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sirendeepity · 3 years ago

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[ Nesand one-shot ]

A/N: before you come at me with pitchforks and torches, ready to burn me at the stake, I'd like to clarify that this is not a romatic/crackship fic. They're both more than happy with their own actual mates and so are we. Also, on this blog we stan and highly support healthy communication (given the characters and the canon events, I'd better say communication of any kind, bUT STILL). I know many would find it weird, but I've often headcanon(n)ed? this as their first step toward a real reconciliation. So there it is, black on white, hoping you'll enjoy reading this much more than I did, writing it (twice, actually, and we can thank my stupidity for that).

W/C: 3.7k

T/W: sexual assault, abuse

“We’re going to have guests very soon,” Feyre announced as soon as Cassian’s ass touched the velvet seat cushion of the couch, Nesta leaning over the arm to his left. When he’d looked at the free spot left in a silent request, she had just waved him off and found her own comfortable seat.

“We received a letter from the Human Queens: they wish to send here one of their newest courtiers to meet with us. They didn’t mention for what reason, exactly,” Rhysand went on, picking up where his mate had left off, “but we’ll take our chances, given the latest events.”

Given the war still looming over Prythian; given what happened with Briallyn, and the powers Nesta lost and found anew; given the threat Koschei and his Fourth Dread Trove represented. They couldn’t allow themselves any failure or misstep, nor miss any given opportunity to gather new information or forge possible alliances.

The unspoken words were everyone’s first thought, Cassian could tell it solely on the look on their faces, but the air was thick and heavy with something else, something more. Something his High Lord and Lady weren’t eager to share.

“What it is?” He asked, looking to the couple standing across the studio.

Rhysand’s gaze hold his own for a few breaths but remained quiet.

It was his High Lady who spoke, her eyes fixed on a pair the perfect reflection of her own, just colder, sharper, “It’s Tomas.”

Cassian could have sworn Nesta’s heart missed a beat. His surely did.

Predatory calm washed over him as every muscle in his body went taut.

He breathed in, then did it again, trying and failing to keep at bay the surging fury already warming his siphons and the whole room with them.

“He’s not setting foot into this fucking Court.” Cassian failed to recognize his own voice, so calm and low despite the rage he was feeling.

Tomas Mandray.

The name wasn’t new to him.

It had left Nesta’s lips only once, but the cold restrain in her voice, the stillness in her very being, and the swallow she had to take after the dismissing “ex-fiance” bullshit told him everything he needed to know. He lived on top of a library filled with priestesses in white robes, after all. Had spent many years there even before he could call it his home, their home. And had learned to read between the lines.

That day he’d seen red like never before. Rhysand’s and Feyre’s voices had snaked in his mind, one after the other, asking what was wrong. He’d ignored both, shutting abruptly his mental shields. Nesta, as it was to be expected, had matched his temper just fine - her cold resolution the only thing that kept him from flying all the way to the human lands to hunt down the son of a bitch and tear him apart with his own bare hands, as if he were nothing more than a mad beast foaming at the mouth, taking down whoever got in his way if necessary. They had never spoken of it again, but his name was inked in his brain like the tattoos on his very skin.

“Who is Tomas?” Mor asked carefully, trying to ease the tension and bringing the conversation back to a common ground - or at least a ground where more than three people understood what was going on.

But Cassian was having none of it. “Someone who’s going to be dead soon enough.” His gaze was fixed on Rhysand, daring him. The High Lord narrowed his eyes at the challenge and his mouth opened to throw back a retort. Nesta beat him to the punch.

“Let him come.” Were her only words, laced with cold indifference. As if it didn’t matter, as if she didn’t care. Fucking lies.

“Are you kidding me?” He turned his face, looking up at her. He knew the fight they had avoided weeks before would’ve come back sooner or later, and if it was going to happen right there and then, under everyone’s attention, then so be it. He wouldn’t back down this time. Nor ever again.

“Drop it, Cassian.” Nesta didn’t even look at him, insisting instead on keeping her eyes down, checking her nails. As if this -him- wasn’t worth the effort.

His hand twitched and he felt his skin prickling like it was too tight for his body. “No, I don’t think I will.” He stood up, unintentionally shoving Nesta’s elbow in the process, and put as much distance as he could between him and- well, everyone.

“You’re making a scene for nothing.” Cassian turned to face her again, only this time she’d deigned to look at him. He almost wished she hadn’t, because what he saw in her eyes… They should’ve been over and done with it, yet there they were. Back on square one, apparently.

No, we’re not, he reminded himself.

“He’s not getting anywhere close to you.” His voice held resolution enough, but he still crossed his arms over his broad chest, ready to take whatever Nesta would throw at him.

If she rolled her eyes once more, Cassian could bet they would pop out of their orbits. He would have grinned at the reaction, at the slight sag of Nesta’s shoulder and the tension released from his own, if it weren’t for the decision yet to be made. How the hell did Tomas even manage to get the Queens’ favor? Not only that, he became their courtier as well.

Nesta’s exhale was loud and heavy as she stood, chin up and all, “We have to let him come here and play his stupid little game.”

“No, we fucking don’t. We refuse. We ask them to send someone else.”

“That’s the whole point! They’re doing it on purpose. They know, Cassian. There’s no other possible explanation. He must have sold them my-” she faltered, regret already shadowing her eyes at the realization of what she’d let slip from her mouth, quickly recovering from her mistake, “our past, and gained something from it. How do you think he caught the Queens’ attention otherwise? Chopping special wood for them? Please.” Nesta scoffed, the anticipation for what was to come painted on her face. “I gave him the power he thinks he has now, and by not agreeing on meeting with him we’re just proving his point: that he has something, that he’s worth something. I’d rather die than giving him the satisfaction.”

Gods.

She was standing a breath away from him now, and Cassian had to remind himself that he was, indeed, still mad about the whole Tomas situation and that they were, indeed, still in a room full of people.

That was the reason why their fights never lasted until the morning of the day after.

He’d taught her how to wield a sword, among many other weapons, but they did little compared to what her steel-will and that wicked mouth of hers were able to do. Places and situations like the one they were in - that was the battlefield she belonged to. And she was every inch a conquering Queen, posed and ready to guide her one-woman-army into war.

He forced his lips not to bend upward in a smirk, not to show his pride, the awe toward the female he had the honor to call mate and wife. Instead, Cassian dismissed her entirely, turning his attention toward Rhysand and Feyre instead, watching and listening intentionally like everyone else, clearly entertained. “Do you remember the days off I always refused to take? I do now. And so does she.”

Nesta tilted her head, narrowing her eyes at him. She was pissed. She was very, very pissed.

* * *

Nesta blinked away the recent memories of the day.

They managed to found an agreement - of which she was still bitter about - and moved on. The flight back home had been quiet, but as soon as they’d landed and she had glanced at Cassian’s expression, everything went downhill. Or uphill, it depended on the point of view.

He’d worn that insufferable smirk like a medal, and she’d wanted nothing more than to erase the smugness from his face. Either by fucking his brain out or kicking him in the balls. The second option, tho, would’ve given her immense but temporary joy, and it wouldn’t advantage her in the long run. So she’d gone for the first one instead.

They’d both ignored Azriel’s unnervingly kind request of keeping their business out of the dining room, at least. And the things Cassian had whispered against her ear, as she’d laid bare and writhing and begging-

Stop, Nesta.

Hours have passed since then, Cassian and Azriel both long gone - something was not quite right in Illyria if the Shadowsinger had to leave as well. She’d planned to ask Gwyn to keep her company but ended up doing otherwise, also because she knew a specific someone would have knocked at her door, sooner or later. Asking right away for an explanation, or pretending to “just talk” while trying to carve the truth out of her.

Who she sensed wasn’t exactly on her list of suspects.

She shut the book resting on her lap, standing and quickly reaching the door of the private library.

And there he was, the High Lord of the Night Court. In the middle of her hallway, his hands already tucked in the pockets of his finely made black pants and an expression she struggled to decipher on his face.

He just… Stood there, looking at her. She didn’t move, didn’t balk from his violet eyes, only stared back. And then she acted.

She closed the door at her back and headed for the stairs, hoping he would understand her silent invitation. He did, thankfully, and they walked in silence for a few minutes, climbing step after step. Once she reached the upper level of the House, she went straight for the wider balcony, where two wooden lounge-chair awaited, each one with a thin wool blanket. It wasn’t so far into the night to be needing them yet, but Nesta had no idea how long her brother-in-law planned to stay.

She took a seat, looking up at the stars already visible in the darkness above their heads, waiting for Rhysand to join her.

That he did not, choosing to stand instead. She couldn’t see him from where she was without twisting, and that realization settled something restless in her chest. That told Nesta they’d both end up needing the covers sooner than expected, and not because of the chilly air of the night.

“I didn’t know you went to the Wall for Feyre,” Rhysand said, finally breaking the silence. He had asked, then.

“She’s my sister.” They’ve laid down their weapons since Nyx’s birth, yet Nesta still found it hard to keep the harshness at bay when speaking to certain members of the family. But she was trying, at least, at that was still something.

“Not many expected you to do so, given the risks.” His voice was low, distant, like that was not at all the reason why he was there.

Because it’s not, Nesta reminded herself.

“Not even Feyre , apparently.”

She knew where Rhysand wanted to carefully lead the conversation without any spiteful retort getting in the way, but she kinda missed his word games and provocations, all made just for her to expose her neck so he could hit, aiming straight for the jugular. So Nesta got in his way, making sure their current conversation came to an end, and waited for his next attack. But Rhysand didn’t reply, so she waited some more, and more, and more. To Hell with him.

“Say it,” Nesta snapped. He clearly wasn’t in the mood for playing games, so there was no point in keeping this one going.

“What’s with him?”

There it was.

She knew it was coming - she literally asked for it, yet she found no words, no answers.

It was like she didn’t want to find the answers. Because saying the words out loud, Nesta knew, was admitting once and for all that it had happened. That it had been real, and not just a very vivid nightmare. One of her worst.

Her stare was fixed on the golden capital, lit by fires she knew burned until the first lights of dawn - and sometimes even after. Yet it was not light what Nesta saw.

It was the brown and the green of the trees; the pale, dirty skin of the hands tightly wrapped around her wrists, tearing at her dress, greedy for something that wasn’t theirs. Nesta flinched at the creaking sound near her, from the lounge chair Rhysand was now sitting on. He took his time to make himself comfortable, legs sprawled before him and ankles crossed; one arm resting on his lap as the other went behind his head, to give support. She watched it all under furrowed brows.

“The 50 years I spent Under the Mountain had been the worst of my entire life - and I’d lived a very long life. I’d made a lot of mistakes in the past, hurt a lot of people. Amarantha… She made sure I paid for all of it.”

He wasn’t looking at her, but at the glittering sky above, counting the little dots piercing through the dark. The same ones, she supposed, he hadn’t been able to see for so many years. Nesta suspected it was not stars what his eyes were beholding, as well. She looked away, too.

“I had to please her, to warm her bed every night, to pretend I was enjoying myself just as much as she was. Only she was not. What she truly enjoyed was the pain she knew I was feeling. The disgust. Amarantha’s whore. That’s who I was, who I had to be. That was the punishment I deserved.” Rhysand fell silent again, not turning or looking for a reaction, an expression. Never meeting her gaze as less and less time passed between a blink and the next.

Nesta inhaled quietly, feeling the weight of what her brother-in-law just told her. She was supposed to say something, that she knew, but what? Did the right words even exist? She could try to find them, at least.

“Did Tomas… Is he your Amarantha?”

She should have tried faster.

Breathe in, then let it go.

“No-not really. But he got close.”

It was her turn to look up, the stars now way more than before, and let them hear her secret. “I asked him. I made up an excuse and asked him first - to come to the Wall. He said no, of course, and laughed at me, calling me crazy. He said that if Feyre had been stupid enough to get through the Wall, to the Fae, then she clearly wasn’t worth the risks. He wasn’t even done talking when I decided that it was over, so I let him know. And when it was my time to say no he just… He didn’t care. At all. I managed to run away before he could… ” The words died out, stuck in her throat.

Almost five years had passed and yet she couldn’t bring herself to say his name without feeling sick. Maybe, one day, when she stopped pretending not to be affected by all that had happened, she would. She would say his name loud and clear, without fear, or nausea, or cold sweat. But for now, she would keep it hidden in the darkest part of her mind, hoping to just forget about it - about him.

“Who knows about it?” Rhysand asked, his voice leading her back to the present moment.

“You, me, him, and the stars.” Her answer was vague enough that, if she were him, she would’ve been fairly annoyed by it. Rhysand, apparently, was not. He was surprised by something else. “Wait- You didn’t tell Cassian?”

“I did not. The thing is: he knows, yet he doesn’t.”

In that moment, Nesta swore she could hear the gears turning in Rhysand’s mind as he said, “I think you lost me here.”

“When he first came into my house, back into the human lands, to dispatch the letters to the Queens, it took him all of one look at me to know that something -someone- had happened to me,” she said, recalling the memories of that day. How he had tempted and teased her; how she had played along, convincing herself she didn’t want to know how warm and soft and sure his skin felt under her touch, how tight his arms could held her. Ah, that damned day. “We never had an open conversation about him, but by now he must’ve already connected the dots and came to the same conclusion on his own.”

“You should tell him nonetheless,” Rhys went on. His tone was no longer the low, deep rumble of words it was before. Now it was even, at least. “He’s your mate, your husband. He cares about you more than life itself.”

“I know.” She really did. He made sure never to miss the chance to remind her, that tongue of his working its way around her in more ways than one. Yet, no matter how sure and light her heart felt, Nesta couldn’t bring herself to do it. “But I also know that it would destroy him - the rage, and the grief. The guilt. And I don’t think I can survive the look in his eyes, knowing that I’m the cause of his pain.”

Many times now she had debated whether to tell him or not. Every scenario ended the same moment she started picturing the shift in his eyes, the hazel turning dark and hard as rock, the predatory stillness of his form.

Many times now she hadn’t been able to look at his husband’s face for more than a few seconds.

Nesta’s voice had created a veil of silence between them, and Nesta’s voice had also been the knife that cut it open, as she shared her curiosity by asking, “Did you? Told them about what happened, I mean.”

The High Lord took a deep breath, “No, I didn’t, either.”

The eyebrow raise had been an automatic reflex. The pointed look? Not so much.

“You should, they’re your family.” Her words were honest, but she knew the turn the conversation was taking would end with both of them running toward the end of a cliff, jumping face-first into what awaited underneath.

Amusement shone in Rhysand’s eyes when he turned to face her. “How the tables have turned. Correct me if I’m wrong, but they’re your family, too.”

End reached.

“It’s not the same thing,” she huffed out, a loud exhale covering and muffling her words. Nesta knew the words she was willingly cutting out were a hard pill to swallow, but they still rang true to her heart.

They were not her family. Not in the way she imagined or wanted her family to be.

In her head, she wouldn’t have to hide or be ashamed of who she truly was; in her head, she wouldn’t have to give herself a pep-talk before meeting them for more than the brief, occasional rendezvous; in her head, she wouldn’t have to beg on her knees or save multiple lives at once to be forgiven.

Still, it didn’t mean they could never become one, someday. She was sure as hell willing to try. “They’ve been your family for 500 years. I can call them that since just a few months.”

Rhysand stared at her for very, very long seconds. She almost believed he was reading her soul. Almost.

One more and we’ll find out if red and violet are a match after I’ve stuck my fingers in your eyes, she thought.

You’re funny, Archeron.

She’d opened her mental shields just long enough for him to read her thought and give it an answer. A sarcastic one, even better. They were closed shut the second after.

“Still,” he stated, maybe a bit too loudly than necessary, bringing the conversation back outside their minds, “They are. We are.”

It was like they were switching turns, because this time it was Nesta who stared, head slightly tilted, letting the daemati in front of her picking up her train of thought even without strolling around in her mind. The slightest twitch of his dark brows told her he knew.

“So, you mean to tell me, that you find just and fair for me to tell them about what happened with Tomas, but not you opening up about Amarantha?”

Nesta didn’t need an answer. His hardly repressed eye-roll and the way he had to dart his eyes around, just enough to hide the annoyance at her -very fair, if she may add- point, were more than enough. “That’s what I thought, too.”

“Okay,” all Rhysand’s attentions were on her in an instant, a new intent lighting up his eyes,” let’s make a deal, then.”

Fuck.

“I will tell them about Amarantha,” Rhysand went on, clearly pleased with himself for the discomfort he was causing to her, “Only if you do the same about Tomas. With your sisters, at least.”

And Cassian.

The name never left his lips, yet it couldn’t have been louder.

Nesta added him to the list, anyway - in fact, she put him first.

What caught her attention the most, tho, had been the fact that Rhysand had been ready to put so much of himself, of what he’d been through, at stake. For her.

Nesta shifted in her seat, not stomaching the starlight violet any longer. She felt Night caressing her mental shields, purring, asking to get in. She let it.

You’re worth the risks.

She turned, the bones in her neck cracking with the fast motion, and stared speechless at Rhysand. She’d let him in her mind, yet the voice wasn’t there.

He’d said those words out loud, had made sure the stars heard them too.

Nesta filled her lungs with cold air, trying to recollect herself at best as she could and displaying self-control, or at least pretending she still had some.

“They’re going to send us their therapists’ receipt,” Nesta finally commented with a newfound lightness in her tone. She surprised herself with the swiftness with which she’d jumped between emotions that seemed so far away from one another.

The soft chuckle he gave in return was as much as she would get. That night was not for deep, belly laughs. That night was for healing what others had broken. To build anew.

taglist: @thewayshedreamed @bookstantrash @letstakethedawn @sayosdreams @starksravings @julemmaes @moodymelanist @duskandstarlight @iddragyouwithme @perseusannabeth

#dee writes #nesand #nesta archeron #nesta x rhysand #rhysand #broship #nesand broship #post acosf

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dinogoofy · 3 years ago

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Day 12- Mummy

Ok ok I know it's super late but BEAR WITH ME. Not my favorite fic either but I'm getting the hang of it again

Pairing: Rain/F!reader (Romantic)

Warnings: maybe a little Non-con kissing, mentions of death.

Word count: 870

The tomb was in great condition when you found it. It had never been found, never been intruded upon, never been disturbed. That being said, you were excited about the new discovery, but beyond nervous about what could come from it.

Even with you treading carefully around, only taking photos and analyzing the past, rumors of a curse still stood at the back of your mind. Commons sense from being an archeologist for years combats that thought, but the deeper you went into the tomb, the more the air started to change.

You had to ignore it for now, and eventually, throughout the twists and turns of the halls that were frozen in time, you came upon the architectural and archeological masterpiece of the whole site.

The sarcophagus sat front and center, guided in gold and beautiful gemstones. It was surrounded by wealth, gold, pearls, rubies. Anything you could think of. Gods, this room was a historical treasure trove.

Snapping a quick picture of the full room, you move to the walls. Lines and lines of an ancient language remained perfectly preserved, and you can't help but squeal a little bit. It was easy to read after all your years of study, but it did take some time to get right.

"R… Rain. Oh, his name then?" You chuckled, crouching down for a better look. "You must've been a very important man, sir. Seems your people believed you were a god." You mumbled without thinking. Step back to snap another photo, and turn back to the sarcophagus when you finish.

You almost don't notice it at first. Either by luck or ignorance, but a creeping fear starts in your cheats when you see that the sarcophagus has been fully opened. It had been closed before.

A chill runs up your spine when you back up and into something cold, and for the life of you you pray it's a wall. A moving wall. That had definitely not been there before.

"I can't believe you were able to read that. You're much smarter than the other "scientists" that have broken in." A scream is ripped from your throat, and your flashlight falls to the ground, your camera was thankfully held safe by your neck strap. In your scramble to get away, you trip over the light, but a pair of cold, cold arms catches you before you fall down completely. You hold your eyes closed tight.

"Nononono, this can't be happening." The rumbling voice above you chuckles, and you freeze, almost unable to move in fear.

"Archeologists like you fall into this trap every year. Did you seriously think the tomb had gone completely undisturbed? Not a soul that has approached this place has survived. But at least you've been respectful." You're trembling now. Oh God. Oh God. You should've thought about the curse. You should've left, and never returned. This was such a bad idea.

The cold fellow stands you back up, but you keep your eyes closed, waiting for death to surely approach. But it doesn't come. Cold fingers lift your head.

"Open your eyes, love. I'm not a complete corpse." The strange word choice makes you stifle a gasp, and reluctantly you open your eyes, clutching your camera tightly.

Whoever had crawled out if that sarcophagus was… beautiful. He was dressed in fine clothes more elegant that even the most precious items in this room, covered in gold jewelry and gemstones. Amused eyes stare into your own, and suddenly you feel a sense of deja-vu was over you.

"You… you seem very familiar." Rain laughs, stepping closer to you.

"As I should. It's funny how fate tends to bring us together like this." You furrow your brows, confused. His hand moves from your chin to your cheek, blessing his thumb to your temple. He starts to lean in, and you attempt to move away. What was going on?! He keeps you firmly in place with an arm wrapped around your waist however.

His lips press against yours and with them come lifetimes of memories. The two of you are alive, together in secret despite the despair of the court. Then, you are gone. Killed and left to rot in the river. A quick glimpse of how he found you.

And again, himself, locked into his tomb. You approach, as a young woman curious about the past rulers, bringing food and offerings with you. You die of old age, in his arms this time.

Another one, the Elizabethan Era. Wife of an archeologist, history ignorant to your own discoveries. A glimpse of you finding him, just like this. And another glimpse of your death by the hands of your husband who had gone mad due to one of the many curses in this place.

And then there's now. Pictures of the person he glimpsed before the realization of who you were when you tripped.

When he pulls back, your eyes are wide open in shock. He cups your face in both hands, gently stroking as you calm down.

"I… I don't even know what to say." You whisper. He smiles at you, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.

"Then don't speak. Just stay for a bit. Please."

#mortal kombat #rain x reader #mk rain #mk reader insert #mk imagine #mk x reader #mortal kombat imagines #mortal kombat x reader #mortal combat Halloween

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lilydalexf · 4 years ago

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Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with tatooedlaura (Laura Sprys)

Laura has 28 fics at Gossamer, but the big treasure trove of her stories is at AO3, where she has 193 fics. Thank goodness for the richness of the X-Files and for talented, creative people like Laura who can find so many interesting ways to tell tales in the show’s universe. Big thanks to Laura for doing this interview.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)?

Maybe reading mine but reading older fic in general is something I still do and something I still find entertaining. I do wish i could get into my old fics and post a warning that some of those were written before the author: ever had a drink, ever had sex, ever had a boyfriend, ever lived on her own, ever had a real job, or ever experienced much of anything in the real world.

Then again, fanfic is a perfect time capsule for the age and it’s always fun to see where the originals started and how they’ve grown.

What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it?

Back in the day and up and through today, it has always been a fun experience. From it, I’ve learned to love writing. I’ve learned that fans are crazy, weird, wonderful, generous, talented, committed, passionate, and imaginative. In a fandom, you can think whatever you wish and write about anything you like and because I’ve been around so long, I’ve gotten to watch the storylines shift and the relationships change ...

Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)?

Originally, I never had much interaction with people other than ones who sent emails commenting on my fanfic … the internet at my parents house was dial-up and I had to access through the AOL free disks that arrived in the mail so, for the most part, I didn’t have the bandwidth or the connection speed to do more than upload stories and download episode guides.

Good lord, I remember submitting a story and having to wait upwards of two days to two weeks before the new batch of stories was posted ... then ephemeral came around and you could actually have your story up in under a day ... all ya'll who started on tumblr and ao3, you have it great, let me tell you :)

One thing that stands out in my mind still (and I’m still friends with her on Facebook) was a woman from western Canada who I stumbled across somewhere while looking for the blooper reels. She offered to send me her copies on VHS for my collection. I don’t think she asked for payment and one day, a package arrived from a lovely woman near Lethbridge, bloopers playable, tapes labeled in clear printing. I still appreciate that 20 some odd years later :)

What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general?

Fandoms are crazy places. Tread lightly at first but enjoy what you want, ignore what you don’t, rewrite what you hate, and write what you love. Don’t be an asshole when you don’t agree with someone … when you do, tell them …

What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show?

I was on board from the first episode. It was a show about two people who you felt were destined to be together but weren’t, and wouldn’t be for years. It was a cop show about aliens and a monster show with cops. I was in the right place at the right time in the right frame of mind and there was just something that clicked and I never looked back. Friends were not allowed to call me on Friday night and once it switched to Sunday, I made sure that my parents got us on early evening bowling league so we’d be home in time to watch. Even my boyfriend (eventual husband) knew to shut the hell up from 9-10pm, even if he was sitting next to me on the couch (with my parents in their chairs watching as well)

Also, my 56-year-old dad had a crush on Scully from the start so that was entertaining as hell as well

What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?

I have been writing stories in my head for literally as long as I can remember. Watching some episode, I honestly don’t remember which one, I suddenly had an idea for a story about Mulder and Scully. I had never written a story with pre-existing characters before and it was totally foreign to me. How do you write a character with a current storyline. It was weird, it was difficult, it was some of the most fun I’d had writing up to that point.

Suddenly, I didn’t have to explain or describe the characters, think of jobs and mundane things … they already had those … and it was great.

Honest-to-God, my first fic was written, in pencil, on a yellow legal pad by flashlight while lying with my head at the foot of my bed so I could see my parents coming down the hall if they happened to wake up at midnight to go to the bathroom. Later fics were written by the light of an 10” TV/VCR combo with me still lying with my head at the foot of the bed. I still have those old legal pads somewhere and I remember having to type them in secret, having to wait until the house was empty for 20 minutes to an hour at a time. Uploading them was always unnerving because of the slow dial-up and the fact that I didn’t have my own email address, but had to use my dad’s. I’d have to make sure to check it whenever I could, intercept the feedback I’d get off gossamer.

I was such a damn rebel.

What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom?

Well, I now know how to interact with people given tumblr and AO3 but it hasn’t changed much. I contribute a little more now that I understand posting on social media but mostly, I still just write like a fiend and post, read voraciously and give kudos and likes often, comment some and reblog.

Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files?

I dabbled and have a favorite ‘Fringe’ fic … I tried to read a Harry Potter fic once … I type ‘West Wing’ occasionally in ao3 and tumblr ...

And nothing, absolutely nothing, has ever caught me like the X-Files did in regards to the fandom experience.

I have shows I watch and re-watch and re-watch but no two characters have ever had me writing and thinking and planning like Mulder and Scully. No other combo has ever made me write upwards of 300,000 or more total and still have plenty of stories to tell.

I’m okay with this.

Who are some of your favorite fictional characters? Why?

Aside from Mulder and Scully and the gentlemen three of Frohike, Langley, and Byers … I love all Scully’s nieces and nephews in my ‘Life’ series … I also love Corduroy (picture books), Harold (purple crayon fame), Neville Longbottom, the characters from my own novels, Katniss (book not movie), Anne Shirley, Elnora (from the Limberlost), Will Stanton/Merriman/Barney/Jane from ‘Dark is Rising’ and 10,459 others …

I’m a children’s librarian so most of my favorite books are those written for the younger and YA crowd. I like my job :)

Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully?

I watch this show all the damn time. I will think about Mulder and Scully when I have nothing else to think about, normally writing and editing whatever story I may have in the hopper at the time about them.

My husband laughs when I have the show on. He knows all the episodes with me and it’s one of my comfort shows that I don’t have to pay attention to when it’s on. During it, I have edited books, decorated cookies, been sick, been recovering, simply wasted a perfectly good day because I could.

My 17-year-old daughter keeps it on while she does homework and works out.

It’s a staple at our house and no one is allowed to make fun of it, even though we all know that parts are completely ‘make fun-able’

Do you ever still read X-Files fic? Fic in another fandom?

I read fic all the time … I have worked my way through AO3 starting from the beginning and if it was more easily readable on a phone, I’d work my way, once again, through gossamer.

Restated from above: I dabbled and have a favorite ‘Fringe’ fic … I tried to read a Harry Potter fic once … I type ‘West Wing’ occasionally in ao3 and tumblr ...

Do you have any favorite X-Files fanfic stories or authors?

I have all kinds of favorites on tumblr but right now, I honestly don’t remember most of the names … I pretty much read everything that comes through my dashboard and every few days, i read through the newest posts on AO3 … I love you all!!

What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise?

Of X-Files fics, I love my newer stuff … I read “Life” and its sequels every few months … ‘Your Place or Mine’ is another one I will read … actually, I’ll just say it .... I read all my own fic over and over again …

With fic, you get to write the characters as you want to see them and write situations that you want to see … I write for myself most of all and I love to read what I wrote :)

Do you think you'll ever write another X-Files story? Or dust off and post an oldie that for whatever reason never made it online?

