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cellsshapedlikestars · 3 years

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If you are accepting prompts--how about Sansa and Jon being on opposite sides of a political contest? Prime Minister Rhaegar Targaryen is forced to call a referendum for Northern independence, as demanded by the Northern Nationalists party. He is campaigning in the North for a United Westeros, taking his second wife Lyanna Stark and their son Jon along, toshow how hollow all talk if Northern independence is. However, this means that Jon keeps running into his Stark cousins, particularly Sansa Stark, who accompanies her parents to every debate and campaign rally...

I've been sitting on this for a while (and yes, I do see all the anon prompts, I promise!) and I've sort of been writing this on and off since I got it. The thing is, I have no point of reference for these politics, I'm assuming you wanted something like the Scottish independence movement, which I have almost no knowledge of as I am a dumb American who can barely handle American politics without spiraling into anxiety and depression. So, I've sort of talked around the specifics and hopefully I haven't gotten anything too crazy wrong.

Also, you mention his Stark cousins, but... well, I cannot do modern incest. I can handle them being cousins in olden times where it was acceptable & common (I can't even handle the sibling incest aspect in any time period), but I was writing this modern and that's a hard nope for me. I know it's a fairly predominant part of this fandom and if it's your thing, absolutely have at it! There is no kink shaming in this house. It's just not for me and I couldn't write it, sorry!

Also, as usual, this turned out longer than I intended since these are supposed to be drabbles mostly. But 'drabbles' for me always end up like 2k words

Jon sits in the window seat of the jet, headphones on and turned up. Somewhere behind him, he knows his parents are sitting, likely talking strategy. He knows dad wants him to join in, but Jon's in no mood to talk politics. It's what got him in this situation to begin with.

That stupid reporter. Jon's stupid response.

Jon! How do you feel about Northern Independence?

I say let them.

It's what he believes, honestly – if the North wants independence, why not? The rest of the SK treats them like shit anyway, why not let them break off, like Dorne did? It's not a naming issue – they're still called the Seven Kingdoms despite losing Dorne decades ago, so what if they're technically only six now? Jon knows it's about more than that – it's economics and politics and... well, pride. The SK can't lose another piece of their kingdom – nevermind that piece has been conquered and beaten down multiple times over hundreds of years. Northern Independence isn't a new concept – it's just been met with military resistance every time and stamped out. But they aren't in the middle ages anymore.

For a moment he turns his head to look behind him – to see mom with her head bowed in conversation with dad and something ugly twists in Jon's stomach.

He knows dad only married mom because she got pregnant – because his political career was just taking off and a mistress and bastard would have ruined him. And mom, she'd been so young, she's convinced herself he married her for love. Jon swears that mom used to be different. She used to argue with Rhaegar all the time about politics, he even remembers her bringing up Northern Independence when Jon was just a kid. But over the years she's had to play the perfect wife for him and somewhere along the way it just... stuck. Mom isn't his mom anymore. No, mom is what Rhaegar's political advisors want her to be.

So even though Jon had wanted to protest this trip, there's also a part of him desperately clinging to the hope that when they get North, mom will snap out of it. When she's home, maybe she'll be his mom again.

Especially since the leader of the opposition is an old friend of hers.

Ned Stark.

Dad doesn't react to much, he's a politician to his core, so seeing him get riled anytime Ned Stark is on TV is notable. In fact, there's a rebellious part of Jon that already likes Ned Stark simply for the fact that dad hates him so much. There's more to like than just that, Jon knows – Ned Stark seems like one of those politicians that's doing the job because they want to make a difference. They're rare, nowadays, but Jon's been surrounded by politicians his whole life and he can spot the do-gooders from a mile away.

He thinks it's partly why dad hates it – Ned Stark doesn't use the same underhanded tactics Rhaegar's used to, and from everything Jon's heard, there's nothing to use against Ned. The only skeleton dad's advisors had ever found tucked away in Ned Stark's closet had been that his wife, Catelyn, had originally dated his older brother Brandon, who died in a car accident. They'd begun dating and married shortly after - a minor scandal that hadn't gained any traction, considering they've been married for over twenty years with five children.

Dad was hoping to get somewhere with the youngest daughter, Arya, who always seemed more wild than the rest of her siblings (except maybe the youngest, Rickon). The problem is that she's never done anything really wrong and the North loves her. The oldest son Robb is as perfect a son as any politician could hope for and Jon sometimes wonders if dad would rather have Robb than Jon.

The other two sons are still fairly young and going after them would only make dad look like the bad guy. Then there's Sansa.

Jon remembers her from growing up – not that he'd ever met her, but they're both kids of prominent politicians and he's seen her in photos since she was old enough to walk. A proper lady, he remembers even the southern press naming her. Perfect, just like her older brother.

A hand on his shoulder jolts him out of his thoughts and he turns to see mom, who motions at him to take off his headphones.

“We're landing in a half hour and your father would like to go over your role,” she tells him with a perfect, bland smile. (She hasn't been his mother for a very long time.)

“I know my role,” he says and he can't help the bitter tone to his voice. “Stay quite, don't talk to the press. Pretty easy to remember.”

“And yet you still managed to nearly undermine my entire campaign with one flippant remark,” dad's voice calls over from his seat, low and smooth, though Jon absolutely hears the annoyance underneath it.

“Oh, he's just a child,” mom says, trying to play the peacekeeper like she always does.

“He's twenty, he's hardly a child,” dad starts, but Jon doesn't listen to the rest. He pulls his headphones back over his ears and looks back out the window and tries to pretend he's anywhere else.

…

By the time they reach Winterfell Castle, Jon is in a bad mood.

Not that he hadn't been before, but he's not allowed his headphones in the limo and so he'd had to listen to dad talk nonstop about his two favorite topics: Jon's failure as a son and how much he hates Ned Stark. And the way mom doesn't even try to defend Ned Stark like she used to infuriates Jon even more.

Jon hates his tuxedo and he hates that they barely had any time between landing and having to get ready for this dinner and he hates that he's going to have to smile and shake hands with a bunch of people who hate him on principle, simply for who his father is. For what his father represents.

When he does step out of the limo, he ignores every photographer and reporter that shouts his name, eager to get any sort of scandal out of him.

He doesn't blame them for this, he's given them enough over the years – not just his apparent support of Northern Independence, but everything else he's done to gain his notoriety. His reputation as a heartbreaker and a playboy that's mostly over-exaggerated, that time he punched a teacher (though to be fair, Thorne deserved it)... Teenage rebellion, they'd written it off as, but he's no longer a teenager and he knows he should grow up and stop doing things to piss off his father at some point.

(His favorite one had been sleeping with that investigative journalist when he was seventeen. She'd been older than him by a good few years and he'd known she was using him to write an article, but he was using her just as much to infuriate his father. His only true regret is that Ygritte's article hadn't done any real lasting damage to Rhaegar's reputation.)

Inside, there aren't any reporters but there are politicians everywhere and that's worse. He does the bare minimum to not cause an issue – he shakes hands and says hello, though he refuses to smile while doing it. They already hate him for being Rhaegar Targaryen's son. They already hate him for being Northern-traitor Lyanna Snow's son.

He keeps an eye on mom to see how she's doing and his heart twists painfully in his chest when he sees her. She has a bright smile on her face and anyone who didn't know her would think she's fine, but Jon can see how pale she is under her makeup. This is the first time she's been back in the North since she married dad and he has a sudden, sharp pang of hatred for Rhaegar – for getting her pregnant, for marrying her, for never letting her go back. For turning her into this.

He can tell the moment Ned Stark enters the room because mom freezes. And sure enough, there he is – beautiful wife at his side, the three adult children with him. Robb, Sansa, Arya. Jon's eyes scan over them – Robb with his perfect hair and smile, an easy way about him that's always come through even on camera. Sansa standing poised and almost too beautiful to believe – Jon's only ever seen her on film and somehow she's even more unreal in person. Arya, who by all accounts hates politics as much as Jon does, stands firmly by her family and Jon gets the sense she only hates the system, not her dad. Not like Jon.

As Jon scans the room, he can see other families here that he recognizes – the Greyjoys, including Robb Stark's best friend Theon. The Manderlys, the Karstarks, the Ryswells, the Boltons, the Mormonts. More families than Jon cares to remember.

There's a sense of someone behind him and he turns just enough to see that dad has come up to stand next to him. For a moment, dad just stands there before turning his head ever so slightly and bringing his mouth close to Jon's ear and he says so low Jon can barely even hear it - “if you do anything to embarrass me tonight, there will be consequences. If you do anything that makes it seem like you support this pathetic independence movement, there will be consequences. Do you understand me?”

Jon feels blind rage that winds so hot in his chest it makes him shake and his vision narrow. He has to close his eyes and take a deep breath before he can answer, and he grits out, “of course.” Dad nods and moves away, putting on his best politician smile as he goes to greet Howland Reed.

Mom shoots him a concerned look, but Jon ignores her. He can feel it building in him – that rebelliousness the press likes to talk about so much. He wants to hurt Rhaegar. For everything – for his mother, for all the people dad's stepped on and hurt. He wants to embarrass him, consequences be damned.

Just as he's thinking this, his eyes catch on copper hair and bright blue eyes.

Sansa Stark.

Darling of the press. Perfect Northern princess.

It takes root in his mind, against his better judgment. What would make Rhaegar more furious than an affair between his son and the daughter of Ned Stark?

Jon can't imagine Sansa would be amenable to the suggestion, not like Ygritte had been – there is no mutually beneficial agreement here. She would never agree to do something that might embarrass her father (and once again, Jon is reminded of the, pun intended, stark difference between his relationship with his father and the Stark children's relationship with Ned. Jon has never even met them in person and he knows this).

So he can't approach her with any sort of offer or plan. No, he'd have to pretend it was real.

He's going to have to seduce Sansa Stark.

#jonsa #prompt fic #ask #oooh boy do i know nothing of politics #and political families #do not @ me #is this boring?#probably #jonsa fic

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sapphiccrypt · 3 years

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The Names You Call Me

Oh boy- I don’t have an Ao3 account so I guess I’m putting this here.

Ship: Wanda x Agatha (MCU) AU: Soulmate AU Word Count: 2578 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Agatha had been around for a while- of course she had. She was a witch from all the way back in the time of the Salem Witch Trials. However, in the roughly estimated 350 years she’d been alive (she’d lost count around the first World War), she hadn’t figured out who her soulmate was. Everyone had one, or at least, everyone was supposed to. Every little nickname or term of endearment your soulmate called you was supposed to be inked somewhere on your skin. However, she herself had been a blank canvas for centuries. It’s not like she minded, she was always more focused on acquiring more magical knowledge.

However, this didn’t stop the witch from giving little nicknames to everyone. It had become a habit over time. Was it so that she’d finally find her supposed soulmate one day? Or perhaps it was just to prove to herself that said soulmate didn’t exist and would never exist. Either way, this habit hadn’t shown any positive results, at least, that’s what she thought.

It was one of her habits that carried over into the nosy neighbor persona she had become forced to play.

------

Wanda’s parents always told them about soulmates, how those little names that appeared on your skin were supposed to be so meaningful and lovely. Oh how she wished that was the case. Of course, life always seemed to want to throw a curveball at her.

She was in her cabin in the vast wilderness when she had decided to shower. As she stepped out, her hair was intricately braided with magic. She had decided to check said braid in the mirror when she noticed something that made her heart sink.

Written in small lettering along her lower back were different words. Wanda knew what this meant, of course she did. Everyone was told about soulmates. There were so many rom coms and tv shows about it. Hell- in the show she’d weaved together from the town of Westview, she’d finally been able to make Vision and herself soulmates. However, the few nicknames the deceased synthezoid had called her in the past weren’t written there.

Instead, there were ones like “buttercup,” “hon,” and “toots,” among a few others. In the back of her mind, she knew where those nicknames came from- who those nicknames came from. She stared at the writing for a while. Why her of all people? The one that betrayed her and tried to take her magic? Why couldn’t it have been Vision, or anyone else for that matter? Why did it have to be Agatha?

The mirror shatters.

------

Agatha didn’t know how long she was trapped in the lonely and painstakingly quiet void of own mind. Mere minutes could feel like years just for the next hour to pass like milliseconds. Feeling and watching herself do and say things, think things, without it really being her was a fate worse than death. No matter how hard she would scream, no one could hear her there.

Agnes, meanwhile, was brewing herself a morning cup of coffee. She had always been a coffee person, for as long as she could remember, just like she had always been living in the quiet town of Westview. Of course, she found her hobbies. Along with being the neighborhood gossip, she would tend to her garden and watch fun movies. It was a simple life, and she liked it, despite the part of herself buried deep within the far corners of her mind that told her this wasn’t what she should be doing.

As the housewife was pouring her coffee into one of her many ornate mugs, a knock at the door echoed above the noise of the television and her own humming. She almost spilled her coffee but set the pot aside on the counter. “I’ll be there in just a moment!” Agnes called as she speed-walked over to the door and opened it to see her former neighbor.

“Wanda! What a pleasant surprise,” Agnes began with the same neighborly smile she always put on. The one that seemed so permanent that her cheeks would often hurt after a while. “And here I thought you had forgotten about little ol’ Agnes,” she teased, stepping out of the doorway so the other could enter. “Please, come on in.”

Wanda would nod, smiling calmly over at the other. “It’s nice to see you again, Agnes,” she’d comment as she looked around the neatly decorated house. The whole place had a sickeningly sweet atmosphere, as to be expected of the role she had put upon the other. She sat down on the couch Agnes guided her over to, looking over at the sitcom playing on the television. She had been meaning to watch that one.

“Would you like anything to drink? Coffee, tea, something a little more...adult?” Agnes asked with a mischievous smirk as she moved into the kitchen. “Take your pic, pumpkin.”

She looked down as the other called her a new nickname, knowing it was probably added to the list of words that were written on her back. “Tea is fine, thanks,” the Sokovian woman commented, quietly resting her hands in her lap as she prepared for what was to come. Hopefully the runes she’d placed on the house and Agatha herself would stop her from attacking or playing with her mind again.

Agnes rambled on about life in Westview and tidbits of gossip she’d picked up on since the other had left the small New Jersey town. Soon enough, the shrill noise of the teapot pierced the air and she prepared the other’s drink, walking in with both mugs after reheating her own coffee.

Wanda talked with Agnes for a few minutes, thanking her for the tea and sipping it as they chatted and watched the television program. When the other set her mug down on the coffee table, the younger witch moved a glowing red hand to the other’s temple, bringing back the witch that she had previously locked away.

Agatha’s eyes widened and she gasped as all her senses came back to her and she was in her own mind again. She looked over at Wanda, stumbling away from the other on the couch some before her gaze narrowed. “What do you want?” She asked. She knew deep down she couldn’t really do much besides listen to the other, as she couldn’t feel the usual buzz of magic underneath her skin.

“Well it’s nice to see you too, Agatha.” Wanda said, still keeping a calm demeanor about her as she looked over at the other. “I had to come by and see how my nosy neighbor was doing.”

