminism and especially so much self-love. Each verse is a lyrical genius clapback in the face of this transphobic, sexist and racist society. Prejudices that kill so many queer people of color in Brazil every year. Her existence is transforming, rewriting the HERSTORY of the world and of her country, through the re-appropriation of funk, where SHE finally gets to be the protagonist of her own story and that courage surpasses linguistic or cultural barriers. In 2017 she released her first album “Pajubá” after a very successful crowdfunding campaign and also has her own documentary called “Bixa Travesty” which has gathered accolades through many film festivals around the world. The song “Bixa Preta” is a fucking iconic anthem for 20gayteen and for all of my maricones family out in the world fighting everyday for our existence to be respected.

We will NEVER be erased.

[esselley]

' "Are we—safe?" Hinata whispered. He hardly cared. Even if danger was imminent, he couldn't have looked away from the sight in front of him.

"Yes," Kageyama said. "They won't notice us. We're not… important enough."

And that made sense, Hinata thought, that they were as insignificant to the moving mountains as they were to the ice itself.'

--

The land is dark and cold, child, so  brave it with a soul that sees its beauty.

Rating: General Audiences Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio Additional Tags: Inspired by Studio Ghibli, Fantasy, Snow and Ice, Enemies to Friends, Bonding, Long Journey, Developing Feelings

I wrote this fic for the HQ Ghibli Zine as a collaboration with @ainu​ and we’re super excited to finally post our pieces! You can read it at the link above on AO3, or here on Tumblr below the cut. And Ainu’s awesome cover art is here!

While the original project is no longer happening as planned, we’re compiling works by all participants over on @hq-ghibli-zine​! Check it out for more Ghibli Goodness <3 (Seriously, everyone’s stuff is magical.)

If enough of a life was spent upon the ice, the cold became its own kind of warmth.

So went the old saying of the people of the ice.

Each tribe across the land, be they wanderers or village dwellers, kept with them one special torch to stave off the cold, one that would always stay bright, and never burn low. The flame could light any kindling, and would only be extinguished if a lesser flame touched it, one not of the sacred fire.

These torches had been lit by the Eternal Flame, located far across the ice. Few dared attempt the long and lonely trek to reach it, but the fire was part of each tribe's long history, and if, by chance, it were to go out, the journey would have to be made as recompense.

But one year, during an annual gathering of the tribes, it happened that two torches were extinguished. And so, as tradition dictated, they must be taken across the ice to bring back the fire again—to the far reaches of the land, into the unknown wilderness.

"How could this have happened?"

The question was directed at two boys, of different tribes, yet currently befallen by the same circumstances: Kageyama, a wanderer, and Hinata, a villager.

They each held the darkened remnants of their tribe's sacred torch, and though both insisted the other was at fault, their stories amounted to the same thing—someone had pushed, someone had shoved, and the torches had fallen, into the enormous bonfire pit of manmade flames that warmed the hall used for tribal gatherings.

Now the nomads and the small fishing village had lost their sacred fires, and there was only one way to reclaim them.

"He'll slow me down," Kageyama said, glaring in Hinata's direction. "He's never even left the village. I can take both torches, and be back within—"

"It is the two of you who doused the Flame," said his elder, "and as you are both of age, it is the two of you who must rekindle it."

And Hinata, whose dream it had always been to see more of the ice than the snowfall across the tops of the village houses, balled his hands into fists and glared right back at Kageyama.

"You'll be trying to keep up with me," he declared.

"Yeah, we'll see about that," Kageyama sneered.

But neither of them had any idea of the journey that lay ahead.

Hinata had thought he understood cold.

He had grown up in it, after all, or so he'd believed. But true cold was different. There were no warm halls out on the wild ice. There were no lit torches, pinpricks of light breaking the blanket of never-ending dark. True cold found his bones, and seeped inside them, with no intent to ever get back out. He couldn't understand something so harsh and unforgiving.

But Kageyama did.

Hinata couldn't help but feel this was because the other boy was so harsh and unforgiving himself. When the wind howled, he would bark rough orders to Hinata, to keep up, to keep moving. This was easier said than done—after barely a day of walking, Hinata's limbs had begun to ache from the unrelenting chill.