I write them all the damn time. I have tons of snippets and half-finished that I occasionally glean things from but while sometimes, old stuff morphs into new, sometimes, it just needs to gather that dust and live a quiet little forgotten life in some backhand folder on my dropbox account ...

Do you still write fic now? Or other creative work?

First question is answered above.

As for other creative work, I have published two YA novels, have the third in that series in editing … I have five other novels in the hopper in various stages of ‘good lord this needs an edit or twelve’ …

I am writing things constantly in my head or on my laptop … most is crap … stome sticks … some turns into fic and some turns into books …

But the point is, I am writing, in some form, at all time :)

Where do you get ideas for stories?

Some two sentence conversation will spark an idea … the line of a song will inspire an idea … a word will start a sentence which will turn into a paragraph which will tumble straight into a story … and sometimes, stuff just pops in my head for no damn reason at all ...

What's the story behind your pen name?

On gossamer, I am L. Sprys because that was my name at the time :)

On tumblr and AO3, I’m tatooedlaura because my name is Laura and I have, now, six tattoos (yes, I spelled it wrong in my handle but that’s life) … when I decided on the name, I think I only had two

Do your friends and family know about your fic and, if so, what have been their reactions?

They do now … it took me years to crack and tell them … my husband has never read them, nor have any of the people I have told (as far as I know)

Now, I don’t really care who knows … I’ll tell them I write smutty X-Files fanfiction and family-friendly X-Files fanfiction …

I am too old at this point to be embarrassed by what I like to do. If they laugh at me, I tell them they only get to laugh when they’ve published a book and I pull up my books on Amazon … I’ve only had to do that once and it shut them right the hell up …

Is there a place online (tumblr, twitter, AO3, etc.) where people can find you and/or your stories now?

Gossamer: L. Sprys

Tumblr and AO3: tatooedlaura

Is there anything else you'd like to share with fans of X-Files fic?

I love you! I see you! I appreciate you! I hope you enjoy! Don’t judge me for my grammar issues! I will never be able to spell the word ‘excersize’!

(Posted by Lilydale on April 27, 2021)

#old school x #xfiles fanfic #xf fanfic #xf fanfic author interviews #tatooedlaura #laura sprys

50 notes · View notes

winchest09 · 4 years ago

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The Bunker Party - January Debrief

Hey my darlings!

So, The Bunker Party was back with a bang for the first month of 2021 and it was so nice to see so many wonderful and beautiful faces, new and old, on the stream. I have so much stuff to share with you, my fingers will ache once I’ve finished typing it all.

The stream was just amazing. It was filled with fun, laughter, and so many of you sharing your love for all things Supernatural. Seriously, SPN does have THEE best fandom and I’m so glad to be a part of it.

6 hours we were hanging out for! To see so many beautiful faces, hear so many lovely voices and to spend time with all you guys was just a dream! The support from everyone for each other, the love in this fandom; I can’t express how much I adore it.

I love holding these events and as I mentioned last night, the next one will be in February (date to be announced) and I’m already looking forward to seeing so you all again.

So…to the debrief!

Below you will find:

Everyone who joined - their tags, what’s coming up fic wise and their masterlist.

Announcements, News and links to Patreons and Etsy shops!

Challenges to join - we have SIX!

Blogs who want to help with your writing

Graphics and Icons

Fic & blog recs

You are the guys that make it the live stream what it is, and we can never thank you enough. So below is a list of everyone who was on the chat yesterday accompanied by their masterlist and a little blurb of what they have coming up soon! For your reading pleasure and in no particular order…

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@waywardbeanie: Shelli has come so far in the matter of a few months. From being a reader to now a series writer! She has one series under her belt already and is well on her way with her second on, Life on Tour. She is ALSO planning her third, which we may have had a sneak peak too last night and I am BEYOND excited.

You can find her masterlist HERE

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@deanwanddamons: Sian has come so far in a year! She has several series on the go, so many oneshots and I already know her plans for her next series. There are more plans for The Show Must Go On, Mechanic and Mistletoe and others. OH, I am excited!

Her masterlist can be found HERE

–

@jensengirl83: Brandy is such a sweetheart and we adore her. She’s still under the year mark for writing but that doesn’t stop her from nailing it. With one series completed, a ton of oneshots under her belt, she’s now working on her second series and is smashing it.

You can find her masterlist HERE

–

@whatareyousearchingfordean: Alex is nailing it at the moment with her fictions. She’s currently posting Happiness Continued (the sequel to Happiness Begins) which is nearing it’s end *sobs* BUT we were spoiled to some spoilers and information about what’s coming next. Ohhhh we have two more series on the way and they are juicy! Head over to her blog to find out one of them, she’s announced it already ;)

Her masterlist can be found HERE

–

@superfanficnatural: Mert has took some time away from the writing world but nothing could keep him from showing his fantastic self on our livestream. He’s has finally gotten back into his writing thanks to much encouragement ;) and is chipping away at the next add for his series The Choice. We’re super proud of him.

He has some other series in the works, a couple of collaborations that he’s got under his belt too…

Go and give him some love, his masterlist can be found HERE

–

@soaringeag1e: We adore Meg and she is a regular on our stream. She has such an extensive list of SPN fanfiction that it’s a treat for your eyeballs!

She is currently working on her series Escape and we have been treated to hearing about some of her new series that she has coming out very soon! Fake Dating anyone? YES PLEASE. Head over and get yourself signed up if you’re not already!

You can find her masterlist HERE

–

@thinkinghardhardlythinking: Saira is absolutely nailing it when it’s coming to writing at the moment and her words are out of this world. She’s recently been sucked into the Royal AU and is writing a Knight!Sam x Reader fic and it is TO DIE FOR.

She’s such a sweetheart. Please show her some love and support <3 You can find her masterlist HERE

–

@janicho88: This lovely lady is working on some absolute winners at the minute. “Falling for You” and “Fire, Fur and Mistletoe” to name just a couple! She is one of the kindest and supportive souls that you will ever meet. Definitely one to check out and read!

You can find her masterlist HERE

–

@downanddirtydean: Lydia was new to our stream and I cannot say how much I enjoyed having this beaut on there. She is working on some AMAZING pieces at the moment. Holidate being one of them! Fake Dating anyone? UHH YEAH! She also has over 30 smutty oneshots... You can find her masterlist HERE

–

@carryonmywaywardcaptain: Jordan was another new face to our stream last night and it was so nice getting to know her. She told all about what she is currently working on. “Miles of Memories” is a best friend to lover AU which sounds absolutely incredible. If you’re not checking her out already, what are you waiting for?

You can find her her masterlist HERE

–

@sams-sass: Chelsea was new to our stream and the award for the first Sam girl to grace our screen has been awarded. She is an absolute sweetheart and with what we heard about her works, her idea and what she’s got coming up...I AM SOLD. She has told us that she is currently working on “Secrets in the Snow” and we are EXCITED.

She is a creative genius and I’m living for it.

You can find her masterlist HERE

@flamencodiva: Vanessa is still in the process of reposting everything she had lost back onto her blog and she is slowly but surely, getting up to date. We have been told what is coming up, more “What He Lost, What He Found” as well as “The Hunters Encyclopaedia”. She is also working on some wonderful new series’ behind the scenes and we may have been teased to a collab that will be coming your way soon!

Check out her masterlist HERE

–

@that-one-gay-girl: Sydney is such a kind soul and an absolute beaut, and we were so happy to see her on our stream. Even though she is a fairly new writer, that hasn’t stopped her from bashing out some fabulous pieces of fiction! She has a completed series under her belt and is currently working on the next chapter of “Oh, Baby” as well as “A Hero’s Journey”

You can find her masterlist HERE

–

@deangirl93: Our first Aussie that has graced our stream and what an abolute babe she is. For a new writer, she has come so far in the matter of months. She has her first completed series “Life Lessons” under her belt as well as some phenomenal oneshots. We’ve also been told about her works that are coming up... Demon!Dean or Dean Smith anyone? ;)

You can find her masterlist HERE

@anathewierdo: Ana is such a darling and we always love having her on the streams. She’s currently reposting her fic Call of the Ocean which is a collaboration with Flamencodiva. Not only that, she’s also working on a Princess Diaries AU, a Serial Killer AU and many more!

You can find her masterlist HERE

–

@emoryhemsworth: This beaut has had a couple of busy months but she is currently working on her series called “Losing Sleep” as well as plotting her amazing TWD crossover fic which we cannot wait for!

Check our her masterlist HERE:

–

@anaelsbrunette: We loved having Yas on our stream and she told us all about the juicyness that she’s got coming our way. She is concentrating on darker stuff at the moment but we have also been told that she has a Mafia AU that will soon grace our screens...keep your eyes peeled!

Check it out and give her some love.

You can find her masterlist HERE

–

@impalawrites: Pala joined our stream for a while and it was lovely to hear her voice and for her tell us what’s going on in her writing life. She has recently changed her blog name (she was impala-1979) and now she is focusing on not just supernatural but many other fandoms too!

She has many, many more goodies on offer and is doing wonderfully!

You can find her masterlist HERE

–

@defenderrosetyler: Ali came back to our stream and we loved having her. She currently has a couple of oneshots available on her masterlist for both Sam and Dean! She is definitely one to keep an eye out for! She’s a total sweetheart too!

You can find her masterlist HERE

–

@wonder-cole: Such a sweetheart and a wonderful person. New to the stream this time and we loved having her. She told us all about her amazing ideas and what she is writing at the moment. In the works there is going to be a Son’s of Anarchy crossover, Michael!Dean and a male reader fic AND a Bi!Reader and Charlie fic.

*squee* We are excited.

You can find her masterlist HERE

@katelynw93: Kate is a new writer to the supernatural fandom but she is doing so so well! She has a bunch of stuff for both Sam and Dean and her writing is just AMAZING. She is definitely one to go and check out!

You can find her masterlist HERE

@chocolateheart: Marcie is a little ray of sunshine and her writing always gets me hooked. She has no series as of yet but I have heard of what she is cooking up and I am excited! She has some fabulous fluffy and sexy oneshots though that you should definitely check out!

You can find her masterlist HERE

@anotherspnfanfic: Another wonderful new face to our stream this time around and were so happy that she joined us! Again, this wonderful writer has an amazing list of oneshots but no series as of yet. She is definitely one to be checking out!

You can find her masterlist HERE

@440mxs-wife: Another new beautiful face to our stream! It was so nice to have her join us and we have found another little hidden treasure trove of fictions! Her masterlist covers more than just Sam and Dean, we have fics for Cas, Gabriel and Ketch too!

You can find her masterlist HERE

Me: Well, Life for Rent is completed! My new series “Hello, Sailor” is in progress and I’m about to finish my mini series “Baby, It’s Cold Outside”. I have also just posted a smut filled oneshot called “Do Not Disturb” and I have plans for many more stories! Seriously...my idea doc is screaming at me! Ahah.

My masterlist can be found HERE:

HONORARY MENTIONS

Now, these guys are regulars to our livestreams and/or do a hell of a lot to support other people within the supernatural fandom. So it’s only fair that we give them a shout out and to share the love with them too!

In no particular order:

–

@smol-and-grumpy: Nat has such a juicy masterlist and can I just mention that since our last livestream, she has completed quite a few other series and is now posting two new ones! A personal fav of mine is “Legally Yours” IT IS CERTIFIED GOLD.

You can find her masterlist HERE

–

@talesmaniac89: Our darling Tales is taking a hiatus at the moment but her blog is still worth checking out. She has some amazing series and such a long list of fics under her belt as well as SO MANY GRAPHICS. She’s an absolute sweetheart and I adore her greatly.

Check her out guys, her masterlist is HERE

–

@katehuntington: Kate is also taking a hiatus at the moment but again, it’s a blog definitely worth checking out. Her writing is exquisite and the imagery she paints is just wonderful. Ride with Me anyone? She also has an OFC Fic too!

Her masterlist can be found HERE

–

@atc74: Ang is such a wonderful supporter to new and old writers alike on tumblr. I am always seeing her reblogging peoples stories and offereing words of kindness and positivity. Not only that, she has a wonderful masterlist of her own fabulous creations too!

Her masterlist can be found HERE

–

To the upcoming writers & readers…

@abuavnee, @winchesterxfamilybusiness, @adoptdontshoppets, @zooaliaa, @carolinabeauty6298, @akshi8278 & the few nonnies we had!

Sabrina: We know that you’ve dabbled with some writing already but if you need us for anything, idea bouncing or anything, just hit us up, you know where we are <3

Abu: Girl, your first of writing blew me away with how poetic it was and it was so nice to put a face to a name yesterday. If you ever need help with writing, give us a message!

Karen: Your support to all of us writers is just phenomenal and I cannot thank you enough for taking the time to leave such wonderful comments. We appreciate you so much <3

Zoe: Even though you’re not a new writer, you’re new to tumblr and we were so intrigued about the fic idea you already have posting to wattpad right now. Welcome to the family babe!

MJ: Again, your support to all of us writers is just the best. Thank you for taking the time to read through our stuff, it means the absolute world.

Akshita: Another fabulous reader who offers wonderful support to all of us writers. Thank you so much for all of your comments and your kind words.

We want to thank all of you for your constant support, your feedback, your words, your reactions to what we write. Your likes, your reblogs, your asks. We appreciate every single thing you do. So thank you from the bottom of our hearts. We love you. Also, remember guys - we’re all here to love and support you! My inbox is always open if you want to talk about anything and everything. Even if you wish to start writing…give any of us a shout. We’re here to help! Thank you for joining the chat and we hope you had an amazing time <3 Please spread the love and show your support to all of these amazing people, go follow and give them some love!

We’ve got some goodies for you!

We want to bring to everyone’s attention once again, the wonderful organisation that is Ficfasers, an international fundraising group of authors and artists who love Supernatural. They offer thank yous to people who agree to donate to Random Acts by creating stories/art, crafts, and more for winning bidders and ticket buyers!

Again, this is amazing and it’s something that so many of us can get involved in. We’ve been told an event is coming up around the holiday period so watch this space!

Want to write for Charity?

Check out their tumblr HERE

and their website HERE

————————-

Follower achievements!

Join me in congratulating these amazing blogs as they have surpassed or are close to a follower milestone!

@waywardbeanie is closing in on 600 followers! @downanddirtydean has passed 500 followers!

@superfanficnatural is closing in on 900 followers! @jensengirl83 is closing in on 900 followers! @deangirl93 is closing in on 500 followers!

Congratulations guys!

If you’re not following them already, head on over and show them your support!

————————-

Want to be the first to read new chapters of your favourite fics?

Some of our fabulous livestream participants have Patreon!

For a small fee a month, you get personalised drabbles, oneshots and MORE as well as first dibs on new chapters before ANYONE else! Please consider giving them your support.

The links for each authors Patreon is below: @cockslut-padalecki - Find hers HERE

@flamencodiva - Find hers HERE

@soaringeag1e - Find hers HERE

@impalawrites - Find hers HERE

————————-

Want to support new creators and get your hands on some SPN Merch?

We have two etsy shops to share with you! Both of them make some amazing things and are definitely worth checking out if you’re wanting to treat yourself.

@downanddirtydean has a wonderful little shop full of supernatural goodies like scrunchies and stickers! You can check it out HERE & @that-one-gay-girl has a little shop where she offers custom portraits and I have been told that some Spn goodies are on the way too! Check it out HERE

Oh, IT’S CHALLENGE TIME. This month, we have SIX challenges for you to get involved in!

First of all, we still have @janicho88 100 follower Christmas themed challenge! It ends on the 31st January but there are still spots left!

Check it out, HERE

—–

Secondly, we have @wonder-cole‘s 100 follower celebration too! This challenge is pretty unique as she has taken the things her 11 year old has said for the prompts!

You can check it out, HERE

—–

Thirdly, we @deanwanddamons 2K follower and 1 Year blogiversary challenge! She’s taken some inspiration from the movies and come up with some quotes, the challenge is open until the 1st February!

Check it out, HERE

—–

Fourthly, we have @downanddirtydean‘s 500 follower celebration! She has come up with a list of 50 prompts to tickle your pickle and to make it juicer, she’s added in a giveaway of prizes that she makes herself!

Take a look and enter the challenge, HERE

—–

Fifthly, we have @carryonmywaywardcaptain‘s Supernaturally Marvelous challenge! This challenge has a list of songs, AU’s, Dialogue prompts and more to choose from!

Check it out, HERE

—–

And last, but certainly not least, we have @flamencodiva‘s Writing Challenge which she holds every few months to help when you get that dreaded writers block. Who knows, maybe her prompt will spark a wave of inspiration!

Check it out, HERE

Need a graphic? Header, banner, divider?

Our gorgeous @talesmaniac89 is available to create whatever you would like! She’s the creator behind our banners for this post and numerous other masterlist across the board. Give her a message!

Struggling with some smut?

@superfanficnatural has offered his services to be the person you can go to if you need to hash out certain words, feelings and perspective. He is the perfect person to give you an insight to the male POV when it comes to sex so if you’re writing Destiel or a chapter from the guys POV, Mert is there to help!

Need help finding that one gif?

@emoryhemsworth is your go to girl! Seriously, you tell her you want a gif of Dean in a specific place, wearing a certain outfit, she will find it for you in no time at all. She’s a diamond as she’ll also credit the creators!

Struggling to find that one word? Or even a title?

@atc74 is your guru! She is perfect for getting you unstuck and if you’re struggling with a title, she can also help on this front! I always struggle with a title, and a summary so I know i’ll definitely be hitting Ang up if i get stuck!

Lost a fic? Need help to find it again?

@spnfic-search-blog is the blog to go too! Send an ask and they will dedicate their time to try and find it for you!

Need a new aesthetic? Line divider? We got you! Our fabulously talented @talesmaniac89 has drawn up so MANY supernatural themed line breakers, headers and more for your free usage!

Just look at some of these!

She has a few posts full already!

We’re talking dividers, headers, banners, gifs and icons!

Check them out HERE!

Give them a like, a reblog and please THANK HER if you use her work. She’s the most kind hearted, loving soul and a few words go a long way <3

Blog Recs!

@smol-and-grumpy - Nat is such a kind soul, always wanting to make others smile, others wanting to go the extra mile for her followers. She holds giveaways just as a thank you for reading her work and above all else, her writing is just out of this world. She deserves so much love and credit for what she does.

@crashdevlin - I don’t think a livestream has gone by where this lady’s fics have NOT been recommended. Whenever Crash’s name is brought up on stream, so many people love her work and freak out and it’s so lovely to see. So here’s to you Crash! Well done <3

Fic Recs!

True Loves Kiss

@carryonmywaywardbucky

Pairing: Non Yet, eventual Sam Winchester x Reader

Summary: When word of a cursed prince reached your kingdom, your king knew exactly who to send to try and wake him up. The king treated you like the daughter he never had, so question never crossed his mind when he gave you what he hoped would be your final mission.

—

My Brother’s Girl By @cockslut-padalecki

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader, Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: When Dean returns from Purgatory, he hopes to be reunited with his long term girlfriend Y/N and Sam after five long years without them. But when he shows up at Sam’s door unable to locate her, Dean realises he doesn’t need to look much farther to find her.

—

All The Good Girls Go To Hell By @cockslut-padalecki

Pairing: Step Dad!Sam x Step Daughter!Reader, Uncle!Dean x Niece!Reader

Summary: When Sam marries into Y/N’s family he naively believes she’s a little princess incapable of putting a step wrong. But once he comes face to face with evidence that proves she’s far from angelic which also implicates his own brother in her misdeeds, Sam finds himself battling against his own moral judgement.

—

Corrupted By @cockslut-padalecki

Pairing: Lawyer!Sam x Reader.

Summary: When Sam inadvertently chooses to work instead of spend time with Y/N, she decides on a little revenge to show him what he’s missing… however she massively underestimates Sam and his power to put her in her place.

—

Crimson Leaves By @waywardrose13

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: The dead have risen. Amid a global pandemic that causes the dead to prowl the Earth, a leader of a small camp in North Carolina fights for survival. Y/n Y/l/n was certain of three things: One, only a bite would turn you. Two, the brain must be destroyed in order to completely kill the thing. Three, trust no one. When a stranger is brought to her camp half alive, Y/n must make the decision to throw him to the walkers, or let the mystery man heal within the gates. As Dean Winchester recovers from a zombie attack, he worms his way into the camp, and eventually into Y/n’s heart. Love is a dangerous game, especially when it’s played with the dead.

—

Flashes By @our-jensen-ackles-love

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Summary: Playboy Jensen Ackles is hurting his television show’s image. Every time he promised to get his act together, it’d last for about a week before pictures emerge of him half-drunk with some broad on his arm. Fed up and desperate, his agent decides their only hope to save some face is to write up a contract with a nobody girl who could use the money while getting to play the role of Jensen’s girlfriend. It was only for a year and it was only for the photos. But feelings don’t always follow the rules, do they?

—

Icarus By @savior-adriana

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Demon!Reader

Summary: She was a succubus – a sex demon, held captive by the Winchesters and despite Sam’s desperate attempts to stop his brother from giving in, Dean loses the battle against his need for her.

—

Frozen By @watermelonlipstick

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader

Summary: Sam and the reader get stranded on the highway during a snowstorm.

—

Dean’s Jeans By @watermelonlipstick

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: A late summer afternoon on your cul-de-sac with Dean, Sam, your daughters, and their cousin DJ.

—

Till Death Do Us Part? By @amanda-teaches

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: At a work party with your best friend, Dean, you panic when your new boss asks if you’re couple. Lying to protect your promotion, you wind up fake engaged before you can take it back. When Dean agrees to go along with your lie for a weekend retreat, you end up finding something neither of you had bargained for: love.

—

Broken By @atwistoffate

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: The man you love is about to marry someone else. This is how the worst day of your life begins.

—

Blue or Red By @atwistoffate

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Can two people who broke up be friends again? Just friends?

—

It Was You By @jerkbitchidjitassbutt

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Female Reader

Summary: Jensen and Y/n are childhood best friends. When his agent informs him that his image could use some improvement for a role, will she help him? Or will her feelings get in the way?

—

Not Losing You By @luci-in-trenchcoats

Pairing: Mechanic!Dean Winchester x reader

Summary: The reader is pulled over on the side of the road when a man suddenly appears and proceeds to collapse in front of her. Little does she know, that may be a good thing for them both…

—

By My Side By @luci-in-trenchcoats

Pairing: Bodyguard!Jensen Ackles x Reader

Summary: While at home one night, the reader, an actress, is almost kidnapped and at her friend’s suggestion she hires Jensen as her bodyguard. After a rocky start, the pair begin to get along and tensions ease when they think the threat against her has subsided. But as things at home get better, the reader’s family comes to town and all Hell breaks loose…

—

With All My Heart By @torn-and-frayed

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Summary: N/A

—

Protector By @fictionalabyss

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: N/A

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La Petite Mort By @percywinchester27

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader AU

Summary: The reader has just shifted to a new flat and boy, someone on the floor has a really banging sex life! The passionate moans have been keeping her up for several nights in row and enough is enough! Reader has her suspicions, but is it really the green-eyed hottie from room no. 307?

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You’re Home By @acreativelydifferentlove

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader

Summary: After years away at college, you have finally returned to your home town. In order to settle back into the community, you have to seek permission from the Head Alpha. What happens when you see his son for the first time since presenting as an Omega?

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A Gentleman’s Agreement By @stusbunker

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Benny LaFitte

Summary: N/A

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Stolen Crown By @roonyxx & @jay-and-dean

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader / Knight!Dean x reader

Summary: What happens when she is sent in a world that isn’t hers, but with very familiar faces ?

—

Ablaze By @ellewritesfix05

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean x Doctor!Reader

Summary: Y/N Y/L/N’s life is simple — work, books, and saving lives. But when a handsome firefighter comes to her hospital in need of care, her life gets turned upside down as she quickly falls for the green-eyed hero. Will being with him prove to be what was missing from her life?

—

No Forgetting You By @ellewritesfix05

Pairing: MOC!/Demon!Dean x Reader

Summary: Being Dean Winchester’s girlfriend is no easy task. Through thick and thin, (Y/N) remained fighting monsters by his side. But what will happen when Dean becomes one of those monsters? In this story, the Reader is faced with difficult situations and decisions that will turn her once-perfect life upside down.

—

Mess is Mine By @supernaturalfreewill

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader

Summary: Fic based on ‘Mess Is Mine’ by Vance Joy originally requested by anonymous! You might not want to read this when you’re home alone or sitting in the dark. Just FYI. It’s kinda creepy

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White Picket Fence By @negans-lucille-tblr

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean finally gets his American dream life. A perfect wife, big house and the perfectly obnoxious neighbors beyond a white picket fence. But what goes on behind closed doors is far from suburban.

—

Other Fandom Recs!

Sunrise By @wkemeup

Pairing: bucky x reader (veteran!bucky x librarian!reader)

Summary: After an explosion takes his arm and his only sense of belonging, Bucky is discharged from active duty and sent back to civilian life. Left with a storm of unchecked guilt, Bucky is content to live out the rest of his days in the hollow comfort of the dark. This is, until Sam drags him down to the local VA and he meets you. (Modern AU)

————————-

I think that’s it!

Phew! I hope you all enjoy this recap! Thank you so much once again to everyone who joined the chat, we had 6 hours of laughs and I cannot wait to do it again. I’d appreciate it if you could share this to spread the love of the fics and authors on here!

Keep an eye out for the next date for our next livestream! It will be in February. If you guys have any idea’s or want something included, let us know. If you want to be tagged when we announce, let us know!

See you next time!

xox

#the bunker party #dean winchester fanfiction #sam winchester fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural family #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #rec post #share the love #spread the positivity #thebunkerparty #love you guys #winchest09

110 notes · View notes

bnhayyy · 3 years ago

Text

The Call (7)

Chapter Title: Realization

Wordcount: 5.7k

Fic Tag: Click

Ao3 Link: Click

Chapter Summary: Hanji gives the group a warning. Later, Mikasa and Annie have an eventful patrol.

Notes: I sat on this chapter for a bit so that I could use it as my submission for day two of @mikannieweek . I know that it’s technically a day early, but that won’t be stopping me. Also, than you again Celadon for the beta!

The weekend sped by in a blur. Another person disappeared, and although Mikasa channeled it into her motivation, she found that she couldn’t shut the rest of the world out completely. There were people who wouldn’t let her.

Mikasa and Annie patrolled separately. Mikasa on Saturday and Annie on Sunday, so that both slayers would have a day to get caught up on their homework. That turned into Mikasa patrolling alone on Monday as well when Annie reluctantly admitted that she hadn't been able to finish an art project due on Tuesday.

Despite insisting that Mikasa not neglect her classes in the name of slaying, Annie had looked distinctly embarrassed to admit that she was struggling in keeping up with one of her own courses. It was faint, but Mikasa had gotten good enough at reading the other slayer to know it was there. She hoped that she didn't feel too bad about it. It wasn't like Mikasa minded going on patrol by herself; for all that Annie's assistance lifted a weight from her back, it wasn't very long ago that she had patrolled by herself almost every night.

It was almost scary how easily they had fallen into a rhythm. How quickly Annie had become familiar, even a comforting, presence despite her initial distrust. Just how quickly she had started to trust her. It was a little overwhelming.

That brought up the other reason she didn't mind doing the Monday patrol alone. It gave her time to think .

Something had changed between her and Annie when she told her about that night. She wasn't certain exactly how or what, but there'd been a distinct shift. There was a weight in their shared glances that hadn't been there before. Or maybe it had, but was only now noticeable. Could the same thing be said of the sparks that danced over their skin when their hands touched? The looks that lingered, the silences that rang heavy with words unsaid?

Mikasa didn't know what was happening or what to do about it, but she was trying her hardest to figure it out.

She didn't know if she could manage by herself, but she didn't think she had another option in this case. Her expanded social life did nothing to change that. Going to Armin for issues like this simply wasn't an option. Jean was nice, but their friendship was also very new and untested. She wasn't comfortable going to him to discuss such complex, mysterious feelings. Sasha had dogged Mikasa persistently enough that she could honestly say that she was a little closer to her, close enough that she had sincerely considered talking to her for a little while. The trouble was that she didn't completely trust that she wouldn't tell Connie, who absolutely would tell Reiner, which would be disastrous on multiple levels.

A ridiculous part of her wanted to talk to Eren about it. It was a horrible idea. Discarding the fact that he wasn't real, she got the sense that he would be all but useless for things like this. Naturally, she had discarded the notion as soon as it had occurred to her.