The older of the two grumbled as she got up, blue eyes gazing at the other and desperately trying to figure out her motives. “You and I both know that isn’t the reason, Red.” Agatha commented. At least she was herself again, although being powerless like this was still worse than death, in her opinion.

Wanda sighed. What was with this woman and all her nicknames? She was sure her back was soon to be covered in words. “I just want to talk,” she paused, considering her next words. “Ags.” She noticed the hint of some marking on the other’s left arm, although it was mainly covered by her sleeve.

Agatha looked a bit surprised at the nickname before glaring once more. “What do you want to talk about.” She muttered, sitting down at a chair adjacent to the other. She didn’t really want to talk, but she didn’t quite want to be Agnes again either.

“Well- I have two things. First, a sort of proposal of sorts,” Wanda replied. “You said I would need you, so this is a time to make yourself needed. Teach me the secrets of the Darkhold, I know you know it well.” Some of the spells in the book were quite confusing, and at times the book itself seemed like it didn’t want to be read, and surely giving this incentive would give her the insight she needed on the book.

“The second...” she began again, “....is this,” Wanda said as red magic rolled up the left sleeve of the other’s shirt, causing Agatha to tense some. “Take a look for yourself.”

The brunette’s gaze settled on her arm, eyes widening as she read out the small, 3 letter nickname the other had just called her. She opened her mouth to speak for a moment before promptly closing it right afterwards. She was silent for what seemed like eternity before she let out a low chuckle.

“You must be covered then, huh, dearie?”

------

Months passed as the two resided in Wanda’s cabin. The Scarlet Witch’s training was going alright- save for a few clearings in the forest that definitely weren’t there before. Overtime, arguments and harsh words turned to cheeky and sarcastic remarks. Neither of them brought up the soulmate thing too much, as if the situation was a creature one would be advised not to poke with a stick. This didn’t stop Agatha from coming up with new nicknames just to add to the collection and tick off Wanda, however. Meanwhile her own arm was mostly bare save for a few names she was called when the other wanted to try at the game that the older witch was playing.

It was late morning, Wanda was usually the first to wake up, whether it was from her just being an early riser or nightmares she got frequently was up for debate. She prepared a small meal, just some bacon and eggs, making her some tea. Agatha often made her own coffee, through normal or magical needs.

She had decided after a couple weeks to let Agatha use her magic, as trust had grown between the two and it was easier for the magic lessons to have someone who could actually use magic. Agatha hadn’t attacked or anything, she seemed to know it wouldn’t end well. Plus, through the passing months, both women were beginning to take a liking to one another, whether they wanted to admit it or not.

Agatha came down from her room a few minutes after Wanda had sat down for breakfast, pushing messy brunette hair out of her face so her vision wasn’t obscured. She grabbed a mug, magically making herself some coffee before getting a portion of breakfast and sitting down across from Wanda at the small wooden dining table.

“Good morning.” Wanda commented with a soft smile. Although part of herself hated to say it, she really enjoyed Agatha’s company. She had grown to enjoy the little nicknames, the teasing remarks, the way her laugh made her feel like her heart was made of butterflies. Disregard that last part.

Agatha nodded, sipping her coffee. “Morning.” She said, taking a few bites of breakfast that the other had prepared. “This is good, buttercup.” She smirked some at the other before sipping her coffee. “Ready for today’s practice?”

Wanda looked up from her cup of tea and over at who had become her mentor. “Of course.” She responded. Her control over her magic had been getting better, and she’d been learning all sorts of spells and runes from the other witch.

After breakfast, the two women got changed and went out into the forest, into one of the clearings that had been there before the two had started using the area for magic practices. This spot was quite peaceful, and the two spent many hours reading through the Darkhold, along with other books of magic that Agatha had acquired over the centuries of her life.

Practice went as normal, going over a few new runes and such, like one Agatha had used to block out her mind from the other’s telepathy in Westview. It was a difficult rune but Wanda had proved to be a quick and skilled learner. After a couple more runes, Agatha would switch over to spells.

Wanda didn’t like to admit that elemental magic was really frustrating. How was chaos and creation easier than controlling water? The two had moved to a nearby creek for this spell. Agatha instructed how to control the water but each try ended in one or both of them getting splashed.

Agatha had an idea and moved closer to Wanda. “Here.” She began, standing behind her and placing her hands on her wrists, ignoring the quickened beating of her heart. Yeah, she was falling for the other, who also happened to be her soulmate, so be it. She’d deal with that “problem” later. “You have to follow the flow of the water with your body, be fluid in your movements and calm in your emotions.”

It was hard to be calm when Agatha was against her like this and her cheeks were tinted the same color of her magic, but Wanda was determined to get this seemingly simple spell down. She closed her eyes, taking deep breaths as she tried to cast the spell, moving in tandem with her mentor. Things seemed to be going quite well, opening one eye to see the water moving with them.

Until she fell, of course.

She had heard a rustling in the bushes and her concentration broke and caused her to stumble and fall forward, Agatha falling along with her into the cold shallow water. A deer ran out of their view. Wanda began to apologize before the other let out what was probably the most genuine laugh she’d ever heard, causing her already pounding heart to skip a few beats. She found herself laughing along.

Agatha stood up, helping the other to her feet as well. “Well that’s a way to become one with the water,” she teased, smiling at Wanda. “If I wasn’t already awake, I definitely am now.” She added before smirking and splashing the other.

“Hey!” The younger witch exclaimed as the cold water made her shiver, although the smile she had on never left her lips. “No fair,” she added before splashing the other in return.

Agatha chuckled before reaching over to move some wet hair out of the other’s face. Her hand lingered on her cheek for a moment as their eyes met before she quickly looked away, going to climb out of the creek before a hand grabbed hers, and she looked back at Wanda. “What is it, darling?” She asked.

Wanda ignored how much the nickname made her face heat up. She hadn’t really been thinking as she grabbed the other’s hand, and she ended up staring into the other’s eyes for longer than most normal friends would. Her heart kept beating and she felt like if she didn’t say something to break the tension would be infinite.

“I think I’m falling for you.”

Ok- anything but that.

The older witch was the one blushing now, before chuckling softly as their fingers intertwined. “And here I thought you couldn’t stand me.” She teased, smiling at the other as they moved closer to one another.

It doesn’t matter who ended up kissing who, what matters is that it happened, and neither seemed to want to pull away.

When they finally did so, Wanda found herself leaning into Agatha’s touch as the other woman caressed her cheek, and she entangled one of her hands into the other’s unruly dark hair.

“I don’t think I mind being your soulmate, Aggie.”

Another mark appeared on Agatha’s arm, and they both leaned in for another kiss

#harkximoff #wanda x agatha #wandagatha #agatha x wanda #witch wives #one shot #fanfic #marvel #mcu #soulmate au #agatha harkness #wanda maximoff #this is my first fic here and im kinda nervous but y'all wanted it so here it is

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djarrex · 3 years

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Hi everyone, just wanted to address what happened last night along with some other things from before that all tie in together.

There’s multiple parts to the following post - please make sure you read all of it if you’re gonna take the time to even start.

It was midnight and y'all were still jumping in on anon and telling me how I'm awful for not commenting, owning up, or taking responsibility - I should have been in bed. I have a life and job outside this app; and with the several of you in my inbox and it being too late at night to address each, I’m gonna do it now. I can’t not say something about all of this. I just can’t keep quiet and ignore the problem - it’s not fair to you all. Deleting one post already has you guys even more riled up and all I wanted to do was offer something better than a “half-hearted apology” (it was very late at night when I wrote that very short apology, and wanted a redo tbh).

I really didn't want to make a long post like this. I reached out to a select few on here because I care about them (there's more of you, but like I said, it was at the time after midnight and I was fucking exhausted). but I was being demanded for accountability. So here I am.

Allow me to be real with you all, if that's ok. If it's not, well, idk. First I wanna address all you anons, who, instead of speaking to me one on one about all this, want to criticize me and shame me and my writing when truthfully it feels like you haven't even read more than a handful of my work. I didn’t realize that I write the clones all the same way? That I always make them super aggressive and uncaring and dom? “you write every single clone as so dominant instead as unique individual men with their own personalities” Interesting. See, that right there tells me you haven't read nearly enough of my stuff for me to believe that's true. That's one accusation I absolutely will not back you on because I know it’s inaccurate - saying how I group the clones into some overly-aggressive, and uncaring category - that I always write all of them as mean in bed because they're men of color. And hey, if I do write rough smut - which yeah, it's out there and I write it, as do a lot of you - there are warnings at the beginning, aftercare, dialogue, reader sharing their feelings, and most importantly... consent between the two. That’s what warnings are for, so that you know what you’re going to be reading. That’s why I, as we all do, appreciate warnings listed at the tops of fics; honestly, write them sub or dom or switch or however you want but don’t come at me like that. I’m sorry if I'm coming across as rude because I'm usually not, I’m one of the nicest people you’ll meet, but I will not stand idly by while you chastise my writing (writing that is pretty much the same type of stuff a lot of you write & rb with the same characters) that you haven’t read enough of to back such claims.

Next: Sincerely, from the bottom of my heart,

I get it. Really, I do. I fully understand the problem of whitewashing in SW along with almost everywhere else, and I do not agree with it. It's a huge problem, and it needs to be rectified. Now just because I don't speak publicly about it and opt out of publicly shaming TBB, doesn't mean that I agree with what’s going on. Not everyone is comfortable with sharing their opinions on a subject, no matter what that subject is or which side they're on. You live and you learn when it comes to that.

It has never been my intention to fetishize POC in my writing, which btw, the same people who are saying that it is my intention are the ones claiming I portray all of the clones as the same, aggressive men, lacking their individuality. It’s a claim that is simply not true, and I know I have followers on here to back me up on that. I know what I've written; how about you check it out and tell me that you don't see the words "soft" or "fluff" or "cuddling" or “gentle” or “tender” within my work linked in my ML. Clone character being a good partner and father? Tender love making? Holding each others faces in their hands? “We/you survived” sex? Taking care of their partner? Saying “I love you” to one another? Confirming the safe word and going slow at first? Oh my - riveting and harsh stuff - totally unacceptable.

Now: My admittedly problematic writings of Rex + Zygerria,

I went into writing that rp fic totally unaware and unknowing of the true implications. For that, I sincerely apologize. When I posted the NSFW alphabet, that’s when I was called out on that rp fic - not when I first posted it. Which the timeline doesn’t matter, I know that, but it concerns me a little bit that no one spoke up about it sooner - letting me dig myself deeper into a hole that I didn’t realize I was inside of in the first place. I've apologized once, and I know that doesn't negate what happened; I acknowledged my mistake back then, but I suppose that wasn’t good enough. I had asked you, anon, to message me to give me guidance, to teach me on what to do about the fic - you stayed hidden. Well, respectfully, what the fuck? I know we're all adults but don't lecture me and avoid me when I’d literally reached out for guidance on how to properly rectify the issue. I fixed my wording in some of my fics (the things I’ve caught upon rereading them) because I recognized and more importantly learned about and from my mistakes along with the unintentional negative implications of how I wrote those characters. Some of y'all wanna tell me that I "haven't learned"? Who are you, my personal blog police? My professor? My life coach? Are you even my friend? If I'm wrong and haven't learned, then fucking educate me. I worked hard on that rp fic, just like I do with a majority of what I write, but it doesn’t matter because I will delete it knowing that it’s harmful to others and I apologize for inadvertently romanticizing slavery with what I wrote - it was unintentional, and I’m truly sorry to those who have been hurt by it. I know it’s wrong, and there’s no proper excuse for it. Can’t go back in time, but consider it gone now.

Since that first wakeup call, I’ve been working hard to ensure I avoid using certain words and ideas when describing the clones in my fics. If there’s still something you see that isn’t correct or is inappropriate, please tell me! Don’t hold it in but then jump on the “attack M” bandwagon. Private message me, or come peacefully off or on anon, there will be no hard feelings. I don’t mind being corrected when I make a mistake - that’s just part of life, we all make mistakes and we live and learn from them. Making mistakes doesn’t = scumbag human. When you hold your breath and choose not to take the time to guide me, and if I appear to still be making the same mistakes, well, idk. I’m telling you right now that I do not mind if you message me with the good intention of pushing me in the right direction. When you come at me with hostility on anon, well, no thank you. To the anons that came without rage: thank you! I read what you wrote, and I have a better understanding as to how my writing had hurt the lovely followers of mine, and tried to address as much as possible in this post. See, angry mob anons? It costs zero credits to be kind and offer up your thoughts and advice with a good heart. I’m not going to hate you or block you if you try to correct me. I don’t block unless you’re a snoopin’ minor. Just don’t hold a knife to my throat.

Now: Why did I delete the tags and then my response to that anon ask?

Simply put: I felt awful. Deleting it doesn’t immediately mean I’m hiding from it and ignoring the issue. I wanted to come up with a better apology, explanation, whatever you wanna call it, because my followers deserve that. The ones who enjoy my work, the ones who interact, the ones who I call my friends, the ones who know that I’m a good person. Didn’t want to leave the tags/post floating around all night, giving more people time to sharpen their pitchforks and join the mob while I attempted to sleep. Trust me, I know saying that I had no ill intentions when tagging that post doesn’t make it better nor does it make it go away. I’m just trying to show you my point of view, that I knew immediately how I should not have tagged it that way, so that’s why I deleted them. I corrected my mistake. But y’all are too fucking quick I swear.

One more thing:

I know some of you who had called me out with the passive-aggressive inbox messages are still following me, and for what? You don’t like what I post, which is why one would follow another in the first place, so why bother sticking around? Do you feel like you need to police my blog? You want to be there the literal minute I make a mistake? I’m gonna turn off anon for a bit, so if you wanna discuss, message me. Just know that if you’re going to come at me with knives out, I probably won’t reply to you.

To conclude:

I’m sorry. Truly sorry for the entire Rex + Zygerria outfit + slaver ordeal with both the fic from a while ago and then the tags from last night. We can’t go back in time; the only option is to correct past mistakes that are able to be corrected, and then move on with new knowledge that’ll aid in me working even harder to ensure my writing isn’t inappropriate or offensive, and doesn’t hurt my followers nor the characters I write for. I’m still going to write self-indulgent filth and fluff, post-order 66 Rex, and other misc shit. I enjoy writing fanfic, as I know a lot of you enjoy reading what I write and love to talk to me about it. I hope that this didn’t come off as me being a bitch, because I’m really not. I enjoy interacting with the handful of people on here that I’d call my friends, and I love reading your reactions and tags to my fics when you’re excited and/or horny (LOL). It’s just after lunch time where I’m at, so I hope you have a great rest of the day/night/morning whatever for wherever you are.

#long post #m personal

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sundaeserenade · 3 years

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So a few weeks ago I wrote a thread on twitter about wanting to write a reguri soulmate fic where they decide to not be soulmates and make the decision for themselves. like it’s a mutual thing that they both decide on instead of it being this sign from the universe or fate or whatever. basically, they just go against fate.

and i tried writing out that idea and forcing it into the standard path of r/g/y/fr/lg but i ended up not liking that and i didn’t like a few other things that i did. so this was a learning experience! if i ever write this, it’ll have to be an actual..au with no canon ties. which is probably better because i can do whatever i want with the world building!

but i wrote 2.3k words... and i’m not going to post this on ao3 bc it’s not finished and it never will be. it’s not polished and it never will be, but i figured i should post it here so that it’s somewhere, at least.