The only time they stopped was during the few scant hours of daylight, when it was warm enough they needn't worry about freezing to death from the period of inactivity. The small tent they had barely blocked the wind and the cold. While the sun was up, they could also see far enough through the swirling snow to keep watch.

Kageyama always sat with his wooden bow across his knees, arrow notched, peering out into tundra, or into the forest of tall trees at their backs. Hinata had yet to keep from falling asleep on one of his watches—at the end of every shift, he found himself being woken by Kageyama's furious voice.

Despite the misery, still they kept on.

"I don't want it," Hinata told Kageyama one bleak dawn, when Kageyama rationed out portions of the dry, tough, salted fish they'd been eating for days on end. Today, Hinata could barely stand to look at it.

Kageyama stared at him impassively, and then shrugged. "Suit yourself," he said. "I'll eat your share."

Hinata wrapped his arms around himself and shivered, angrily. They were both partially at fault for being made to cross the ice, yet Kageyama acted like Hinata had dragged them out there himself.

"Still think it's that easy to live out here?" Kageyama asked him.

"I never thought it would be easy," Hinata snapped at him, teeth chattering. His jaw ached, from how hard they clacked together, or else from clenching them in an effort to stop. "I just wanted to know what it was like. What's so wrong with that?"

"I could have done this faster if they hadn't sent you," Kageyama grumbled.

"Well, they did," Hinata said. "And I'm not going anywhere, so you better get used to it." Kageyama blinked at him in surprise and Hinata scowled. He was too tired to argue, but he wasn't going to let Kageyama say whatever he wanted, either. "Give me the fish."

Kageyama raised an eyebrow. "I thought you weren't hungry."

"I'm not," Hinata said, holding out his hand. "But if I don't eat, this'll be harder, won't it?" When Kageyama passed him his food, he bit into it viciously, forcing it down his throat. They finished the meal in silence.

When they began to walk again, it seemed as though Kageyama turned to look over his shoulder in Hinata's direction, more and more. And so, tired as he was, Hinata pushed, and pushed himself, and managed not to fall behind.

Soon, he had grown more used to the pace Kageyama set, and they walked side by side beneath the snowfall.

Then one twilight, as the sun quickly faded from the violet sky, Kageyama woke Hinata before it was time to get moving.

"It's not dark yet," Hinata mumbled, too sleepy and almost warm to be properly angry.

But the next moment he felt a vibration shake the earth beneath his body, and then another, and another—unceasing tremors, and he sat up, suddenly very awake, looking wide-eyed at Kageyama.

Kageyama tugged Hinata up off the ground before he could ask any questions, yanking him through the flap of the tent, to look out across the ice. Hinata clung to his arm, stunned at the sight before him.

"That's…" he stammered, awestruck. "Are those—"

"Icewalkers," Kageyama said softly.

There were massive, four-legged creatures, traversing the ice. Towering over the ground, even taller than the enormous tundra fir trees the tribe felled to create their huge halls back home. Atop each of their heads were bleached white antlers, intricate cages of bone, spanning dozens of feet across, stretching up toward the sky.

Hinata had heard stories of Icewalkers from the elders, but no one could ever agree on a description. But now that he saw them with his own eyes, he knew that the eerie, awe-inspiring sight before him would defy any description anyone could ever give.

Their coats were white, their legs too long and thin compared to the rest of them, though close up they must each have been the size of tree trunks. Their hoof falls were causing the shaking, and a deep, thunderous rumble so low Hinata felt more than heard it, vibrating through his entire body.

"Are we—safe?" Hinata whispered. He hardly cared. Even if danger was imminent, he couldn't have looked away from the sight in front of him.

"Yes," Kageyama said. "They won't notice us. We're not… important enough."

And that made sense, Hinata thought, that they were as insignificant to the moving mountains as they were to the ice itself.

One of them called out into the quiet night. Hinata jumped, clutching Kageyama's arm tighter at the sound of the long, echoing wail. One cry was joined by many, as the other Icewalkers responded, their calls filling the air—some of their moans were high and piercing, where others hummed low like deep horns blowing across the ice. For all their size, their voices were gentle, yet sad. The call made Hinata's heart ache.