That didn't stop it from lingering in the back of her mind.

Perhaps that was why he had been trailing after her all morning long. She thought about him, and so he was there.

At least it was easy to ignore him this morning. He had disappeared while she was in History, and although he had reappeared once she left, she knew that she would have plenty to distract her until it was time for American Literature.

One of Erwin's friends had asked everyone to meet them in the library for an "urgent matter". It had sounded like they meant business when Erwin called her. They had gone as far as to book one of the meeting rooms in the library.

However, when Mikasa strode into the room, Erwin's eccentric friend was nowhere to be seen. Behind her, Eren snorted and rolled his eyes. "That's Hanji, alright," he muttered.

Mikasa turned her attention to the people who were there. Sasha and Connie were both there, clustered in on either side of a visibly irritated Jean. They didn't say anything to Mikasa, the two of them too caught up in their conversation and their long-suffering third unable to hear her arrival over their spirited chatter. Armin sat a few spots down from them, caught somewhere between preemptively attentive and uncomfortable and out of place. He shot Mikasa a small smile, which she returned with a nod.

Finally, Erwin sat at the table, a bored-looking Levi lounging by his side.

"Your friend isn't here," Mikasa pointed out.

At least Erwin had the decency to look flustered. "I'm sure Hanji will be along in a moment," he said, tugging on his shirt collar.

Levi snorted. "Four-eyes runs on their own schedule," he said. "They'll be ready when they're ready."

Mikasa pursed her lips. "I don't have all day."

Levi waved his hand dismissively. "This is more important than your classes."

She saw Eren look at her and shake his head out of the corner of her eyes. However, he quickly fell out of her line of sight as she narrowed her eyes at the asshole Erwin had seen fit to call in. He just raised an impassive eyebrow at her, seemingly undaunted by being stared down by a slayer.

Before the interaction could go any further, the door to the meeting room opened again. Annie strode in with Reiner following a short distance behind her. She gave the room a quick once-over before looking at Mikasa, a frown on her lips.

"No Hanji?" she asked.

"No Hanji," Mikasa confirmed.

"Then why..." Annie trailed off almost as soon as she started speaking, gaze following Reiner as he carefully stalked around the edge of the meeting room. It seemed that he had noticed that Sasha and Connie were off in their own little world. Now, he held a finger up to his playfully smirking lips as he snuck up on them.

Once he was directly behind them, he waited for a few seconds, then reached out to drop the palm of his hand on top of Connie's head.

He was greeted by a high-pitched shriek, which got a scream from Sasha, which made Jean curse and drop lower in his chair.

Reiner laughed and jumped back to avoid being swatted at by Connie, who twisted around in his chair in his attempt to get him. "Asshole!" he cried. "Your hands are cold!"

"Just keeping you on your toes!" Reiner teased, unrepentant. Connie let out an undignified squawk and leaned forward to swat at his arm, which just sent Reiner into another round of laughter.

"If you could do that when he isn't close enough to deafen anyone, that would be appreciated," Jean growled.

At the same time, Levi looked at Erwin and informed him, "you're working with five-year-olds."

Erwin sighed. "Levi..."

In response, Levi jerked his head back at Connie, who was glowering at a still-laughing Reiner, and Sasha, who had slithered out of her chair and was now circling the edges of the room in what Mikasa could only assume was an attempt to sneak up on Reiner while he was distracted. "Five," he repeated. "Maybe eight, tops."

Annie looked like she didn't know what to make of everything. Mikasa couldn't say she blamed her. As Sasha slinked around Mikasa in her loop around the room, she couldn't decide if she should say something or just leave the girl to it.

Her mind was made up by Hanji kicking the door open and exclaiming in a sing-song voice, "We have a vengeance demon!"

Mikasa grabbed Sasha by her upper arm and dragged her down into the seat next to her as she sat down. Sasha let out a disappointed whine, but otherwise didn't protest. At the same time, Reiner finally settled down and took the now-open seat next to Jean, while Annie sat down in between Mikasa and Armin. Mikasa's gaze lingered on her for a few moments. However, before she could figure out exactly what she was looking at, her attention was drawn over to Levi.

"What makes you say that?" he asked, shooting Hanji an unimpressed look.

Hanji shuffled both of the heavy cases they were carrying to dangle from their left hand so that they could dig through the pocket of their jeans with their right. After a few seconds of digging, they let out a triumphant, "aha!" and pulled out a small, bright green crystal.

A small, glowing bright green crystal.

Mikasa squinted at the stone, a frown creeping across her face. Now that she was looking closely, it looked like the crystal was actually white around the edges. The color came from the unnatural glow emanating from the center. As she watched, a ripple of intensified color ran over it. It happened again a few seconds later.

Hanji seemed very pleased with themselves. However, when Mikasa took a look around, she noticed that everyone other than Erwin and Levi just seemed confused. Even Eren, who had moved to hover behind Reiner, wore a befuddled look on his face.

The silence that had fallen over the room was broken by Erwin clearing his throat. "A demonic presence detector, Hanji?" he asked.

"Reality-altering demons, specifically," Hanji said. "And it's a strong one, to get a reaction like this." They held the crystal a little higher and turned it over in their fingers, staring at it like it held a treasure trove of information. To them, it probably did.

"And how'd that lead you to a vengeance demon?" Levi asked, crossing his arms. "Last I checked, those things are rare, and there are plenty of reality-alterers."

Hanji clicked their tongue. "Oh Levi, ye of little faith."

Hanji pocketed the crystal, shifted one of their briefcases back into their other hand, and approached the table. They didn't bother sitting down before lifting their cases and all but dropping them on the table in their enthusiasm. One of them landed more loudly than the others.

Levi fixed the louder briefcase with a disapproving glower before turning his attention back to Hanji. "Hanji," he said.

"Yeah?"

"Is one of those cases full of rocks?"

Hanji shot him an overly wide grin. "Of course."

Levi looked like he was experiencing a unique, but not unexpected, brand of torment. "Are all of them glowing?"

Hanji laughed. "No - no - that would be-"

"Don't care," Levi interrupted. "Did you call this meeting to force us all to hear about the magic rocks?"

A series of concerned looks made their way across the table. None of them knew Hanji well yet, but there was no denying the sense that if Hanji got talking about something they were interested in, they were going to be there for a while. Mikasa honestly didn't know how she felt about that. She did have things to do, but if it was an interesting topic, she could also think of worse ways to spend her time.

Annie, on the other hand, looked about ready to bolt.

"No," Hanji said. Although they were mainly reassuring Levi, they did shoot a quick glance around the rest of the room, paired with a small smile. "I had the suitcase full of crystals with me for something else. We are here to talk about the vengeance demon."

Mikasa didn't think she imagined the collective sigh of relief.

"Hm." Levi leaned back in his chair, a vaguely disinterested look flitting back across his features. "Get on with it, then."

Mikasa couldn't help but frown at his demeanor. Was this what he was always like? Her gaze flickered over to Erwin. He looked focused and had a slight glint in his eyes, probably eager to get on with the meeting. More importantly, it was nothing that she hadn't seen at all. He seemed entirely unbothered by Levi's general attitude.

That didn't bode well.

Meanwhile, Hanji was undoing a series of locks to open the lighter briefcase. After a few seconds, they flung it open to reveal several folders. They immediately snatched the one at the top and pulled out a stack of papers.

A photograph was on the top of the stack. It was a little grainy, but not so much that it was impossible to make out the person in the picture. Hanji put it down in the center of the table and triumphantly said, "that's how I know we have a vengeance demon."

"You recognize the person in the picture?" Erwin asked. As he spoke, Annie grabbed the photo for a closer look. She stared down at it, expression unreadable.

"Ooooh yes," Hanji said. "One of the first things I did when I got here was set up a few cameras in highly congested areas, and other areas demons are likely to frequent. Well, I haven't been able to find our mystery killer yet - seriously, you were right, Erwin. They seem impulsive, but they must be meticulous about their actual hunting habits, to avoid places frequented by humans and demons-"

"Hanji," Erwin gently prompted.

"Right," Hanji said. "So, this guy popped up and started causing trouble a few years ago. We haven't been able to figure out his name yet, but he's definitely a vengeance demon."

"He looks normal," Annie said, passing the photo to Mikasa as she spoke.

Mikasa accepted the photo and frowned. The photo showed a scowling young man with sandy-blond hair styled into an undercut. He was largely nondescript. The picture didn't show his feet, but Mikasa could make out jeans, a jacket, and some sort of amulet dangling from his neck.

Annie was right. He looked like any other person.

"He would," Hanji said. "Vengeance demons used to be human themselves."

"That's possible?" Sasha asked as Mikasa passed her the picture.

"Of course," Hanji said. "It's true that most demons are born as humans, since witches still count as human and vampires are a subcategory of their own. But there are some types of demons that have human origins and vengeance demons are one of them. They come from a human who has been wronged and feel a powerful need for revenge. So much so that they attract the leader of the vengeance demons, who offers them immortality and the ability to help others enact vengeance in exchange for giving up their human life. Most don't see a reason to say no."

"He looks grumpy," Connie mumbled before passing the photo to Erwin, who glanced at it only briefly before handing it to Levi.

"The ability to help others enact vengeance," Armin slowly said. "What does that mean, exactly?"

"I'm glad you asked," Hanji said. "Vengeance demons grant wishes for people who feel they've been wronged. They approach them at an emotional weak point and get them talking about their problems. Then, if they can get someone to verbally express a wish..." Hanji leaned forward, then clapped their hands, making everyone but Levi and Erwin flinch. "Wish granted."

"That doesn't sound so bad," Jean said. He kept glancing at Connie, who was now in possession of the photo, and seemed to be struggling caught in a fight between his need to maintain his dignity and the urge to peer over his shoulder for a look at it. "If these people have been wronged, don't they deserve someone to mete out justice?"

"There's a lot more to it than that," Hanji said, their voice taking on a grave tone. "Vengeance demons are still demons. Unless the wish they're granting is already especially vindictive, they always add a slant to it that makes it cruel and unusual. It might not be the person making the wish who suffers, but someone will end up in a great deal of pain from the wish, often more than they actually deserve. And if only one person gets the brunt of it, that means you got off lucky."

"And if you didn't?" Sasha asked, a slight waver in her voice.

Hanji smiled grimly. "Like Levi said, vengeance demons are reality warpers. They can manifest demons, wipe people out of existence - the right wish can even spawn an entire alternate universe that the wish maker will be trapped in. And believe me when I say that these universes are always significantly worse than whatever situation they started in."

Jean looked like he might be sick. "Right," he said as he accepted the photo from Connie. "Don't make any wishes. Got it."

Mikasa shot a glance at Annie. Something in her expression was subtly distant. It made Mikasa wonder, had Annie ever dealt with the threat of a demon this powerful? Was she intimidated? It didn't sound like her, but it also wasn't completely outside the realm of possibility. The pull she felt toward her wasn't the same thing as actually knowing her. She couldn't even tell if that was distance in her expression or...

Sadness. Something about Annie looked sad right now.

Despite everything, it was kind of pretty.

Mikasa pushed the thought down and forced herself to focus on the question she should be asking. The only thing that mattered right now. "How do you kill a vengeance demon?" she asked.

"You don't," Hanji said. "But! Did you notice that amulet he's wearing? Every vengeance demon has one; a green gem with red speckles. It's their power source. And, luckily for us, pretty fragile. If you're able to break it, the vengeance demon will be turned back into a demon and the most recent wish they granted will be undone."

"Only the most recent?" Jean asked, still staring at the picture.

"Only the most recent," Hanji confirmed.

Jean hummed and passed the picture to Reiner. Behind his shoulder, Eren leaned forward to stare at it, a pensive expression falling across his face.

"Vengeance demons usually have a particular vendetta that they focus on," Erwin piped up. "Does this one?"

"That's where things get interesting," Hanji said. "All reports say that this demon has a thing for avenging lost loved ones. So either we have an awfully big coincidence on our hands, or..." Hanji trailed off, giving Erwin a long, meaningful look.

"You think he's been drawn in by the disappearances," Erwin summarized.

"Bingo!"

Out of the corner of her eye, Mikasa noticed Annie shift to look at Reiner, who was still inspecting the photo.

"He could also be after someone specific," Annie said.

Mikasa frowned. "You mean he might be seeking revenge on one person?" she asked. It sounded like a broad assumption, but she doubted that Annie would make a truly random guess. If the other slayer thought it was a theory worth considering, then Mikasa didn't want to dismiss it offhand.

"Yes," Annie said. "If vengeance demons are made from vengeful people, then it sounds like he's likely to have a grudge on someone."

"It's possible," Hanji said, "but unlikely. Vengeance demons are organized. They aren't supposed to seek vengeance on their own behalf, and one who does could end up in a lot of trouble." They paused, pursing their lips and shaking their head. "Even if it found the right loopholes, the demon would have to be really reckless to try something like that in the first place."

"Unlikely isn't the same as impossible," Eren murmured. Mikasa risked sending him a look, but he didn't respond, instead continuing to stare at the photo in Reiner's hand.

"Well, I'm sure we'll be able to handle whatever happens," Reiner said, passing the photo across the table to Armin.

"Think you might be being too optimistic?" Jean grumbled.

"Yes," Annie said.

At the same time, Reiner said, "nah."

He paused for a moment, shooting Annie a short glance, before continuing, "maybe vengeance demons are tough, but if you ask me, that guy doesn't look too smart. We'll be fine as long as we just don't make any wishes and destroy that necklace of his."

Annie cast him a long look. "There are a lot of people in this city who might want vengeance."

Reiner shrugged. "So we take care of him sooner rather than later. Now that we all know to look out of him, I'm sure it'll turn out fine. Especially since we have you and Mikasa."

"This is a serious situation, and we need to be careful not to let our guards down," Erwin cut in. "But Reiner is right. If you see the man in this picture, contact me, Hanji, or Levi as soon as possible, and no matter what, do not make any wishes." He slowly shifted his gaze down the table, making sure to make eye contact with every individual. He paused when he hit Mikasa.

"Is there anything else?" Mikasa asked. It was all Erwin was going to get from her. She'd listened carefully and understood what was going on. She didn't need a watcher to hold her hand through whatever came next.

Erwin looked over at Hanji, who shrugged. "Pretty much, yeah," they said.

Mikasa nodded, then looked down at her watch. She had American Literature in fifteen minutes. "I need to get going."

"Yeah," Hanji said. "You should probably all skitter on off to class or whatever it is you do." They waved their hand dismissively even as they pulled out a chair and finally sat down. A quick glance at Erwin and Levi revealed that neither of them looked like they were about to leave either.

Fine. Mikasa wasn't about to ignore a dismissal in favor of lingering around them.

She shrugged her bag back over her shoulder and got to her feet. No sooner had she done so than Sasha all but sprinted past her, babbling something about a forgotten roast. Mikasa couldn't help but pause and blink at the sight.

A groan echoed from across the table. "I warned you not to start cooking just before leaving!" Connie called.

"Conniiiiieee!" Sasha whined as she disappeared out the door and around the corner.

Connie flashed the group an apologetic look that was somewhat hindered by the smile playing at the corners of his lips. "I'd better go make sure she didn't burn her apartment down," he said. With that, he hurried off after his friend.

Annie scoffed. She and Armin were both rising to their feet. Mikasa only had to briefly shoot them a curious look for Annie to say, "we're going to go study in the library." She paused then, something fragile and hesitant showing in her eyes for half a second. "Would you like to...?"

Mikasa shook her head. "I need to get to American Literature," she said. She couldn't help but be surprised by just how reluctant she was to turn the offer down. Watching the hopeful look Armin had given her fade stung, but it was a discomfort that she had long grown used to. The way the fragile thing in Annie's gaze faltered and disappeared - that did something to her. It was what pushed her to hurriedly add, "I'll see you later though?"

Annie offered a small smile. "Yeah," she said. "Meet me in front of the graveyard at eight."

Mikasa nodded.

"Mikasa, what class do you have?" Jean asked from where he had moved to stand by the door.

"American Literature," she said.

"With Professor Stevenson?" Jean asked.

Mikasa nodded.

Jean grinned. "Cool; Reiner and I are going the same way. You should walk with us."

Reiner snorted. "Try not to flirt too hard, Jean."

Jean scowled. "Braun, if I was flirting, then believe me, I wouldn't include you in it."

Reiner held a hand over his heart. "Ouch," he said, although his ear-to-ear grin betrayed him. "Words hurt, Kirstein."

Jean scoffed and rolled his eyes before shifting his attention back to Mikasa. He looked like he was torn between whether to say something or wait for her to respond.

"Alright," Mikasa said, taking him out of his misery.

"Great!" Jean said. "That's-"

"He thanks you for gracing his humble self with your presence," Reiner said.

"Would it kill you to keep your thoughts to yourself?" Jean asked, shooting Reiner an entirely unimpressed look. However, despite the bite in his words, Mikasa failed to detect any malice.

It was interesting how different friendships could look on different people.

It was interesting how much she had forgotten about it during her years alone. Interesting how a little under two months of being around other people - not even always directly interacting with them, just being around them - was making her start to remember.

"It might," Reiner retorted.

Mikasa's lips twitched with the urge to smile or laugh. It was subtle enough that she doubted Jean or Reiner noticed, but she did, and that had to count for something.

The three of them left the room, Jean and Reiner continuing to talk while Mikasa walked in silence. She soon tuned it out and allowed it to wash over her. Or at least, she did until they had left the library and were halfway down the hallway that connected it to the English building, at which point Jean asked, "right, Mikasa?"

Mikasa blinked. "Huh?"

"Jojo's Bizarre Adventure," Jean said. "It's nonsensical, right?"

Mikasa blinked. She had absolutely no idea when the conversation had shifted to that topic. And more importantly... "I don't know what that is."

"It's an anime," Reiner said. "And it is not nonsensical if you watch it from the beginning."

"Who the hell would watch that stuff from the beginning?" Jean asked. "Doesn't it have a thousand episodes? And doesn't the beginning suck? Connie spent all of art class ranting about it last week."

"Not a thousand," Reiner countered. "And not everyone got to skip the first part."

"Are you implying that someone made you watch the first part?" Jean asked, incredulous. "Who on earth-"

Reiner hesitated. After a few seconds, he began to say something, only to quickly switch tracks when he saw someone approaching them. "Marco!" he cheerfully called.

"Hey, guys," Marco said. He paused by the side of the hallway, causing Jean and Reiner to step to the side as well. Mikasa paused out of curiosity, but not without an awareness of her need to get to class nagging at the back of her mind.

"What are you talking about?" Marco asked.

"Anime," Mikasa said.

"Oh!" Marco shot Mikasa a look of surprise. "I didn't know you were into that stuff."

"I'm not," she said, "but Jean and Reiner seem pretty interested in it."

Reiner sputtered while Jean began to blush.

"I-I'm not," he stammered. "I was just telling Reiner that Jojo is trash."

"Jojo's Bizarre Adventure?" Marco questioned. When Jean nodded, he added, "I actually really like that one. The first part is my favorite. It's not super popular, but I like the vampires and the poeticism of it."

Reiner chuckled while Jean groaned. "I'm surrounded by people with no taste," he grumbled.

"I mean, have you ever given it a chance, Jean?" Marco asked.

"No," Jean said, "but I've heard about it on the internet. Why would I-"

"If you haven't seen it yourself, you have no room to judge," Reiner remarked.

"Exactly," Marco said.

Jean looked like he was going to argue. Unfortunately, Mikasa didn't have the time to stick around and watch. She took a step back and said, "I need to get going."

That immediately got Jean's attention. "Are you sure?" he asked. "We can-"

"It's fine," Mikasa interrupted. "I just need to get to class."

Despite her abrupt departure, a warm, pleasant feeling lingered in her as she made her way to class.

The feeling faded when, about halfway through the class, her thoughts turned to Annie and that complicated knot of emotions resurfaced.

***

Mikasa thoughtfully shifted the sword from hand to hand. It wasn't particularly fancy or ornate, but it looked like it was well-made. She was surprised by how pleasant the weight was in her hands. Reiner was right, it felt like a weapon that would build a good momentum once she got going.

She and Annie had decided to try using the same weapons tonight, another step to avoid a repeat of anything like the Ymir incident. A quick glance at the other slayer revealed that she looked at ease with her weapon. She had a solid hold on the hilt, but didn't appear to be paying too much attention to it, which meant that it had to be a reflex.

Annie didn't seem to be paying much attention to anything tonight. A bored expression rested on her face as they walked through the graveyard. Her eyes did broad, slow sweeps of the area, never actually pausing on anything except for when they caught on-

Correction. Annie was paying attention to one thing tonight. Mikasa just didn't know what to make of the short yet lingering looks. She also didn't know why she kept glancing at Annie. By now, they had gone on enough patrols together that she knew that she didn't need to keep her eyes on her at all time. The sound of her gentle footsteps and feeling of her subtle warmth beside her should have been enough.

Yet she wanted to see her.

She supposed she could understand why. Annie had a unique beauty to her that was pleasant to look at. But that had nothing to do with slaying. Yes, the sword did enhance it to a degree, but the fact remained that Mikasa shouldn't be preoccupied with staring at her fellow slayer when there was work to be done.

What the hell was wrong with her?

Mikasa was snapped out of her thoughts by a deep growl splitting the air. She turned on her heel to find herself face-to-face with a large, orange, scaled demon. The demon swung at her with one great clawed hand, which she blocked with her sword while twisting out of its reach. The sword's blade struggled against the demon's scales. When she drew it back, she noticed that only a thin line of green blood had been left behind.

The demon hissed at her, fangs flaring out, and lashed at her again. Mikasa easily jumped back. It was tempting to rush in, but with an opponent like this, she wanted to find a weak point first.

A flash of blonde hair in the corner of her eye distracted her - or perhaps it triggered an epiphany. Even after the fact, she wouldn't be able to say which with absolute certainty.

Annie darted toward the demon. She feigned to the left, and when it moved to intercept, slashed her sword against the right side of the stomach. The demon let out a furious roar as green fluid began to spurt from its wound. Then, with surprising speed, it brought its hand down on Annie's chest and shoved , sending her stumbling back and tumbling to the cemetery ground.

That was the opening Mikasa needed. She rushed at the demon's back, aimed the tip of her sword at the demon's heart, and shoved with all her might.

The sword went straight through the demon's chest. It let out a throaty scream and thrashed for half a second before slumping forward. There it lingered for half a second before exploding in a hail of thick green goop.

Mikasa automatically staggered back and raised her arm to spare her face from the worst of the carnage.

Annie wasn't so lucky. When she lowered her arm, she saw the blonde sprawled on the ground, sputtering as she tried to use her sleeve to wipe demon guts off her face. Long strings of dark green slung to her hair while bright green blood ran down her neck in rivulets. When she pulled her hand back to reveal her disgruntled expression, Mikasa noticed the streaks of green that still clung to her jawline, cheeks, and forehead.

It was disgusting.

Yet, somehow, it was also beautiful.

With blood rushing through her veins and the world seemingly standing still around them, Mikasa held a hand out to Annie. She offered her a smile that she hoped came across as encouraging despite the odd way it pulled at her lips. "Good job," she said.

Annie scoffed as she took her hand and let Mikasa pull her back up. "That thing got a hit in," she said. "That's not what I'd call a good job."

"You gave me a window to kill it," Mikasa pointed out.

"I guess," Annie murmured.

"Aren't you the one who likes to talk about teamwork?" Mikasa asked, a teasing hint leaking into her voice. In her chest, her heart pounded harder than it had any right to. Maybe it was the adrenaline. Or maybe, maybe...

Annie scoffed and rolled her eyes. It was offset by the faint curl of her lips and the twinkle that burst to life in her eyes.

She was beautiful.

And suddenly, Mikasa realized what was going on between her and Annie. It was a revelation, great and terrifying, the recognition of the nature of the energy between them, the connection, the attraction.

Mikasa knew that she was being reckless. She knew that she might regret it. But in that moment, with her heart pounding in her chest, adrenaline rushing through her veins, and blood covering the both of them, she didn't care. Right now, all she could focus on was that Annie was there, the only girl in the world who could understand what she went through, and the heat and tension crackled between them like an electric coil. They were both there and they were both alive .

What were the odds of that happening?

How long would it stay that way?

At that moment, the answer was clear. Not long enough to wait.

"Annie," Mikasa said, grabbing her wrist and taking a step closer.

The other slayer turned toward her. She moved to say something, but as her eyes caught Mikasa's, Annie closed her mouth and shifted closer to her.

For a moment, they just stared at each other, caught in the moment and each other's eyes.

Then, before this moment of reckless bravery could wear out, Mikasa kissed her.

Annie tasted like blood. Somehow, she couldn't imagine anything else.

#mikannie #the call #mikasa ackerman #annie leonhart #annie leonhardt #snk fic #snk #attack on titan #my fic #my writing

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houseofhurricane · 3 years ago

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ACOTAR Fic: Bloom & Bone (20/28) | Elain x Tamlin, Lucien x Vassa

Summary: Elain lies about a vision and winds up as the Night Court’s emissary to the Spring Court, trying to prevent the Dread Trove from falling into the wrong hands and wrestling with the gifts the Cauldron imparted when she was Made. Lucien, asked to join her, must contend with secrets about his mating bond. Meanwhile, Tamlin struggles to lead the Spring Court in the aftermath of the war with Hybern. And Vassa, the human queen in their midst, wrestles with the enchantment that turns her into a firebird by day, robbing her of the power of speech and human thought. Looming over all of them is uniquet peace in Prythian and the threat of Koschei, the death-god with unimaginable power. With powers both magical and monstrous, the quartet at the Spring Court will have to wrestle with their own natures and the evil that surrounds them. Will the struggle save their world, or doom it?

A/N: The High Lords go to battle against the Autumn Court. You can find all previous chapters here, or read Bloom & Bone on AO3. Thank you for reading! ❤️ If you'd like to get an early preview on the next chapter, follow me on Instagram at @house.of.hurricane.

The army from the Spring Court is small but Tamlin makes sure to greet and thank each warrior lined up in front of his estate, the same enthusiasm for the lower faeries as he gives to the members of the nobility who have arrived from their country estates. Tomorrow, at the Autumn Court, any of them could die. He does not want to forget a single name or face, and he wants them to know he’s seen each of their faces.

He used to shield himself from most of his army as a guard against the inevitable loss. It was easier, his father always said, to craft a winning stratagem when the general thought more about the victory than the ensuing loss of life. But more and more, Tamlin is feeling his father’s perspective unravel inside of his mind. He feels unmoored but also, sometimes, unbound in an entirely new way.

Anyway, he cannot quite believe that anybody answered his summons. Even after the months spent visiting the villages throughout the Spring Court, listening and commiserating and offering solutions, the humbling visits to the estates of his nobility, Tamlin thought they hated him. Although Lucien and Elain and Vassa had all helped him with the wording of his pleading summons, he expected that a request for an army of volunteers would go unanswered, that the lands around his estate would be empty save for the flowers. When warriors, males and females and those who see themselves in other ways, began to arrive at the Spring Court, he could barely manage to keep his composure, to restrain the tears that threatened to spill alongside strangled shouts of relief and joy. All he’d known in his life was leading warriors, and he had fully expected to never have that sense of purpose again, that he would fight alone until some stronger enemy claimed him.

So he has made his plans and preparations in a state of urgency and gratefulness which seems both old and new to him, interrupted only by meals and Elain, pulling him into another world for an hour, food unlike any he’s tasted, languages he’s never heard, and kisses that quench and also leave him wanting her so deeply he practically gasps with need. She is helping Lucien with diplomatic work and with the understanding of Koschei’s magic and spells, but in other worlds, neither of them speaks much of their work. They share little secrets and amusements and compliments. He tells her everything he would want her to know if he were to die in this battle. For so long, Tamlin had never thought about the possibility of death, and when it finally occurred to him, he wanted it to claim him. Now, for the first time in all the long years of his life, he both acknowledges the possibility of death and wants dearly to avoid it.

Throughout the morning, the army completes its drills. First, they go through the physical motions: the basic weaponry and the formations which, thankfully, they have not forgotten since the war with Hybern, some from wars that took place centuries before. Then, there are the drills in magic, determining the gifts of the army and how they might be used.

Finally, as the sun falls toward the horizon, he shows his commanders the formations, and within minutes, he sees a small army lined up neatly behind him, each flank poised and ready, on horse and on foot, their weapons poised to strike.

They all look to him, in the front of their group, and Tamlin tries to meet the gaze of each person, even as he knows that’s impossible with even this small army, the thousand volunteer warriors from across the Spring Court.