They were considered to be two of the lucky ones. Finding one’s soulmate so early on in life is a blessing from the universe, a sign that their bond is under the ever watchful gaze of the divine. Luck will follow them, surely. What do they have left to despair over? What do they have to fear? The greatest challenge of their lives has already been solved, and so they are told to walk freely and without pressure clinging to their shoulders.

They found each other at the fine age of six, and from now on, they will be blessed and find wealth.

“I don’t believe any of it,” Green whispers. He keeps his voice low, eyes darting around the blanket fort they’d built in Red’s living room. The only light they have is a single flashlight that keeps flicking on and off due to low battery. Red’s in charge of turning it off and on in hopes that it’ll last just a minute longer while Green is pouring over the books he’d taken from the bookshelf at his grandfather’s house.

They’re all self-help books with titles like How to Find Your Soulmate and Gut Feelings Can Get in the Way of Love and other crap that Red doesn’t care for. Green turns pages and looks at indexes, his mouth forming words but no sound coming out. He skims over paragraphs meant for people twice his age to read, but Green’s smart, always has been, and he’s handling the bulk of the work while Red turns the flashlight on and off again.

Green stops on a page and Red leans forward to read the chapter title: Life is Always Better with a Soulmate! Green scoffs and rolls his eyes. “That can’t be true. What about those couples that break up? Your mom and dad did, right Red?”

Red nods, lips thinning. There’s a nervousness in his heart, heightened by the darkness that comes and goes with the dying of the flashlight. All of these books are telling lies and the adults believe them. But both he and Green know that it’s wrong, that soulmates aren’t all that they’re cracked up to be.

After all, when he’d first met Green, when they’d first shook hands and looked into each other’s eyes, their bond was formed.

It felt like… It felt like what volcanoes erupting looks like. A loud, earth-shaking feeling that filled Red with shock and fear of what was to come. It felt like the air was being forced out of his lungs, like an ekans squeezing a rattata. It felt like being lost in the woods at night and getting an expensive toy as a birthday present. It was frightening and too much all at once, so much so that they both jumped back, startled and scared.

But it was a bond being formed under the eyes of the universe. A pact being sealed without their consent or understanding. They had found their soulmate, and the elation and joy swept over Pallet Town like a wind with Red and Green staring at each other in confusion through all of it.

Green is Red’s best friend, but he can’t say for sure if that’s because of the bond or because Green likes to talk about pokémon with him. There’s no one else around who has such a strong interest in the creatures, but Green will flaunt his knowledge and sneak them into his grandfather’s lab to look at some of them. They fed a growlithe together, they ran from a nidoran together, but Red doesn’t feel that special feeling again.

“I don’t feel it either,” Green admitted to him when Red had written out his question. “Maybe that’s all we’ll ever feel. Maybe it’s normal.”

There are no marks to make the process of finding soulmates easier. It’s a feeling, it’s a gaze, it’s a touch that one feels when they meet their special someone. Because of this, everyone is overly friendly. Shaking hands and hugging strangers is commonplace. Eye contact is expected, and Red is secretly relieved to have met Green because now he can avoid meeting people’s eyes.

Everywhere around them, people are almost desperate to find their one. It’s so deeply ingrained in their way of living and looking at the world. So Green wonders and ponders and thinks. Red asking that question only opened up other possibilities, and Green is curious and intelligent, so he runs with it in search of the truth.

Which brings them to the blanket fort and the lies printed in black ink. The two of them sit there comparing what they’ve experienced in their lives to what the world at large believes. Red’s parents were no longer together, and yet they’d been soulmates. What does it mean? They’d been told repeatedly that once they found their special someone, the world would right itself, the universe would sing their song and they’d face little to no hardships.

“It’s a lie,” Green spits, closing the book with a loud slam. “They’ve been lying to us, Red.”

Red puts down the flashlight and reaches over to take Green’s hand.

There’s no spark or visions of celebration to differentiate the touch from any other one.

When Green turns seven, he puts distance between them.

When Green turns eight, he starts being mean.

When they both turn eleven, they begin their pokémon journeys.

It’s a monumental undertaking and when he was younger, Red had thought he and Green would face it side by side. But now, Green runs forward, spewing taunts in his wake. There’s no link between them that offers Red a peek into what Green’s really feeling, no sign given by their bond that could explain his behavior. Red is left alone, confused and hurt by his own soulmate shunning and belittling him every chance he gets.

Red keeps walking because that’s what he’s always done. He catches pokémon, forges bonds with them, and trudges through grass and mud and rain to get where he needs to go. It’s fun being outside so much. He gets to be on his own, away from people and it’s not seen as him being strange or weird. Pokémon aren’t afraid of him. Pokémon don’t whisper hurtful things behind his back. It’s him, his team, and the four badges in his case.

That is, until the foreboding air and eerie light of Lavender Town comes creeping closer. An unsettling presence hangs over the town like a smog, and Red finds himself thrust into the city's problems as he chases Team Rocket. And in doing so, he runs into his soulmate once more in the Pokémon Tower.

Red has a reason for being here; he’s been chasing Team Rocket thugs his entire journey. Green, however… Well. There’s only two reasons for visiting the Pokémon Tower, but Red doesn’t pry. Green tries once again at intimidation, and it ends as it always has previously; Green hiding his hurt behind a cracking mask and Red never being able to find the right words to say.

And yet, when he leaves Lavender Town after driving out Team Rocket and saving Mr. Fuji, he spots Green on Route 7, leaning against a tree. It’s not like Green to stick around in places where there’s no gym, so Red is confused...until he understands that Green’s been waiting for him.

A feeling of dread weighs him down. Was their fight at the Pokémon Tower not enough? Were the insults not enough? Red has had enough, and moves to the left to give Green a wide berth. He doesn’t want to battle or deal with the complex feelings that follow. He’s spent enough time here. He needs to go.

“Red.”

Green’s voice stops him. It’s not because of the bond or any other false truth that’s been shoved down his throat. At one point, Green had been his best friend. And now, he still remains Red’s soulmate. Red keeps handing out chances for change, opportunities to fix things, but nothing ever comes. He needs to go.

Green pushes off of the tree, his arms still crossed. “Camp out with me tonight.”

Not a battle. Not an insult. Not a pointless taunt. A proposition. An opportunity for change? Red would be a fool not to take it.

He nods.

By the fireside, Red and Green stare into the flames and keep their words to themselves. Their tents are already set up, their teams have already eaten dinner and they’ve done the same. There’s nothing left to take care of, but still they prolong what brought them together in the first place.

Red has no idea what it is that Green wants, so he’s confused, but that’s not the only thing that’s confusing him. He hasn’t spent this much time around Green in years, and yet...he feels nothing from their soulmate bond. There’s no relief or itch for touch, there’s no yearning in his heart and no sudden impact of feelings like when they’d first locked gazes. If feels normal between them, as it always has since that first meeting.

Is this normal? Is this how it’s supposed to be?

Green tosses another twig into the fire that it didn’t need and looks up at Red. “Do you want to break our bond?”

Red’s eyes widen. His lips part. He forgets to breathe. He stares.

“I’m not going to force you,” Green holds up a hand. “But I… I’ve been thinking...about this whole soulmate thing…”

Red keeps silent, his heart racing and it’s the most feeling he’s ever felt since that day.

“I don’t know about you, but luck hasn’t been following me,” Green says, glaring at the flames. “Wealth hasn’t found me. And I know… I know we aren’t close anymore, but…” Green sighs, looks up at Red and the fire in his eyes is unlike anything Red’s ever seen. It’s volcanoes erupting and stars bursting into dust. “I want to make this decision myself.”

Quickly, Red reaches into his backpack for his notepad and a pencil. He bites his lip as he thinks on what to say. When it comes down to it, there’s just one question that hasn’t left him and probably never will.

Have you felt anything since that first day? Even now?

Green looks over the paper and he takes a minute to respond. When he does, hurt chokes his voice, reality making his throat tighten. “No, I haven’t.”

Red sits back. The last bit of hope up and fades and he’s left with this choice. What is a soulmate bond if there’s no feelings attached? If there’s no constant affirmation that this is right? How do they know for certain that they’re each other’s soulmates? The feelings had been immense, but they’d vanished since. But who was to say that was a bond being formed? What if it was just them, the two of them, and nothing more?

But it had to be a bond, because that’s how it’s always been described. That was the one part those books got right. That initial feeling of everything at once, like the universe crashing in on them. Amazing and scary and beautiful and sad. Everything that they are and could be leveled against them in one, single gaze.

Then after, there’s no more. That is all they are afforded.

Green is his soulmate, but Red thinks of him as a lost childhood friend, someone who isn’t interested and wants nothing to do with him. Still, those old times when they were younger… Red wouldn’t mind going back to that. He prefers friendship over this bitter rivalry that hurts much more than it should, that tears and rips his skin.

But isn’t this the same? Green wants nothing to do with him yet again. Not as friends, not as soulmates, only rivals competing for something that they were supposed to do together. Red grips his pencil tight.

Do you hate me that much?

Green stutters. “Red, I…” He shakes his head, leans forward to set his elbows on his knees. He stares into the flames but then looks past them to regard Red. “I don’t hate you. I just think this would be best for both of us.”

Why?

“Because have you ever felt anything for me?” Green asks, turning the question around. “You always ask if I’ve felt anything, but have you? What is this bond doing for us, huh? Everyone talks like it’s the best thing, like it’s an amazing necessity, but it’s not!”

Red looks away, feeling Green’s frustration and understanding it. They always sang of soulmates, sang of love and fate, but it’s done nothing for them. Are they too young? Too ignorant of the world? And if so, shouldn’t they figure this out themselves? They can’t trust what they’re told, they can’t trust what people say. This is a step that they have to make on their own.

With every step on his journey, Red’s been making his own choice and how freeing it’s felt. He decides where to go, who to battle, what pokémon to catch. He decides his place in the world and who he wants to be. He dives into caves and crosses rivers. He looks up and dreams of snow, he looks back and yearns for times long past. But those are still his choices to make.

This is the same. This is something that they can choose for themselves. There was always the possibility for more, an opportunity for the two of them to become more, but…this opportunity, this chance may be what they need.

What does Red have to lose? There’s never been another feeling or indication. They’ve grown apart despite being fated to be together. They’ve already defied all logic and reason.

And he wants… He wants to know. Maybe if they break the bond, another feeling will happen and they’ll know for certain, then.

How do we break it?

#reguri #namelessshipping #unpolished and abandoned wip's #my writing #nameless #with how red's path goes in the games this is difficult to write #because their relationship is already strained #so i had to write around that #and i don't like how it alters the tone and intent of it #to red feeling like green hates him #instead of it being 'hey this shit is just not working out at all let's end it'#i want them to be on good terms when they do #so it has to be an au #text

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somersetmummy · 3 years

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(A/N) This is a TNA one shot, taking place immediately following book 1 chapter 12 (the gala balcony scene). Characters, some storyline and some dialogue property of Pixelberry.

Story told from point of view of MC Katie Hide. Internal character thoughts are written in italics.

I tried to think about how they would get through the rest of the gala after their little extra curricular activities on the balcony….so here it is!

Original characters: Katie Hide (MC), Sam Dalton, Vivienne Dalton, Mason Sr Dalton, Carter

New characters: Laney, Ryan

Content warning: Some light adult language

Summary: Nanny Katie Hide and her boss Sam Dalton finally take their relationship to the next step on the night of the gala, but just when they should be feeling elated, things spiral quickly. Can they get through the rest of the evening together now that things have changed for good?

Word count: 3462 (I’m out of control!)

- Bonus social edits at the end -

Alone on the balcony, looking out over the city's twinkling lights, she should've been basking in the afterglow of the best sex of her life but instead she feels empty. Her resolve held strong in front of Sam as he skulked off seemingly full of regret but now, her mind races through every minute detail of what had just happened.

Instead of taking the time to carefully ingrain every delicious detail of their time together into her memory, she painfully second guessed every move, every touch, every whispered promise. Once her exhausted mind began to fray she decided to sweep the whole thing under the carpet determined to save face, for now. Collecting herself, she absentmindedly ran her fingers up and down her arms, goose bumps standing proud, finally giving in to the cold night air.

On her way back towards the ballroom, while wondering how the hell she was going to get through the rest of the evening, she prolongs her return to reality by ducking into one of the lavish bathrooms to freshen up. The room is quiet, an older lady leaves as she enters, another younger girl, probably around her age, is refreshing her makeup by one of the opulent vanity's. She sits down on the plush velvet ottoman in the middle of the vanity area with a sigh, not really sure what to do next.

"Well you look like you've been through the ringer!"

Turning towards the kind voice, the girl who was doing her makeup, a warm glow pours out to her as the stranger looks her up and down with genuine concern. Her face is one of those which feels familiar, like someone she could’ve known her whole life. It is enough to encourage her to open up a little and feels like a relief to have someone to talk to after feeling so alone out on that balcony.

"I'm sort of having the best night of my life as well as the worst. And to top it all off I've left my purse in the main room..." She gestures towards her untidy hair and slightly smudged makeup by way of an explanation.

The stranger offers a knowing look in reply.

“So are you here with someone? Your dress is divine by the way."

Smoothing the front of her dress, Katie replies absentmindedly, "Oh no, I'm just here with my boss, filling in an empty seat at the last minute." Hesitant to share more with someone she'd just met, she kept the more intimate details to herself.

"Me too, well sort of. I'm a stylist, one of my clients insisted I join them to make sure they look perfect all night long, god forbid her dress creases when she sits down for dinner!" She waves Katie over to the vanity and the open make up case. "Here, use whatever you need." She continues watching as Katie gratefully grabs a brush and some powder. "I'm really just starting out but figure these sorts of events are great publicity if I can dress the right people. I mean they're all living on another planet of course but they love to be in the spotlight and gush about their outfits, which is great for me!"

The pair chat easily together for a while before Katie glances at the time on her phone screen realising she'd been gone much longer than anticipated. She’d enjoyed having an ally and getting her mind off the car crash of a moment with Sam, truth be told, she’d much rather stay here in the safety of her mirrored cave and the kindness of a stranger than plaster a smile on her face and return to the Dalton’s table. With a wistful smile she turns to the stranger.

"I suppose I should be getting back, although I can't say I'm looking forward to it."

"I'm Laney by the way." She holds her hand out to Katie and they share a gentle shake.

"I'm Katie. I've really enjoyed hiding out in here with you, thanks for everything." Leaving Laney to pack up the overly large purse full of beauty treasures, Katie heads back towards the bustling ballroom. Barely making it into the room, Laney breathlessly catches up to her holding out a business card.

"Hey, I thought maybe we could meet up for a coffee sometime, you know if you want to have someone in the real world to spend time with!" She points over to someone across the room and continues animatedly, "You said you went to NYIT right? I'm sure my friend Ryan would love to meet you too, he did his Grad course there and always loves a trip down memory lane!"