"Bet you haven't seen anything like that near the village," Kageyama said. But it wasn't a taunt.

Hinata shook his head slowly. "Do you see them often?" he asked, as they watched the figures continue on across the land. Their immense strides carried them away quickly, though their sheer size made them appear to move incredibly slow.

"No," Kageyama said. "And I've never been this close."

Hinata glanced at him for just a moment—and he saw something as shocking as the sight of the Icewalkers themselves.

Kageyama was smiling. It was small, hard to see, but it was there, and his eyes were bright in the sun's last rays.

Hinata turned back to watch the beasts. "I've never seen anything so amazing," he said softly.

They kept watching until it was too dark to make out even the giant silhouettes, receding on the horizon.

The land was filled with wonders.

Though nothing could hope to top the Icewalkers in Hinata's mind, each day they ventured farther seemed to bring something new and beautiful.

Some nights the sky turned green and purple and incandescent blue, a river of light that wound its way through the stars. Kageyama told Hinata that these were the South Lights, though he had no explanation for them.

Then there was Kageyama himself. After the Icewalkers, his initial abrasive nature had begun to chip away. If Hinata was being generous, he might go so far as to say the other boy had become warmer, though he had odd ways of showing it.

He brought down a small elk with his bow one day during the sunlit hours, and Hinata was roused by the sound of clanging pans and the smell of cooking meat.

"Got lucky," Kageyama said, as Hinata was drawn hypnotically to the small fire and the allure of fresh food. "With all the wind, I wouldn't have been able to hit anything even if I could see through the snow. But it let up today." He was happy, Hinata realized.

"Why didn't we just hunt for one before?" he asked. He wouldn't have complained—he was sick of dried food.

"You're too loud," Kageyama said, shaking his head.

"I am not!" Hinata squawked—loudly. Kageyama looked pointedly at him. Hinata huffed and said, in a quieter voice, "Well, I wouldn't be."

"I don't think that's possible for you," Kageyama fired back. "Why do you think I've only ever seen one while you were sleeping?"

Hinata grumbled. "You could've just gone on your own, then."

"Didn't want to leave you by yourself," Kageyama said, serving up some of the sizzling food on a plate. He seemed not to notice Hinata's surprise following his revelation. "Hinata, eat."

Hinata shoveled the food into his mouth, and burned his tongue. But still: "It's delicious! Thank you!"

Kageyama almost smiled, again.

By the time dusk had fallen, Kageyama had done even more work—cut the meat they hadn't cooked into strips to salt and dry, and skinned the elk's hide and treated the fur, while Hinata watched squeamishly from behind his fingers. Within the next few days, the thick pelt could be worn as a hooded coat for extra warmth.

"You wear it," Kageyama told Hinata bluntly, thrusting it into his chest without looking. "So you quit shivering all the time."

It fit Hinata perfectly, and wearing it made him feel warmer than he had in weeks.

"Can I keep it?" he asked Kageyama. "Even after we get back?"

He needed to ask now, he reasoned. Once they got back, Kageyama would venture back out onto the ice with his people, leaving Hinata behind in the village. The thought made Hinata's stomach feel leaden. He was oddly jealous—partly envious of Kageyama for seeming so much stronger than him, for being able to have more adventures like this one. For while the ice was cold, it was beautiful, too, in its own way.

And he was jealous, too, of the people Kageyama called his tribe, the ones who were born to wander the ice. The ones who knew Kageyama, who would see even more amazing things with him long after Hinata had watched his back disappear into the swirling snow. What did he think of this journey they were taking together? Would he remember it after they'd gone their separate ways? Maybe the sights that seemed so incredible to Hinata weren't special, after all.

Kageyama reached out, tugging the hood down hard over Hinata's eyes. Hinata struggled, futilely, but quieted when he felt a heavy hand land on top of his head.

"I made it for you, didn't I?" Kageyama grunted, and Hinata peeked up at him to see he was resolutely staring out at the ice. "It's yours."

The chill became more bearable than ever before, to Hinata, and the ice no longer as unforgiving. And throughout the silence of the empty wilderness, he wasn't alone. Kageyama was there with him, leading him through it.