Behind him, he hears the doors of the estate open, and even before her sweet scent reaches him, Tamlin knows Elain is watching. He clears his throat, focuses only on what he had planned to say, well before he knew she would hear.

“Tomorrow we will march on the Autumn Court,” he says, magic amplifying his voice to a confident boom, “and I suspect you may wonder why I have summoned you to this battle. You may think that the determination of a ruler in another court will not affect you. But in that, you will be wrong. The males who want to seize rule of the Autumn Court seek to ally with a powerful death-lord on the continent. That creature seeks to seize friends of our own court to fuel his own wicked ends. If captured, he will use them in order to rule this world and every other. Tomorrow, you do not only fight for Eris Vanserra to take the High Lord’s throne in the Autumn Court. You fight for the saving of our world, and I thank you for your courage.”

When he takes a breath, the rapt silence stretches on, and Tamlin realizes that this was when he used to feel most comfortable, leading his war band. When he knew every face and believed that he and all his company would gladly die in order that the others would survive. He’s not sure when he lost that perspective, but now he takes a moment and searches each face, engraving it in his mind.

“My cook and his staff have been working for days to prepare a feast for you, but before you go inside to eat, I want to thank you sincerely for your bravery and courage. For the kindness you are showing to the people of this world. I hope that your bravery will be remembered in legend and in song. As long as I live, I will celebrate you.”

The clapping begins near the doors of his estate, and sweeps across to his warriors, his army, who clap and shout their support until at last Tamlin cannot contain the tears that fall down his cheeks.

As their applause dies down, Elain’s voice sounds in his head, remind them that there is dessert in the gardens!

Tell them at dinner yourself, emissary, he tells her, by magic or pure will, before turning and drinking her in. She’s wearing a dress the color of new grass in the sunshine, fastened at her waist with a slim pink belt, her bare shoulders luminous as the moon in the twilight. When she meets his gaze, her brown eyes are warm and intoxicating as whisky, and the thought of the battle, the possibility of losing her, is enough to crush the air from his lungs.

“How was training?” she asks, as soon as he reaches the doors. Lucien has joined her, his eyes fixed on the horizon for Vassa, but Tamlin knows he’s listening.

“They’re ready,” he tells them both.

“And if Koschei is at the Autumn Court?” The question is familiar, one she’s asked him every day since a battle became inevitable.

“I’m prepared to hold the shield until they can all be winnowed away.”

“I’ll come for you,” Elain says, as she always does.

“You’ll be needed for the saving of this world,” he tells her, the answer that he means more every time he says it. He reaches out for her fingers, clutches them tightly in both his hands, brings them to his lips. “You’ll stay with Lucien and Vassa and ensure there is peace. That there will be some beauty after all this war.”

Her sigh is laced with tears, and beside her Lucien groans.

“Will you two be like this until he leaves? Because if so, I will need to change my seat at dinner.”

“You will be flirting outrageously with Vassa the minute any of the Spring Court commanders so much as looks at her appreciatively,” Elain says as she twines her fingers in Tamlin’s and walks into the estate, he and Lucien following in her footsteps.

No one, now or when she arrives at the feast an hour later, remarks on Vassa’s changed appearance. The Queen of Scythia has always been slender, but she has lost weight since Koschei captured her, and since her return, her golden brown skin has grown pale, deep purple hollows forming under her blue eyes. Lucien has tried to conceal his alarm, but Tamlin knows that these changes drive him to spend every daytime moment negotiating an alliance against Koschei, studying his magic and the makings of the curse that binds Vassa tighter than ever.

Still, she makes herself as merry as anybody, asking the nobles questions about wars known to her only in history and myth, trading stories about the battle with Hybern, explaining that yes, she was a firebird all day today, and no, she does not particularly recommend the experience, although she wishes that everyone could see Elain’s garden through the firebird’s eyes, because there is nothing more beautiful in this world.

When Tamlin looks to Elain, he sees the tears in her eyes, and grips her hand below the table.

“How early are you leaving?” she asks, her finger rising to the edge of his sleeve, dipping beneath the fabric.

“Hours before sunrise,” he says. If he could winnow his warriors, they could leave later, but they will ride hard to the Autumn Court in the hours before the battle, replenishing the horses with magic. “After touring your gardens, this army will sleep.”

“No detours?” Her thumb reaches the inside of his arm, the skin that, despite all his training, has remained relatively soft. He manages to contain the sound of all his wanting.

“When I return safe to you,” he says, “you can take me to whatever world you like.”

He knows there is still shame inside her at the notion of their pairing, which explains why she only kisses him in other worlds, why their exchanges in this one are furtive and laced with double entendres.

“You should talk to your warriors,” she tells him, though she still holds him, their hands hidden by the table linens.

“Come with me, emissary,” he says, knowing the invitation is a test.

Still, though Elain drops his hand, she follows him down the line of the table, repeating the name of each warrior and thanking them for their service, asking about their experience and talents, listening deeply to their answers, to Tamlin’s own questions and stories.

They work their way down the table, and then she circles back to Vassa and Lucien, hovering over the human queen but coaxing a smile to her lips, a laugh from Lucien. After a few seconds, Elain looks up and meets Tamlin’s eye, and he watches her smile widen, her eyes grow bright.

As he leads his army into the garden, to the cakes and sorbets that Cook insisted were perfect for a spring evening, Tamlin thinks about that tableau, the golden circle the three of them made. He’s always found himself outside such circles, separated from his brothers by the power he had to keep hidden, from the Spring Court nobles by his own unease, his people and the other High Lords and practically everyone in Prythian seeming far beyond his grip.

But Elain’s look was an open door into another world, unlike the one he’s always known.

Tamlin spends the next hour talking to the warriors, focusing on the beings of more humble origins. Lucien had made the recommendation, pointing out that Melis was a lesser faerie, the advantage the lowerborn have in numbers alone. As he speaks to the faeries of every height and skintone and magic, he’s surprised by how easily the conversations flow, how eager the other fae are to speak with him, especially when he begins asking questions, listening the way Elain does, nodding and chuckling and meeting dozens of unfamiliar eyes.

He’s just served himself a slice of chocolate cake when he meets a pair of eyes he’d never seen. Not because he does not know this male, but because he would never meet Tamlin’s gaze before.

“I didn’t think you would ever join the army, Ilya,” he says, clapping the village blacksmith on the back.

“There’s never been a volunteer army in this court,” Ilya responds, nodding his head. “At least not for the last thousand years. I want to be able to say I was part of the first that anyone can remember.”

“I’m grateful.”

“You’ve changed, High Lord.” Ilya darts a glance at Elain, who is listening intently to another villager who is explaining the medicinal properties of forest plants. “You’ll pardon my asking, but does it have anything to do with the lady at your side?”

“Elain Archeron is serving as emissary of this court,” he says, and then, because he is so grateful for the ways that this conversation is unlike their first, “and she, just as much as you, deserves for it to be a place where everyone is treated decently. I am sorry I have never provided you with such a home.”

“You’re the first person in my memory who has tried, at any rate.”

Tamlin presses his hand over his own heart and bows. There’s nothing he can say, not against the knot in his throat. Ilya gives him a smile and a nod and goes to join a knot of villagers, and Tamlin walks in the direction of the woods, intending to eat the cake and collect himself.

He’s barely made it to the trees before he detects Elain’s scent.

“You’re not going to prowl the forest all night, are you?” The question is light but somehow the words are not a jest. Though perhaps it is the conversation he just left, the weight of the day to come.

He takes a deep, shuddering breath, inhaling her fragrance of peonies and rose and berries, a perfect morning in the thick of spring.

“Do you believe I’ve changed?” he asks her. He does not look at her, only hears her footsteps against the fallen leaves, the sigh of her skirts.

“I want to believe that you are different now. That you’re better than the person who allied with Hybern and tormented my sister. But part of me wonders if I’m imagining everything because of what I feel towards you.”

As she speaks, the darkness of the evening seems to grow even dimmer. He has felt the world shift inside him, as if he sees everything with the eyes of Vassa’s firebird. And to be seen by her as more or less the same, capable of destroying her, is a blow graver than any he’s suffered in battle.

“You think the mating bond has blinded you.” He cannot bring himself to phrase it as a question.

“I wish I could have chosen you on my own,” she says, and she’s reached out to him, her fingers on his elbow, now on his chest, her skirts swishing against the tips of his boots. “I wish I could have known for certain that this is what I want, not some ancient magic that says our children would be powerful.”

He wants to draw her toward him, flush against his body, at the mention of children, the idea of a future with her, but instead he only presses his hand over hers, holds it against his thumping heart.

“I am so afraid that you will be hurt tomorrow,” she says, stepping closer to him, her body curled up against him, warm and sweet and soft. “I do not want you to think that -- that I feel nothing towards you. It’s only…”

“That I’ve been a monster.”

“And I’ve been a stupid child all my life. I think that you are different now, Tamlin. It’s only that I want you to be good so badly, because then I wouldn’t have to be guilty about my feelings. I could just...”

Once again she doesn’t complete the thought, only twines her fingers in his hair, strokes the back of his neck, and finally he crushes her in his arms so that her feet leave the ground entirely.

“I will come back to you tomorrow,” he says. “You don’t have to decide tonight.”

“I wish--” she starts, and this time he kisses her. Her lips taste like chocolate, and she opens her mouth to his with a little moan that unravels him. But tomorrow he will rise before the dawn and lead his army into battle, so Tamlin forces himself to set Elain on her own two feet, tries to tame the desire on his features to an acceptable facade.

“We’ll have time,” he says, and then, hand in hand, he walks with her, out of the forest and into the Spring Court.

When the sun rises over the Spring Court army, they’ve already ridden for hours in near silence. By midmorning, they are to meet the rest of Prythian’s armies at the Autumn Court, and the group is making better time than Tamlin had expected, riding swiftly enough that, at the borders of his lands, he allows them a short respite, during which he seeks out his most trusted commanders, who fought with him in the war bands, and reviews the battle plan.

He did not tell Elain the truth when she asked him for his strategy. He will not shield his court from the front lines of the battle.

The Summer Court has volunteered to shield the assembled army. Tamlin and Rhys had realized, on their mission against Koschei, that water magic would prevail the longest against the fire of the Autumn Court. Feyre has worked with Tarquin and Varian over the past week, according to the reports from the Night Court, and they have not only developed new shielding techniques but methods for attack, fearsome creatures animated by spellwork and will. The Spring Court commanders who can hold a shield will do so if the Autumn Court breaks through, but meanwhile Tamlin will be inside the keep itself with Helion, rescuing Cybele from the tyranny of her sons, or else fighting her until she yields. Helion has given no sign that he knows the Lady of Autumn’s allegiance, or even, since neither of them can winnow, how they will enter the keep, only winked and assured Tamlin he was on the winning team for once. The gesture made him think of Lucien, the swagger his friend sometimes allows to shine through. But entering the keep is riskier than remaining outside it. They have gathered no intelligence on what has happened at the Autumn Court since the day of Beron’s death, the last time anyone else in Prythian was able to get inside. If Koschei awaits, or High Fae from the continent, Tamlin knows that mere hours could separate him from his death.

Still, he rides onwards through the Autumn Court, the trees the color of earnest flames, and finally, Tamlin lets himself think of Elain, her warm gaze and the mind that whirls behind it, her sweet mouth and the way the words she speaks could form their own perfect world. The magic in her, bright as a new star. He wishes he could have left her being confident of her love, but at least he is certain of what she can create on her own.

As they draw near to the keep, Tamlin lays a thick glamour over the army, shielding them from the eyes and ears of the Vanserra brothers. The hoofs of the horses are muffled even to his own ears.

Nearly there?

The sound of Rhysand’s voice in his mind is like a thousand biting insects, but Tamlin does not push him out. Instead, he allows Rhys access to his vision.

You’ll be there in ten minutes. We’ll be ready. Drop the glamour as soon as you’re in range of the keep.

He waits until all trace of Rhysand is gone to feel, just for a moment, his frustration at being commanded. Then he surrenders himself to the killing calm.

When he reaches the wall of flames, he drops the glamour, and for a moment, the field of battle is empty aside from the Spring Court force.

He is sure, then, that he’s been abandoned by the rest of Prythian, is grateful when he feels the shield form behind him, that his people will be safe enough to begin their retreat. He’s glad that Elain is far, far away.

Then the wall of water springs up a few inches in front of his horse, and the great white bears of the Winter Court appear, and the sky is full of Illyrians, their siphons flashing.

You thought we’d leave you to die? Rhysand is laughing into his mind, and Tamlin cranes his neck, looking for the overgrown bat.

I probably deserve it, he thinks.

Now, now, Rhysand drawls, you still have work to do.

So do you, Tamlin fires back, now looking for Helion, who strides through the lines as if this is merely a training exercise. As soon as he spots Tamlin, the world dissolves and Tamlin stumbles into what looks like the interior passageways of the Autumn Court keep, dark stone hallways lit by torches. Helion is implacable as he was on the battlefield, calmly studying his surroundings, his armlet glinting even in the dim light.

“I didn’t think you could winnow,” Tamlin mutters as he reaches for his sword.

“There are always ways around any limitation if you’re creative enough,” Helion says, flashing a smile that leaves no doubt of his self-estimation. “I believe the lady is being kept in this corridor.”

“How have you been able to track this court?” he asks in his lowest tone as he follows, unable to contain his curiosity. In his beast form, he could scent Lady Cybele, but he and Helion had agreed to remain in their High Fae forms, for any subtler magic and diplomacy required. Yet Helion walks down the dark hallway without a sound, without so much as a sideways glance to confirm that he’s moving in the correct direction. Perhaps all these years later, he is still besotted with Cybele. Perhaps he thinks this will be a romantic rescue.

“They call me Spellcleaver with good reason.”

The door opens before Helion touches it, and at first Tamlin thinks that the High Lord of Day has opened it with his magic, one more flourish, but Helion whips his head toward him, his braids flying with the motion.

Inside the room, the Lady of Autumn sits on a plush armchair surrounded by a hundred threads of fire, caging her so that she cannot make the smallest movement.

“Come to find your lover?”

The voice is a cruel distortion of Lucien’s, and in a flash, Tamlin’s sword is at Ealars’ throat.

“I wish I was surprised to see you make your mother a prisoner in her own court,” he says, debating whether to take off Ealars’ head or merely incapacitate him. Meanwhile, Helion works frantically at the spells that control the cage.

The room fills with heat, diffusing from the flaming chains. The glow illuminates Ealars’ grin.

“I don’t understand why you won’t just give them up,” Ealars says, and then the magic surrounds Tamlin, that spiky potent power that does not belong in this world. Not wholly Autumn Court magic, but Koschei’s, too, multiplying Ealars’ power so that it rivals a High Lord’s.

Tamlin slams his shield in place, covering Helion and Cybele. His sword clangs to the ground, thrown by the force of his own magic. Tamlin reaches for the sword he’d strapped across his back, palms a dagger in his other hand.

“He was trying to bind you,” Helion says, his fingers working around the bindings as if he’s trying to assess their width and tension.

“And here I thought you would need to concentrate on your task.” Tamlin doesn’t want to think about the implications of being bound by Koschei’s magic.

“I’ve reached the level of brilliance which allows for multitasking.” And, perfectly timed with his self-praise, Helion reaches into the strings of fire and bends them. There’s no hint of pain on his face, no arrogance in his gaze that’s focused only on Cybele’s pale face, only a recognition, as if to say finally. Her russet eyes are bright as she looks up at him. Tamlin has always known the Lady of Autumn to be shy and retreating, but there’s no hesitation in her bold look, only certainty, a claiming.

Once the flames have parted enough to allow the movement, Helion rests his thumb on her cheek, studies her face as if he means to memorize each feature. Though the caging spell still partially binds her, neither of them makes the slightest motion apart from the other.

Tamlin is about to clear his throat, remind them that they are in the middle of a battle, when the room goes dark and a new power batters his shield.

“Trust Rhys to make a grand entrance,” Helion says without so much as raising his eyes, only lifting the chains of fire aside like a curtain and holding out his other hand for Cybele to step through.

The High Lord of Night had been tasked with offering the remaining Vanserra brothers the opportunity for retreat, or ending their lives. Apparently he’d made quick work of the rest of Lucien’s family.

Outside the shield, the mixture of fire and Koschei’s magic battle the dark expanse of Rhysand’s power and for once, Rhysand isn’t the clear victor. Koschei’s power seems to eat away at his magic, absorbing it to grow stronger.

“Can you get yourself out of here?” he asks Helion, who has joined in the analysis of the skirmish outside their shield, the Lady of Autumn tucked in to his side. “There’s something wrong with this magic.”

“This isn’t Ealars’ power,'' Cybele says, her voice hoarse from disuse or abuse or some awful combination. “It was the price of his allegiance.”

“Did all of your sons ally with Koschei?” Tamlin asks, watching Helion wince at the oversight but waiting, one eye on Rhys, for Cybele’s response.

“The three in this keep. The day after their father died. Koschei said it was more power than any of the High Lords possesses on their own.”

“Then we will need a stratagem to escape,” Helion says, eyeing Rhysand, whose tan face has gone pale, the darkness of his magic now translucent.

“I’m faster with a sword than Ealars.” Tamlin tries to summon belief in this statement, tries not to think of Vassa, the shell that remains of her every night. “I can hold him at bay until the rest of you escape.”

Because his mother is there, Tamlin does not say, until I kill your son, even though that is his plan. Still, Cybele goes from pale to ghostly as she realizes his unstated implications.

“And how will you get out?” Helion asks, reaching out his hand. Though Tamlin will refuse it, this offer for escape, he is grateful. That, if this is the end for him, it didn’t happen when he was useless and raging, alone in the forests of the Spring Court. That someone would want to rescue him.

He shakes his head, finds himself somehow grinning.

“People tend to run from the beast. Just get her out, Helion.”

Helion nods.

Tamlin drops the shield. Instantly, Cybele and Helion vanish, and Koschei’s power spears toward Tamlin.

He dodges the blow and runs with his sword instead of his magic, throwing up a small shield as he runs toward Ealars. Lately he has found success in a stealthy approach but now he roars out his battle cry, so that, for just a second, the fire mixed with otherworldly magic wanes, and Rhys’ magic rises in the room.

Within seconds, night is a slender cord around Ealars’ neck.

Tamlin vaults toward the gasping male, trying to dodge the bolts of spiky magic that Ealars flings around the room. He is so close, he needs only to take one more step.

He hardly has time to see or hear the magic, let alone react, when his left side explodes with pain, as if his own flesh is consuming itself.

Still, Tamlin digs in deep to all his warrior’s training. He reaches out with his sword, one heaving slash of the blade and then another, until there is a thump and the room descends into a ringing silence.

Strange, that he cannot see Ealars fall. That the head that fell from his body already seems a long-past memory, the blood trailing his neck, his face frozen in an expression of horror, Ealars’ last look at the world. It all goes gray and distant.

There is only the pain in his side, but even that pain has receded now, a scream in the distance.

He opens his eyes and Rhysand stands over him, and even in the haze of ringing gray ache, Tamlin knows that Rhys’ smile is forced.

“Elain is going to kill me if you don’t survive this,” he says, and then, for Tamlin at least, the world goes empty, dark, and roaring.

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embarrassingresultofmyfreetime · 4 years ago

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2020 Masterlist

Here’s a list of all the fics I’ve posted this year! (Listed by category, then chronologically:)

Link to my ao3 where you can read all of these: embarrassingresultofmyfreetime

Currents wips:

And They Were Quarantine Mates

An old disease has resurfaced on Earth- one which most humans recover from but is permanently lethal to Time Lords.

Because of this, the Doctor stays on Earth to make sure her humans make it through okay.

And because of the Doctor, the Master- against his better judgement- also chooses to stay.

Reluctant to leave the safety of the Doctor's Tardis, the Doctor and the Master find plenty of ways to pass the time but it can be difficult to enjoy each other's company with so many things left unsaid.

Good thing they have plenty of time in isolation to work it out.

Word Count: Currently 88,172

Spyfall: Battle For Humanity

This is a little number I like to call: Roleswap AU with Dhawan!Doctor and Whittaker!Master

It's sort of a rewrite of Spyfall p2 but it's better.

Word Count: Currently 5,688 (will be about 12k when finished)

~~~

Main fics (completed):

Please Tell Me Why Do We Worry

Summary: After learning about the final loss of Gallifrey, the Doctor takes some time to grieve and finds herself with surprisingly mixed feelings about the whole ordeal.

To her surprise, a knock at her Tardis door soon reveals the Master not only alive, but in uncontrollable mental agony as he reveals that the Doctor's suffering has been amplifying his own emotions via their telepathic bond.

Note: (After so many kind and positive comments on this fic, I finally gained the confidence to start posting more! A huge thank you to so many people it means so, so much to me!)

Word Count: 5,068

Second Chances

When Graham finds a teleportation cube offering an all-expenses-paid vacation, he, Ryan, and Yaz take up the offer and give the seemingly-distant Doctor some time to herself.

After the events of Skyfall 1&2, the trust between the trio and a certain timelord is shaken. However, when their vacation quickly becomes a nightmare, it's up to the Doctor to bring about peace on an upsettingly familiar planet.

Note: (A rewrite/fix it of S11 episode Orphan 55)

Word Count: 7,130

All’s Fair In Love And War

Having escaped alive and alone, the Master dwells on his failure and uncertainty at what to do next.

Purely by accident, he runs into a version of the Doctor he's never met before and she gives him a much needed perspective on their relationship.

Word Count: 4,653

Truth and Reconciliation

“I... I destroyed a lot of things, but not this... trove of secrets. This is what started it all.”

Missing Scene where the Master goes to Gallifrey and discovers the truth of the timeless child for the first time + alternate ending to The Timeless Children episode

Word Count: 7,563

The Doctor Finally Gets Some Rest

(Ch2 update Missy pov)

The Doctor promised to guard Missy for 1000 years, but Missy doesn't mind returning the favor.

Word Count: 5,671

I Wouldn’t Wish It On My Best Enemy

"Just deserts appeared to finally be served for the Doctor. All her running had come to an end, all the lives she's taken or caused had finally been assigned a numerical value, and all the morals she had once believed in seemed to crumble to dust right before her eyes.

A life sentence.

She had JUST BEEN TOLD she would never die, and the first thing the universe does is give her a life sentence.

What kind of cruel joke is that?"

Basically: The Doctor reflects on herself while in prison, the Master rescues the Doctor and actually helps her, and idk read the tags

Word Count: 4,629

Brand New Reality

In an alternate timeline: The Master is killed in the Time War but the Doctor finds a way to salvage his oldest friend's mind by binding it to his Tardis and building him an android vessel as a way to interact with the physical world.

The Doctor also manages to save the Time Lords from their war- but he is still a renegade in their eyes. As punishment, the High Council uses the Doctor- and by extension the Master- as their personal diplomats/field agents.

The Master isn't too happy about being trapped on the Doctor's Tardis, the Doctor is fed up with being the equivalent of a dog on a leash to the Time Lords, so in a moment of anger and also pure luck- they break out from their world and end up on a parallel one with a very different version of their universe and very different versions of themselves.

(Shalka!Universe Doctor and Master meet their modern counterparts- the Thirteenth Doctor and Dhawan!Master)

Word Count: 10,148

The Imposter(s) Among Us

The Doctor has been searching the universe for the Master, but it's only when she takes a break to help a damaged space vessel that she runs directly into him!

The Doctor has a hundred and one things to ask him, but there's no time for any of that now. The ship is barely functional and if the mysterious murderer doesn't get to the Doctor first, then the trigger-happy crewmates might throw her out the airlock before the killer gets a chance.

Word Count: 12,655

My Dear, Doctor…

The Doctor investigates an anomaly to find that her previous self has stood up their oldest friend for the umpteenth time.

Confused as to why the Doctor can't recall ever receiving Missy's invitation in the first place, the Doctor goes searching for answers and ends up finding far more letters than just one…

Word Count: 6,657

~~~

Series:

And They Were Happy Au Parts 1-4:

Part 1: Dinner and a Show

All his lives, the Master had always believed that he and the Doctor could hold on for about the same amount of time. He always imagined that when they reached their last lives, they would both give all this up and spend their retirement years bickering and raising bees or whatever. The Master didn't particularly like bees, but he had always imagined that the Doctor did and as long as they were together, that was enough to satisfy him.

What he had discovered in the Matrix had proved his ideal endgame impossible.

The revelation that the Doctor was The Timeless Child meant that the Doctor would always live on. They would always evolve and survive no matter what happened. The Doctor would always race to people in need; and now, they would never have any reason to stop.

(AU where the reason the Master wanted the Doctor to kill them both in The Timeless Child is bc he's on his last life)

Word Count: 5,120

Part 2: Dinner and a Show One-Offs

"The Doctor did her best to space out her visits with O. For every couple adventures she had with her 'fam', she would stop by his home once or so. Sometimes she let months slip by, because she knew that the longer she waited, the less of O's limited time she used up.

She felt guilty to calculate it, but if O was already in his mid-thirties and he lived a full human life...

Suffice it to say, she wanted it to last for as long as possible. She had never had a situation as stable nor as safe as she now had with O. After everything they had both been through to get to this point, she refused to jeopardize a single moment.

For all the pain the Master had caused her, O was well worth the wait."

(By popular demand, a continuation of 'Dinner and a Show')

Word Count: 10,926

Part 3: Unjustifiable

O- having no recollection of his actions as 'The Master'- returns to being Earth's Horizon Watcher.

O is proud of his work and he cherishes the Doctor's frequent visits, but it's becoming increasingly apparent that she's been keeping more secrets about his past than he had theorized.

To make matters worse, the arrival of an advanced species of aliens on his doorstep brings with it a whole new plethora of problems. Something terrifying resurfaces when O hears they're searching for a Tardis and things go terribly wrong.

Word Count: 23,870

Part 4: Found Family

The Master finally gets around to seeing the universe in a more peaceful way and runs into a young woman looking for her father.

Word Count: 3,663 (Will possibly be updated at a later date, but complete for now)

~~~

Oneshots Inspired by others (specific inspiration in the beginning notes of each):

All Alone In The Dark

While heading back to Earth, the Doctor hears someone calling for her help.

She tracks it back to the Master- injured yet alive- and finds him trapped in his own head, reliving his last confrontation with The Time Lord Council before the destruction of Gallifrey.

Word Count: 1,926

You Again

The 10th Doctor and Missy each escape their last canon appearances believing that the other is dead for good.

So imagine their surprise when they run into each other at a party in the 1920's.

Word Count: 6,943

Sick Day

The Master has everything set up for his latest evil scheme but when he tracks down the Doctor, he realizes his best enemy is in no condition to fight. So the Master does what any good nemesis does and takes care of him.

Desperate Times, Desperate Measures

Word Count: 2,807

Prompt: "Right now, I don't know if I want to kiss you or shove you off a bridge!" "Can I pick?"

The Master’s Tardis had traced the call seven minutes in advance to this exact time and location. He pushed open his Tardis door to find himself in front of some no name bar with graffiti scrawled on the side, situated in front of an empty ravine. He was on Earth, and there was probably a similarly ramshackled city around him, but he didn’t so much as spare it a glance.

The Master’s steps were determined, his jaw clenched, and his hands shaking despite his signature device in hand.

He had been on the other side of the universe, licking his wounds like any old villain would when disappointed by their latest nemesis showdown. It all made his blood boil to have caved so soon. To come back and HELP the Doctor.

The Doctor still had O’s number and her call was scheduled to be made in exactly seven minutes. A hysterical, agonizing call that begged the Master to intervene. He wasn’t sure what was worse, hearing the Doctor in so much despair, or the disappointment that hearing her in such agony somehow didn’t lessen his own.

Word Count: 2,410

The Beginning and The End

Prompt: First Doctor, Dhawan!Master, Gallifrey, and the dialogue: "I know my words mean close to nothing for you. But I do, in fact, love you very much."

Basically Theta (Academy Era Doctor) accidentally runs into the Master on a burning Gallifrey

Word Count: 4,499

Kisses Like That

The Doctor's never understood why humans enjoy kissing so much- but a certain, somewhat familiar woman piques his interest.

(Missy goes back in time to give 10 a lil kiss)

Word Count: 1,885

Spyvember 2020

Collection of short fics I did inspired by Spyvember prompts (from Tumblr)

Word Count: 15,506 (6 separate chapters)

~~~

Thank you to everyone who has inspired me, commented on my work, read any of my writing, and overall has just supported me in any way this year!! Thank you for keeping me motivated and helping me improve as a writer!