Taking the card, Katie’s eyes are drawn to Sam over Laney's shoulder. He looks just as he did before the balcony, the ever professional businessman, as if nothing had ever happened. He gives a slight tip of his head in Katie’s direction, motioning for her to join him back at the table.

The new friends share a quick hug promising to catch up soon and she makes her way over to Sam who won't quite meet her eye. Despite the frostiness between them, he's a gentleman at heart and doesn't think twice about pulling out her chair, tucking it in gently as she sits. As the bustle of dinner being served continues around them, the thorny silence between them grows thick with unspoken feelings.

After a whirlwind of Sam and his parents catching up over the exploits of various family friends and tales of the boys, Vivienne turns to smile at Katie.

"Now dear, we're being rude talking around you as though you're not here. Sam tells me you're quite the budding scientist yourself?"

She looks to Sam to see him offering a helpless smile and shrug of the shoulders and can’t help but wonder whether he’d shared anything about his previous employees with his mother, or if she was the first. As Katie pulls her eyes away from Sam’s, she pushes down all the feelings which bubbled up inside her and plasters on her most professional smile.

"Yes, Mrs Dalton, I have a Masters in Chemistry and up until recently was managing projects for Panacea Labs."

Being the expert that she is at reading people, Katie astutely notices how Mr Dalton’s ears prick, he clearly didn't know that there was more to her than being 'just a nanny', whatever that means.

"Please dear, you're practically family, call me Vivienne."

A warm glow fills her body at the thought of being accepted into the fold of the Dalton family. Smiling back at Vivienne, she continues to share stories of her experiences in the industry, her passion for science and her love for exploring through the twins eyes.

"Mickey and Mason are such a brilliant example of how a love of science can be developed at a young age. They're so curious and passionate about exploring, it's such a pleasure to be a part of."

Next to her, barely able to disguise the pride he feels for her, Sam tries his best to remain outwardly impassive while watching the rest of the table listen attentively, completely captivated by her storytelling. He'd meant it earlier on the balcony when he'd agreed that she was meant to be by his side, a partner not a secret he had to hide his feelings for. He just didn't know how to make it a reality, trapped within his own life. But in this moment, his feelings bubble to the surface and it takes everything he has not to take her in his arms in front of everyone and let them come flooding out for all to see.

After all, it wasn’t Katie’s fault that his true feelings for her hit him like a tonne of bricks earlier that evening while he watched her effortlessly talk Selene into keeping her shares. In front of his parents no less. Right there, everything he loves about her shone out for everyone to see and he realised he was deeply and helplessly in love. It just wasn’t with his fiancée. Hell that's the reason he took Katie out to the balcony in the first place, to steal a moment to share how he really feels but as always he was too much of a coward to do anything about it in fear or letting everyone else down and jeopardising his sons future.

He knows that the only way to try to push through it all is to detach himself from Katie as much as possible, even if it means becoming the bad guy. In his mind, she deserves better, she deserves the damn fairytale and that's just not something he's able to give.

As they move through the plentiful courses of dinner, Mason Sr continues to interrogate Katie on her knowledge and opinions of various scientific and business theories, although his directness falters as the meal goes on and they both seem to enjoy the lively debates. Vivienne occasionally interjects with questions of her own about Katie’s family, her life back in England and whether it's difficult to be far from home. To Katie, it almost feels like she’s on a 'meet the parents' date which in her mind could be going a lot worse.

When coffee is finally offered, Mason Sr stands abruptly, eyes focussed on Sam.

“Ladies, while this evening's discussions have been...interesting, I think it's time we get down to some business." He nods curtly at Sam before gesturing towards a quieter bar area off the back of the room.

Sam stands to follow him but not before turning to Katie and instinctively placing a hand on her shoulder. She involuntarily shudders at his touch as her mind races back to the last time they touched on the balcony.

"This shouldn't take too long, will you be ok here?"

"Of course she will darling, I'm not going to bite her!" Vivienne cuts in before she can reply. Sam nods in approval towards her and lingers for a moment before walking away to meet his father. Katie's shoulder still tingling at the memory of his touch.

Katie looks across the ballroom taking in the general splendour and jovial atmosphere while Vivienne takes the opportunity to really look at her, contemplating how much to share with her. After taking a few sips of coffee, she turns herself to fully face Katie and offers a warm smile.

"I can see why the boys are so taken with you...all of them."

The honesty of her comment takes Katie by surprise. Unsure how to respond, she slowly turns to meet Vivienne’s eye, raising her eyebrow slightly in question.

"You're all the things Sam said you were. He was right when he told me we'd get on well."

The intensity of Vivienne’s gaze is so strong Katie daren't look away.

"I want to thank you for everything you've done for them all. They've come alive again since having you in their life. Poor Sara was taken from him far too soon, from us all really...it was all so hard on Sam and the boys." She trails off clearly lost in memory. "I know he cares for you and wants you to feel part of the family."

“Shit” she thinks to herself. Feeling like a rabbit caught in headlights, Katie's mind races. Does she know? How can she, they've only met once before, surely that's not enough to make her suspicious?

"I think Sam's just taken pity on me because I'm so far from home and he knows I don't have any family around. He and the boys have been so gracious in making me feel welcome."

Hoping she sounds convincing she takes a sip of coffee, relishing the opportunity to hide her blushing cheeks behind the cup. Vivienne suddenly looks up with Katie follow her gaze over her shoulder. Behind her, Laney is standing with a cowboy-next-door handsome man in tow, a welcome interruption. His dirty blonde hair is slightly unkempt, his frame more lean than Sam's but he still carries an athletic look, he smiles charmingly at Katie.

“Excuse me" Laney directs to Vivienne before turning to speak to Katie. “This is my friend Ryan who I was telling you about earlier."

Katie reaches out to shake his hand which he is already holding out towards her.

"I hear you're a fellow NYIT grad? You look far too respectable to have hung out in the sort of dives I used to find myself in!"

"Try me..." she challenges with a twinkle in her eye.

Laney rolls her eyes with boredom and escapes, business card in hand, to fawn over an awkwardly dressed woman at another table.

"Would you like to dance? I promise not to break out the old NYIT match day chant moves!"

She can't help but laugh at his natural charm. After looking to Vivienne, who waves her hand in approval, she lets Ryan lead her out to the dance floor where they sway together at ease in each other's company reminiscing. It’s a far cry from the intimate dance with Sam earlier that evening, instead Katie could relax into it knowing that she wasn’t trying to hide anything, and it felt freeing.

As Sam's discussion, or more accurately argument, with his father comes to an end he heads back to the table where he notices his mother is sitting alone.

“Where's Katie?" He asks forgetting to hide the panic in his voice, worried for the second time that evening, after she had disappeared to the bathroom for half an hour, that Katie had thought better of compromising herself for him and fled the gala.

Vivienne nods towards the dance floor, Sam's eyes follow and a bolt of jealousy hits him right in the heart as he sees her in the arms of another man.

With a steely glare he starts towards her but is stopped by Vivienne's hand firmly holding him back by his arm.

“Leave her be, she's enjoying herself."

Letting out an almost inaudible sigh he sits down next to his mother but can't pull his eyes away, so enthralled that his mother's voice is almost a whisper in the background.

"She really is wonderful darling, I know even your father is impressed, of course he'll never say it." Her arm still resting on his, she studies Sam's face before continuing, "What a shame you’d not met her sooner.”

Allowing himself for a moment to hope that his mother's glowing reference suggests she is in approval of his relationship with Katie becoming something more, Sam smiles and leans forward ready to gush even more. He catches himself just in time as the ever repeating voices in his head remind him of his responsibility and everyone else's expectations of him, instead he brings it back to the boys.

"Yes she's brilliant with Mason and Mickey, they're lucky to have her."

Dancing and talking together with Ryan, Katie had almost forgotten about Sam and their earlier tryst on the balcony, grateful for the distraction and if she was being honest the attention. It's not every day that she goes to the effort of dressing up at the last minute and schmoozes the un-scmoozable to help her sort-of-boyfriend look good, it's nice to have someone sweep her off her feet and put her first for once.

"Your boyfriend doesn't seem too happy about us dancing together" Ryan nods towards Sam who is trying to get their attention, his parents behind him appear to be getting ready to leave.

"He's not my boyfriend."

Ryan's eyes widen sensing an opportunity. “Well I guess that's good news for me...can I call you sometime, take you out for dinner?"

She drops her gaze, shaking her head slightly.

“I'm sorry, I don't think it's a good idea..." trailing off, he gently lifts her chin to look up at him.

"But you're single...?"

"No, I...it's...it's complicated" she stutters while looking over his shoulder at Sam, who looks less than thrilled.

"Well, if you change your mind, Laney has my number." With that, he kisses her hand and watches the silk of her gown cling to her hips as she walks away.

Returning to the table, Mason Sr takes Katie’s hand and shakes it almost warmly.

“Pleasure to see you again Katie. Excellent damage control with Selene earlier...very impressive."

He moves to Sam, impassively shaking his hand as Vivienne envelopes her in a hug, kissing each cheek.

"Wonderful to see you again dear, give those grandsons of mine one of these from me!"

Katie smiles tenderly back at her, nodding in agreement.

After the Dalton's leave, Katie and Sam remain at the table, sipping their drinks in awkward silence, steadily interrupted by acquaintances of Sam's wanting to talk business. Finally, noticing Katie’s arm propping up her tired head, Sam stands.

“I think that's enough shop talk for one night, let's get you home."

Waiting for the limo to pull to the front of the building Sam notices her shiver in the cold night air. He takes off his jacket and wraps it around her shoulders, the most contact they’ve had all evening since being intertwined on the balcony together. His gaze lingers on hers, neither able to look away. She tries to read his thoughts as she looks deep into his eyes but all she sees is a muddle of pain, confusion and longing. It doesn't make her feel any better.

"Mr Dalton..." the driver says with a small cough as he stands by the open limo door.

Sam pulls away and walks her over to the limo with his hand hovering behind the small of her back, not daring to touch. Once settled in their seats it doesn't take long for the gentle motion of the car to send Katie to sleep, her head lulling and dropping onto Sam's shoulder.

It takes everything he has for him not to wrap his arms around her, his mind conflicted thinking of the nights events. The incredible connection they shared on the balcony, the fire within him burning hotter and brighter than ever before, his mother's glowing review, hell even his father had been impressed and suggested during their conversation in the bar that Katie’s role within the Dalton empire might be wasted as just a nanny. But none of these thoughts could quite suppress his feelings of guilt at falling for another woman, his responsibility to his sons, the business and their legacies. At least not in his mind.

Back in the penthouse, Sam makes his way into the open plan living area to find, thinking him for his help with the boys. Katie hangs back, not wanting to make small talk in front of Carter, who is incredibly astute and would no doubt piece together that things were not as they seemed.

"Miss Hide, you're a vision!"

Walking towards the elevator, Carter beams at her like a proud dad seeing his daughter on her wedding day.

“I didn't get the chance to see you before you left, my my..."

"Thank you Carter. And thank you for watching the boys, I hope they weren't too much trouble?!"

He taps his nose, keeping secret whatever mischief they got up to that evening. She smiles back at him knowingly as he steps into the elevator and the doors close.

As she turns back towards the living room she is halted by Sam standing right in front of her, so close, she almost crashes into him. Sheepishly she hands him his jacket as he offers a bottle of water in exchange.

‘You should never go to bed dehydrated" he blurts out, trying to fill the gaping silence.

“Sam...."

"Goodnight Katie, thank you for your help this evening, I appreciate you coming."

Unable to muster up enough energy to argue push any further, Katie drops her gaze to the floor as she shakes her head disappointedly. She walks away without a word, her heart aching more than she thought possible.

TAG List: @shewillreadyou @chemist-ana @txemrn @silma-words @thefrenchiemama @secretaryunpaid @sfb123

- Bonus - photo posted by Katie the morning after followed by a conversation with Jenny (before Sam drops the Italy bombshell and she was supposed to have the day off!)

#the nanny affair #tna #fanfic #sam dalton #sam dalton x mc #sam x mc #choices

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litwitlady · 4 years

Text

with you i serve, with you i fall down

Read on AO3.

Angst Prompt #3 - ‘Is that blood?’ (I PROMISE IT HAS A HAPPY ENDING)

Warnings: blood, minor physical violence, guns, gunshot wounds, mind games, mind control

‘We don’t have to do this today,’ Michael begs, eyes shifting back and forth between Isobel and Alex.

Isobel places her hand on his shoulder and tilts her head slightly, trying to make him understand. ‘There are innocent people inside, Michael. At last thirty heat signatures. We might be their only hope. We can’t wait for Max. He’s in California.’

‘We’ll be okay.’ Alex knows that’s not really enough, but it’s all he’s got at the moment.

Michael turns to him slowly. ‘You don’t know that. Me and Iz will go, Alex. Please stay here.’

‘You know that’s not the safest option. We’ve been over this already.’ Isobel tugs Michael’s eyes back to her. ‘There’s no cell reception in that building or even outside of that building. Leaving Alex here by himself cuts us off from communication. But having you out here means I’ll be able to reach you if something goes wrong.’

He makes a strangled noise and shakes his head. ‘Then you stay. Alex and I will go. You cannot ask me to watch the two people I love most on this planet - or any other fucking planet - walk into that building.’ He shrugs his shoulders and takes several steps away from them, needing the space to breathe. ‘I will not do that.’

Alex watches him walk away, kicking at the ground in frustration. Michael has never said the word ‘love’ to him. Not in the present tense, anyway. It makes him slightly dizzy. They’ve only just started finding their way back to each other. A friendship blooming gradually and finally able to talk to each like grown adults. Their future open and waiting for them.

Michael climbs into his truck and slams the door. But he doesn’t start the engine. Alex and Isobel watch him lean his head against the back glass and close his eyes. ‘He’s never going to agree to this.’ Isobel crosses her arms and stares at Alex. ‘It’s a terrible thing we’re asking him to do.’

‘None of us have a choice. I’m not willing to risk someone else’s life to keep my own safe. So, there’s no calling anyone else for help. And like you said, we can’t wait.’ Alex squares his shoulders, frowning. ‘I’ll go talk to him.’

‘No.’ She moves in front of Alex, blocking his way. ‘It needs to be me. Wait here.’

She slides into the truck next to Michael. He doesn’t acknowledge her presence. Just keeps his eyes shut and stays silent. ‘You know it has to be me and Alex, Michael.’ No reaction. ‘I’ve worked on my abilities more than you have. So, I’m better equipped, better armed. You know I’m right.’

Michael’s eyes open and he blinks several times at truck’s the rusting roof overhead. ‘I feel it deep in my gut, Isobel. Something bad’s going to happen if you leave me behind. We don’t have enough information.’ He turns his gaze out the window, focusing on Alex. ‘I love him too much, Iz. And you too.’ Angry tears burn down his cheeks.

‘You’re willing to risk all those lives - more than two dozen people - just because something might happen to me or Alex?’ She squeezes his knee. ‘I know you’re not. And we both know how this ends. So, if you want to sit and watch from the safety of your truck, that’s okay. But Alex and I are leaving.’