Nights on the ice were never truly dark. There may not be torches to light the way, but there were the stars overhead, and the moon, and the ice itself seemed to glow under their light.

Late into one long night, Hinata saw something even brighter dart by under his feet.

Was he imagining things? But there it was again—a small shape, maybe two hands long, gliding its way underneath the ice. Whatever it was glowed a beautiful blue-green, and it was swimming below the surface.

Hinata gasped and dropped to his knees for a closer look, reaching out automatically for Kageyama, to show him, excited by this newest discovery.

"Maybe we're getting closer to the Flame," Kageyama said as he spotted it.

"How do you know?" Hinata asked, crawling along the ice, chasing the little light undulating below him. "What is it?"

"It's a moon fish," Kageyama said. "They only school in warmer waters."

"School? But there's only…" Hinata looked up at him, and saw Kageyama was looking past him, eyes shining blue.

The moon fish suddenly darted back the way it had come, behind them, and Hinata stood and turned, to see a sight that made him gasp.

There must be hundreds of them. Dancing blue flames, racing toward them beneath the ice, light flowing from below, throwing off swooping, dappled patterns wherever they swam. Kageyama reached out to steady Hinata, who stumbled as the shining fish seemed to engulf them, a never-ending stream rushing by below. Hinata chased them farther out onto the ice with a whoop.

"Amazing!" he shouted in glee. "Kageyama, it's amazing!"

"Don't go too far," the other boy called back.

"You come here, then!" Hinata expected Kageyama to ignore him in exasperation as usual. But he didn't. Instead, he listened.

The other boy slowly followed him, and Hinata started to grin, beaming at Kageyama as he moved closer.

"Stop staring," Kageyama said, frowning, though he let Hinata grab his hands to pull him impatiently into the midst of the swimming lights.

"There's nobody else around to stare at," Hinata said.

"There's them," Kageyama said, with a nod down at the moon fish. The school seemed to have settled right below their feet.

Hinata hummed. The moon fish were beautiful, but it was all because of the light they emitted, the same light that played in dips and waves over Kageyama's face, his eyes, the tips of his black hair. So Hinata was still appreciating their spectacle, in a way. But he wondered…

"Is this why you like it out here?" Hinata asked him.

"Like it out where?" Kageyama asked, staring down at the ice and the fish.

"Just, wherever you are," Hinata said. "Is that why you and your tribe are wanderers?"

"I don't… I didn't like it," Kageyama said, after a silence.

This was the last answer Hinata was expecting. "But, all the stuff you know how to do—you're good at it—"

"I have to be to survive," Kageyama said. "But I never…" His frown deepened—not out of anger, but in thought. "I always felt like I was seeing all these things alone, before."

He finally met Hinata's eyes, hesitantly—the fish were beginning to disperse, move on further in their course.

"Oh," Hinata whispered, as the light on them flickered and began to dim, like a bright blue flame finally burning low. "Oh."

"I think I'm starting to like it," Kageyama told him, equally quietly. "Maybe."

"Maybe," Hinata agreed, stepping much, much closer to him. For the warmth.

The days began to pass surprisingly quickly, and eventually, they became aware of seeing something, in the farthest distance across the flat icy landscape. Something different; a lessening of the darkness, though there was no way to tell how far away it was, or its source. But they both knew what it must be, because there were no fires made by man out here in the wild.

They matched it with their own small fire when they stopped to rest, stoking the blaze as high and strong as they could. Now they took their time around the campfire, trading stories—Hinata would talk about what it was like, growing up in the village, clearing the boats of sleet to fish out in the bay. And Kageyama would tell him some of the many things he'd seen in his travels, until Hinata's expression became too wistful. They began to take longer packing up camp, and their pace gradually slowed. But still, every night, the light in the distance became brighter, and clearer, and then took shape.

And one day, they reached it.

It wasn't large. But there were other things that were strange about it, this one single beacon in the darkness. It was set on a pike, a little taller than Kageyama, made of simple wood and wedged into the ice. But the flame, flickering alone in the wide-open tundra, had drawn them to it. Its fiery orange tendrils twined around each other steadily. With no one around to keep it lit, it burned.