My best wishes to you in the new year! <3

#here's a version w a break for mobile users lol #otherwise its the same #doctor who #dw #doctor who fic #doctor who fanfic #thirteenth doctor #dhawan!master #dhawan master #yasmin khan #ryan sinclair #graham obrien #thoschei #spydoc

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bigbadredpanda · 5 years ago

Note

Any recs for Lofter fics for either SVSSS or MDZS??? :)

Oooh I do indeed, thank you for asking! There is a trove of excellent fics in the Chinese fandom but I have little opportunity to gush about them! Be forewarned that I’m all about Wangxian ^^'

My selection as you will see leans heavily towards my favourite writer in the fandom, 夜长梦长, I’ve been reading fervently every single word they wrote (they're a prolific writer with 80+ fics) and I can’t praise them enough. The characterisation is excellent and I absolutely adore the atmospheric quality of their writing, it’s so elegantly evocative as if they were painting a picture ;_; I’ve been granted the privilege of translating one of their fics that can read it here.

I’ll list some of the fics that made it to the top of my bookmark list. I’ve tried to choose ten that were diverse enough in theme and length but if you’re looking for something specific in like a particular AU (college, soulmates, emperor and general, mermaid, fallen dragons, etc...), I can perhaps give a more tailored recommendation ;)

(There is some smut in there but it can be easily skipped since it will redirect you elsewhere. Oh and since lofter doesn’t have the same tags/warning system as ao3, let me know if you need more details on the content of a fic before reading.)

Emotional roller-coaster

依然在 by 夜长梦长, post-canon, amnesia, explicit, 50k. During a night hunt with the Gusu Lan Sect disciples, Lan Wangji sustains a serious injury while shielding Wei Wuxian. Though he recovers, he ends up losing part of his memories. Waking up with no recollection of what happened after slaying the Tortoise of Carnage, he finds a stranger in the jingshi who claims to be his cultivation partner.

食衣住行 series (雾里看花, 含光君的手做不到的事, 静室改造计划, 杀死一只绣眼鸟) by ikerestrella, post-canon, 51k. Wangxian as two newly-weds coming to terms with their past, making new memories together, finding joy in the ordinary and in each other.

谁寄云端 by 夜长梦长, canon divergent, a/b/o AU, child OC, explicit, 156k. Two timelines intertwined. In the past, alpha!Wei Wuxian begins to experience heat-like symptoms after the loss of his golden core. In the present, Wei Wuxian is reborn and reunites with Lan Wangji. Among the Gusu Lan Sect disciples also present, there is a young teenager who seems to be particularly close to Lan Wangji.

你好，请问你也是一个傻瓜三明治吗？ by 夜长梦长, modern AU, explicit, 50k. Three years ago, Wei Wuxian broke up with Lan Wangji due to a misunderstanding. Their paths cross again when Lan Wangji books Wei Wuxian’s high-end restaurant for his(?) child’s birthday.

Heartwarming

含光君的食谱 by 夜长梦长, post-canon, explicit, 17k. Hanguang-Jun’s cookbook or five times Lan Wangji fed Wei Wuxian and one time Wei Wuxian cooked for him in return. Sweet and spicy.

染疾 by yilingdiazu, post-canon, 10k. Lan Wangji unexpectedly falls ill and Wei Wuxian steps up to take on his Sect responsibilities and fill his role as a teacher. He ends up surpassing everyone’s expectations.

蓝忘机(婚后)的一天 by juexixi, post-canon, pure fluff, humorous, 1k. Hanguang-Jun’s diary: a day with Wei Ying is a perfect day.

Bittersweet

故人眸 by 夜长梦长, canon divergent, soulmate AU inspired by Wangxian audio drama MV, 3k. Some people only see in black and white until they meet their soulmate. Lan Wangji’s world burst in colours on a moonlit night in the Cloud Recesses and years later, his back still throbbing in excruciating pain, it faded back to grey.

渡劫（上/下）by sideshow-s, canon divergent with a “Your Name”-inspired twist, 16k. Young Lan Wangji sometimes dreams of being a regular person, not a cultivator, doing farm work on a barren mountain. He’s not himself in the dream, he inhabits the body of a stranger and though it belongs to a young man, it aches and there’s a biting cold where a golden core should be located. In another time, Yiling Laozu Wei Wuxian knows the siege of Burial mounds forthcoming and his days numbered. He finds solace in carefree dreams of the Cloud Recesses, of being Lan Wangji before he met Wei Wuxian.

Soul-crushing

两只小蜜蜂 by ikerestrella, spy AU, explicit, 67k. In a merciless world in which those belonging to upper ranks of society reign supreme, Wei Wuxian is a spy who comes from a commoner background. After an operation going terribly wrong, Wei Wuxian is left grieviously wounded and is presumed to be dead while he spends a year recovering in a small hamlet safely hidden away. With A-Qing, a young orphan girl that has grown attached to him, he tends to his vegetable patch and his beehives. However, when he is called back to action, he does not hesitate to leave his quiet cottage behind him and sets out to meet an old acquaintance of his, Lan Wangji, unaware that he will have to unravel a web of terrible truths...

I’m terrible at summaries but seriously, I needed a lie-down and a good cry after that one. The story warms your heart and then rips it from your chest to stomp on it under your eyes, all you can do is keep reading until the end in a state of stunned numbness. 10/10 would recommend but mind the author’s warning when your near the conclusion.

Anyway ikerestrella’s writing is so riveting, there’s a sort of gentle melancholy pervading it, soft but also wistful at times... Also, sideshow-s sure knows how to deliver lines that pack a punch. Besides the writers from the aforementioned fics, I also recommend 正襟危坐的炕, 交柯 and 妍孤城.

That’s all from me, I’d be interested to hear what you thought of these fics once you read them! \o/

#answers #mo dao zu shi #mdzs fic #there are so many fics i want to translate and share with everyone if only i had the time...#it took me a while to reply because i couldn't resist rereading them orz #some of these were printed as 无料 #if i could get my paws on them i'd be such a happy red panda #farmerlan

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bitchardhendricks · 4 years ago

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Well I’ve Never Been to Heaven (But I’ve Been to Oklahoma) Pt 10

So. The last couple weeks have been...A Lot. Both personally and y’know from an entire racial equity uprising perspective, and I’ve felt very much that my responsibility was to read, learn, understand, listen, and be quiet. No one needs to hear a white girl writing about white nerd boy problems right now. But I realized after a couple weeks that when I got overwhelmed, or when I needed to relieve the pressure valve on my emotions, I turned to the same form of comfort I always have - stories. Stories about characters I love, whether they’re in tv, movies, fic, whatever. The comfort of those stories allowed me to rest just enough that I could wake up the next day and keep reading, learning, listening. So it may seem silly, this meandering tale of these two flawed men confronting the past and the future together, but reading stories like this helps me feel sane enough that I have the energy to keep trying to do better. I hope this one helps you, too. Catch up on previous entries here, and come say hi in my inbox and let me know what you think.

***

After lunch, they head 1 mile east until they reach an unremarkable long, squat building with a faded green roof hanging down nearly halfway to the ground and obscuring the store front, held up by a series of flared white cinderblock columns. This elongated hut takes up the better part of a city block, and as they pull into the cracked parking lot, Richard spies Jared’s face lighting up as he reads the sign.

“Gardner’s Used Books, CDs, Videos, DVDs, Toys, Comics, Records, Collectibles, Gifts...my goodness, that’s quite a treasure trove!”

“You have no idea,” Richard says, bounding out of the car and up to the front door in quick strides. The tables set up under the roof’s overhang hold boxes and boxes of books, lining the entire front of the building, but Richard doesn’t stop to look at these. “Bargain books,” he explains as Jared pauses to scan some of the titles. “You find some great stuff, but you can pay outside so I usually do that last.” He points to an old Folgers coffee jug with a slit cut in its plastic lid. A sign above it says 50 CENTS OR 3/$1, but Richard’s attention is now focused on entering the front door, the familiar jingle causing a rush of nostalgia that works its way into his guts.

He’s 16 again, acne-riddled and knock-kneed, and his new driver’s license is burning a hole in his velcro wallet. The dusty scent of old paper and ancient carpeting is commingling with the aroma of hot oil, onions, and sizzling meat from the bookstore’s attached Mexican restaurant. He has $37 in his pocket, and a whole day of summer vacation to burn.

As present-day Richard takes in the familiar organized chaos, Jared nearly walks into a gargantuan statue of the Hulk because he’s looking around at the stacks of books piled everywhere, muttering a sheepish, “Excuse me!” to the statue. A bubble of warmth seems to rise from deep within Richard’s belly, and he grabs at Jared’s wrist to redirect him - that thin, elegant wrist, so delicate, almost like a bird, maybe that’s why Jared likes birds so much, because he feels a kinship with them? - and tugs gently. “C’mon. I wanna show you around.”

Richard leads them to the left, past rows and rows of new arrivals and fiction. A coffee shop has been added on; all the decor is aggressively Parisian in a very bland Hobby Lobby-type way. There are wire shelves hanging off the walls holding the top 20 best selling mysteries of all time. Tall wooden shelves in the middle of the room stretch from floor to ceiling, arranged in small mazes that take up their respective corners, crammed with colorful paperbacks. Jared pauses at the Mary Higgins Clarks for a moment, but Richard urges him on by saying, “Wait, there’s more!”

Another archway, this one opening up into a cavernous beige room with a little more natural light. Small rolling footstools are perched in every aisle so customers can reach the tops of the towering shelves, and with each new shelf, Jared’s eyes seem to grow wider. “Does it just go on forever?” he asks, and Richard nods, steering him past Romance and Horror to the seemingly endless Nonfiction shelves. Cookbooks, humor, foreign language - the section names are taped to wooden beams that extend between the tops of the rows of bookshelves until finally they reach the Computer Science section, which Richard presents with a grand flourish.

“This is where I got my very first coding manual. Python, it was--” he scans the shelves, squints, but, “oh, um well they don’t have it now. Duh, why would they, that was, anyway, this is where it all started!”

Jared takes in the shelves with a look of absolute wonder lighting up his face. He looks young and carefree in a way Richard isn’t sure he’s ever seen before, like he’s about to burst into song in a musical or something. Before he can say anything, Jared has his phone out, the sound of the camera shutter in his face making Richard jump. “Aw, c’mon Jared, don’t,” he says, but his voice is teasing, soft, and there’s a pleasant whispering at the back of his mind at the idea of this place meaning something to history maybe. Where the first seeds of Pied Piper took hold, and the genius coder Richard Hendricks took his first step toward...toward having everything taken away from him by Hooli and Gavin Fucking Belson. His insides are suddenly doused in ice-cold water and he shakes his head, scowling.

He’s just about to tell Jared to browse by himself for awhile when he’s stopped short by Jared gasping loudly, “Oh my goodness!”

He’s turned to look at the shelf opposite the Computer Science section and is now holding a light green cloth-bound book in his hands as if it were something made of exquisite, delicate glass. The cover has what looks like colored pencil drawings of two yellow birds sitting together on some branches, and Richard leans closer to read the title out loud - “Birds That Every Child Should Know. By,” he pauses, looking up at Jared for confirmation, “Nelt-yah Blanchan?”

Jared nods, dumbstruck. He looks positively bowled over, and all thoughts of Gavin have fled Richard’s mind completely because he wants to know what could possibly have made Jared so flabbergasted. “So...what is this book? I mean, why’s it - what’s so special about it? Is it rare or something?”

“It is rare, yes; this book was published in 1907. But, that’s not exactly...” he swallows, then looks at Richard with those terrifyingly blue eyes, the ones that root Richard to the spot and peer inside him and refuse to let him squirm away. “My mother had a copy exactly like this. We would go birding together, you see. Just in the woods behind our apartment complex, nothing too exotic. I would spot robins, orioles, blue jays, but ah - “ his smile grows shaky, like it’s trying unsuccessfully to hold up the weight of all those memories, and he says, “I just never thought I’d see this book again, that’s all.”

“Wow,” Richard says, his upper lip caught in his teeth at his own awkwardness. He never knows what to say when Jared mentions his past. Real helpful, Richard, Jesus fuck. “You should um, you should definitely buy it. Right?”

“Oh no, I couldn’t possibly afford, it’s an antique--”

“Jared, come on. You have to. It’s - look, I’ll buy it for you, ok? As like. A thank you present. For coming with me. You have to deal with my parents, deal with me, and it’s just...it’s the least I can do.”

Jared splays one enormous hand over his chest, aghast. “Richard, you don’t have to--”

“Bup bup bup!” Richard says, easing the book out of Jared’s grip and peeking inside the front cover at the price. $26 is penciled in the top right corner of the title page, which seems more than fair for how happy Jared is to have discovered it, so he snaps the book shut and tucks it under his arm to carry. “Done and done. No arguments, Jared. Okay?”

“Okay,” Jared says quietly, his cheeks pink and his eyes shining, looking at Richard like he’s some sort of miracle, some unexpected wondrous hero, come to slay dragons and save the kingdom from wreck and ruin. It takes longer than strictly necessary for Richard to wrench his gaze away.

“Come on, there’s a lot more of this place to see.”

#jarrich #silicon valley hbo #sv squad #richard hendricks #jared dunn #sv fic #my sv fic #Well I've never been to Heaven

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duhragonball · 4 years ago

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[FIC] Luffa: The Legendary Super Saiyan (126/?)

Disclaimer: This story features characters and concepts based on Dragon Ball, which is a trademark of Bird Studio/Shueisha and Toei Animation. This is an unauthorized work, and no profit is being made on this work by me. This story is copyright of me. Download if you like, but please don’t archive it without my permission. Don’t be shy.

Continuity Note: About 1000 years before the events of Dragon Ball Z.

[20 July, 233 Before Age. Nagaoka.]

"Okay, so Treekul's in a bad spot. She should have been more careful about who she got mixed up with. Yeah, and she shouldn't have been so eager to run off on another quest. But that's what makes Treekul cool, you know? Other alchemical historians? They just sit in libraries all day, poring over dusty holo-fiches. But Treekul goes out and finds things. And for once, she had backup. Two Saiyans, Lesseri and Endive, and then we picked up a third, Guwar. With their support, I could discover all sorts of artifacts."

Treekul stopped, shook her head, and gestured to slow down. "I mean she could discover," she said. "Sorry. My therapist always told me this works better if I refer to myself in the third person. You'd think I'd be used to this by now, but I-- but Treekul's under a little more stress than usual. Like I said, it was handy to have three Saiyans backing her up, even if they only wanted her to find things for them, at least she knew no one would mess with her. And she scored some decent leads along the way. There's a treasure trove of artifacts in that penthouse on Quadzityz, assuming it survived the war. Lesseri and Endive killed the owner and wrecked the security systems, and most of that stuff isn't even valuable to anyone else. Nothing to stop Treekul from walking in and helping herself. Another paper for the academic journals. If she ever makes it out of this mess, that is."

She began to pace back and forth around her modest living quarters. The strips of red fabric that made up her "robes" trailed behind her legs as she walked.

"The Saiyans were looking for a cult," she continued. "And Treekul heard it was named after 'jindan', an alchemical term for mercuric sulfide. Or, rather, the fundamental principle that mercuric sulfide represents. So she saw an opportunity and agreed to help them find this cult, using her expertise with a geomantic compass. Guwar was a mathematician, if you can believe that, so he helped out with the calculations. He was a really nice guy. Bit of an inferiority complex, but I get the feeling that goes for every Saiyan."

She stopped herself again. "Not 'was', 'is'. Guwar is a nice guy," she said. "Just because no one's told me what happened to him doesn't necessarily mean he got killed in the war. It's just... Treekul could really use his help right now. Or even if he can't help, it'd be nice if he were here to listen to her, like he did back on the ship, before they found the Jindan cult.

"Turns out the cult was real all along, and they leave just enough bread crumbs out there so that other Saiyans can find them. Their leader is the Saiyan King, Rehval III, but here, he calls himself 'Trismegistus', a reference to the Thrice Blessed alchemist from ancient writings. Rehval seems to think he's uncovered some great secret, something that makes him the greatest alchemist ever, and from what I've seen, he might be right about that. His Jindan potion makes Saiyans even stronger, and he must have thousands of them working for him. Only trouble is that they have to give up their free will. Rehval tells them what to eat, when to sleep, they all have sex in some 'breeding pit' thing that I don't even want to think about..."

She paused to rub the bridge of her nose, then ran her hand over the short green hair on her lavender scalp. It was normally a satisfying feeling for her, but not this time, her hair was too long for that by now.

"The others all did whatever Rehval told them to. All they cared about was power. They brought Treekul here, and no one was interested in how she got home. No payday, no paper, no treasure trove of artifacts. Instead, Rehval decided to keep her as some sort of alien pet. He thinks he can train her to be an alchemist, and so far he hasn't done too bad a job of it, at least when he's not creeping on her. It makes me... It makes her want to scream. But that's okay. It's okay for her to be frightened. She's never been this afraid, and she's got good reason to be."

She stopped pacing and looked intently in the direction of her bed. "So here's the good news. Treekul has options. Sure, she's not any closer to getting off this planet than when she first arrived, but she hasn't been wasting time either. Treekul didn't get this far without being resourceful. She can be absolutely terrified and still get herself out of this. That's what makes her strong."

She went to a small writing desk along the wall of her room and picked up a scroll. It carried a faint odor of rotten eggs and olefins. "Rehval's convinced that she'll become his apprentice, I guess ruling over the Saiyans like a god isn't enough for him, he wants to pass down his knowledge of alchemy. Well, fine. If he's as talented as he says he is, maybe he'll show Treekul a little more than he should. Something she can use to get out of here. For instance, this scroll belonging to Mirdane talks about disguising yourself perfectly, even down to smell and ki signature. If Treekul can get good enough at alchemy to figure that out, she could walk right up to the shipyard and be halfway to the next star system before anyone knew she was missing.

"I know what you're thinking: Treekul's a quick study, but she's an archaeologist who studies alchemists, not an alchemist herself, so maybe that plan is little too ambitious. Fair point. Which is why she's been working other angles. The boss wants her to play one of his priestesses, right? He's dressed her up in a cocktail dress that went through a blender. Well, that gives her access to all his brainwashed goons, and all that undeserved authority that comes with it. She hasn't heard from the acolytes who offered to show me around the hangar, but they seemed pretty enthusiastic about it. Don't worry, when they finally take her on the tour, Treekul won't spend too much time there, just enough to get a feel for the place when it's time for her to snoop around by herself.

"And if that doesn't pan out there's always Endive. Too bad about her. For a while there, I was sure she'd turn on the boss. From what I hear, Rehval does something to the cultist's memories, so they don't recognize him as the king, even of they knew him before when he ruled Planet Saiya. At some point Endive must have found out that "Trismegistus" is the same guy who killed her father, but she doesn't seem to care. He's been using her for one of his casual sex hookups for weeks now. I thought..."

She stopped and took a seat in her chair, then looked down at the red flats on her feet. "I just thought-- Treekul thought Endive was smarter than that. She was so disciplined and focused. You'd think she wouldn't be so easily manipulated, but... she's become completely devoted to him, and the scariest thing is that you can tell she knows it's wrong. But enough about her. If Endive and Lesseri won't help Treekul, then Treekul needs to forget about them."

She stood up and started pacing again. "Speaking of sex... Treekul doesn't want to go down that road, but she has to keep it in mind. Rehval has his followers convinced that he needs a rotation of women to share his bed. Something about 'balancing his bodily humors', but I think we all know he just wants to have a good time. He wants Treekul for some reason. All those women at his beck and call, and he wants the one woman on the planet who isn't interested. It's like he's waiting for her to fall madly in love with him. Yeah, good luck with that. Still... if she's going to earn his trust, she need to play along with his expectations. Maybe she ought to flirt a little, so he'll think his plan is working. He's not exactly unattractive, it's the whole 'delusions of grandeur' thing that's a turn-off."

Treekul stopped and crossed her arms as she looked at the bed. "Here's the problem. If she's not careful, he'll probably get bored with her and have her brainwashed like everyone else on this planet. Or he'll just kill her for being an alien. On the other hand, if she's too careful, and Treekul waste too much time playing the eager disciple, the he won't need to brainwash her, because she'll basically be doing it for him. Ugh! What a fix."

"Um, were you finished?"

"Huh?"

The Saiyan man lying on her bed had sat up and pointed to his ears, which were stuffed with wax. "I'm on duty in ten minutes," he said. "Unless you need me to stay here..."

Treekul gestured at her own ears for him to remove the wax, and so he did.

"Yeah, all finished," she said. "You were amazing, Zhoybok."

"It's an honor, madam priestess," he said as he rose from the bed, "but I really don't understand your species' mating practices. You didn't even touch me the whole time."

"Oh, you don't remember any of it, then?" Treekul asked in mock concern. "I guess the psychic vibrations must have been beyond your comprehension. That happens with aliens who lack the secret eighth sense my people have. You probably just hallucinated me pacing around and talking to myself."

Zhoybok was astonished. "As a matter of fact, I did!"

"To tell you the truth, a lot of my kind frown on this sort of thing. They think it's perverse to have this level of intimacy with life forms who can't experience it properly. But for me, I think that's part of the thrill. It's so... savage, don't you think?"

Zhoybok wasn't sure what to say, but he wasn't interested in disputing the words of a priestess, so he accepted her compliments and excused himself. Once he was gone, Treekul shook her head and lay down on the bed. Lying was tiring work, even to someone as gullible as Zhoybok.

"I really need to get more comfortable about talking to myself," she said.

*******

[20 July, 233 Before Age. Interstellar Space.]

There were only four people aboard Luffa's star-yacht, which now criss-crossed the worlds of the Federation in a frantic effort to keep pace with the Jindan Cult's attacks. The Federation defenses were spread thin, and if any invading ship managed to land on a planet, there were few who could stand up to the alchemically-empowered Saiyans inside. Luffa was getting better at fighting them, but their numbers were beginning to take a toll on her body. Dr. Topsas, her personal physician, had found ways to heal her in time for the next battle, while the clairvoyant Dotz had proven handy at predicting attacks before they happened, so Luffa could plan her travel. The fourth passenger on board, Zatte, was Luffa's wife, and she was beginning to wonder if she served any useful purpose here at all.

"That's ridiculous," Wampaaan'riix said when she shared her frustrations with him over the subspace radio. The Yetitan looked as enormous as ever, despite the desktop monitor scaling down his nine-foot-tall frame. "You practically operate the entire ship by yourself."

"So did Keda," Zatte said. She was rubbing the muscles in her arms and legs while she spoke to him. "And she did it better than I ever could."

"And you find no honor in succeeding a fallen comrade?" Wampaan'riix asked.

"It's not enough," Zatte said. "Keda didn't recognize Luffa as a xan-nil'Dor. For her, Luffa was a friend, and sort of a business partner, I guess you could say. For me, she's my wife, and an instrument of Providence. I have to do better. Especially now."

It was almost impossible to read his expressions through the coat of long white hair that covered most of his face, but the way Wampaaan'riix narrowed his eyes was unmistakable. "You're not thinking of going with her into the field?" he asked warily.

"I already have," Zatte said. "At first it seemed to be just what I wanted. I'd set up somewhere safe and shoot down cultists to keep them off Luffa's back. Trouble is, she took it as a challenge. Lately, she's been making it her business to take out the enemy before I can get a shot off. And that's romantic and all, but--"

"You two are insane," Wampaaan'riix grumbled.

"Look, I have to be there for her," Zatte said. She had moved on to stretching her hamstrings. "She's fighting a war against her own kind. Even the Saiyans on our side don't fully trust her. She doesn't let it show, but I know how much it eats at her. I can't imagine what it would be like to fight other Dorluns."

"I agree, she needs your support," Wampaaan'riix said. "But if you keep pushing yourself you may not be there when she needs it the most. This Dotz woman. She can predict the enemy attacks, can't she? Why not ask her for help? If she can tell Luffa where to go and when, then she can do the same for you, right?"

"That's the problem," Zatte said. "Dotz can't see Luffa's fate, only the planets and battles that lie ahead. We only know Luffa will get involved when Luffa decides to intervene."

"Strange, but even if that's true, why not see what Dotz can read about your own future?" Wampaaan'riix suggested. "I'm surprised you haven't already. You're a survivalist after all."

"I... I can't," Zatte said. She rose from the foam mat on the deck of her cabin and approached the desk.

"Well why not?" Wampaaan'riix asked. "It can't be a moral objection. You seem to have no problem with any of Dotz' other readings."

"Look, I... I have to go. I'll call you back, okay?"

"Just promise me you'll do it in the daytime," Wampaaan'riix groaned. "I know you've been in space a long time, but my den is on a different day-night cycle than--"

She hastily switched off the monitor, and a second later Luffa entered the cabin.

"I set the slow cooker for three hours," Luffa said as she rubbed her hands together. "How long before we get to Dodjem?"

"Tomorrow morning," Zatte said. They met in the center of the cabin and embraced.

"Dotz thinks there'll be ten Jindan Saiyans there," Luffa said with a smile. "Should be interesting."

"I'm going with you," Zatte insisted.

"Oh, I can handle ten," Luffa assured her.

"Then I'll watch you through my scope," Zatte said. "Or I'll shoot a few down for you, but either way, I'm coming along."

"Heh. Okay. You worry too much, you know that?"

"Someone has to," Zatte said. "Dotz still can't see your future, you know."

"Well, her other predictions are getting better," Luffa said. "On Shoust IV, she managed to get an accurate count on the enemy. She even located them to within a one mile radius. I think her powers are really coming along."

"Yeah, but she can't see your future."

"Does that still bother you?" Luffa asked.

Zatte tightened her grip on Luffa's torso and swung her onto the nearby bed. A moment later, she was had climbed on top of Luffa, planting her hands on her shoulders.

"No, it doesn't," Zatte said. "Not anymore."

"I'm not sure how to respond to that," Luffa said with a grin.

"I thought about it," Zatte said after giving her a long kiss. "I prayed about it too. Is it all right if I light some candles?"

"Uh, sure, knock yourself out," Luffa said.

Zatte rolled off of Luffa and went to a storage cabinet on the other side if her cabin. She removed four candles and laid them on the floor in a trapezoid formation surrounding the bed. After she lit each one, she got back in bed and knelt beside Luffa.

"Is the scent too much for you?" Zatte asked. "I know how sensitive your nose is."

"It's fine," Luffa said. "Smells kind of nice, really."

"It's not exactly sacred," Zatte said. The incense is just to keep insects away during religious observances. It makes me feel closer to Providence, though. So does this."

She placed her hand on Luffa's neck, and rested her thumb where she could take her pulse. The she took a deep breath and muttered something in her native language.

"Uh, what's going on here, exactly?" Luffa asked.

"I realized that I was letting Dotz' abilities cloud my faith in you," Zatte said. "I promised myself that I wouldn't ask her to read my future. I was worried that she might find out that I end up living without you somehow."

"I won't leave you, Zattie," Luffa said. "We've had our ups and downs, but you're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

"I have to trust that," Zatte said. "That's why I can't let Dotz's predictions bother me. She's getting better at them, but not when it comes to you. That scared me for a while, so I started meditating on it."

"Go on," Luffa said carefully.

"I came to realize that it makes sense that Dotz can't see your fate, because you're part of the Divine Plan. If she knew what you were going to do and when, then it would be like she was seeing into the mind of Providence."

"Or maybe I'm just so powerful that my ki interferes with her readings," Luffa suggested.

"Sure, that could be all it is," Zatte said. "But I like the version that supports my fanatic devotion to you."

She leaned over to kiss Luffa, still taking her pulse as they embraced. Luffa pulled away gently, and shook her head.

"You know how uncomfortable I get with this stuff," she said.

"I know," Zatte said. "But you keep getting hurt out there, and Dotz doesn't know what will happen next, so this is how I cope."

"I mean, you tell me I'm like God's righteous bludgeon or something, but the other night you... well, it was great, but maybe it was sacrilegious?"

Zatte straddled Luffa again, and held down her shoulders. "It's okay," she said. "Sex is a consecration ritual in my culture."

"Oh yeah?" Luffa asked.

"Dorluns value survival. People don't usually have sex while they're being chased by predators. They do it when they're safe and secure. And it can bring about new life."

"Huh. Maybe that's why my own people are so uptight about it," Luffa said. "In public, I mean. I've always had... ah!... mixed feelings about being safe."

"It's all in how you look at it. We're flying through a vacuum, faster than the speed of light, through a war zone, on a pleasure craft with no crew. And we're not exactly dressed for action right now. But if you're still bored, I'll... mmph!... I'll see if I can keep you amused for a while."

*******

[21 July, 233 Before Age. Interstellar Space.]