Isobel rejoins Alex by his Explorer, one last look over her shoulder at Michael. ‘We better get going. I don’t want to be inside that place after sundown.’

Alex checks that his gun is fully loaded. ‘What did you say to convince him?’

‘Honestly? Not a whole lot and I’m pretty sure he’s not convinced.’ She stuffs several bottles of acetone in Alex’s backpack next to his extra bullets. ‘He loves you, you know. I’m never sure how clear that is between you two.’ They hear a door slam shut and turn at the sound. Michael is on his way to them, sadness etched deep in the lines of his forehead. Alex sighs. ‘It’s much clearer these days.’

He’s left his hat behind and his curls swirl in the wind. ‘I don’t want you to go, but I won’t stop you either. But Isobel? At the first sign of trouble you scream for me. Do you understand?’

‘I promise. The first sign of trouble - even the inkling of trouble - and we’re out.’ She pulls him into a tight hug and whispers in his ear. ‘I’ll keep him safe. As best I can.’

Michael nods into her neck and watches Alex slip the backpack onto his shoulders. Isobel unfolds herself from him and Alex gives a little wave as he turns towards the concrete warehouse. But Michael reaches out and grabs his elbow, spinning him back around. ‘No, you don’t get to just walk away like that. Not anymore.’

He pushes the backpack off Alex’s shoulders and onto the ground. And then they fall into each other’s arms - Alex’s wrapped around Michael’s neck and Michael squeezing at Alex’s waist. Noses buried in hair and fingernails clawing at naked skin. So many words left unspoken but not a single one left unheard.

‘Don’t go playing hero, Alex. Sometimes running away is the right choice.’ Michael holds on tighter and glances towards Isobel who’s already at the electric fence, giving them their space. He pleads with his eyes and she mouths I promise one last time.

They pull apart. Hands lingering at collars and hemlines. Eyes blurry and hearts worried. Alex takes a couple of backwards steps, grabbing his backpack and then turns away. Joining Isobel at the fence and setting off together to whatever fate awaits them. Michael looks on completely and utterly helpless. He knows they are competent and well-armed. Smart and desperate to return to him. But that knowledge does absolutely nothing to ease the ache in his chest.

Once they disappear from sight, Michael heads back to his truck. He stands with his hand on the door handle for a long time, trying to convince himself to open the door and not do the thing his heart wants him to do. But his heart wins. Unlocking Alex’s Explorer with his telekinesis, he slides into the driver’s side seat and shuts the door behind him. It’s the most pathetic thing he’s ever done in his life, but he doesn’t care. That nagging feeling is still punching at his stomach and the smell of Alex surrounding him helps to calm his nerves.

The interior is immaculate. So clean it makes Michael roll his eyes. There’s nothing in the center console but two pens and a roll of quarters. The glove compartment offers only the owner’s manual and a flashlight. But when he reaches around into the seat pocket, he strikes gold. Michael smiles down at the cd case he pulls free. The title is written in Alex’s too-perfect script and black-inked sharpie - Desert Mix.

Starting the engine, Michael slides the cd into the disc player and waits. Static crackles through the speakers and then the soft strumming of an acoustic guitar, followed shortly by Alex’s own voice. And Michael knows these songs - remembers the lyrics scratched across the various notebooks tucked under the futon in the toolshed. He’s listened to Alex sing these songs over and over again in the bed of his truck underneath the starry sky more times than he can count. When they were still teenagers with all their dreams still alive and close enough to touch.

Thirty minutes pass and Alex’s songs have nearly lulled him to sleep when he feels the first twinge of fear. It’s faint and distant enough to not immediately alarm him. He just shifts into a more comfortable position and recloses his eyes. The second wash of fear is much stronger and arrives accompanied by Isobel’s screams echoing in his head. Within seconds he’s running harder than he ever has in his life, straight into his worst nightmare.

No doors exist in the building’s central door frame. Just a gaping hole daring him to enter. Which he doesn’t hesitate to do, especially once Isobel begins to chant help us help us help us through his thoughts. He checks behind every door he passes, but finds nothing until he arrives at a large open space. Bleak and gray, the roof leaking water onto the concrete. Isobel on her knees and Alex sitting flat in the center of the room. Farmer Jones behind them, deviant grin spread wide across his face. ‘Welcome, Michael. So glad you could join us.’

Michael’s heart sinks to the floor. He tries using his telekinesis but knows if Isobel has been rendered powerless, so has he. And with that reality before him, whatever hope he’d been trying to hang onto flees. ‘There were never any hostages, were there?’

Alex and Isobel shake their heads.

‘Front and center, Mikey! We’re going to play a little game.’ It points to a spot between Alex and Isobel. Michael has no choice so he steps forward. Stopping when he’s commanded to. ‘Well done. Now, take a good, long look at Isobel and Alex. Spend some time thinking about how much you love them. Let me know when you’re finished.’ He steps back, arms crossed over his chest and still grinning like a madman.

That’s when Michael sees the gun.

It’s Alex’s personal weapon. The one he keeps for protection. Protection he’s needed more than once in his life from those supposed to love him most.

Dragging his eyes down to Isobel, he can tell how broken she is despite the way she holds her shoulders back, strong and proud even in her despair. Her eyes are wet with tears, her chin lifted in rebellion. But he can no longer find her in his head, so Jones must have cut their communication.

Beside her is Alex. A dark red stain soaking the shoulder of his t-shirt. ‘Is that blood?’

‘Oh, don’t worry about that. Just a little scratch. Alex didn’t like my methods at first. But he’s since come around to see things my way.’ Alex’s jaw flexes and Michael watches him try to speak. But no sound leaves his mouth in spite of how hard he’s straining, veins in his neck throbbing with the effort.

‘Let them go and I’ll do whatever it is you want.’ Isobel and Alex both violently shake their heads. Michael ignores them. ‘Please.’

‘Can’t play the game with only one other person. Sorry.’ Jones rocks back on his heels, stuffing his hands in his pockets and shrugging.

‘Then let Alex go. He’s not one of us. Just a human who doesn’t belong here.’ Emotion chokes Michael’s voice which makes Jones’s eyes light up. Alex continues to shake his head, tears now trailing down his cheeks.

‘Everybody stays, Michael. Are you ready? You’re going to need this.’ He yanks the gun from the waistline of his pants and holds it out to Michael. ‘Go on, take it.’

Dread seeps deep into Michael’s bones, making him dizzy. He keeps his hands at his side and gulps loudly. Brain frantically searching for some way out of this horrific situation.

‘Now, Michael. Before you make me angry.’ Jones steps between Isobel and Alex, shoving the gun into his chest.

Michael takes the gun, hands beginning to shake. Eyes pleading with the monster in front of him, eyes avoiding the two people he can’t afford to lose at his feet.

Jones begins to walk in circles around the three of them. Slow and menacing. Taking his time and enjoying every sick second. ‘The game is simple. The rules easy to follow.’ He stops and puts one hand on Isobel’s shoulder, the other on Alex’s. ‘Your mind is a fascinating place, Michael. An electric minefield of love and suffering. Never a dull moment.’

He pauses for effect. Basking in his control and breathing in their terror. ‘This backwater planet has made you so soft and pliable. Imagine what you could have been had you grown up on our marvelous star.’ He feigns pity and then laughs. ‘But instead, you are this. Pathetic. Now you will pay the price for your mother’s wicked hubris. And the choices she made.’

Jones uses his power to raise Michael’s arm. The one whose hand is holding the gun. Michael fights like hell but it’s no use. The gun wobbles as Jones swings his arm back and forth. Pointing the gun first at Isobel and then at Alex. ‘So that’s the game! Your mother once had to make a decision and now her son will do the same. Isobel or Alex, Michael. You have five minutes or I shoot them both.’

Michael knows the moment his voice returns to him - his arm under his own control again as well. Jones smiles at him and Michael shakes his head. ‘I won’t do this.’ He tries to turn the gun on himself, but Jones just takes control again and laughs.

‘You will do this, Michael. Losing one is better than losing them both. And you’ll make it quick. I’ll make it sweet and so very slow.’ Jones tenderly cups Isobel’s cheek and runs his other hand through Alex’s hair. Michael watches as they both wince and shiver under his touch. ‘It’s not like we don’t know who you love the most. I mean, it’s no contest really.’ With a strike quicker than a snake, Jones backhands Alex square in his jaw, sending him crashing to the floor. Michael shouts and tries to go to him, but Jones holds him in place.

‘The lover. Well...the ex-lover, anyway. And the purest love you’ve ever felt.’ Jones wraps his fingers in Alex’s hair and yanks him back into a sitting position. His lip is split, blood flowing freely down his chin and dripping onto his t-shirt. All three of them are panting and openly weeping. Michael’s entire body covered in a cold sweat. None of the thoughts in his head coherent with no last minute save-the-day solutions presenting themselves. Wordlessly, he begins to pray.

Jones goes back to lapping the three of them. ‘In case you were wondering, they both desperately want you to choose themselves. Alex is begging you to pick him. Isobel is maybe less enthusiastic about offering herself, but that’s still what’s inside her head. Noble, really. And Max, well - he’s enjoying the show all the way from sunny California.’

He sits between Isobel and Alex like he’s preparing for some grotesque kindergarten story time. ‘It disgusts me how weak the three of you are. Born to wield such power and instead you’re this - something lesser than even toddlers back home. I blink and you can’t move. I blink again and your minds are easy to crawl inside. Another blink and you’ll do whatever I say.’ He tsks with his tongue and shakes his head. ‘And to think you were meant to save us all, Michael.’

He releases Michael again. ‘Choose. Your five minutes start now.’

Faced with an impossible choice, the decision is easy to make in the end. He’s able to talk but decides not to. Not with words anyway. Michael raises his eyes to Alex and then the gun. And Alex smiles. Because he knows it was always meant to end this way.

Michael thinks back to the first time he’d seen Alex in the hallways of their middle school. An unremarkable moment. Alex and Valenti laughing in a classroom doorway. Valenti grabbing his arm, ‘Who are you?’ And Alex smiling, waiting for his answer.

But the next barrage of memories collapses his lungs. The first time Alex had come to school with his ear pierced, the septum ring hanging from his nose. Always with Maria and Liz, right in the middle. The occasional what’s up, Guerin. Valenti slamming him into a row of lockers after the first rumors started to spread. And eventually, a stolen guitar.

His hand shakes violently. But Alex softly and nods his head. Resigned and ready for what comes next.

Michael takes a moment to step back inside the UFO Emporium. Bright Eyes playing through the speakers overhead. Not a soul in sight. Other than the prettiest boy he’s ever seen with a bigger heart that he could have ever dreamed. A flood of quick flashes - Alex naked beneath him, making out at the movie theater, the desert sky as Alex strums his guitar, Alex’s hair shorn to regulation, letters written and never sent, first glances after long absences, hands on hips and lips on necks, harsh words and bitter tears, i loved you and i think that you loved me, the toolshed destroyed, another soft smile and would you come home.

Michael pulls the trigger.

The gunshot ricochets around the cavernous warehouse, reverberating off the back of Michael’s molars. And then everything falls silent and time stops. Alex crumples to the floor, blood leaking from the hole in his forehead. Eyes dead and lifeless. Michael’s heart claws its way out of his chest and throws itself on Alex. Alongside a screaming Isobel who can move again, hand covering Alex’s wound trying to staunch the bleeding.

But it doesn’t matter because Alex Manes is dead.

Jones tugs the gun from Michael’s hand and pistol whips Isobel on the temple. She collapses across Alex’s unmoving chest. Then Michael is thrown through the air, landing with a thud against the cylinder block wall. He hears the crunch of his skull and then mercifully blacks out. The gunshot playing one last time through his mind before the world disappears.

Time inevitably continues to pass. Alex growing colder and colder as the seconds tick by.

Michael reawakens to Isobel’s gargled cries. Shouting his name over and over again, hoarse from the effort. Michael has no idea how long he’s been out. Looking around, Jones has vanished. A ghost in the night. He squints into the darkness, Isobel slumped over Alex still trying to save him. Beating at his chest and pressing her hand over his wound.

Alex remains dead.

And to think you were meant to save us all, Michael. That line replays in Michael’s head as he sits watching Isobel’s struggle. It’s those words that convinced him to choose Alex. He closes his eyes and goes to the place deep in his gut where his power lives. An electric minefield of love and suffering. He rests his mind, truly hushing it quiet for the first time in his life. Laying the love and suffering aside long enough to connect his brain with his power. Completing a circuit that his trauma had never allowed before.

Energy flares in his nerve endings, clearing all the muck and grime. He thinks of Isobel and easily slides into her mind. There’s chaos and panic and an overwhelming gut-wrenching fear. Bile rises in her throat. She’s convinced that both of them are dead and that she’s all alone in this hell house. Michael reaches out for her and settles her nerves. Sends his own energy through her arm and down into the palm of her hand. The one pushed tight to Alex’s forehead.

Michael concentrates on picturing Alex’s face, whole and happy. Warmth from his belly travels through his connection with Isobel and begins to weave Alex’s brain back together, one fiber at a time. He can feel Isobel gasp when the wound under her palm slowly smoothes away. Her fear subsides and big, choking gasps tear from her lungs the minute Alex’s eyes reopen and his chest rises. She starts to scream Michael’s name again, but this time for a very different reason.

He climbs to his feet and is amazed at how good he feels. Not drained at all - slightly light headed in a pleasant way. Alex sits up and Isobel pulls him into a tight hug, waving at Michael wildly with her free hand.

It takes Michael a moment to take that first step forward. Questions twist in his mind and he knows in his gut that his relationship with Alex will never be the same again. And while he’s excited for what comes next, he’s also terrified of what it might all mean. The overwhelming desire to feel Alex’s heartbeat eventually tugs him forward, though, and before long he’s dropping to his knees beside them.

Alex paws at him, crawling into his lap with Isobel not far behind - clinging to the both of them like she never intends to let go ever again. ‘I felt you, Michael. You did this. How?’

Michael feels Alex bury his nose in the crook of his neck and reaches out to pull Isobel closer. ‘What he said about me being meant to save everyone. It just clicked in my brain and I knew I could save us.’ He presses his lips into Alex’s temple. ‘But I had to choose Alex in case I was wrong and needed help.’ His voice cracks and falters, a sob catches his breath and Michael collapses into them. They hold him close while he cries. The crash of adrenaline and the weight of his choice catching up to him.

They sit tucked tight together for a long time while the sun sets outside.

‘Is he going to have a handprint on his forehead?’ Isobel asks, pushing Alex’s hair aside to see if his skin has started to glow.

‘I don’t know - I don’t think so.’ He cups Alex’s cheeks and inspects his face, finding nothing. ‘Do you feel any different?’

‘Yes. I feel you everywhere. All over me. Inside of me.’ He wraps his fingers around Michael’s wrists, gently knocking their foreheads together. ‘It’s hard to breathe around, actually.’

Michael laughs. ‘Well, I’m having a lot of feelings right now.’

‘About me.’ Alex smiles.

‘Yeah, baby. About you.’ Michael hovers his lips over Alex’s, waiting. Alex doesn’t hesitate to answer, instantly closing the gap between them. And when their mouths finally lock together, both whimper at the touch, kissing each other like it’s the first time all over again. Eager, a little shy, and once again filled with so much hope for their future.