"We made it…" Hinata breathed. His quiet voice seemed to carry—the air was very still around the torch, hushed by the fall of snow.

Kageyama pulled his tribe's torch from its wrappings. "Can you even reach?"

Hinata pushed against his shoulder. "Yes! I think."

Kageyama pushed his torch into Hinata's hands, and said, in response to Hinata's startled expression, "Will you light it?"

Wordlessly, Hinata nodded. He stretched up, onto his toes, and Kageyama put one hand on his shoulder to steady him and wrapped the other around Hinata's hand on the torch. And together, they rekindled the blaze.

The Flame jumped, and grew—spread to their torch at the same time it arced high into the sky, flooding the air with heat. And as the light and warmth from the Flame washed over them both, Kageyama turned to look at him, and Hinata beamed back.

"Your torch," Kageyama prompted, after a moment. Hinata, who had almost forgotten about his own, fumbled for it, holding it out for Kageyama to set it alight. They stared at the twin fires burning.

"They seem brighter." Hinata said. "Brighter than before."

"You think so, too?" Kageyama asked, staring up at the new flames.

"Yes," Hinata said, and then he realized. "We can go home."

Kageyama nodded. "You can."

"Oh." Hinata's smile faltered. "I meant…" He could go home. But Kageyama, and his people, only had the ice.

Kageyama stared at him for a long moment. "You know," he said, "if you spent a little more time in the wild… you might start to like it more."

"Maybe I already do," Hinata told him.

Kageyama pushed his torch toward him. "Then you should be the one to give this back to my tribe. Maybe, if you wanted…"

"Could I come with you?" Hinata blurted, and Kageyama seemed relieved that he had understood.

"I think that would be good," Kageyama said, and then added quickly, "for you, I mean. There's… there's a lot you haven't seen yet."

"I want to see everything!" Hinata said, leaning forward so quickly in his excitement that Kageyama had to dodge the torch before it singed his nose.

"No one sees everything," he said. "That would take lifetimes."

Hinata grinned, reaching out to Kageyama. And Kageyama took his hand without hesitation, a small, warm smile on his face.

"I think that's exactly what I'd like," Hinata said.

It would be difficult for the chill to find them now, with their torches held aloft, and their gloved hands holding tightly to each other. The journey ahead might be longer still—but Hinata was excited to find out how warm his life might become, out there on the ice.

--

Your journey isn't done, child, no, and now you've found that other soul to share it.

[little-rose-08]

✨Star Atlas Zine✨

I received my Star Atlas package this week!! I was a little late uploading this since my internet is so bad and I’m trying to figure out how tumblr works.

Edit: Our internet speed was just recently upgraded (thank you mom!!!), so this post was much later than I expected to have posted it. But at least it’s finally posted? I guess? (this is so late, omg)

First off, sorry for the bad image quality. My phone is not that great. igh.

Anyway, the Star Atlas Zine has a few bundles that they offer, and the bundle I purchased was the Voyager Bundle. It Includes 1 physical zine, 3 A5 prints, 2 sticker sheets, and 1 keychain! The pic below is all of them:

Also! The bubble wrap!! It is so pretty! I have a pic of it right here:

(I’ll be saving this beautiful bubble wrap for future scrapbooking purposes)

This zine itself was really pretty! The gold foil on the cover is beautiful, and the art is just precious. Space lovers wearing their pretty, sparkling engagement rings.

I don’t know how much I can show you on this post, but I have a lot of favorites in this zine! Especially Astra Inclinant by @okwtr <3. And the accompanying art by mikkapi is awesome as well! Otabek in a desolate planet, meeting fallen star Yuri is a jam I totally never knew I had. It’s like Treasure Planet meets Star Wars the Force Awakens and Stardust. (I love all these movies so Astra Inclinant was perfect!)

Also, special mention for @tosquinha ‘s art, because you’re the main reason why I purchased this zine. Your art has so much detail that you’re going to be pleasantly surprised by every new thing that you’ll see each time you take a good look. (I loved every bit about the zine in the end, so getting this bundle was a really good call. I’m following every contributor in this zine now, because of this project)

B-612 by badkisser is also a fic that I love and hate at the same time. It is heartbreakingly beautiful, thank you! The short comics paired with it made by @shelliihe was so adorable and charming as well!!