The battle on Dodjem went as smoothly as could be expected. Dotz' prophecies were mostly accurate, and Luffa was able to surprise the enemy before they noticed her ship. They fought back ferociously, and Luffa's right shoulder was scorched by a ki attack, but Dr. Topsas was confident that he could heal this in a matter of days. Dodjem was liberated in less than two hours, and Luffa proceeded on her way to the next battle Dotz had predicted, in the Ryllax System.

"Careful," Luffa said, guiding Zatte's hand away from her banadaged shoulder. She had set up the slow cooker once again, and the two of them had convened in Zatte's cabin.

"Does it hurt?" Zatte asked as she gingerly lifted Luffa's blood-stained shirt over her head and other arm.

"Sure it hurts, but that's not the point," Luffa said. "Doc'll really be sore if you mess up his bandanges."

"It's a wonder the whole ship isn't full of this stuff," Zatte said. She tossed the shirt at the laundry receptacle, but it hit the rim and fell out instead. "I mean, where does he put it all after he cuts it off of you?"

"He eats it," Luffa said.

"You're kidding."

"No, seriously. I've seen him do it. He makes all of these bandages from his own webbing. It takes a lot of protein to make that work, so he doesn't like to waste it."

"I had no idea," Zatte said. "You think you know a guy... whuh--!"

Luffa pulled her close with her good arm. "Forget about him for now. I wanted to talk about that shot you took back on Dodjem."

Zatte's expression shifted from genuine surprise to feigned innocence. "Oh, did that bother you, darling?"

"I thought one of those Jindan bastards found you," Luffa said. "I had one of them wide open, ready to kill, and I had to pass it up so I could chase the other one down before he found you."

"He had no idea where I was hiding," Zatte boasted.

"I know," Luffa said. "Even I couldn't find you. How am I supposed to watch your back if I don't even know where you are? You're taking a big risk out there, you know that, right?"

"That's the way," Zatte said. "Talk dirty to me."

"Oh, I'll do more than talk before I'm through with you," Luffa said with a grin. "I'll-- dammit..."

She rolled away from Zatte and drew her arms to her chest.

"Let me see," Zatte said.

"It's nothing," Luffa insisted. "Just give me a minute."

"Let me see," Zatte insisted back. Luffa made an irritated grunt, but didn't resist when Zatte took her hands in her own.

"I was starting to think your hands had stopped trembling," Zatte said as she massaged Luffa's palms. It didn't actually do anything to improve the situation, but it made them both feel better when she did this. "I haven't seen you stuff them in your pockets much lately."

"It's... it's not as bad as it used to be," Luffa said. "I haven't been able to spend a lot of time with Katem, but I think it still helps. Maybe it's all your prayers."

"He's kind of a hot mess," Zatte said.

"Just like his mom, huh?" Luffa chuckled.

"You're not a bad mother, Luffa. What happened wasn't your fault."

"I know," Luffa said. "It doesn't help much, but I know."

"You're still worked up about Fytpall, aren't you?" Zatte asked.

"I've seen worse in my time," Luffa said.

"Maybe, but you were pretty shaken up when you came back from that one," Zatte said. "You don't usually stick around and see what the civilians are going through."

"I'm just... I'm not strong enough, Zattie. I know that sounds stupid coming from me, but I know I could do better than this. If I was just a little better, I could..."

"You're good enough, okay? And maybe you can get stronger, but you can't just get there instantly. It's like you always tell me when we spar."

Luffa didn't say anything, but her heavy sigh was response enough. Zatte continued to rub her thumbs into the scars on Luffa's hands.

"You don't have to be tough for me," Zatte said. "It's okay. It's okay."

Soon enough, the tremors in Luffa's hands subsided, and they went back to what they were doing, although the mood had shifted from flirtation to comfort. Within thirty minutes, their clothes lay on the deck, and they were entangled in the sheets. Zatte occasionally said something in her own language, and kept her finger on Luffa's carotid artery as she muttered to herself. Eventually, she sat up and cradled Luffa's upper body in her lap.

*******

[24 July, 233 Before Age. Interstellar Space.]

"I was so busy favoring my shoulder that I left my knee wide open!" Luffa grumbled. The campaign on Ryllax had ended hours ago, but Luffa's clothes and hair still carried the scent of Ryllaxian pollens from the battlefield.

"Are you going to make it to Eirzee IV?" Zatte asked as she carried Luffa's pants to the laundry receptacle. She took in the strange aroma one last time before shoving the clothes into the hatch.

"Oh, sure," Luffa said. "Doc repaired the worst of it, and I'll have to play it more carefully, but now he's gonna kick me out of the kitchen!"

"You don't know that," Zatte said.

"I can practically hear him, Zattie," Luffa said. "'Saving planets is one thing, but I'll not have you undoing all my work making a casserole, little mammal.'"

"What, now you can see the future, too?" Zatte asked. She was setting up candles around the bed again.

"Heh, maybe. I guess Old Darbock's genes are finally kicking in," Luffa said. "But it looks like I only know how to predict cranky doctors, so Dotz's job is probably safe."

"Well, I hate to take sides, but we can get by on leftovers for a while," Zatte said. "You cook too much food anyway."

Luffa lay back in the bed and groaned. "Still? I keep cutting the portions down for you guys, and it's still too much? That's insane..."

"I'm going to do my litany now," Zatte said. "Any requests?"

"I, uh, I don't think so," Luffa said. "Well, bless Dotz again. And Doc, and the others. And yourself."

Zatte began speaking slowly and methodically, reciting lines from the Dorlun Holybook in her alien tongue. Luffa only knew bits and pieces of her language, but Zatte had been happy to translate for her whenever she asked.

Luffa felt strange whenever her wife did these kinds of observances. She had never been comfortable with being a "chosen one" in Zatte's theology-- or anyone else's, for that matter. And yet, watching this woman pray over her so fervently was somehow inspiring. Zatte had suffered so much in her life, and yet she refused to abandon her principles. It reminded her of Saiyan pride, though Luffa supposed that most beings would just call it stubbornness. Zatte was too zealous to give up hope.

"Thank you for letting me do this," Zatte said when she finished.

"No problem," Luffa said. "Your language is pretty."

She leaned over and fetched a bottle of oil from the edge of the bed. Carefully, she dispensed a small portion onto her fingers, then dabbed it on Luffa's throat and wrists, tracing along the path of major blood vessels.

"All done," Zatte said.

"You've been really ramping up the religious stuff lately," Luffa said. "The litanies, the candles, the oil. I don't really get it myself, but is it helping you?"

"I think so," Zatte said. "The Dorluns prefer not to waste resources on empty ceremony. Some types of xan-nil'Dor call for physical labor. Farming a plot of land, or defending an important place. You, though, well, you're damn near invincible, so you're pretty low-maintenance. I just need something to do. A routine to renew my devotion to your cause."

"Like a practice drill," Luffa said.

Zatte rose from the bed and started putting out the candles. "Yeah, I guess you could call it that. I may not be able to stop your hands from shaking, but at least I can show that I care. I think that's worth doing."

"Maybe," Luffa said. "It's not a big deal. They don't interfere with my fighting."

Zatte lay down beside her and took her hands in her own. "It just reminds me of what you've been through. I can't take away your pain, but I can try to empathize. You taught me how important that is."

"I taught you?"

"Sure. You're the most compassionate person I know."

*******

[27 July, 233 Before Age. Interstellar Space.]

Dr. Topsas did not order Luffa out of the kitchen, though after the battle on Gairess, he began to wish he had. He implored Luffa to wait before heading off into another battle, but the point was moot. Dotz had no new predictions, and so Luffa found herself with no choice but to wait. Once more, she spent the evening in her wife's cabin.

"I... I gotta admit," Zatte said as she tried to catch her breath. "Even with the broken ribs... you really--"

"Is this messed up?" Luffa suddenly asked.

"Is what messed up?"

Luffa pointed at herself and then at Zatte. "Us," she said. "I mean, you've got the candles set up, you say a prayer before we go to bed, and then we talk about almost getting killed to get in the mood."

"Don't forget the sparring," Zatte said.

"You know, I never sparred with Kandai," Luffa said. "He never wanted to, and I never questioned it. He was so much stronger than me that he didn't see the point. But the gap between you and me is even bigger, and I love sparring with you."

"We're aliens," Zatte said. "I'm cut off from my own people and you're unique among yours. There's nothing conventional about us."

"I know, but... Zattie, are you ever afraid?"

"Of course," Zatte said. "Fear keeps you alive."

"I mean, are your afraid right now?" Luffa asked.

"Here? With you?" Zatte asked. "No. Are you afraid?"

"Yeah," Luffa said.

"About the war? Your son?"

"I'm afraid I'm not good enough," Luffa said. I feel like I'm gonna screw this up. Like I have before."

She reached for Zatte's face, and gently removed the patch from her right eye, revealing the scar tissue and prosthetic implant underneath.

"If it's me you're worried about..." Zatte began, but Luffa put her finger on her lips to silence her.

"I know, you're prepared to burn for me, or suffer whatever it takes, right? I wish I had a tenth of your courage. I wish... well, I wish there was some other Super Saiyan handling this."

"Aren't you always saying you're stronger than they were?" Zatte asked.

"Maybe I am, but I bet the old heroes never had to deal with the kind of baggage I've got."

"This is about your hands, isn't it?" Zatte asked. She took Luffa's palms into her own, and held them steady in case they began to tremble.

"It was four years ago," Luffa said. "I should have gotten over it by now. I should have gotten over Keda's death, I should have gotten over everything... The old heroes never had to deal with this sort of thing. They just fought and won. Nice and simple. I'm fighting, and I'm winning, but I keep dwelling on it all. Worrying about battles from the past, wondering how I'm going to do in the next ones."

"Maybe they had it just as bad," Zatte said. "Maybe the storytellers just left those parts out."

"Sometimes I wish things were different, you know? You told me before this is exactly how you wanted things to be, but I bet you'd like it better with Keda still alive. Or hell, the rest of the colony."

"But they're not alive, Luffa," Zatte said. "I have to accept that they're gone."

"I could have saved them all," Luffa said. "I had the power. I must have had it inside me all along. If only I had known how to use it then. When it would have mattered. If only I wasn't such a coward..."

"Don't say things like that!" Zatte said. "I know you use that kind of talk to get yourself fired up, but I don't want you believing that sort of thing. You're the bravest person I know."

"It's not enough," Luffa said. "That's what I worry about, anyway."

"And that's what the candles and the prayers are for," Zatte said. She lifted Luffa's hands slightly. "I don't just pray for the tremors to stop," she said. "I pray that the tremors won't interfere with your mission. I pray that you can accept what you are the way I do. You know why?"

Luffa didn't answer, so she lay down beside her and took her hand.

"Maybe you're right, and maybe another Super Saiyan could deal with this better than you could. You've told me that you think there might be another one like you, a thousand years from now. Well, I don't think the universe can wait that long. I think we need a Super Saiyan right now, and you're it."

"You're right," Luffa said. "It's just hard to see it that way from the inside. All these fights I've been having with these cultists, they start to run together after a while. It'd be different if they were stronger, or if I could come at them healthy. But they keep chipping away at me, and there doesn't seem to be any end to it..."

"We've got some time, at least," Zatte said. "Dotz hasn't seen anything new coming up, right? Remember how you used to fly over the coastlines on Luffasworld?"

"Yeah," Luffa said, "but that's way out in the galactic core. By the time we got there--"

Zatte put a finger on her lips. "I know that, but Woshad's not far away. We could take a few days to look around there."

Luffa seemed pleased by the suggestion, but before she could speak, a chirping noise sounded from the cabin's intercom, and both women looked up to see the light blinking on the panel on the wall.

"Um, this is Dotz," came the voice through the speaker. "Well, um, the service robot told me I could talk to the whole ship this way, and I thought it might be faster than trying to find everyone. Despye's been attacked. Or, well, it will be in about twenty hours. It looks pretty bad to me. I saw about twenty Saiyans, and one of those rock creatures they use."

"Oh no..." Zatte said.

"I, uh, set a course for Despye," Dotz continued, "and we should be heading there now, but I thought one of you should check to make sure I did it right. I'm still getting used to the helm controls..."

"We won't get there in twenty hours," Luffa grumbled. "Those bastards will have a head start, again. Even if the fleet can get there before us--"

"I know, I'll take care of it," Zatte said. She rolled out of the bed and went to find her clothes. "You need to get some sleep."

"Fine, but make sure you get some yourself," Luffa said. "I mean... you're going with me, right?"

"So I can watch you wipe them out before I can even line up a shot?" Zatte asked. "Sure, if you want me to."

"Actually," Luffa said as she patted her swollen knee, "I was thinking I might lure a few in for you to shoot. Make things a little easier. For Doc, you know?"

Zatte grinned as she pulled her shirt over her head, and most of that smile was still there when she turned to look back at Luffa. "For Dr. Topsas," she said, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. "Makes sense. He's been working pretty hard lately."

"Just don't stay up all night cleaning your guns, okay?" Luffa muttered.

Zatte pulled on a pair of shorts and headed for the door. "Anything you say," she chuckled as she headed out into the corridor.

NEXT: Rats in mazes.

#dragon ball #fanfiction #lssjluffafic #super saiyan #luffa #zatte #treekul #wampaaan'riix #zhoybok #nagaoka

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writteninsunshine · 4 years ago

Text

Decking Something - Tseng/Reno - SFW

Title: Decking Something

Author: Reno

Fandom: Final Fantasy VII

Setting: Turk Floor, ShinRa Building

Pairing: Tseng/Reno

Characters: Tseng, Reno, Rufus Shinra, Koi Fish OC: Xiang

Genre: Romance

Rating: K

Chapters: 1/1

Word Count: 1187

Type Of Work: One-Shot, Day One of the Shinra Holiday 2020 Prompts

Status: Complete

Warnings: Gay, Slash, Yaoi, MLM, Fluff, Romance, Tseng is Superstitious, Tseng has koi fish, Taking Liberties With Holidays, Reno is Ridiculous, No Specific Turks Mentioned But They’re In The Background, Established Relationship

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything except Xiang!

Summary: Reno was always a mess during the holidays, but this was preferable to him drinking on the job.

#Shinraholiday2020

AN: Hey guys, it’s me again! Just thought I ought to say, if you want vague updates and to talk to me more, I have Twitter and Tumblr, too! Twitter is Sunnywritings, and Tumblr is Writteninsunshine! I also have a writing Discord that is currently pretty dead. xD I can PM it to people who want it on FFN, for everyone else, it’s here: https://discord.gg/FyaWw25

Alright, guys, hello! Going to try to do this Shinra Holiday 2020 thing, and I’m hoping that things turn out. I really want to be able to get through something like this entirely, so I’m starting it a little early. I figure if I’m not trying to cram all of it into the day that it’s due, maybe I’ll get stuff done. Weird how time management sneaks into my life once more, isn’t it? At any rate, I hope you guys enjoy this!

For those wondering, Xiang is a gift from Tseng’s father for luck and prosperity! He has several koi fish but Xiang is his favorite. Just wait until I get to his birds in a different fic, that one will be fun.

Shinra Holiday 2020 Fic Masterlist

Final Fantasy VII Fic Masterlist

Decking Something

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Reno,” Tseng began after a long moment of standing, staring, and incredulous coffee-sipping, “What in Leviathan’s name do you think you are doing?”

Reno had heard that ten thousand times in the course of his life, and he found himself with the simple knowledge that this wasn’t actually a question, but a long-winded ‘no.’ Still, that didn’t stop him from slowly growing a wicked grin, a certain shine to his blue eyes, and lifting a string of tinsel. The shiny silver worm of plastic struggled minutely in Reno’s grip, limply hanging between his gloved hands as he stepped a little closer.

Were Tseng a more openly emotive man, he might have taken a step back and betrayed his irritation and fear of the unknown when it came to Reno, but he was thankful that he wasn’t. Instead, he simply rose a finely manicured brow, tilted his head slightly to the left, and frowned that much harder. It didn’t deter the redhead, as expected, but it did set the rest of the bullpen ablaze with wide eyes and whispers.

“Reno.” The name was a warning, but neither Turk was really known for backing down, so Reno only encroached further on Tseng’s rapidly shrinking bubble of personal space. “Reno, I--”

It was too late. The tinsel found itself wrapped around Tseng’s neck and gently tucked into itself like a gaudy, scratchy scarf, and Reno was incredibly close to catching an open palm to the face. If it weren’t for Tseng’s unnatural amount of self-control, he probably would have had a brand new broken nose. Instead, the elder man simply leveled a half-glare, half incredulous stare at his lover that earned him a somewhat sweet smile.

“It’s almost Christmas, man,” Reno told him gently, adjusting the tinsel scarf carefully around his neck, “Gotta deck the halls and all that shit.”

Well, that explained a lot. Reno always did get weird during the holidays, and it was probably better that he was sober and decorating instead of drinking during work hours like last year.

“So you want to deck the halls of the Shinra building?” Tseng asked finally, gently reaching down to touch the tinsel he wore. It wasn’t comfortable, but something about how happy the string of shiny plastic made the redhead, convinced him it wouldn’t be so bad to wear. He hadn’t seen Reno smile like that in months, and it was a worthwhile sight.

“Yeah, I figured uh, it’d be more festive than, uh… Then my place.” Reno murmured the last bit, his blue eyes cast down as he wrung his hands in the hem of his jacket. Was Tseng going to tell him ‘no’, now? He wasn’t sure if he could handle it. The holidays always kicked his ass, left him feeling cold and unwanted, and even Tseng knew he was treading on thin ice right now.

The whispers and wide eyes around them were turning to soft ‘I told you so’s and exchanges of Gil as Tseng tugged Reno in for a gentle kiss. With his thumb and forefinger on the other’s chin, he kept him in place before finally pulling back, smiling at him in that rare way he did when he was pleased.

“I ain’t even wearing the headband.” Reno chuckled in amazement, dumbstruck as he nuzzled their noses together. Tseng’s eyebrow arched into his hairline.

“The… Headband?” That sounded like it was going to be a big problem he didn’t want to deal with.

“Yeah, man, let me grab it!” Breaking away from Tseng’s grip, Reno bound into his office and disappeared inside. When he returned to the bullpen where Tseng still stood waiting in his festive attire, he wore a red headband with a long, plastic arm set in the center. At the end of it was a piece of what was presumably fake mistletoe, and Tseng’s eyes rolled so hard his entire head almost fell off.

“That’s… Lovely, Reno.” He sighed, shaking his head definitively, “But if you wear it to anything but the Christmas party, you’re going to wish you didn’t.”

“Aw, c’mon, man, it’s not that--”

“No. If Rufus sees you in that he’s going to get an idea and then we’ll all be wearing them.” Not that that was necessarily a bad thing. But he didn’t particularly want to deal with it. If Rufus got any ideas from this particular holiday, he was hoping it would be something less needy and more festive. The man needed some actual holiday cheer if you asked him. After all, it wasn’t like his holidays growing up had ever been more than artificial love in the form of impersonal gifts. A little whimsy would probably do their boss some good, and if Reno was in the mood to deliver, well, Tseng wasn’t about to tell him ‘no’, now. It would help both of his favorite men to have this if luck served.

He’d have to go home and make sure his lucky fish was doing well. Xiang would surely see this through, the white koi with the black scale in the center of his forehead had never let Tseng down before.

If he was allowed something somewhat childish to help him cope with the job and everything else in his life, then Reno and Rufus should be allowed to decorate the office however they saw fit for the holidays.

“Reno.” Tseng was positive that the redhead had been talking when he was buried in his own head, and he didn’t have time to ask him about what he had been saying. Instead, he kissed him again, gently, before shaking his head. “I want to help you decorate. We can do our offices, too.”

Reno lit up like the faerie lights he’d spread around his own office, and his hand found Tseng’s in an instant. Taking him to his veritable treasure trove of delights, he began to dig through it.

“Do you think Rufus will let us get a tree?”

All of those fake trees at the store would work, he was sure, though he also had a feeling that Rufus would bemoan the lack of a real tree. Not that they could get their hands on one, but that was beside the point.

“He might want the biggest, most gaudy fake tree money can buy, should you bring it up to him.” Tseng left it open-ended to give Reno a chance to do it on his own. If the redhead wanted to throw the Turks and Rufus into the holiday spirit, so be it, he supposed. It wasn’t like they were incredibly busy today. “All I ask is that you don’t make a mess and that you’re still available should we need you for work.”

“Yessir!” Reno barked, clicking his heels together dramatically and saluting, “You know you can count on me.” That beautiful, rare, lips-only smile worked onto Tseng’s lips again and he pressed a kiss to Reno’s forehead.

“I know. I made you my second for a reason.” Reno’s cheeks lit up at that, giving Tseng a return rare sight that he thought about for the rest of the day.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

AN: Alright, there we go, one fic down! Just six more to go! With any luck, I’ll be able to put something out for each day, but we’ll see. I’ve never been super good at staying on top of these things, if only because I’m always crunching for time. But, this time, I’m going to be on top of it, because I started a little early. At least, I’m really hoping that I will be. I hope you guys enjoyed it!

Prompt: Shinra Holiday 2020 Day One - Deck The Halls

#Shinraholidayweek2020 #Tseng x Reno #Final Fantasy VII Fanfic #Final Fantasy VII Fanfiction

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phoenixrisesoncemore · 5 years ago

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I was tagged by @wangxianbunnydoodles (oh my, this is long and you might regret it; also I don’t follow instructions well 😉). I tend not to be very good at these things (sorry to anyone else who has tagged me in these kinds of things before—this is a rare event happening mostly because I wanna talk about Tolkien books and ships) but here goes:

Top 3 Ships

I don’t actively ship characters that often. I’m not sure why that is. I do enjoy reading fic with pairings either canon or not, but I don’t often go “all in” on ships in most narratives I consume. There are notable exceptions (more than three but these are the three most recent—I have no idea how to identify my top ships):

WangXian (CQL). This is surely obvious from the current state of my blog, right? I blame The Untamed and its impossibly tender, only-subtextual-by-a-hair’s-breadth romance. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a show express ultimate devotion, deep affection, true appreciation, complete understanding (eventually), and the sheer *necessity of the other* between two people quite like this one has. Hell, I don’t think I’ve ever seen two characters and desperately wanted them together and happy as much as I have these two, so bravo to the cast and crew for generating such second-hand devotion in me.

Silvergifting (Tolkien). This is all @thearrogantemu’s fault. I’d read some Silvergifting before I read These Gifts That You Have Given Me, mostly out of curiosity (some good stuff, too!), but I had never read any Tolkien fic that convinced me it was *true* (on many, many levels, though the ship level is the one pertinent to this post). In any canon-like universe this ship hurts, but in the Gifts universe it hurts the most; it hurts like Hell. It hurts in the way only razor-sharp, sorry-the-universe-works-this-way, oh-are-those-my-entrails-on-the-floor-I-didn’t-even-feel-the-knife tragedy can hurt. And it’s so convincing that it’s just...a fact now. Tolkien just forgot to tell us. So now I ship Silvergifting, but most deeply, specifically THAT Silvergifting. (Meanwhile, 14 year old me continues to look at *significantly* older me like I’m insane.)

ZeLink (Legend of Zelda). Deep down I’m still 12 years old and no amount of fine lines and wrinkles is going to change that. When is Breath of the Wild 2 coming out?

Last Song

I listen to soundtracks and bombastic and dramatic orchestral pieces much more often than I listen to what people mean when they say “songs,” and a significant chunk of the “songs” I listen to are from musicals/operas.

Earlier today it was Hanz Zimmer’s soundtrack to Dark Phoenix (don’t start me up on the continuing disappointment that Phoenix adaptations continue to be to me—you don’t want to hear it; even I don’t want to hear it).

Before that it was Barbra Streisand’s The Broadway Album. (I prefer her outer space cover of “Somewhere” to the actual thing. Fight me.)

Before that it was Carmina Burana (One of my favorite things ever was when we went to a live performance of Carmina Burana and a boy who couldn’t have been more than 7 years old sat in the aisle in front of us and head-banged enthusiastically through “O Fortuna.” It was so metal. You go, kid. You get it.).

Before that it was a splattering of Billy Joel hits with emphasis on “2000 Years”, “River of Dreams”, “Scenes from an Italian Restaurant”, “The Stranger”, and “Only the Good Die Young” (thanks to that outstanding WangXian interpretation!).

Of course the soundtracks to The Untamed/CQL have been on repeat for weeks around here, particularly every single iteration of “WuJi” and the flute-heavy instrumental pieces (man, those are good!).

Not long ago I had Sarah Brightman’s covers of “Figlio Perduto” from La Luna and “Glosoli” and “One Day Like This” from Dreamchaser burning through my iPhone battery (yes, I like popera).

Enya, and especially Shepherd Moons and The Track Which Shall Not Be Named has been on repeat a lot.

Last Movie

I don’t sit down to watch movies that often any more. It just takes too much stillness and undivided attention and more resistance to multi-tasking than I have. The actual last movie that I watched (in a “have it on on another screen while I work” kind of way) was Raiders of the Lost Ark, which, of course, I’ve seen umpteen times and which followed a similar rewatch of the Back to the Future trilogy. The last movie I watched completely without distraction was Book Smart; I don’t watch comedies very often, but I really enjoyed it in an “OMG, I can totally relate to this” kind of way (except for the class president thing—that would have required that I interact with other people my own age and also not be homeschooled). Before that I think it was the Tolkien biopic. Man, I still haven’t written anything about that.

Currently Reading (in order of when I started them)

Oh dear.

The Familiar: part 1, Mark Z Danielewski. *sigh* For as much as I think Danielewski is brilliant and House of Leaves is one of my favorite books ever, I’ve just not been able to get into much of his other work. It’s universally a time and energy investment to penetrate and puzzle through, and I just don’t have as much of that as I used to. House of Leaves makes that investment worth it from early on and is absolutely a page-turner once you settle in, but other than The Fifty Year Sword I’ve just not been able to get into the rest of his work. The Familiar: part 1 is supposed to be the first in a 26 part series which is currently halted at part 4, I think. Without a guarantee of all parts ever being published, I don’t think I’m ready to invest more time into part 1 and may end up abandoning it, unfortunately.

History of The Hobbit, Douglas Anderson. Anderson did what Christopher didn’t and gave The Hobbit the HoMe treatment (if a bit less literal and opaque in format). It’s fascinating (I mean, there’s the Beren and Luthien name drop you were not expecting right there in the first draft), but reading essentially the same passages with only small changes over and over can be a slog, so reading it has been an ongoing project for over a year now.

Splintered Light: Logos and Language in Tolkien’s World, Verlyn Fleiger. This is Fleiger’s look at Tolkien’s Middle-earth in light of his association with Owen Barfield. Particularly, she is examining Tolkien’s work in conjunction with Barfield’s Poetic Diction and his thoughts on language and meaning. I have not read Poetic Diction, but I probably will now since it apparently addresses language formation as related to the origin of human consciousness which is SO up my alley.

New Seeds of Contemplation, Thomas Merton. My late sister-in-law had a masters in theology from Notre Dame and became a huge Merton fan. Meanwhile, my best friend actually spent a weekend retreat at The Abbey of Gethsemani. Between hearing about him from the two of them, I developed an interest in Merton. I happened to read “Moral Theology of the Devil” a couple of years ago. It was one of the most illuminating theological things I have read and deeply inspired my own Tolkien fic-writing (let’s just say the progress there is otherwise slow). This book is a collection of pieces which happens to contain that piece, and I’ve been skipping around through it for a while now.

The Lord of the Rings reread (Tolkien, obviously). I hate this, but I am so deep in so many critical Tolkien books that I’ve not had the chance to really sit down and relax into my reread for months and months and will likely just end up starting over. Plus I want to read it concurrently with the next entry in this list and the next entry is taking longer to get through because of its format. That entry being:

The Lord of the the Rings: A Reader’s Companion, Hammond and Scull. This is a treasure trove of data and insights for those really wanting to dig critically-historically into The Lord of the Rings on a chapter-by-chapter, passage-by-passage basis. The only issue with it is that jumping back and forth between the two (as you have to: this is a reference book) tends to kill the mood of The Lord of the Rings when read as it’s meant to be read: for enjoyment!

The Power of Limits: Proportional Harmonies in Nature, Art, and Architecture, Gyorgy Doczi. This has been an ongoing read here and there since Christmas, especially as I work on two personal projects.

The Gospel in a Pluralist Society, Lesslie Newbigin. To be honest I don’t think I am going to finish this one. I like a few of the things he says, things I think are truthful and which need to be confronted in American Christian culture in particular, but it’s just too much Calvin for my taste, too many assumptions I do not share being the heretic that I am, and I spend too much time anger-notating about theology to read it with grace.