Isobel stumbles to her feet to give them space. She’s still covered in Alex’s blood, needing fresh air. And desperately wants to call Max to explain everything. Reaching out with her mind, she searches for signs of Jones somewhere nearby but finds nothing. Glancing back at Michael, she supposes Jones must know what he’s awakened inside her brother. Michael - the savior. Honestly, she’s not really all that surprised.

Michael hugs Alex flush against him. ‘I’m going to do something, Alex. And you’re going to feel it.’

But Alex shushes him. ‘I already know. Are you sure?’

He nods and shuts his eyes as Alex pushes them as close together as they can get. Offering Michael everything he has to give. Michael smiles and whispers. ‘I love you.’

And Alex responds, ‘I know.’

Michael searches across the desert, not knowing exactly what he’s doing. But before long, he spots what he’s looking for - a mind signature frantically fleeing from his wrath. Alex puts on a hand over Michael’s heart and Michael snaps Jones’ neck, his mind signature blinking out as he crumples to the dirt. He reopens his eyes and looks down at Alex. ‘Let’s go home.’

They rejoin Isobel and Michael informs her that Jones is dead. She nods her head. ‘It was the right decision, Michael. I guess I just wish we’d been able to find out more about where we come from.’

‘We don’t need him for that. I took his mind from him, Iz, before I killed him. I know everything he knows. And we have a lot to talk about. But first, I’m taking Alex home and crawling into his bed for at least a week.’ He hugs Isobel and she looks at him like the marvel he truly is and always has been before climbing into her SUV and leaving them alone.

‘I haven’t said I’m sorry yet.’ Michael turns to Alex. ‘And before you say I don’t have to,’ he holds his hand up to Alex who is already trying to stop him, ‘let me finish.’ Alex reluctantly nods. ‘I know I made the right decision. But I’m so sorry that means you can close your eyes and picture what it looks like to watch me hold me a gun to your head and pull the trigger. Because I can’t fix that part.’

Saying it out loud breaks something inside of him. Something he’s not sure will ever heal. So, he doesn’t bother trying to stop the tears that burn down his cheeks.

Alex grabs his hands. ‘Look at me.’ He waits for Michael to meet his eye. It takes a while but eventually he gets there. ‘I have seen a lot of horrible things in my life. My father’s fists aimed at my face, his hammer breaking your hand. Friends - brothers - riddled with bullets and bleeding out in my arms. Innocent people dying at my hand, riddled with my bullets. My leg shredded to pieces on the side of a dirt road in Iraq.’

He pauses to take a breath. Michael threads their fingers together to give him comfort. ‘You pointing that gun at my head? It is an image that will stay with me. Forever. But not for the reasons you fear. Because you didn’t get to see your face in that moment. The steel and certainty in your eyes. The courage and the love. And the defiance, Michael. I knew I could trust you. I knew I’d open my eyes again and get the chance to tell you how much I love you.’

‘But it’s even better than that. Because now it’s like you’re tattooed underneath every inch of my skin. You’re the oxygen expanding my lungs and the blood pumping through my veins. Yes, you shot me, Michael. But when I opened my eyes, I was so much more than I was before. You gave me that and only you could have given me that.’

They push against each other, chest to chest. Fingers clawing at whatever purchase they can find. Nose in necks and the first flares of arousal spreading through their hips. The scent of rain and Alex’s shampoo mingling together for the first time in over a year.

Michael feels something insistent pressing between his shoulder blades. Reluctantly, he pulls away from Alex and turns to find his cell phone floating freely. He concentrates on his power and realizes it’s not coming from his mind. Alex laughs behind him as Michael yanks his phone out of the air, stunned into silence.

A death. A homecoming. Something bright and new.

#malex #malex fic #angst prompts #alex manes #michael guerin #a happy ending i swear

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sonderrow-moved · 3 years

Text

ROY’S BIO IS FINALLY UP ! It is available on his about page, mobile about or under the cut !

♚ “AND LATER MY MACABRE JOY SOURS AND I’M WEEPING FOR MYSELF, UNABLE TO FIND SOLACE IN ANY OF THIS, CRYING OUT, SOBBING, “I JUST WANT TO BE LOVED,” CURSING THE EARTH AND EVERYTHING I HAVE BEEN TAUGHT: PRINCIPLES, DISTINCTIONS, CHOICES, MORALS, COMPROMISES, KNOWLEDGE, UNITY, PRAYER - ALL OF IT WAS WRONG, WITHOUT ANY FINAL PURPOSE.”

This man has lived too long. A classic concept written, imagined by artists. To comfort them about their mortality, explore the ins and outs of an alien narrative full of ifs. How would this even work ? Even the people with the best memories, to a genius level even, eventually forgets, for the brain can only retain so much. This feeling people gets as they grow older, the biased nostalgia of glorified items they saw through their pure, untainted, still developing eyes and the resentment towards new trends as they cannot see anything without any scum anymore. The yearning not for those movements, but for this soft sensation, of looking, admiring something and think, for a moment, that it’s idealistic form was real.

This sweet, unadulterated notion became only a distant, forgotten memory as time hardened the one known today as Roy. For years. Decades. Centuries. Millenniums.

A man who was born during another civilization, another time, long forgotten with only myths remaining of it. Not even a relic to be talked about, as everything had disintegrated, returned to earth for another life cycle.

♚ “THE PAST ISN’T REAL. IT’S JUST A DREAM,” I SAY. “DON’T MENTION THE PAST.”

Roy was born under another name, one he still remembers, but has long buried away, as it is not his name anymore. No one remembers it. It is not him anymore, as much as he might like to. It is only an appellation to let go of. As humankind developed its technology to a peak, so did their power, as they yielded control over nature people nowadays couldn’t imagine. It wasn’t as clear as one making a motion to have the waves, wind and earth respond to it. It was a much more fundamental, rawer sense to it. Where the energy of the world could be used to build even new life.

Always the diligent person who only lived to serve, executing tasks exactly as he was asked to, Roy had been appointed to be the Right Hand of the High Priestess. A young female who had only recently bloomed into womanhood. So perfect in existence, like a bright, pale, white being given to their kind in exchange of their discovery over worldly power. She had embraced her role as a symbol since birth, and he was to accompany her every step of the way as she rose to an official position. To inspire and love. Untouched by anything, for her importance was too great as people shook the world order in their insatiable human curiosity. Nowadays, Roy could have been defined as a bodyguard, yet, in this time, there was no fear of another person’s mishap. Only was he to protect her from accidental injuries, get more menial tasks off her shoulder and, most of all, as they understood this aspect deeply, have her emotional and social needs satisfied.

The way she was so beautiful, the way she would only crack a laugh at his shenanigans, the way he knew how to soothe her and she, in her infinite kindness, learned to soothe him back when a crack of worry grew between his impeccable … how could he not fall in love ?

He loved the way she would recite poetry while he slowly got used to her wanting him to caress her head, and she loved the way he would sing her verses in his smooth, sultry voice. The way she would eye him while someone else was talking on stage with a soft smile while he was guarding the entrance and he’d let a smile crack.

It wasn’t a consummated love like you would see in the current, modern days. There were, of course, pairings who held deep affection towards one another and brought in the next generation, but she had a role where she would never have the chance to do so, for her symbolism was not to replicate, only to be a happenstance, a gift which mustn’t be tainted by an attempt to be artificially redone. She accepted her role with no issue, and so did Roy. And the two of them were perfectly happy with this.

This was a time before the continents even started to noticeably separate on Earth, or even before the initial ground became more and more flooded by the waters. A time where Roy’s kind felt so unified, at peace… until this built up, free of conflict power shattered in on itself.

Raw abominations started roaming, not in the form of creatures, not exactly. So ephemeral, yet spreading chaos and distortion at every corner, fueled by the abuse and infighting of those who had gathered too much and only yearned for more. Years and generations of peace had made civilization take harmony for granted, and the couple was powerless as they saw it unfold. As the world balance collapsed, Roy was approached by a group of pacifists, trusted people for outside the conflicts, everyone knew anyone, respect one another, grew with one another. And as sickly dear ones, growing tainted by the plague pleaded with him, for his position had him perfect for what needed to be done for the greater good: kill the priestess, so the good in her would spread across the land, calm the spirits through their weeps, and save them.

Someone like Roy, of unfathomable loyalty, had a decision to make. And despite the tugs at his heart, it was an easy one. For he believed that, if the Priestess was present, the choice would be simple. That she would understand, because, in her infinite goodness, she could forgive them, forgive him, in the end. And as his trust towards her was strong, it is during a bright morning, away from the war, in the beautiful temple they inhabited, up in the mountains, away from civilization, that he entrusted her with what the people wished of them… and like the great woman she always had been, she kept a serene, albeit slightly sorrowful expression as she accepted. If there was a chance the power built inside her since birth could save more than one person, she would die.

But when his blade pierced her heart, tainting her white, ceremonial clothing in the middle of the garden, she only clanged onto him, eyes wide with desperate sorrow, an expression she, and he, never ever witnessed in anyone before. Fear and betrayal spread across her dark eyes as they grew more and more obscure.

I don’t want to die. My love, I don’t want to die…

―were her last words before, as she wept and choked, the High Priestess expired in her guardian’s blood soaked arms, him wearing too stunned an expression for her to ever hear an answer for him.

Just like beliefs and idolization are made-up by man for comfort and, ultimately, are fake, so was the glorification that one death, from someone incredibly beautiful from the inside out, would be a solution to mankind creating their own demise.

And so, it was at his feet that Roy saw the last of humans slowly die out, first from their endless conflict, so harsh they forgot where it even started, and then to the unforgiving nature, taking back the life they had abused off her.

Only, as he himself felt like he was expiring, with all lifeforce living him in the deserted, now ruined temple he had taken cared of with his beloved.

♚ “THIS IS TRUE: THE WORLD IS BETTER OFF WITH SOME PEOPLE GONE. OUR LIVES ARE NOT ALL INTERCONNECTED. THAT THEORY IS CROCK. SOME PEOPLE TRULY DO NOT NEED TO BE HERE.”

And with the end of this first Humankind was the land so dry of its lifeforce that the cycle of resurrection immortality and resurrection ended. It was quite simple at the time, and helped with the utopia free of grief and unnecessary sadness for their knowledge-seeking kind. If happenstance had you gone, your aether would go back to the earth, only to rise again in the next year, century, no one knew, but they would rise again, the same people, to meet the ones they knew in another life again, with hazy memories, but just enough to recognize your loved ones, and find them again. The more time passed, the less did people come back from this dormant phase, millions and millions now sleeping under the crust of the Earth, never to awaken again. Only the one who had gathered more power could come back more quickly, not the servants, no matter how strong they were, like Roy, who was only, despite all his strengths, a support to a higher one.

Only, as their kind ended, in her last breath, was he given the last link to the cycle, to be connected to his brethren, when he wasn’t supposed to be the one to live again to better the world.

She gave it to him, as her last gift. As the forgiveness she could never give him while she clung to dear life so desperately.

For the greatest gift to give to someone where inevitable death surround them is to still live……… isn’t it ?

I have seen too little, did too little to be of any solace in chaos. You, my love, have seen, experienced. I cannot think of a finer person to carry out our legacy, for I trust that only the best will come out of you.

♚ “PEOPLE CAN GET ACCUSTOMED TO ANYTHING, RIGHT? HABIT DOES THINGS TO PEOPLE.”

Life went back to its natural course. Ancient structure became ruins as vegetation took over, and, strong as it ever was, mankind rose again from the ashes. At the dawn of a new civilization, an orphan would be found at a nearby river, taken in by farmers and eventually would be a child raised by the whole humble village… a child who hadn’t forgotten a thing, and worked towards the dawn of a new age where he could protect what was dear to him.

And so, the one these days called Roy, grew up like he did before, to train and refine his ways. Only, this time, he didn’t only focus on his personal growth, but on others’ too. Estranged from other children like he had always been, with adulthood reaching his mind too quickly, only devoted to his craft. Despite snarl from the youth, his reputation grew amongst the adults and elders, and the communities beyond. As soon as his body was barely out of its formative years, did the boy set home in the mountains. Out of the leftover ruins his past life would let him have. A strong foundation to not lose sight of his objective.

Discipline. Commitment. Responsibility. Peace of mind. Realism. Alongside harsh but fair mental and physical training, all from what he had been taught and remembered, Roy kept exploring martial disciplines he even hadn’t touched in the past, wanting to reestablish what had been lost, and, before he knew it, he was known nearly as a Sage Deity across the land. A man coming from another world, who set up his temple atop the mountains made of smooth boulders eroded with time, near a clear water source, in the middle of a blossoming garden full of colors and hybrid one never knew how such an abundance of different species naturally grew alongside one another in this location, like it was enchanted.

Often, the village elders sought Roy’s advice, which he hoped have given sparingly, in neutrality, since he couldn’t guide mankind every step of the way, only show them a flourishing path. Travelers would come from afar to seek both his teaching and words, with glorified stories growing slightly intimidating to the young man. Despite this, he did his best to carry on his duty, taking care of the new temple grounds he assembled himself, wearing flowing clothes he sew himself; all loyal to the form and aesthetic of the woman he cherished, adorning the same attire she did and flowing, long hair. He wasn’t hoping for them to meet again, only honor her memory. He had grieved and grieved, wept and wept before she gave him the gift of eternity. His salvation was throwing himself into his training, contemplating his sorrow, and so on and on again until he only felt peace.

Roy’s stories of a lady in white with the darkest of eyes became legends, tales of kindness, bravery and adventure. And, amongst his own legacy growing, did Roy decide, after much deliberation, to take in disciples. One, then two. People under his tutelage, who would, in return, vow to spread and defend what the temple fought for, alongside taking equal parts in temple duties. And as the young people he accepted under his wing grew, Roy would soon be surrounded by four bright students he deeply loved. Unable to truly have a father’s touch, he, at least, believed he was a good guardian, hoping that, with time, his students would become masters, and that humanity could flourish.

It was then that, surrounded by his disciples, minus one, actually, that Roy had just finished drinking light tea and eating some sweets. He sighed as a cloud formed in front of his thin lips, the cold air announcing the winter to come. Even as his eldest disciple spoke, Roy didn’t reply. He stayed still, unmoving, silent, for there was nothing to say about what he felt was to come.

He didn’t even groan when he felt the ornate blades of his disciples pass through him, all three at the same time, for they were bound to be guilty together. While the screeching pain enveloped his senses, he wondered if this was what she felt, when he betrayed her.

That night, the Sage’s remains were cut to pieces, scattered far and wide, while his head was burned in the courtyard bonfire, all in an attempt to stop the link he had with his brethren, to cease the “gift” he had been given and for the cycle carried by the billions sleeping to come to an end.

But, unlike what men thought, Roy’s cycle was only part of nature, and he was to rise once more.

♚ “MY NIGHTLY BLOOD LUST OVERFLOWED INTO MY DAYS AND I HAD TO LEAVE THE CITY. MY MASK OF SANITY WAS A VICTIM OF IMPENDING SLIPPAGE.”