All in all, this is an amazingly cosmic project! and I am over the moon happy with how it turned out!!! For a first zine, that was soo not bad at all. Despite the delays from the crew, the end product was really, extremely good. Thank you to the crew and contributors for all your hard work!

I’ll be adding the crew and moderators below to give thanks and my additional thoughts about their works! :D (and also spoilers maybe? for those who haven’t gotten theirs yet.

@aaaliyaamj Yuuri and Victor on a stargazing date! The sky full of stars and a peek of the Aurora Borealis made your art look so whimsical and calm.

@tybirb This is a movie. This should be turned into a movie. Victor doing whatever it takes to get his Yuuri back, and Yuuri being all smart and resourceful and dramatic doing anything to survive and communicate back to Victor. With love giving them the power and hope to go against all odds and finding each other in the end!!

@babypears Russian Space Scientists Team!! Your art style is so unique and your use of colors and lines are awesome.

@awanqi THE SKY. OMG THE SKY. The use of colors and how you layered them is fantastic! I can almost feel how the wind blows through the image, and the way you drew Victor is beautiful. Is he looking for something? or maybe someone??

@helllodeer This is such an exciting fic!!! This should be a novel!! I’m not so knowledgeable about deep space conspiracies, but your story is so interesting. I searched about the detail that you featured in this story and it’s so appropriate for Victor and so funny for me. I partly believe in aliens, hahaha, because the universe is soooo vast that it is impossible that we are the only intelligent beings occupying it. It may be humans like us, or another versions of us. It maybe exact replicas of us, doing the same things we do, experiencing the same events as us, y’know?? Or maybe beings sooo different from us! There’s just no telling because there’s no evidence against it. So anything is possible!

@gehirnkaefer Why’s Yurio alooone? He looks so lonely! His image of listening to music while staring into space is so solemn. Or maybe he’s just having alone time away from his annoying crewmates? Yurio would totally do that. Your art shows so much emotion and feels so cold, but wonderful nonetheless!

@berrycrisps I’m not very sure if your Victor and Yuuri are aliens or human representations of heavenly bodies, but it’s still soooo good! The golden detailes on their faces are freaking fantastic! God, I hope someone cosplays your art, its is wonderful!

@butleronice Mischievous comet Yurio is *shakes fist* i love it!! Don’t worry Beka, someday you’ll catch that bright star for your own! (Also, Otabek’s glow-in-the-dark undercut is seriously awesome. a fashion icon Otabek.)

@_xarem You made a whole new world with just one page of art!! Fashion icon Otabek makes an appearance once again with a bomber jacket with a Scorpio design. The sky is colorful and whimsical and full of wonderful things!! Yurio in a a dark hoodie is so Yurio, haha, but the colorful background makes him look so soft, along with Beka.

@rollround Bunny Moon King Victor met Astronaut Yuuri and wants to keep him for forever! I guess this is inspired by Japanese Mythology? The colors are so bright and soft, I hope they get their happy ending ;v;

@eimqo Sara and Mila YAAAAAAS Your art style is soft and so adorable!! They’re like models of astronomy-inspired clothing and I AM LIVING FOR IT. Their headdresses are the bomb! I kinda want them for myself :D

@trinketier Chubby Astronaut Yuuri!!!!!! He looks so precious in your art 100000/10 And heavenly body Phichit looks so happy and playful here trying to tour Yuuri around Saturn(?). I kinda wanna join them on the tour!

@princebunbuns your art is so very golden!! Yuuri and Victor dripping gold is fantastic!!

@peggyshrooms’ Yuuri and Otabek portrait is beautiful. The soft colors and the shooting star, I love it. Can I ask from what constellation this is inspired from? If it has one? Thank you!! Despite space being such a dark place, your art has so much light in it that it looks heavenly!!