In Full Measure I Return to You, thearrogantemu. This is a reread of the (relatively) happy AU fic for my most favoritest Tolkien fic (Gifts), but I’ve put my reread on hold while I finish one of the two projects, after which I am diving in and screw the rest of this list for the time being.

Food Craving

Sushi. My kingdom for some good sushi. I’ve only had sushi once since we got back from NY and while it was the best sushi I have had locally IT WAS NOT OMAKASE AT SUSHI NOZ. It also didn’t require a personal loan to pay for, but *shrug* I’m spoiled now and will forever crave what I can no longer have.

People I’d Like To Get To Know Better

I hate tagging people in these things because I’m awkward and shy and do them so rarely myself that it feels hypocritical for me to ask it of others. That being said: if you’re a follower of my blog and you want to do this, please do! And please tag me! I’d love to get to know more about you 😊.

#getting to know you #wangxianbunnydoodles #tolkien #the untamed #movies #music #books #food

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randomoranges · 4 years ago

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hello, do you like long fics? do you like soft? here is a long soft fic.

so this started off - really, back in february when i was visiting my friends [when that was still allowed - lol] and we were discussing our ocs as we sometimes happen to do. that and how with time they get more ok with more “feminine things” and such.

i made a doodle inspired by that conversation.

then lockdown happened. and with my tablet i decided to digitally colour that doodle. i thought it looked pretty neat. as i looked at it i started to wonder what the “fem versions” of ed and ét would be like and look like and came to the realisation that NO ONE had ever thought of that.

then an entire fucking au was born from that because that’s the way i function, apparently.

i made a few art pieces and started writing this behemoth on april 12th 2020.

i got like 70% done and then stopped. got blocked or just didn’t have the motivation for it.

seeing as i go back to work tomorrow [god dont make me go] and this fic wasn’t done yet, i told myself that this quarantine fic would END NOW.

so i spent the last 3 nights hacking at the remaining 30%.

i could have split it up in parts, i know, but seeing as i suffered through the whole thing in one part so do you :)

here we go for the genderbend au no one ever even asked for like literally.

evelyn = edward

éliane = étienne

also, how many song lyrics can i fit in one title lamao.

in total this one has more pages than keesha kee taen, but like 1000 less words.

Girl, You Really Got me Now [It’s a Love Story] [[The Ballad of Éliane and Evelyn]]

Éliane Maisonneuve remembered the exact and precise moment that Evelyn Murphy waltzed into her life. She remembered the exact moment it happened for the simple reason that it changed her life. For the better.

It happened one glorious day in September, about a week or so after school started, sometime after Labour Day. It was her senior year of high school, the world was sitting in the palm of her hand, and she had been busy recounting her rather exciting weekend to her friends, when their homeroom teacher had walked in, followed by a student. Éliane prided herself with knowing everyone and anyone in the school. Mostly, because she was a social butterfly, also because it helped when one was the vice-president of the student body (president had too many responsibilities, not enough fun). Therefore, she automatically knew that this was a new student.

It was about as far as her analysis went for her brain stuttered when she got a good look at the new girl, while her teacher introduced her. God, but she was absolutely gorgeous. She had pretty, dark, brown hair cut slightly above her shoulders, a cute little barrette in her hair, the prettiest hazel eyes this side of the world, for sure, and the softest looking skin Éliane had ever seen. Her darker complexion went rather nicely with the colours of the school uniform and there was just something about the way she played with the hem of her sweater that tugged at Éliane’s heart.

Before her homeroom teacher could even get to the part of asking for a benevolent soul to show her (her name was Evelyn Murphy – her brain had registered that much) around, Éliane had bolted out of her seat, only near tripping on herself to volunteer for the honour. She absolutely needed to become friends with Evelyn. It was a matter of life or death. She knew. Evelyn had offered her the actual cutest little shy smile Éliane had ever seen in her life and she had eagerly told her friend to change seats so that Evelyn could sit next to her.

Even then, without fully knowing, she was already infatuated.

Evelyn turned out to be a rather quiet girl. Éliane chalked it up to being new to the school and a little intimidated by it, but she vowed to herself that she would make sure everyone treated Evelyn right. She introduced her to all her friends, made sure she knew where all her classes were and gave Evelyn her phone number and e-mail address in case she had any questions. Éliane declared them friends by the end of lunch and the pretty little blush on Evelyn’s cheeks was a thing of beauty.

Éliane even went as far as walk Evelyn home, despite her telling her that it was alright and that she knew how to get back, but Éliane wanted to spend more time with her and insisted, figuring she could tell her new friend about the cool hangouts around school (there were three – the dep’, the hamburger shack down the street and the alcove by the river (which was a good place to go make-out, but that was a detail – the rocks there were really cool, it was just a question of no one ratting you out.))

Éliane, surprisingly, for once, managed not to spend the entire walk to Evelyn’s gabbing away about one thousand different trivialities and instead bombarded the new girl with ten thousand different questions. Luckily, Evelyn took it all in stride and patiently answered her questions. It was how Éliane found out that Evelyn’s father had been transferred and had started a new job here over the summer and how his position had been extended. The rest of her family had then moved over and by the time they were settled and her school papers were in order, school had already started, but here she was now.

And goodness, here she was now indeed, Éliane thought.

They became inseparable, fast, mostly due to Éliane doing her utmost best to include Evelyn in absolutely everything she did. Evelyn fit in nicely with Éliane’s group of friends, which was a good thing, otherwise she would have dumped their sorry asses and started a new, better group. But, the others took Evelyn in and Éliane called it a success.

Éliane was head strong, brash, and impulsive and liked to stick her fingers in as many pies as she could. She liked to keep busy with projects that interested her and she was always ready to try something new. Therefore, even though term had already started, she decided, quite on an impulse, one day, to switch out one of her courses for home-economics, just because Evelyn was in it and had said nice things about it. It was a good thing Éliane was a well liked student by the faculty members and that this change actually made her advanced art program fit better in her schedule , but the secretary still gently scolded her and told her that she would have a lot of catching up to do.

Luckily, Éliane had a plan.

Her plan consisted on being her disastrous self in a kitchen and hope that Evelyn would take pity on her and help her out.

Luckily, Éliane didn’t have to try very hard for her plan to work. During her first assignment, she managed to set the smoke detector off, twice. For the second assignment, she had to be rushed to the nurse’s office after she accidentally sliced her finger open. After the third assignment, she needed ointment for a rather nasty burn. Once the mid-term report cards came out and Evelyn found out Éliane was failing home-economics spectacularly, she took pity on her friend and teamed up with her for the following projects.

It was a win-win, in Éliane’s opinion, even if she barely scrapped by and the class brought down her overall average, (but she was getting better – it had to count for something, right?)

Éliane ended up spending a lot of time with Evelyn what with classes, hanging out together and after school extracurricular. Evelyn ended up joining the theatre club and Éliane nearly lost her mind when she found out her quiet, mostly shy friend could act it out on stage like the best of them. It was a whole new side of her that she had only ever glimpsed and Éliane loved it. The girl had spunk. She was feisty. And slowly, slowly, Evelyn emerged from her shell as she got used to her new school and new surroundings. With time, Éliane got to get to know her better and discovered a treasure trove of other interesting things about her – like her sense of humour, which was dry and cutting and an absolute gift.

Éliane wondered where Evelyn had been all her life.

Once Christmas break rolled around, Evelyn’s mood took a dip, since for the first time ever, she would be away from her friends and family. Éliane took it upon herself to make sure her friend wouldn’t feel left out during the holidays and so she organised outings and parties with her and her friends to make sure Evelyn had a good time. The Murphy’s were even invited over for Christmas Eve and Éliane thought it was her greatest accomplishment yet. Throughout the rest of the holiday break, there were many outings to get hot chocolate, tobogganing, but by far, the best surprise came when Éliane suggested they go ice-skating, since the rinks were finally open and she found out that Evelyn could skate really well. Not only that, but the girl had a competitive streak to her as well and it was so very easy to get her riled up if any type of friendly competition was presented to her. Evelyn had depth and personality and there were so many different sides to her that Éliane loved so much. It seemed that the more she got to know her friend, the more she found out about her and it was great.

Winter break went by quickly, what with the myriad of activities Éliane orchestrated and it ended with by far, the greatest event to the start off the new year – Evelyn’s birthday.

Towards the start of the break, Evelyn had quietly invited the inner circle of the friend group for a sleepover on the last Saturday of break, since her birthday fell on a Wednesday. They would be four in total and Éliane spent the better part of her days leading up to her friend’s birthday trying to come up with the Best Gift Ever, when she wasn’t busy spending time with her friends or stuffing her face with her grandmother’s baked goods. She was looking forward to the party and Evelyn kept reminding her that it would be a simple, quiet affair. They would get takeout, there would be cake, they would watch movies, they would eat too much candy and chips and chocolate – and eventually, they would all crash at some ungodly hour of the morning.

Éliane still thought it sounded like the greatest thing ever.

The party in itself turned out to be lovely and loud and boisterous. Mr. And Mrs Murphy put on brave faces and stuck around making sure everything was okay and to wish their daughter a happy birthday, while Evelyn’s younger sister had found herself a better place to be. They played games, spent the better part of the evening gossiping about school – their teachers, their classmates, another part worrying about which Cégep to apply to and what program, until Éliane declared that all “no-fun” school talk was banned. So, they watched a stream of movies, one of the other girls gave Evelyn a manicure and they ate too much candy and chips and chocolate.

Somewhere around midnight, before it got to be too late, they took a break to change into their pyjamas. They were waiting for Evelyn to return and Éliane was waiting on the couch, wearing her own set of teddy bear patterned pyjama pants and long sleeved sweatshirt she had pilfered from one of her brothers (it was large, it was comfortable and it was warm), when Evelyn came to join them.

Éliane cared very little about what others wore to bed. Normally, she wore boxer shorts and nothing else – unless it was cold outside, which it currently was. The thing was, she would have never associated Evelyn with the pyjama set that she was wearing. Evelyn rejoined their little group as if nothing was wrong with the world and went and plopped herself right next to Éliane wearing by far the most ridiculous (gorgeous), frilly (utterly inappropriate), matching set of what seemed to be lilac silk pyjamas. There was lace. There were motifs. It had little tiny straps that covered her shoulders (Éliane’s brain reminded her that this was the most skin she had seen on her friend and that she could see her clavicle and shoulder blades and the dip of her neck and – and then there were the shorts! The equally silk shorts that hugged her thighs just so and – maybe, maybe it was always really hot at the Murphy’s, which was why Evelyn slept in such a getup, because suddenly, Éliane found herself overheating. And then she had to give her friend one more (discreet – hopefully) one over and of course she had to notice the way the fabric hugged her chest, the shape she could guess underneath and – this really wasn’t fair.

The thing was – the real issue here was – that Éliane M. Maisonneuve had accidentally gone and developed the stupidest of crushes on Evelyn A. Murphy and she was a complete goner.

And now her friend was sitting beside her in her silk pyjamas looking like a goddamned gift and Éliane wanted to hold her close, furrow her face in the crook of her neck and ghost her hands over the fabric of her pajamas – and more. She was doomed. This was neither the place nor the time and she did her utmost best to keep her thoughts pure and innocent, but apparently, the universe hated her, because Evelyn slid extremely close to her, until she was half pressed on Éliane’s side and took a hold of her hand.

“I get really afraid during scary movies,” She whispered in her ear and Éliane tried to suppress the shivers that ran down her spine and the sudden urge she had to turn around and kiss Evelyn’s stupid (beautiful, glorious) face senseless. Instead, she clutched at her friend’s hand in return, didn’t let go for the duration of the movie – and tried her best not to feel anything every time Evelyn gasped and clutched at her a little harder when she got scared. (And she tried really hard not to think of the way Evelyn’s body felt pressed up against her side.)

Éliane knew what she liked – couldn’t care less about the gender of people. She had dated a little, had stolen kisses from girls behind cafés and had gone out on dates with boys. So long as she was interested, it didn’t matter and, apparently, her mind had decided that it was very interested in Evelyn. (And really, could she be blamed? Evelyn was mighty fine, thank you very much.)

She was so screwed.

Éliane swore to herself that she would keep her stupid crush to herself and bury her feelings so far deep inside of her that she would be long dead before they could ever resurface properly.

Therefore, by Tuesday, over lunch, Éliane took her other best friend, Emma, aside, to spill absolutely everything to her.

Now, Éliane and Emma had met on the very first day of kindergarten and had been placed in the same class. They had been sat next to each other and Éliane had declared her her best friend by the time lunch had rolled in. Emma had no idea how it was that they had remained friends for so long, but Éliane was her best friend and so, despite being quite exhausted by her friend’s daily ongoing complaint about whatever it was that was personally vexing her, she half listened to her friend.

Normally, Emma would have been sympathetic and offered Éliane some advice, but Éliane was the absolute worst when it came to taking advice and instead preferred moping around and taking everything way too dramatically as if the world was against her.

So she did just that and Emma couldn’t wait for Éliane to move on to a new hyper-fixation.

Unfortunately, that never happened.

“Why don’t you – and I’m just ball-parking it here – actually tell Ev’ how you feel and y’know, maybe she’ll feel the same way?” Emma reiterated for what felt like the millionth time. By February, Emma had heard her friend lament her unrequited crush so often that she could predict what Éliane would tell her almost verbatim.

“But Ems, what if she doesn’t? What if she thinks I’m gross and then never wants to speak to me again? Emma, I can’t risk that!” She bemoaned, burying her face in her pillow. It was a quiet Friday night and Emma had done the mistake of throwing an impromptu sleepover between her and Éliane. She had hoped it would be a fun sleepover; instead, she was being privy to another round of Éliane’s love tribulations.

“If she thinks you’re gross she’s dead to all of us.” Emma stated in her no-nonsense tone. The rest of their friend group knew of Éliane’s preferences and could care less about who she dated. If Evelyn had a problem with it, she would be more than happy to kick her out of the circle, “She’s not worth your time if she can’t accept you the way you are.” This was why Éliane liked Emma. She was straight to the point and wasn’t afraid to speak her mind, even over controversial matters.

“I knoooooow, but I like her sooooo much. Emmmmaaaaaaaaaaa, she’s sooooo pretty, it’s not faaaaaair,” She whined and put on her best kicked puppy expression. Emma rolled her eyes and threw a pillow at her. She was immune to that look by now. Mostly.

“I mean, have we even ever heard Evelyn express an interest in anyone at school?”

“Noooo, but what if – what if she has a boyfriend back home and she promised to be true to him? Or like what if she’s super conservative or something? Aren’t they conservative back in Alberta?”

“Don’t you think she would have mentioned having a boyfriend – or someone special – back home after all this time? And even if there are people who are conservative back in Alberta, who’s to say that she is? God knows she follows you around on half your crazy schemed ideas. Maybe she likes you and she’s shy. Maybe she’s just a friend. Maybe you should just fucking talk to her and leave me out of your love life, please, Éliane, I’m not even your therapist.”

Éliane pouted and threw the pillow back at her.

“Big baby. Just write her a Valentine’s and play it off as a joke if she rejects you.”

“That is the worst idea ever. My heart would be shattered and I’d never be able to face her ever again.” Emma sighed as Éliane went off another tangent. Sometimes, she wondered why she bothered.

Éliane did not take up Emma on her advice and so, come Valentine’s Day, she did absolutely nothing and played it cool, by her standards. This meant that she kept a close eye on anyone who approached Evelyn with Valentine’s and she was only too pleased (relieved) when no one had made any outlandish love declarations to her. (Not that Evelyn didn’t deserve outlandish love declarations, but Éliane wanted to be the one to do them, not some other person.)

It also meant that her heart sank when Evelyn didn’t get her any particular Valentine and that she only gave her a small chocolate, like she did with all of their other friends. It wasn’t that she expected anything, but if Evelyn had made a move on her, it would have helped ease her mind and given her some sense of direction. Still, Éliane had to consol herself; at least Evelyn was her friend. It could be so much worse.

Her crush only kept growing as the days went by and even when she tried looking elsewhere, hoping that a distraction from Evelyn would help, it seemed her heart and mind were set on Evelyn no matter what. It was utterly annoying and Emma was ready to murder her if she kept this on.

Therefore, Éliane came up with another of her Brilliant Plans, which Emma agreed was absolutely stupid. With prom coming up at the end of the year, Éliane decided to put her big move there and ask Evelyn to go as her date. Emma politely reminded her that prom was in literal months and that a million different things could happen between now and then. Plus, there was also the fact that Éliane would be even more insufferable until then.

Éliane was pretty confident that it would give her enough time to gather more intel on whether or not Evelyn liked her That Way and hence, would only help her out in the long run. If anything, if Evelyn was dateless by then, they could just go as friends and Éliane could save face.

In the meantime, however, there was One particular incident that left Éliane even more confused than ever before.

It was a known fact that Éliane Maisonneuve liked to sprawl out when she sat down. Be it chair, sofa, couch or stool, Éliane took up as much space as possible. The other known fact was that Éliane Maisonneuve was a very tactile person. She had never heard of personal space when it came to her friends and if she was sitting with her friends, it wasn’t an uncommon sight to see her using her friends’ laps as extensions of the surfaces she was sitting on. She was known to sit on their laps, drape herself over them, lay her head on their shoulders or laps, and so on. No one was safe from her sprawling, not even Evelyn.

During the winter months, Éliane opted for the school pants as opposed to the skirt, since it was too bloody cold outside and even with stockings, she froze. However, with spring back on the menu, she was quick to ditch the pants and go back to the skirt.

It happened to be a skirt-wearing day, when, during lunch, Éliane had elected Evelyn’s lap to sit on, since she was the first to have finished eating lunch. Now, normally, when Éliane sat on Evelyn’s lap, Evelyn would put one arm over Éliane’s own lap, to keep her from falling off, and her other arm would either wrap itself around her waist, or rest against the back of the sofa they claimed for themselves for lunch, when they ate inside, in one of the school’s hangout spots.

However, this time – this time something monumental happened.

Éliane sat on Evelyn’s lap like always, and at first Evelyn held on to her as she normally did, but then, a few minutes later, Evelyn’s hand that was around her waist shifted ever so. At first, Éliane thought little of it, but then Evelyn placed her hand to rest on the side of her leg, underneath her skirt, right on her skin. Éliane stilled and tried to think little of it. Evelyn had just found a better way to place her hands, there was nothing to it – that had to be it. This wasn’t planned. This had been accidental, clearly. But then – then her friend went ahead and started – rubbing her skin? With her thumb? In a small, circular way? Or something. Because, Éliane felt Evelyn’s thumb rub her skin in a circular motion, but there was no way for her to see and she wasn’t about to ask (because it felt really good and she didn’t want Evelyn to stop and if she was hallucinating then she would look like a fool.) Plus, Éliane did try to get a read off Evelyn’s face, but when she looked, Evelyn wasn’t even looking her way, instead focused on whatever else it was their friends were saying, a small, gentle smile on her face.

What. The ever loving fuck. Did this actually mean?

Éliane tried to remain still, tried to brush it off as nothing and tried to play it cool, but for the rest of the day, she was a right hot mess and she spent the better part of the rest of the week (and month) replaying the feel of Evelyn’s hand on her bare thigh and it did not help any of her little fantasies one bit. (Because good Lord, someone help her, how she had wanted Evelyn’s hand to creep up her thigh, touch her elsewhere, make her feel good – how she had wanted to wrap her legs around her friend, grind against her, get her hands underneath Evelyn’s silly school blouse, feel her up – hear her moan –)

This was really getting out of hand.

Éliane kept pinning from afar, much to Emma’s annoyance, especially since she was the only one in their friend circle to know about her crush and no other major incidents of the sort came to throw Éliane for a loop. She still convinced herself that she would do something about it for prom, but Emma wasn’t convinced, and quite frankly, neither was Éliane.

And then it was Éliane’s birthday.

Éliane had a rather busy birthday schedule, what with celebrating with her family and twin sister, wanting to do something fun with her friends and also doing something lowkey on the actual day of. As was the standard amongst their friend group, one of them made a birthday cake to be had at lunch, there were presents and it was a lovely day overall.

On top of that, she had all her favourite classes today and it was honestly looking up to be the best birthday ever. She was looking forward to the weekend and her mind was focused on the end of the day, when she got a note from Evelyn during class.

“Meet me in the park by the swing set after class,” The note said and Éliane tried to get her friend’s attention, wondering what this could mean and what game her friend was playing at, but Evelyn never looked her way and so Éliane was left guessing. She even tried to ask her after class, but Evelyn went ahead of her, while the teacher asked Éliane to stay behind for a bit, since she wanted to go over some of the texts for the upcoming school play.

Therefore, once she could leave, she ran to her locker to drop off her books, changed out of her school shoes, grabbed her sweater and backpack, and then ran off to the park next to the school. She hoped Evelyn hadn’t been waiting long and that she wouldn’t think she had stood her up, even though she had seen Éliane with their teacher. Still.

Éliane nearly tripped down the stairs to the park and was ever so relieved to see that Evelyn was still there waiting for her.

“What’s up?” She asked, slightly out of breath.

“I wanted to give you your birthday gift.” She said, smiling at her and Éliane’s stomach did a funny thing at the sight. It always did a funny thing at the sight. It was such a pretty smile.

“But, you gave me your gift earlier with the others,” She said, giving her friend a quizzical look. Not that she minded more gifts, but she didn’t expect her friend to get her multiple gifts.

“I know – but this one is special. Close your eyes?”

Éliane did as she was told even though her curiosity was eating her alive.

“No peeking!” Evelyn cautioned and it was very tempting to, but Éliane remained still, with her eyes closed, heart beating wildly as she waited.

Evelyn took her hands and Éliane figured she would place something in them, but instead her friend held on. Éliane was about to ask what this was all about, but the following moment, she felt the softest of presses against her lips. She gasped and her eyes opened on their own just in time to see Evelyn lean away from her, a lovely blush spreading across her cheeks.

“Did you just – was that just –”There was no way Evelyn had kissed her. She must have dreamt the entire thing up and blacked out, or something. Maybe she had really slipped down the stairs, fallen and hit her head. It may have been her birthday and all, but these types of things only happened in trashy romance novels she liked to splurge on.

“Look ,” Evelyn started, blush deepening across her face and Éliane stopped talking all together, while her brain tried to reboot itself, “I like you. A lot. And I have, for a while now... and well, I wanted to take a chance. Since it’s your birthday and all. And, yeah – I – don’t hate me?” She stammered and Éliane could only stare at her.

Evelyn Murphy liked her.

The absolutely wonderful person that was Evelyn Murphy liked her and had kissed her on her birthday. Éliane might actually faint and go into shock.

Instead, she launched herself at Evelyn and kissed her hard. Evelyn stumbled back in surprise, trying not to fall over, and wrapped her arms around Éliane out of reflex.

“I like you too, you silly goose, and I could never hate you,” Éliane blurted out when she pulled away, before cupping Evelyn’s face with her hands and kissing her again, this time much slower and softer. She let out a breathy little gasp when Evelyn held her, their bodies pressed close. It was everything she’d been hoping for months and everything she’d never, in her wildest dreams, think she’d get. She chased after as many kisses as Evelyn allowed her and silently swooned at the softness of her lips against her own. She knew, already, that she could never tire of this.

“Go to prom with me?” She added, catching her breath, riding a high she never wanted to come down from. Evelyn’s eyes widened and then she smiled and it caught Éliane’s breath. It was such a lovely sight, so beautiful and pure, and she wanted to be the cause of those smiles for a very, very long time.

“I’d love to,” Evelyn told her, before kissing her again. And again. And again and again.

It was nice, finally being able to hold Evelyn’s hand whenever she felt like it. Éliane made it her personal mission to walk to every class she had with Evelyn by holding her hand and sometimes, if Evelyn let her, she carried her books as well. She was stupid in love with her and she couldn’t believe how lucky she was that Evelyn liked her – that they could hold hands and kiss and spend a stupid amount of time texting each other strings of heart emojis late into the night. Éliane never wanted the feeling to end.

It turned out that Evelyn wasn’t out to her parents and she had no idea how they would take to her being attracted to girls, so they agreed to keep things under wrap around them when Éliane went over. Éliane had already done her own coming out to her parents, almost two years ago, but she supposed she had an easier ride, considering her eldest brother was gay and very much cohabiting with his boyfriend for the past several years now. She was thankful that her parents were okay with it and could only hope that Evelyn’s parents would be as well, whenever it was she decided to tell them.

For now, it just meant that Éliane had to keep her hands to herself when she was over at the Murphys’, but she could make-out with Evelyn at her place all she wanted, (or until her sister told her to stop being so gross.)

May also meant receiving Cégep admission letters and a whole flock of stress, anxiety, and high emotions. Evelyn found the idea a little dumb, but since her family was still in Montréal and she would have to do an extra year of high school if she went back home, she had found herself obliged to apply as well. She ended up applying to most of the Cégeps her friends wanted to go to, so that she could at least be with them and she surprised herself when their excitement turned contagious when her own acceptance letters started trickling in.

The only problem was that she had no idea where it was she wanted to go.

She was pretty convinced she wanted to be an engineer – maybe a civil engineer later on, but so long as she did something science and math related in Cégep, she would be fine. Where she did it didn’t matter. She kept her options open and waited to see where the others would go. Therefore, when Éliane got accepted into the program of her choice in visual arts at the Cégep she really wanted to, Evelyn quietly accepted her own offer at the same school. (And when Éliane found out, nearly two weeks later, she had been extremely happy and there may or may not have been many tears.)

She knew that realistically her chances of having any classes with Éliane were slim, that their schedules might not even match up, but maybe they could share a locker and maybe they could take one of the mandatory gym ,or French, or English, or humanities classes together.

They could make it work. (She really hoped they could.)

Bu those were problems and thoughts for later and so Evelyn buried them deep in her mind and instead focused on the upcoming ministry exams, the end of the school year, finding a dress for prom, memorising her lines for the end of year school play, finding time for her girlfriend and her friends, and everything else that came with being a senior in high school.

Emma decided to invite everyone over to her place, before they went to prom, to take photos and have cocktails, since she had the biggest yard between them. They agreed to meet up there and then make their way to the hall where the reception would take place.

Despite Éliane asking, Evelyn had refused to show her any photos of her dress. Éliane had begged for hints, a description, anything, but Evelyn had remained tight-lipped, preferring to surprise her girlfriend at prom. Éliane had done her best pouting and pleading, but Evelyn was apparently immune to it all. Therefore, Éliane was an impatient mess when she got to Emma’s, eagerly anticipating the moment Evelyn would arrive.

As per their plan, Evelyn had told her parents that she was going to prom with her friends, since “no boys had asked her” and her parents thought it was cute how the girls were sticking together. It was a perfect decoy and it meant that she could have all the photos she wanted with Éliane and her parents would never think twice about it.

Éliane was about ready to text Evelyn, to ask her where she was and whether or not she had forgotten that they were supposed to meet up at Emma’s before heading to the reception hall, but then the doorbell rang and Éliane swore the entire planet froze in time when Evelyn walked in.

Evelyn was wearing a midnight blue, long dress with cap sleeves that fell off her shoulders. It had a sweetheart bodice and a ruched waistline that did wonders for her figure and her complexion. The material of the dress was elegant and airy and it gave Evelyn a regal appearance.

Her girlfriend was absolutely, drop-dead gorgeous.

Her heart was going to explode from how full of love it was for Evelyn.

Éliane did her very best to contain herself and not launch herself at Evelyn, but she did walk up to her and envelop her in the tightest of hugs she could manage, trying to convey everything it was she felt inside.

“You are so breathtakingly beautiful,” She whispered in her ear as she pulled away. She grinned when Evelyn turned a lovely shade of pink and Éliane was far too pleased with herself.

“And you’re absolutely stunning,” Evelyn murmured back, leaving a lingering touch to Éliane’s wrist, which left her skin tingling.

Éliane had opted for something a little more party like. It was a champagne coloured, short dress with an asymmetrical bodice. It had one sleeve and bold folds that looked absolutely stunning on her. It was, after all, their prom, and she intended to party, dance and have the absolute greatest of times.

Prom, delivered.

The prom committee really outdid themselves, if Éliane did say so herself and it turned out to be a great evening. She got to sit with her best friends, got to dance with her girlfriend, took a stupid amount of photos with absolutely everyone she had ever spoken to during her five years in high school and only cried once – maybe twice, when she realised for good that this was her last few moments with these people – that one chapter of her life was closing and that a new adventure was right around the corner.