It was always the same. Again and again. He would be reborn, train, work, bond, and die at the hands of the very ones he had linked himself. The only reliable companion Roy ever had was nature outside of mankind, harsh but fair, just like him. With a behavior he could coexist with peacefully. It started eating him from the inside out. This time around, Roy had come back from the dead a few decades after his murder, found stark naked in a rice field even farther East, still in a young adult form, regenerated. Mankind hadn’t been doomed yet, and so, he vowed to save it by himself.

Roy would travel far and wide as mankind spread its territory and the continents started separating, being the only one of his kind which could still read the flow of life, its remaining corruption, and how to neutralize them. He would never stay in one spot for too long, only focusing on what he had to do. Because if he didn’t do it, who would ? If he didn’t do anything, he would only be left seeing the same amount of suffering and death, all by himself.

He couldn’t sit down. He couldn’t lose hope.

But Roy’s respect for life took the better of him. As he helped others with his abilities, presenting himself as somewhat of a medium as others also showed special traits, he hadn’t seen how darker human’s hearts had become. So much more quickly than the society he had known in the past. People turned envious of his abilities, and, soon enough, he needed to fight and run for his own life, at the risk of being torn apart yet again.

This fight and flight narrative happened again. And again. Until Roy’s duty had no time to be done; if he wasn’t around, there was no way anything could be done. He had to survive. And as the world grew around him, his mind and memories became muddied, and the depravity surrounding his person slowly creeped into his mind, as any remainder of his initial purpose was muddled with a constant years of bloodshed. An age of decades where he was to be burned and tortured, captured again and again before he’d lay waste to entire villages for his own safety. So no witness was to remain, and less people were to go after him. His training was used in a way he had never done before. For a cause he couldn’t decide to stop. He learned how to kill as efficiently as possible, how to decimate communities, destroy morale through underhanded means. Jumping from one allegiance to another as he either killed or fled before they’d go after him. For the first time, Roy could see how much his raw abilities could be of use in carnage, with no ceremony, no cause behind them. Only death. The very somber death he swore to stop.

He didn’t even stop to wonder at the technology men came up with, using the growing devices as meant for an end, anger and rage creeping into his very soul, indulging in vices he was being offered by humans which morals he always despised. There was no relief in this life, no moment of quiet, only screams and chaos, and only sins could provide a moment of respite. Roy, actually, never remembered how he died, but he did, at some point, in some time, after all sane people had left the territory, and only savagery had roamed the land he had loved so dearly.

During this time, he had forgotten her name, even her face.

♚ “THE CONVERSATION FOLLOWS ITS OWN ROLLING ACCORD - NO REAL STRUCTURE OR TOPIC OR INTERNAL LOGIC OR FEELING; EXCEPT, OF COURSE, FOR ITS OWN HIDDEN, CONSPIRATORIAL ONE. JUST WORDS, AND LIKE IN A MOVIE, BUT ONE THAT HAS BEEN TRANSCRIBED IMPROPERLY, MOST OF IT OVERLAPS.”

At some point, Roy had no recognition if he had been in the same world, the same plane of existence amongst the cycles when he awoke once again. This time in a white, desperately empty desert. With no one at his side. He was still, somehow, a fully grown person, with the fresh memories of violence he had laid, and the scent of blood into all his pores, and the grotesque weapons he had used with no ceremony.

Yet, in this newly regenerated body, in this empty space by himself, his mind centered itself. His discipline kicked in between the silence and hunt for sustenance. He had spent so long a time by himself, alone, in the most chaotic of scenarios. With no one who remembered him, no one who remembered his loved ones, no one who remembered who everyone he even knew were.

After spending time and time, he couldn’t count how long, to rebalance his person, reshape his senses and skills yet again, Roy readied himself to reach civilization once more… yet when he started his journey again, he stopped, the sudden weight of his contact with humankind anchoring him to the ground, unable now to stand. His body was trembling, and everything he had packed fell to the ground. He knew what would happen if he gave up. What he would need to go through and experience. Again and again. He tried. He tried so hard. But no matter how good he could be, it seemed so… hopeless. However, even if it was an impossible endeavor, he couldn’t stop, or else he would have nothing.

He wouldn’t be able to, maybe, one day, see everyone again. How many times had it been ? His memory couldn’t bear so much, what important things could he not recall ? He could start counting, but there was no way to say if entire lifetimes were not thrown into the abyss, and if forgotten crucial knowledge would end up with yet another failure…

This is when, hunched onto himself in this deserted, white horizon, Roy held his head in his hand. He groaned of pain as his mind was strained to its limits, drooling as he agonized, and images faded far, far away as he life flow was being torn apart from him by his own hands. He could hear the screams of his brethren, their legacy being desecrated. Useless. Useless. He didn’t need to remember their names. He didn’t need to remember their faces. Everything deemed useless to the core of his mission was shred out of his very soul, making the pain, the worries fade away, for he only needed to focus on what needed to be done.

Discipline. Commitment. Responsibility. Peace of mind. Realism. For those virtues to lead mankind to a greater part. And maybe, just maybe, recover part of everything he had lost.

For it was the one thing she had not accounted for, for she saw this man as someone so perfect through her affection for him.

That, ultimately, he did all of this so he could see them, see her again if he ever succeeded, and mankind could doom itself if it wasn’t the only way he knew to move onwards. That he did what was needed of him, without taking it so much to heart, that, in the deep of his heart, laid a hidden, selfish reason for all of this. Yet, it may not be this one anymore, he couldn’t tell.

And as Roy literally lost his mind, all by himself, with not a soul around to witness his sorrow, he laid there, vegetable from the trauma, feeling but unable to move, in a haze of horror and pain, before, finally, dehydration took him, and he was back in the cycle again.

Only, this time, there would be no memories. Only physical ones. No loneliness, only fake memories pieced by the world to balance his existence. Only a man, his training, his virtues, and an impossible task that is his only defense against despair and insanity.

♚ “THERE IS NO TIME FOR THE INNOCENT.”

#.ooc #im so happy i can tell my boi's story ;;#hope you guys like it !#he's the one who's lived the longest so... long bio sorry O)-(#tl;dr it's just depression

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umbry-fic · 3 years

Text

A Palette Full of You (3)

Summary: Glimpses into Colette and Lloyd’s lives as they grow up together, learn who they are, and fall in love with each other.

(Written for Colloyd Week 2021)

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters: Colette Brunel, Lloyd Irving, Sheena Fujibayashi, Zelos Wilder Relationships: Colette Brunel/Lloyd Irving, Colette Brunel & Lloyd Irving & Sheena Fujibayashi & Zelos Wilder Rating: G Chapter: 3 of 6 Word Count: 6896 Mirror Link: AO3 Original Post Date: 11/06/2021

Chapter Title: Race Into the Night

Chapter Summary: Lloyd, Colette, Zelos and Sheena visit the carnival to have a night of fun after the end of exams. Lloyd and Colette end up riding the Ferris wheel alone, where...

(Colloyd Week Day 3: Confession/First Kiss)

Notes: Chapter 3 of my multi chapter Colloyd week fic! Featuring much fluff and sap. Zelos is non-binary in this and uses they/them pronouns.

Chapter title from Yoasobi's song.

Chapter list Full fic Previous chapter Next chapter

~~~

18-years-old

"There is no way I'm ever going on that thing. You can't make me."

"Come on, you promised that if I scored better than you at darts you would ride the Riptide with me! Gonna go back on your word now, Sheena?"

"Stop smirking at me, Zelos! You clearly cheated! That game was rigged!"

"All carnival games are rigged. That's common knowledge."

"I don't care. You still cheated!"

"Cheated how? You were watching me the whole time!"

Colette giggled, watching her two friends have a go at each other as they inched closer to each other with each word they spoke. All three of them were leaning against the cold metal railing, though Colette was careful to keep a safe distance from Zelos and Sheena. When they were engrossed in arguing with each other, there was a safe zone, and a not-safe zone where one was liable to get smacked by a wildly gesturing arm or two.

Surrounding them were various stalls staffed by people who were enthusiastically calling out to potential customers, hoping to receive more coupons in the final hour before the carnival closed. There were pop-up game stalls featuring the classics like ring toss and soccer, food stands selling carnival staples like candy floss and popcorn, and even thrill rides like the aforementioned Riptide, a roller coaster that paled in comparison to USS' coasters but certainly had the most twists and turns of anything offered at the carnival. Adorning everything was bright neon lights and colourful decorations, and noise came from every angle, lending to a cheery atmosphere that could get a tad overwhelming at times.

Despite the late hour of 9 pm, there was still quite a crowd - mostly consisting of young adults like them, the majority of families having gone home for the night. She had bumped into quite a few classmates in the past three hours, who had come here with the same idea of having a fun night out with friends after the end of A-levels. A lot of pictures had been taken, until her cheeks hurt a bit from smiling so much, but it had been great fun.

She, Lloyd, Zelos and Sheena had managed to visit almost every booth, using up all of the coupons that they were sharing amongst each other. But even with their combined efforts, they had only managed to win one prize: the adorable Siberian Husky plush she was currently hugging. Though they'd certainly snacked on their share of popcorn, sharing one large carton between the four of them until their fingers were sticky with kernels.

"Colette, back me up!" Sheena begged, turning to face Colette. Despite the biting words that were leaving her mouth, her true emotions were betrayed by the smile playing at the corner of her lips. Sheena's hair was tied up into her trademark high ponytail, the ends of her hair swaying slightly in the weak wind.

"What, me?" Colette exclaimed, rather surprised she was being pulled into the conversation. Zelos and Sheena tended to retreat into their own world whenever they got into this state, forgetting anyone else existed.

"Uh, well..." Colette muttered, sheepishly smiling. "Sorry to disappoint, Sheena, but I have to give this one to Zelos."

"See? Even Colette agrees!" Zelos placed their elbow on the railing, leaning closer to Sheena, smirking.

Sheena didn't even spare Zelos a look, just shoved their face away with a hand, ignoring Zelos' sputters of protest. "How could you, Colette? How could you side with the idiot?" Sheena cried in mock betrayal.

"Well, I and Lloyd were both there, and we both saw Zelos win fair and square. And a deal's a deal," Colette replied, shrugging. Zelos did seem more insistent than usual, but she couldn't discern why.

"Just think of it as a date!" Zelos waved a nonchalant arm in the air, that smirk never fading as they took hold of Sheena's arm.

"Screaming in abject terror is not my idea of a date," Sheena hissed through gritted teeth, though she didn't free herself from Zelos' hold. "Besides, we're supposed to ride the Ferris wheel together once Lloyd comes back!"

"Eh, we won't make it before the carnival closes if we catch the Ferris wheel. Don't worry, I'll treat you to ice cream afterwards! And if that isn't enough to appease you, surely some Ajisen will." Zelos turned to Colette and winked, leaving Colette utterly confused. Was there an underlying meaning to all of this she was supposed to be catching?

"If you drag me on that damn thing, Zelos Wilder, I swear I will never forgive - GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME! STOP!" Sheena shrieked as Zelos began to drag her by brute force towards the snaking queue of the Riptide. Colette gaped, watching Sheena struggle wildly, digging her feet into the ground and hurling curses that got steadily fouler at Zelos, who didn't seem to be affected at all.

"I'm back with the drinks!" Lloyd's happy voice came from behind her as he walked up to her, holding two cups with steam venting from their tops, hair adorably ruffled from the day's hectic events, woefully unaware of everything that had occurred in the time he was gone. "Wait, what's... Happening...?" he asked, only now spotting the gradually diminishing silhouettes of Zelos and Sheena.

"I... Uh, Zelos and Sheena are going to ride the Riptide," Colette said, explaining the situation as succinctly as she could. How else could she word it, anyway? There was no explaining the antics of those two.

"Alright." Lloyd shrugged, accepted her explanation and passing one cup over to her. She pushed the plushy into the crook of her elbow, freeing up a hand to accept the cup and still managing to almost drop it. She closed her fingers around the plastic cup, soaking in the warmth it emanated.

"It's hot chocolate," Lloyd explained between gulps as he practically downed the whole cup in half a minute. "They're out of hot milo. Sorry."

"It's alright. Any hot drink would have done." Colette finally took a sip, feeling the sting from the heat and sticking out her tongue.

"Should we wait for them to come back or go queue for the Ferris wheel?"

Colette sighed. "We should just go. The queue for the Riptide is really long... They know to meet up back at the MRT at 10."

The original plan was to take a group photo at the peak of the revolution of the Ferris wheel, but that didn't look like it was going to happen now.

So it would just be her and Lloyd riding the Ferris wheel. An activity that could be seen as romantic. The pamphlet for the carnival had even advertised it as a ride of love. When they'd walked past it just now, she'd seen that the Ferris wheel was decked out with a ton of wire hearts that lit up in multiple colours.

It was just ten minutes. It would be over in the blink of an eye! Totally!

"Then, let's go," Lloyd said, grabbing her hand and giving her a minute heart attack, causing her bravado to crumble into dust.

Nope. There was no way this could end well.

The two of them joined the short queue for the Ferris wheel, having thrown their empty cups into a nearby dustbin. Only eight people were waiting for the next empty carriage to descend to ground level and open its doors. Five of them - three children and two adults - belonged to one family, while the rest were a group of three girls, enthusiastically talking to each other. It wouldn't take long for their turn.

A bout of shivers overcame her as the wind picked up, the warmth of the drink already a memory. She wrapped her free arm around herself, gaze dropping to the floor as she once again regretted forgetting to bring out her favourite dog-ear hoodie. It was always hanging on her clothes rack, and it would have been so easy to just reach out a hand and swipe it on her way out. But no, she just had to wake up late and stumble out of the house still half-asleep.

She'd forgotten how cold the nights could get. Especially for her, someone who couldn't even handle the lecture theatre air-conditioning. Forgoing a long-sleeved T-shirt for her kiwi bird-print tee was not helping matters.

"Here." Something warm and soft was draped around her shoulders, and she looked up to find herself draped in Lloyd's familiar jacket, his face hovering close to hers. "You should have told me you were cold," Lloyd muttered, his breath tickling her neck. "I would have given you my jacket earlier."

His jacket smelt like him, a safe, comforting blanket that reached to her thighs. It held his body heat, too, slowly seeping into her.

Colette flushed, turning her face away so she didn't have to look into those russet eyes. For there was concern there, as well as the ever-present kindness, but there was also more. There was no way to hide her blush, not when he was right here, but she still had to resist the urge to hide her face behind the plushy.

Why was she still trying so hard to hide, anyway? It's not like it was of any use. She was so obvious. As Zelos had told her, it had gone far past the point of being funny.

"Though I guess you're always cold," Lloyd said, tearing his gaze away from her and taking a hurried step back. Perhaps the words were meant to be teasing, but they fell flat with the out-of-place laughter attached to the end.

"I - I mean, it - it was my fault for not bringing a jacket in the first place," she stuttered, the words stumbling over each other in her mouth in her hurry to answer. Now Lloyd would know she was nervous too. She was doing really well, wasn't she? “But thank you.”

"The next carriage is here," the attendant called out, voice flat and expression terribly bored. He was staring at them with a barely veiled expression of disinterest, waving his arms to direct them into the next carriage, doors wide open.

"Come on." Lloyd grabbed her hand, the smile returning to his face. The Ferris wheel was lit up to the nines, throwing soft purple light onto everything around her and illuminating half of Lloyd's face. Beautiful. He was always so beautiful, but it was moments like these where it made her heart hurt, wanting so desperately to reach out and touch his face.

Heart pounding in her chest, she took her seat, Lloyd sitting directly on her left, their legs close enough to brush.

She placed the plushy in her lap, resting her chin on it and trying her best to slow her racing heart, knowing it would be of no use. Here, in this carriage that was slowly rising into the sky and gently rocking, it was just the two of them in this little space, cut off from the rest of the world.

It was hard to tell herself she was imagining the intense way Lloyd was staring at her, like she was the only thing worth looking at, even though the beautiful night scenery was right outside the glass. Nor was it possible to imagine the tension, sharp as a knife, that had arisen between them for the past half a year or so. Almost everything was the same: they were still incredibly close, but there was a hesitance there now - in the way Lloyd’s fingers sometimes curled away from hers, in the way she sometimes stopped before throwing an arm around his shoulder to embrace him.

Neither of them had spoken up about that tension, dancing around each other like fools. Even if he did return her feelings… Love wasn’t enough to bridge the impossible distance between them. She could never fully comprehend all that he felt, just as he could never fully comprehend the absence of what she felt. She could never give him what others could, not with her extreme revulsion towards anything sexual in nature. She’d be willing to try, for him, simply because her love for him knew no bounds, but… she couldn't say where her limits would be. Likely not very far from where she would start.

Even though Lloyd had been nothing but supportive of her, that didn’t mean he was willing to take a chance that could very well end in failure and heartbreak. She might not be enough for him when it came to a relationship. If that was the case, she could understand. Neither of them had done anything wrong. If they were incompatible from the start, then she could keep her silence. She’d be perfectly happy to remain as friends, even if these nebulous feelings would never leave her chest. She didn’t want to lose them.

"Um, do you, uh... like the plushy?" Lloyd asked, his voice cutting through her anxious thoughts. Awkwardness radiated off of him in spades as he shifted in the seat, turning his head away to stare down at the floor. At least she wasn't the only one that was nervous. He was repeating the exact question he’d asked her when he’d given her the plushy.

"I love it. It's soft, and it's cute. Thanks for giving it to me." The same answer she’d given him before.

Lloyd had been the one who won a carnival game - the ball toss, to be specific. He'd managed to down all the cans with a single ball and gotten the choice of any of the first-place prizes. Zelos had raised an eyebrow and asked him how he'd gotten past the unfair odds. Lloyd had sheepishly scratched the back of his head and said it was a lucky accident, one that he couldn’t repeat, which proved to be true in his later attempts.

Lloyd had taken one look at the prize pool, pointed out the Siberian Husky plush to the staff, and then stuffed it into her hands the moment he'd gotten it, proclaiming that it was a gift for her. Zelos had been outright snickering, while even Sheena had looked like she was holding back laughter, shoulders shaking.

Lloyd's hand found hers in the little space between them, his thumb rubbing the skin of her palm just below her fingers. It was a repetitive, soothing motion, helping to calm her down.

She hoped that, no matter what, they would always stay together. Whether as friends or more. Just the two of them.

"I'm glad you like it." Lloyd's voice was getting progressively quieter with each syllable his lips formed, slowly shifting right along the seat towards her.

“Can - can I…” Lloyd asked timidly, turning to face her and leaning closer. Her field of vision narrowed to just his face, barely lit by the scant light that reached them from the carnival grounds and the spokes of the Ferris wheel. Everything else was slowly turning into a blur. “Can I kiss you?”

The carriage had reached the top of its revolution. Through the window, she could see the sparkling lights of the high-rises in the distance. Silence suffused the air as no one spoke, the world itself seeming to hold its breath, neither she nor Lloyd moving a single part of their bodies as they stared at each other. His eyes were wide, filled with such incredible emotion, built up over years and spilling over at this very moment.

Her breath caught in her throat, a current of warmth making itself known in her heart at the fact that he’d actually bothered to ask. She’d expected Lloyd to - the kind, considerate soul that she’d come to know and love, but somewhere in the back of her mind was tucked the irrational fear that there would never be anyone who respected her boundaries, simply because she wasn't worth it.

She took a deep breath, preparing her answer. It wouldn’t be “normal”, that was for sure. It wasn’t a simple yes or no, but rather…

“Is it fine if it’s on the cheek?” were the quiet words that left her mouth, shattering the expectant silence as her grip tightened on the plushy. Maybe one day, she wouldn’t mind a kiss on the lips, but not today. She wasn’t up to it yet.

She doesn’t know what answer she expects. Probably a no. It’s perfectly understandable for Lloyd to just step away.

“Of course,” Lloyd replied instantly, the gentle smile on his face once again shattering all the preconceived notions she’d constructed in her head, absolutely terrified of rejection but huddling herself into a corner in the belief that that was all she could possibly receive. There had been no hesitation behind that statement, no hint of reproach or anger or irritation towards her.

“Yes.” The word slipped out without any thought, for she herself had yearned for so terribly long. The desire she had always held to love, and to be loved, despite everything - to experience it all with the boy that had always been part of her life and that she hoped could continue to be there for the rest of it.

She turned her head to the side, and it didn't take another moment longer before Lloyd pressed his lips against her cheek, one hand still holding hers while his other arm wrapped around her shoulder, the plushy trapped between them. He was nothing if not gentle, bringing up her earliest memories of being kissed on the cheek by her mother, before she had left her life forever. It was through that gentleness that the force of his love was truly impressed on her - for there was passion there, in the very act of holding himself back. Love, gentle like a warm flame, but not any lesser for it, for his love was just as impregnable as a brick wall, unyielding and unbreaking.

She could feel his warm breath against her cheek, his lips softer than she could have thought, his hair close enough to run her hands through as she’d always wanted. So she did, letting the strands fall through her fingers like melted chocolate.

Was he… smiling? It sure felt like it.

It wasn't a magical moment like people always said the first kiss would be like. After all, theirs was nowhere close to conventional, but it was an experience that belonged only to them. No sparks were flying in the air, nor did time stop. It was just the two of them, fitting together perfectly like puzzle pieces in the way they always had, and she couldn't ask for anything more.

Lloyd moved away, his arm dropping from her shoulder, hand joining the other to clasp her limp one. His eyes were shining with joy, the same joy that filled her heart and made it feel like it might take flight at any time. Everything had finally fallen into place.

Her whole face was now on fire as she turned away, leaning forward over her legs. Her hair fell by the side of her face like a veil, letting only tiny glimpses of Lloyd through.

“You’re sure?” she asked, knowing that she needed to clarify. Even if his actions had been the shining light that burned away most of her doubts, some still remained. Lloyd really, truly needed to understand what he was getting into. She would not let him mindlessly enter into a relationship with her without knowing about all the ups and downs, all the complications that would come with it. That would only end in them hurting each other, and then they might never be able to stand the sight of each other again. It was the dreaded future she never wanted to come to pass. “It’s not going to be easy."

“I know,” he replied, squeezing her hand, his russet eyes focussed on hers. “But all relationships have challenges, don't they? We'll figure it out together, just like always. And if it doesn’t work out, then we’ll stay as friends, forever. I just want you to know that I love you.”

There is nothing but burning conviction behind his words, and a determination that reached deep into her soul and lit a flame of hope.

There would be many more difficult conversations that needed to be had, candid discussions that would need to take place. But for now, she didn't say anything more, hoping the unspoken “I love you” from her side could be understood, clear as day. She still couldn’t make herself say it, the final lingering doubt that she suspected would never fully go away holding her back: that romantic love had to go hand in hand with sexual attraction, and that one could not exist without the other.

She simply closed her eyes, leaning against him and enjoying the gentle rocking of the carriage for the remainder of their time on the Ferris wheel.