@winchilsea’s fic “A Long Conversation in Space” features Yuuri and Phichit as heavenly bodies talking about what they are, what they do, what they’re supposed to be, and their past experiences. Most of the phrasing is really deep, I’m not a native English speaker, so this was a little hard for me to read and understand. The use of words is wonderful, nonetheless. But I’ll be honest, this is a fic that I might need to read repeatedly before I see and understand its flow. Which is a great excuse to visit this wonderful zine again and again!

@chronovale Made an art piece where Yuuri and Victor are embracing each other literally wearing the universe! I think they’re both separate galaxies ‘cause they both have stars, planets, and moons in their clothing. But maybe they’re in the same galaxy living within each other’s space! I love it!!

@villainsbynecessity Hikoboshi and Orihime feels!!!! Your Yuuri and Victor, literal star-crossed lovers depiction is so nice!! They’re both really happy in your art, and I’m really happy with this one too :D

@zuoji I’m not very good at astronomy and I barely know any constellation, but I suppose your depiction of Yuuri and Victor are inspired by real constellations? I’m so sorry I know so little ;_; But the art is awesome!! Gladiator Yuuri kneeling before God victor is 👌👌👌

@hatepotion Are these reminiscent of Tarot cards? I also have very limited knowledge about astrology, but if they are, then Yuuri and Victor representing The Sun and The Moon are very accurate! Yuuri the solitary being that seems cold, but in truth, he’s just shy but still the brightest thing in the sky at night. Victor is the sun because people just can’t help it but want to get close to him, but he never lets them too close. But somehow, against all odds and science, these two just can’t keep their hands off each other <3 <3 <3

@maydraws_ Made the art to accompany “A Long Conversation in Space”. The mix of mythic astronomy (is that even real? I don’t know) and traditional Japanese(?) art is wonderful! It’s simple, but the earthy tones and visuals are breathtaking. It really shows Yuuri’s solemnity in the fic and Phichit’s role as his companion.

@elleshivers Are Yurio and Beka supposed to be wearing Filipino pre-colonial inspired clothing?? If so then you did a really good job!! Your art has a mythological feel to it that I just had to think that. The details on their clothing and background are fantastic!

@suppuuri Your art is pure beauty. Yuuri and Victor lovingly gazing at each other before a kiss IS. THE. JAM. Their haloes are great accessories to their pure, true love. I’m tearing up, your art is magnificent ;v;

@insecticidesoap Your short but heartwarming comics is wonderful and brought tears to my eyes! Mama Katsuki is so supportive of her baby Yuuri as an astronaut and it just filled me with warmth and so much love!!

@sparklyfawn *whispers aggresively* Alien Yuuri rescuing lost astronaut Victor!!!!!! Your depiction of alien Yuuri is so creative! And Victor’s pink astronaut suit (and the most beautiful tears in the world) is so awesome. 

@agenderemryspaperart Is this your paper art??? It’s so intricate and detailed and so unique! Do you have a story behind it? I’m guessing your art featured Yuuri and Phichit’s dorm room? Do they have figure skating in your world?? I have so many questions, but your art is still so beautiful! Yuuri in a half-man bun is also 10/10

@roselph Your short comics for “A Minor Victory” captured the fic perfectly! It was such a fun story and your art really fits the characters! Alien Victor is so funny!!

@aluhnim Long-distance relationships are hard. And you showed how strong Yuuri and Victor’s bond is, even though they live countries apart! How they show their support for each other, and promising that things between them will never change no matter how long or how much they are apart. *crying intensifies* 

@aurigaearts It’s so dark!! It’s so realistic though!! How did you do this? This is magnificent! For such a short piece, you did an amazing job delivering so many emotions with Yuuri and Victor. You gave us loneliness and hope and love with just two pages, and that takes talent! Thank you! 

@laurenbaldoart The gang exploring an alient planet with evidence of intelligent life! A movie, I say! Give this art a freaking movie! Phichit with a selfie is a must of course! Haha! Yuuri and Victor is especially sweet outside of Earth <3 <3 <3

@giftwrappingpaper Your fic was so much fun!! One of my favorites, definitely! Alien Victor falling in love at first sight at Yuuri’s true form is awesome. He definitely wasn’t disappointed. Yuuri also lowkey saving the planet earth from alien invasion possible doom is soooo him, hahaha!