But, before she got too lost in her own thoughts, there was still an after-prom, a million pool parties to attend and the greatest summer of her life to live.

Most of the graduating class had decided to go camping for their after-prom, on some semi-remote campground a few hours away. The grounds promised privacy, no curfew, and a lax attitude towards underage drinking. Éliane had considered going, but then Emma had decided to do something a little simpler and had invited their group over to her place. Her parents would be out, they could pile up and sleep in the camper van in the backyard, eat all the junk food they could handle, talk late into the night, watch the stars and go swimming in the morning. The best part was that Mr. And Mrs. Dubois would even leave them alone, as they had decided to visit Mrs. Dubois’ sister back in Ottawa, which meant they had the whole place to themselves.

They arrived at Emma’s place well past one in the morning and the girls were a flurry of activity as they changed into pyjamas and their graduating sweatshirts. High-heeled shoes, dresses and make-up were removed in favour of comfort as they crowded around each other to settle and keep the night going. Chips, cookies, candies, and soda were placed nearby as they munched on the snacks and laughed their worries away.

It was nice, Éliane thought, and she secretly hoped that twenty years from now she would still be doing this with this same group of friends. Éliane tucked herself between Emma and Evelyn and found herself perfectly at ease. If time needed to freeze and stop and chose this particular moment to do so, she would be content.

It didn’t, naturally, but Éliane found she didn’t really mind and was happy to snuggle up next to Evelyn when the sun started to rise and they could no longer keep their eyes open.

“Love you,” She murmured into the folds of Evelyn’s arms and only registered what she’d said a moment or so later, when she felt Evelyn still beside her.

She feared she’d let her mouth run wild once more and had an apology ready at her lips, but then she felt Evelyn hold her close and press a gentle kiss to the top of her head, “D’you really mean it?” She whispered for her ears only and Éliane nodded.

“Yeah, I really do.”

Evelyn smiled and it was a real thing of beauty that warmed her insides and made her heart soar. She levelled with her and sought her lips, before kissing her fully, “Love you, Evelyn,” She murmured, unable to stop herself from grinning.

“I love you too, Éliane.” Evelyn whispered back, as if it was their secret alone.

Seeing as this was their last summer all together, Éliane made her mission to make sure they would see each other as often as possible and create the best summer memories. Therefore, there were many pool parties (and nothing had ever prepared her for the sight of her girlfriend – her Evelyn in the actual prettiest bikini ever made on God’s green earth.), a handful of parties and even though most of them had part time summer jobs, they made it work and by the time summer came to an end, Éliane was ready for the next chapter of her life.

Cégep turned out to be an interesting and roller coaster of a venture. For as much as Éliane pretty much enjoyed it – liked the freedom it brought her, the expanded horizons of possibilities and being able to have classes that she genuinely enjoyed, Evelyn found it pointless and useless. It was a means to an end – something she had no choice in doing and the only thing that made it tolerable was the fact that Éliane was in many of her classes, they rode in or out together when their schedules matched and some of their friends from high school were also at the same school.

Other than that, she absolutely abhorred the time she spent there and kept reminding herself that in two years time, it would be over. It seemed that just as she’d settled in to the rhythm of her new high school, she had been yanked out and forced to adapt to what she considered a waste of education. Éliane made the mistake of pointing out once that maybe it had to do with her disengagement with her own program, but Evelyn shut down that theory rather quickly.

Still, despite her foul mood and deep hatred for Cégep, Éliane did her best to cheer up her girlfriend, left little notes of encouragement in their shared locker almost every second day and thankfully, with Éliane and some of her friends by her side, she was able to coast through her first semester without burning the building down to ash.

However, for as much as Evelyn had nothing positive to say about Cégep, she had to agree that the winter break between the first and second semester was delightful. There was a little over a month and a half of time off and even though she had a few exams during the exam period, she still had a good month of vacation. When she found out, sometime after midterms, a great plan hatched in her mind.

The truth of the matter was that Evelyn missed Edmonton something fierce. She hadn’t been back since her family had relocated to Montreal and even though she liked her new life – it didn’t always feel like home. She missed her grandparents, missed her friends, and missed her favourite hangout spots.

Therefore, Evelyn did her research, contacted the appropriate people, and once she had everything in order, she brought up the idea to her parents of flying to Edmonton after the holidays for three weeks. She would be staying with her grandparents, who were more than thrilled at the idea of having her over, she had enough money for her plane ticket from her summer job and she would be able to do all the things she missed and loved. Her parents weren’t exactly thrilled with the plan, but eventually they agreed.

It was then that Evelyn launched part two of her plan, which was to ask Éliane to come over with her. (She had asked her grandparents as well, had explained that Éliane wasn’t just her friend – that they were a couple and thank goodness, they had been very accepting of that and thrilled at the idea of potentially meeting their granddaughter’s girlfriend.)

Of course, Evelyn was very much aware of the fact that her girlfriend detested winter, would probably have preferred to go somewhere warm, if she could and Evelyn didn’t even know if Éliane would want to go to Edmonton with her, or if she had the means to do it, but when she told her of her plan, Éliane had been one hundred percent onboard.

They bought their tickets together, the moment Éliane had the okay from her parents and then, at least, Evelyn could keep a countdown to not only the end of her first semester of hell-school, but also to the day she would be going back home to Edmonton – even if it was for a short while.

The moment they arrived in Edmonton, Evelyn was ready to show her girlfriend all the sights. She had made an elaborate schedule, had contacted all her friends and she only hoped that Éliane would like it.

Of course, Éliane loved it all, even if she did complain about the cold at every chance she got, but Evelyn was always there to lend her a sweater, tie a scarf around her neck or let Éliane snuggle up to her at night.

Éliane enjoyed the city and loved meeting Evelyn’s friends. It was nice to see her girlfriend’s old stomping grounds and Evelyn’s grandparents took to her right away, which they were both thankful for. It was nice being here and it amused Éliane to no end that their first trip as a “couple” was to Edmonton, something Evelyn thought wasn’t quite as exotic or romantic as it should be. Éliane told her they could make up for it at a later time – for their next vacation and the thought of that – of something that would happen in the future sent butterflies to Evelyn’s stomach.

Overall, despite her lack of interest in Cégep, two years ended up going by quickly, somehow. Éliane liked to refer to those two years as Evelyn’s rebel phase, for it was during that time that Evelyn decided to learn how to ride a motorcycle (something Éliane absolutely loved very, very much – there was just something so incredibly hot about her girlfriend dressed in nice, tight leather pants with nice leather boots and an even nicer leather jacket mounting a motorcycle. Éliane called it sex on wheels. Evelyn always turned the loveliest shade of pink at the comment.)

It was also during their stint in Cégep that Evelyn decided, one afternoon, while bored between classes, to get the upper part of her ear pierced. One of her classes had been cancelled, and she couldn’t go home, since she had another class after that. Since Éliane and her other friends were all unavailable, Evelyn had gone out for a walk, had passed by a tattoo and body piercing parlour and had decided to get it done, on a whim and out of boredom.

Éliane had a lot to say about the piercing. Notably, that it was very sexy and added an extra layer of badass to Evelyn. Evelyn thought her girlfriend was being ridiculous – Éliane had shut her up with a kiss.

And perhaps, the other thing that happened over the summer between their first and thankfully last year of Cégep was that their relationship reached a highly more physical level.

They had – fooled around some ever since that memorable time towards the end of high school, but, nothing beyond wandering hands and heavy make-out sessions. Evelyn hadn’t been fully ready and Éliane had given her all the time she needed. There’d been some touching, a very few topless make-out sessions which had left Evelyn yearning for more, but something had always held her back. Maybe the fact that her parents and sister had been home, or that Éliane’s own family could walk in at any time.

But there came a weekend over summer after their first year of Cégep, when Éliane had the whole house to herself. Her brothers were officially moved out, her sister had gone camping with her friends, and her parents had gone over to her mother’s friend’s cottage for the weekend. Éliane had invited Evelyn over to use the pool and there hadn’t really been any thought that this would happen over the weekend.

Éliane had been sunbathing on one of the lawn chairs, when Evelyn had gotten out of the pool and walked towards her girlfriend, with the intention of flicking water in her face. Éliane had (over) reacted just the way Evelyn had hoped – shrieking and protesting that the water was so very cold, which had prompted Evelyn to drape herself over her girlfriend to flick even more water all over her.

Éliane had tried to push her off and get away from her, but she had been trapped. Finally, Éliane gave up and Evelyn settled against her, content, with the sun warming her up and her girlfriend running a hand up and down her back. They’d stayed that way for a while, peaceful and quiet, until Evelyn had nuzzled her way to her girlfriend’s neck and had started leaving feather light kisses on Éliane’s neck.

The feather light kisses turned languid and hot when Éliane let out breathy little moans and wrapped her legs around Evelyn’s body. Evelyn left Éliane’s neck in favour of her lips when her girlfriend started grinding against her and her hands left her back to slide underneath the straps of her bikini.

Evelyn had never gone all the way with anyone – had never lain naked beside someone else, even though she had had her fair share of fantasies and had done a bit of self-exploration over the past few months. They’d talked it over, a few times, about their experiences and lack thereof and Evelyn had known, all along, that she could trust Éliane – that her girlfriend would respect her, no matter what it was that they did or didn’t do.

And so, when they parted for air and Evelyn took in the sight of Éliane’s kiss swollen lips and mussed up hair, she felt a deep hunger for her that swooped at her belly and made her want to touch and lick and taste and kiss and feel.

“Should we go to my room?” Éliane asked, her hand kneading the skin of Evelyn’s thigh, her fingers hitching ever higher, playing with the strings of the straps of her bikini. Evelyn nodded at that, disentangled herself from her, and then helped her up.

They’d made their way to Éliane’s room and once Éliane had closed the door behind them – in case – she had pushed Evelyn to her bed and they’d resumed from where they’d left off before. Evelyn let her girlfriend guide them both and let go of her millions of thoughts running through her head. She followed her gut, paid close attention to Éliane’s reactions, and let her hands touch and feel, let her mouth kiss and taste.

Evelyn marvelled at the goose bumps over Éliane’s breasts, over the texture of her nipple on her tongue and over every little sound and noise Éliane made, which Evelyn meticulously catalogued and memorised to later replay in her mind like a favourite song.

This was an experience she had never felt before and one that she would love repeating over the many years to come - hopefully.

And later, afterwards, as Evelyn lay with Éliane running her fingers through her hair, Evelyn couldn’t help but be thankful that somehow or other, despite not being keen over the move away from her beloved Edmonton, she had managed to find Éliane along the way. She hoped, as she shared a tender kiss with her girlfriend, that theirs would be a relationship that would last, and that if it didn’t, they could always remain friends.

The only thing that motivated Evelyn throughout their second – and luckily – last year of Cégep was the fact that she would be making university applications by the start of March. The drawback to that was picking which universities to apply. Éliane, once more, had her whole plan set out and her preferred university in mind. She was applying to one school and one school only, and if they didn’t accept her, then – well, her plan didn’t have a section for that, because she would get accepted. Evelyn envied her for that – was slightly jealous of the certainty and faith she had in her plan, even if she feared it would backfire on her. Not that Éliane didn’t have the grades or the talent for it, but there would be others who would be applying as well. Still, Éliane was convinced and Evelyn could only marvel at her.

On the one hand, she could apply to the same place as Éliane again and go where she went, but Evelyn also wanted to go somewhere that would actually set her up on her desired career path. If she wanted to become an engineer, it would obviously help if she went to a university that was known for their engineering programs. The other problem was that after nearly three years, Evelyn was incredibly homesick.

She liked Montreal just fine – was getting the hang of the city and its peculiarities, but – it wasn’t home. She missed her friends and family that were still in Edmonton, missed biking through the River Valley, and missed weather that actually made sense (to her). Therefore, on a whim, she decided to apply to the University of Alberta and figured that – if she got in – she could make her decision then and have that conversation with Éliane at that point. There was no need to cause alarm just yet.

Evelyn kept telling herself that if she didn’t get accepted at the University of Alberta, then it would be a clear sign that she wasn’t meant to go back – not now anyways, and that would be that. It would make her life easier, Éliane would never need to know, and life would move on. However, every time she started thinking that way, part of her really hoped she would be accepted there.

In the end, obviously, because life never played out the way she wanted it to, she was accepted at two of the three schools she had applied to – one in Montreal and the other one in Edmonton.

Before she broke the news to Éliane, she sat herself down and made a rather long and elaborate list of all the pros and cons she could think of about attending both schools. The problem was that her number one con about going back to Edmonton was that Éliane would be in Montreal and her biggest con about staying in Montreal was that she really missed home and wouldn’t get to see it for god only knew how much longer.

When she finally brought the list to Éliane – when she finally gathered up her courage for this conversation, her girlfriend was a little put off about having been left in the dark, if only because she didn’t like the idea of Evelyn going through this burden alone, but she was ready to find solutions.

“I could get transferred to UofA; I’m sure they have an art program,” She said as she started tapping away at her phone, looking up the offered programs as though this was the easiest and most logical of solutions.

“El, don’t – I mean, it’s not that I don’t want you to come with, but – you had a whole plan and you were super psyched about getting into UQAM. Plus, you even said, they only take a few people per year, so that means your portfolio was really good.”

“Exactly. So if UQAM took me then it shouldn’t be a problem for UofA. I can apply to get transferred for winter term and then we can be together again.” She smiled brightly at that, closed off her phone as if the case was solved and shelved, but it didn’t sit well with Evelyn.

Evelyn loved that Éliane was ready to drop everything to follow her, but at the same time, she knew her girlfriend was impulsive – that she came up with plans in a blink of an eye and didn’t always think the consequences through. She knew, deep down, that eventually, for as much as Éliane would be charmed by the city and enjoy it, she would feel like a fish out of the water. She wouldn’t have her friends, she wouldn’t have her sister and she wouldn’t have her bearings with the city.

She knew that, for as much as Éliane liked to play the tough act, for as much as she was the life of a party, that deep down, she was very sensitive; that even if she made new friends (which she would) and even if she ended up loving her program, the pillars of her own life would be missing and it would slowly, but surely, eat at her. The last thing Evelyn wanted to do was make Éliane miserable and she didn’t Éliane to resent her for it, in the long run, either.

She brought up these points to Éliane, but just as she feared, Éliane rebuked every one of her arguments, because on top of everything else, her girlfriend was absolutely stubborn.

“But, if you’re all the way in Edmonton, that means a different time zone, I don’t get to see you as often and – you might never come back,” Éliane finally admitted, hours later, when it felt as though they were going around in circles with this discussion. She sounded small and – insecure and it was then that Evelyn realised that the real root of the problem wasn’t that Evelyn wanted to study outside of the city, it was that Éliane knew how much she missed Edmonton and Éliane feared she would never return once she went back.

The real problem was that Evelyn, for as much as she wanted to reassure her that she would – that she’d go there for the length of the degree and then come back – wasn’t sure she could say so convincingly. Who was to say what would happen when she got there? Who was to say that she would find a job in Montreal post-graduation? Who was to say that she and Éliane would still be together that many years ahead?

“Look, I don’t know what’s going to happen between now and then – but I want this to work, between us. I’m not running away to Edmonton to find some other girl or to replace you and I promise I’m going to do my best to make this long distance whatever work between us.” She started and gathered Éliane in her arms. Her girlfriend made herself small and buried her face in the folds of her sweater, taking in a deep breath, committing the scent of Evelyn to her mind, already knowing she would be gone within a few months.

“I promise too,” Éliane added softly, not meeting Evelyn’s eyes, already fighting to keep the tears at bay, “I mean – I want this to work too and I want you to be happy, so do what you feel will make you happiest.”

“But you make me happy, El,” Evelyn pressed a kiss to the top of Éliane’s head and that at least got a smile out of her, “I like having you around.”

“And I’ll still be here – after you’re done, but I don’t want you to miss out on this opportunity. I don’t want you to have regrets, twenty years from now or resent me because in a way I kept you here – that you stayed back because of me.”

“Are you sure?”

Éliane nodded, “I’ll miss you. I already miss you. But we can still talk and text, yeah?” She asked as if it was a question – as if Evelyn wasn’t already thinking of having weekly video call dates, or something of the likes. She would be going from having Éliane around her nearly every day to being miles and miles apart. It would be a big adaptation – for both of them, but with Éliane’s blessing, Evelyn felt a little more confident that it would work out in the end.

Their last summer together was – different, if they were to compare them to the previous ones. Knowing that Evelyn would be gone by the end of it, Éliane made it a point to spend as much time with her as possible and to create as many memories – good memories, so that Evelyn would want to come back.

No matter how many times Evelyn reassured her that she would return, Éliane was still a little worried that this was it – that Evelyn would move on, but she still put on a brave face and did her best to be supportive and happy for her. (Which she was – but, why did Edmonton have to be so far away?)

On the day that she left, Éliane went to the airport with Mr and Mrs Murphy and did her utmost best not to cry in front of them. (There would be time later – when she was home and alone in her bedroom. She didn’t want to cause a scene at the airport. She didn’t want to be that person.)

“I’ll be back before you know it.” Evelyn told her when they shared one last tight hug. Her voice cracked a little and she did her best to swallow her own tears that threatened to spill forth.

“I promise I’ll try to come over reading week.” They’d talked of the possibility and Éliane had been firm when she’d said she’d come to Edmonton at any chance she had – anytime they had time off. Evelyn admired her determination, but felt her girlfriend had forgotten how expensive the plane tickets could get.

“Love you,” Evelyn chose to say instead.

“Love you more.” Éliane stepped back and let Evelyn go. She watched as her girlfriend exchanged one more hug with her family and then went to queue up with the other travellers. She waved and waved again and tried not to think about the gap she suddenly felt in her chest.

University turned out to be much harder than Cégep, but Evelyn enjoyed it a lot more. It wasn’t always easy, but the work was much more challenging and she felt like she was actually advancing with life. She got to reconnect with her old friends, made new ones and the only thing missing – the only person missing to make it all the more perfect was Éliane.

They made it a point to have weekly video calls, just like Evelyn had thought of before she left, but it wasn’t always easy to keep with their schedule, what with different time zones, part time jobs, school work and the myriad of other obligations that got in the way. Still, every time they did talk, Evelyn felt as though the missing puzzle piece to her life was slotted into place.

And, for as much as they settled into their new routine, slowly got used to not being around each other (Evelyn liked to say that absence made the heart grow fonder), there came a time when Éliane started to really think that Evelyn had moved on. When she would stay up far too late and see her girlfriend post photos on social media, out with her new friends, having a jolly good time, and some ugly thing inside of her whispered that Evelyn was replacing her – that this relationship would fizzle out. It also didn’t help that with time zones and busy schedules, midterms and projects, their weekly video calls became shorter and were sometimes postponed or cancelled.

Éliane tried to tell herself that it was normal, that Evelyn had a life out there, that she was busy herself, but the fear kept gnawing at her and she hated that she thought this way. Deep down she knew it wasn’t true, but no matter how hard she tried to convince herself, there was still always an ounce of doubt that stayed.

Eventually, it crept up in a conversation, just before winter break and Evelyn hated that her girlfriend thought she wasn’t as interested anymore.

“Sweetheart, no – look, I know it’s hard, I miss you – a lot, but I promise I really want this to work between us and if ever, for some really absurd reason, I wasn’t interested anymore, I would let you know. I would never string you along, okay? And even if I’m in class, or asleep, you can still message me – I’ll answer you later, just like we’ve been doing, alright?”

Éliane nodded and wiped the tears away from her eyes. She hated that she couldn’t be strong – that something so trivial had gotten to her, but at the same time, hearing Evelyn say those words comforted her a bit, “I love you,” She said instead, because it was true and because sometimes it felt like her heart was too small to contain all the love she felt for Evelyn.

“Love you more, you silly goose. And I miss you. And I’m looking forward to seeing you this summer.”

Éliane smiled a little at that – at the promise of two weeks with Evelyn mostly all to herself. It wouldn’t be the same as the other summers, but she supposed they had to make do with what they got.

“Thanks for listening,” She said.

Evelyn smiled softly and touched the screen for a moment, “Of course – I’m always here for you, just like you’re always there for me.”

It didn’t suddenly get better or easier after that call, but Éliane felt just a little less alone. She stopped worrying that she was being extra clingy and reached out to Evelyn whenever she felt she needed it. She didn’t hold back when she wanted to send her a message, even if it was a simple heart emoji and the wonderful thing was that Evelyn replied to every single one and would send them back as well.

For the first time since Evelyn had left for Edmonton, Éliane felt a little lighter and started to believe that they would grow stronger from this and that they’d find a way to make it work. It was hard work, sure, she didn’t always like the distance, but it made her appreciate the time they had even more and because it was worth it to her – to the both of them, it pushed them both to keep working towards it.

If Evelyn sent her a sweater of hers for Christmas, well, maybe, just maybe it became Éliane’s favourite and she compulsively wore it all the time over the following four years, even after it stopped smelling of her girlfriend.

Éliane still considered transferring to UofA, or at the very least, doing an exchange for one semester, just to be with Evelyn for a few months. When she told Evelyn about it, she suggested to go somewhere different – not to hold back just because of her. She didn’t want her to miss out on some great experience or opportunity and settle for this out of some skewed sense of obligation. She could always visit her in Edmonton, but how many chances would she have to go literally anywhere else in the world? Evelyn threw back at her the same words and wisdom she had given her a year before and, with Evelyn’s blessing, Éliane applied elsewhere.

In the end, she went to study art in Italy, for the length of her second semester. She loved every moment of it, fell in love with the people, the food, and the culture, and sent too many postcards to Evelyn, until her entire wall was full of them.

To top it all off, since the school schedule in Italy was a little different, Evelyn even managed to surprise Éliane at the end of the term, when she flew in to spend some time with her, and they got to spend two weeks together in Italy.

And, somehow or other, they made it through undergrad together, even if they weren’t always in the same city.

When Evelyn had to apply for her Master’s degree, she once more decided to apply to schools both in Edmonton and back in Montreal. After four years back home, she felt that she had found the catharsis and closure she had been looking for all those years, after her father had sprung the move on her back when she was in high school. On top of that, she had really missed Éliane and – to her biggest surprise, she had also missed her life in Montreal.

She still wasn’t sure where she would eventually settle, how that would play with Éliane, but she figured, if she studied in Montreal, it would buy them both another two years before they had to figure it out.

This time around, she was accepted to the better of the engineering schools in Montreal and so, she took that as a sign that moving back was the right course of action – at least for now.

To absolutely no one’s surprise, Éliane was very excited when Evelyn broke the news of her decision to her, a few days later, once she had accepted the offer and weighed in all the pros and cons, and Evelyn had to admit that she was looking forward to going back – to picking up where things had left off and moving forward.

She was still a little sad that she was leaving Edmonton behind yet again, but this time, it was on her own terms and she knew that she could always come back and that no matter where she lived or where she went, the city would always be part of her.

Her first year back was – interesting, to say the least. For starters, she had to get used to living with her parents again, which seemed like a strange thing to say, but she had gotten used to staying with her grandparents during her undergrad degree. On top of that, the commute was different from what she’d known beforehand and sometimes, she cursed the suburbs. It was so very far away and there was so much wasted time.

Another thing she had to get used to again, which was also a strange thing to say, was being around Éliane again – or at the very least, the possibility of being around her again more often. It took them a while to fall back into their regular old patterns, even if they were happy to be able to be together again. At first, Evelyn had worried that maybe being away for so long had changed her feelings for Éliane, but once they talked it over and figured things out, she settled in her new routine and got the hang of it.

During that first year, Éliane moved out of her parents’ place and got one of her own, which Evelyn started spending more and more time at, since it was much closer to school and it also gave them more privacy than in their former bedrooms. She was there so often, in fact, that by the end of the first semester, she had her own spare key to the place, in case Éliane wasn’t around and she wanted to crash, and by the end of the second semester, Éliane casually asked her if she wanted to permanently move in with her.

Evelyn had been surprised and shocked by the offer. She had thought about it, they had talked about it, but she hadn’t thought Éliane would ask her so soon. Then again, she supposed she hadn’t taken into account her girlfriend’s impulsiveness. Therefore, over summer break, Evelyn moved her stuff halfway across town and finally, she was settled in with Éliane.

Her second and last year of her Master’s was just as interesting as her first and came with its own challenges and adaptations. For starters, there was the fact that she was now living with her girlfriend. For as much as it was great, for as much as she loved the idea of having a place that was her own and that she and Éliane could build together, there were also times when they’d find themselves butting heads over the most inane of things. It was a test and exercise in compromise, patience, and communication and even though they didn’t always get it right on the first try, they kept at it and eventually found solutions to their problems.

Finally, eventually, she finished her program, somehow or other, and on graduation day, her parents, her sister, and Éliane were there to see her receive her diploma. There was something – oddly soothing about having them all there, about knowing that she could have this – that her parents were accepting and welcoming, that she had the chance and privilege to have this, when so many others did not.

To celebrate the occasion, Mr and Mrs Murphy took them all out to a nice dinner and Evelyn thought it was the perfect ending to her academic career.

It was only later, when they were back at their own place and her parents and sister had left that Evelyn received the surprise of her life.

“I have a gift for you,” Éliane said, which surprised Evelyn, since her girlfriend had already given her a gift earlier that moment. Then again, Éliane was notorious for such things, so really, it shouldn’t have come as a shock. However, what did come as a shock was when Éliane walked up to her, got down on one knee and then proposed to her – ring and all – speech and hopeful smile included.

And – they had spoken about this, before – had brought it up a handful of times under different circumstances; sometimes as a joke, other times seriously, but – it still took her by surprise for the simple reason that she hadn’t thought Éliane would ask her on the day of her graduation – or that Éliane would be the one to ask. If anything, Evelyn was convinced that she would have beaten her to it.

She said yes, obviously, and Evelyn wondered if it was possible to bottle up the giddy feeling she felt inside of her and drink from it for the rest of her life.

Éliane put the photo album she’d been perusing down when she heard the front door open followed by Evelyn’s usual “I’m home!” She craned her head back in time to see her wife remove her motorcycle helmet and put it down before she passed a hand through her hair. Éliane couldn’t help but smile, fond and still so very much in love after all these years, as she watched one of her favourite daily spectacles.

She greeted her back and then watched as her wife then removed her leather jacket and put down her messenger bag before removing her boots and making her way towards her. “Hi,” She said, smiling wider as Evelyn bent down to kiss her properly in greeting. They went through their daily exchange of “how was your day” and “you’ll never believe what happened when,” as Evelyn settled beside Éliane and made herself comfortable, slowly unwinding from her day.

“What have you been up to?” Evelyn asked as Éliane carded her fingers through her hair.

“I was doing some cleaning and stumbled upon our old high school album! Ended up doing a lot of reminiscing and got a little distracted,” She admitted with a laugh. Evelyn chuckled and rolled her eyes, far too used to her wife’s antics, but was nonetheless fond. Éliane was notorious for this, but it was endearing in its own way.

“Yeah?”

Éliane nodded and retrieved the aforementioned album from the pile of what turned out to be other photo albums and opened it up to a random page, “Look! There you are!” She said pointing at a photo of the theatre troupe.

Evelyn took the album out of her hands and brought it closer to her face to get a good look, she groaned when she saw the photo, “Ugh, what was up with my hair?”

“Hush you; you had very nice hair – you still have very nice hair,” Éliane reproached, taking back the album as though afraid Evelyn would say more bad things about her past self and somehow or other insult the album in the process.

“You were very biased,” Evelyn teased, grinning wolfishly at her.

“No – I just have impeccable taste.”

Evelyn laughed and pulled her wife closer, despite her protests at being manhandled in such a way (even though they both knew it was mostly for show), before she pressed noisy kisses to the side of her face, “Very, very biased – so biased. So biased that there’s a photo of you beside the definition of the word, in the dictionary.” She went on, grinning, inches away from her lips, “The most biased, actually,” She added before kissing her softly. She felt Éliane cup her face and kiss her back, soft and pliant, and so welcoming and loving – like always, like it had been those first careful times what felt like a thousand lifetimes ago.

“Just for you, darling,” Éliane murmured, moments later, when they parted to catch their breaths, “Always just for you.”

Evelyn laughed and the sound of it thrilled Éliane who held her wife close, loving her more with each passing moment – with each breath she took. She still thrilled and marvelled that even so many years later, they still kept choosing each other, every single day and she knew that for as long as she lived, Evelyn would always have her.

FIN

#pc: montreal #pc: edmonton #pc: fem!montreal #is that gonna be a tag now lamao #pc: fem!edmonton #evelyn murphy #éliane maisonneuve #au #fic #it's DONE

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