@fatimajpeg I hope I got your new tumblr right! Your piece for this zine is incredible! I can feel Yuuri’s loneliness and depression. Bearing the whole of his country on his shoulders is such a huge burden, and you can really see him suffering from it. Your piece was beautiful, thank you.

@banacotta Yuuri, Victor, and Makkachin riding a boat through space! Or during an evening boat date while the starry sky is reflected on the water. This is so idyllic, I want to experience this! Your piece is so calming and such a beautiful scene of just relaxing in each other’s arms while the beautiful night sky frames their peaceful visage.

@haedraulics Astronaut x Astrophysicist/Engineer AU! And they’re engaged! Public displays of affection!! Outerspace wedding proposals!!! First meetings!!!! Everything in your comics is beautiful!!!! I LOVE IT.

@yuuris-piano your compositions are b e a u t i f u l, thank you, so very much 

@miupoke The cover you did for this zine is magnificent! The stardust that surrounded the two, emphasized by the glittering gold foil and the loving gazes made it perfect!

@nuupu The gang in outerspace wearing such fashionable astronaut clothing!! Even in outerspace, these fashion icons never disappoint! Your art is dark, but the details and their facial expressions are clear.

I assume that @roarsharktest @roadhouss​ @krayonela​ made some of the prints and/or sticker sheets? Oh gosh, I hope I did not forget anyone. If I made any mistakes, please tell me!

Thank you so, so much for this project! It has given me so much joy and happiness, and was a great early Christmas present for myself. The crew of @yoispacezine are all wonderful and amazing! Thank you for all your hard work!!! I enjoyed it so much!

[stoppedbuttons]

I'm going to rolling out new blog collections in print, very limited, not POD. Well, not POD for anyone else. Back when Lulu and Createspace started, I really got into it for a while. It was cool to have these precisely designed blog collections. Even when I hated the covers.

But I ran out of enthusiasm. I can't remember why. I used to write about two short movies a week. For at least a year, maybe two. There's some stuff it's pointless to reprint. Or print. More, there's an ego problem. I don't write The Stop Button to be read in a book. Honestly, I don't know what I write it to be read on. But not in a book. Google Reader, probably. What I write the posts to be read on.

Over the last year, I've been doing some different things, making some different kinds of posts. I got the idea to do a collection, following through not just on the zine-y ideas I'd had--but professionally printed, of course, part of it is I like the flash--but also on... well, it was mostly because of the zine-y ideas. But also because I feel a little differently about the new writing. I purposefully edit it. I barely edit the rest. The Stop Button is so not-profiting I turned off the Wordpress Ads because they were ugly and didn't make any money anyway. Except when Wordpress had some kind of major calculating error. Or when they just wanted to hook sucker bloggers like me.

But these pieces I edit. I outline. I consider. I research. I revise. If I'm going to be seriously writing about film, it's more like these things. And not seriously writing for a profit, but just for my own intellectual pursuit. If I'm taking the time to think these posts through, I want to like them. Like them enough to want to have a copy in the john so houseguests are stuck reading what I think about Ed Burns.

Just kidding.

Sort of.

So a collection. I dig the creative design process. The compiling work isn't too bad. I think I can make it work in Pages. Ka-blam is still awesome. I've got it. And then the bug continues into trying to collect the whole site again.

We'll see.

Maybe I just want to have a bitching series of self-published monographs about eclectic movie topics. There's going to be like a five part series--and the Sum Up thing, it's the new longer form--they're quarterly. Because I haven't got enough posts to do it more often. I also can't justify printing stuff no one's going to buy more than four times a year. Ka-blam is very cost-efficient but it's not cheap.

I'm waiting for the first print run. If it looks good enough, I may even dump the idea of a Pages transition from Word. Pages was supposed to have far superior image movement. It has slightly superior image movement.

It is prettier though.

And cleaner.

And less powerful.

So if I'm offering these items for sale--which is part of the concept--and the money supports The Stop Button, what if someone wants to support the site but not get the swag for whatever reason.

A donate button.

Ew.

Reminds me I need to get rid of the Patreon and the "buy me a coffee" link too. Linking links lack big time. I should get rid of everything except Facebook and Twitter. Maybe tomorrow.