~~~

25-years-old

"Remember this Ferris wheel?" Lloyd teased Colette, squeezing her hand as they stood in front of the Ferris wheel at the reopened carnival. It wasn't the exact same one they’d ridden at the age of 18, for that one had been deconstructed years ago. But it was a near-perfect replica, down to the purple lights that lit up the spokes, though the hearts were gone. Even the bored attendant who was barely paying attention to her duties was right!

"How could I forget?" Colette laughed, her trademark bright smile on her face. Even after knowing her for twenty years and dating her for seven of those years, the sight of her smile never failed to light a spark in his chest.

At least this time Colette was dressed appropriately for the colder night, in a pencil skirt and a long-sleeved collared blouse with a few frills. She looked a lot more put-together than him, who was just wearing plain old jeans. He had picked her straight up from work before driving them here, after all.

All that was missing was the staff pass that she’d removed from around her neck and left in the car. Her smart-casual image, however, was completely shattered by the pair of grey dog ears poking out of her hair, attached to the headband sitting behind her ears. They even felt furry to the touch, though it wasn’t real dog fur.

A pair of brown ears sat on his own head. Colette hadn’t managed to win a grand prize at the game stalls like he once had out of dumb luck, but she'd managed to do pretty well at the ring toss, scoring almost all of her tosses onto the red-rimmed bottles. That meant she could redeem a few mid-tier prizes, so she'd gotten two headbands with dog ears attached, one for her and one for him that he could wear if he wanted to. He'd put it on immediately. Now they matched! He needed to take a picture of them sometime - Sheena and Zelos would appreciate the cute image.

More like Sheena would strangle him over digital space if he didn't send cute photos.

The carnival had finally returned after four years of absence, and he and Colette had jointly decided to return almost immediately upon hearing the news. It was small and honestly not that impressive compared to other theme parks they’d been to, but it still held precious memories. And it would make for a fun date, which it certainly had so far!

They'd retraced their steps from years ago, though unfortunately, they were lacking Zelos and Sheena. First riding the pirate ship, Colette’s hair going wild in the air as the ship swung from side-to-side, then visiting the game stalls, laughing at each other’s absolutely horrendous attempts, then buying and sharing a stick of cotton candy between them, taking turns biting from the fluffy substance and having their tongues curl from the overload of sweetness, before finally arriving back here at the Ferris wheel.

"I know I've said this already, but thanks for planning this all out," Colette said, linking her arm with his and smiling up at him as they joined the queue. The queue was much longer today, amounting to more than 40 people, by his rough estimate. It was still quite early in the evening, half of the sun still peeking over the horizon, the sky painted in a pink that would soon be darkening to orange. It was just as noisy as in the past, perhaps even noisier, for the families hadn't gone home yet. "There were quite a few kerfuffles with the system at work today, and this really helped."

"That bad?"

"Mm. We had a new intern come in today, and then the old system just decided to crash. Not the intern's fault, she's the sweetest girl. But it was still a headache to deal with."

"Well, I'm glad it helped. Though I'm just happy to spend more time with you."

If everything went according to plan, then he'd be seeing a lot more of her in the future.

He shoved his hand into his pocket, checking that the all-important box was still there. It was the crux of this whole operation, and he could not lose it.

Colette laughed, a sound that inevitably made him smile. "I'm sorry I haven't been free for the past few weeks. It's a busy time for the company."

"It's alright. I'll be starting work soon too, after all. Besides, we still stay two floors apart. There's pretty much no way we don't see each other every week, silly."

"Sorry, sorry. Shouldn't be a downer; you're right. Anyway, since tomorrow’s a public holiday, want to spend it over at my place?”

“Netflix and chill?” Lloyd answered, well aware that he was probably getting some weird looks from people close enough to overhear him. He wasn’t even sure if Colette knew of its double meaning - she was generally completely clueless about the world of euphemisms. Over time, they’d just started co-opting the phrase. After all, their time together at each other’s place was mostly spent… watching shows while curled up together on the couch, creating dishes that were more like unrecognisable disasters in the kitchen while attempting not to set the whole place on fire, or Colette playing video games at the foot of the bed while he tickled her neck with his toes. In terms of risque activities, they so rarely happened - and only after he checked, double-checked and triple-checked that Colette was feeling up to it and not forcing herself for his sake.

“I don’t mind, but we haven’t finished that card game we started last month. The card piles are still sitting untouched on my bay window. Wanna do that instead?”

“Sure!” He replied enthusiastically. Board games or card games always promised a good time, if infuriating when nothing would line up and Lady Luck was decidedly not smiling on him. Colette seemed to get all the luck in these party games. Maybe it was consolation for tripping all the time.

“It’s such a shame that Zelos and Sheena aren’t here,” Colette said, pulling out her phone. “I know they went on the Ferris wheel the year after we did, but we still haven’t gotten that group photo we were supposed to.”

“One’s in Europe and one’s in Australia. There’s no way they could join us on such short notice.” The last he'd heard from them, both were doing well for themselves and very happy in their long-distance relationship.

“True. I guess I can add them to the photo afterwards with the power of Photoshop. Oh, and Zelos sent me this really weird message...” After a few swipes of her finger, Colette shoved the bright phone screen under his nose.

Zelos Wilder: Looking forward to the good news ;)

“Do you have any idea what they mean?” Colette asked, cocking her head to the side in confusion. “They haven’t been replying to my question!”

Lloyd could feel his fingers twitching. Zelos Wilder wasn’t here, but if they were, Lloyd would have strangled them already. Trying to spoil the surprise, were they?

“It’s probably nothing! You know how they are. Always trying to cause chaos.” Lloyd shrugged, hoping he wasn’t being too obvious, as he tended to be.

“I suppose that’s true… What good news?” Lloyd could hear Colette repeating that question to herself under her breath, not quite soft enough for it to escape his notice. She didn’t seem to have noticed that anything was up with him, thankfully.

“It’s our turn! Come on, let’s get on!” Lloyd declared, just loud enough to startle Colette and cause her to nearly drop her phone. She hurriedly stuffed it back into her pocket, following Lloyd to the open carriage. She hadn't realised the space before them had completely cleared.

The attendant lazily waved them onto the open carriage with barely a glance at them, a mumbled: “Have a nice ride” leaving her mouth.

Lloyd was the first to scramble on, turning around to give Colette a helping hand - only to find her falling straight into him, having tripped over the raised step. With a shocked “Oh!” falling from her lips, Colette crashed into him, nearly knocking him flat onto the carriage seat. With a shocked yelp, Lloyd braced himself against the glass window of the carriage, barely maintaining his balance. Years of practice at stopping Colette’s sometimes fantastical falls over obstacles that weren’t visible to him had honed his reaction times to near perfection, giving him ample preparation for this situation.

The attendant continued to ignore them, gaze fixed not so discreetly on the phone sitting in her lap. The doors of the carriage slid smoothly shut, and with a jolt that nearly knocked them off balance again, the carriage set off on its journey.

"Um, sorry..." Colette apologised from her position pressed flush against Lloyd's chest, arms entangled in his. She slowly extricated herself from the mess, stumbling a few times but managing not to fall again, even with the gentle swaying of the carriage floor. He tried his best to steady her without falling over himself. She sheepishly smiled. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” Lloyd adjusted her headband, setting the ears that had been knocked crooked back into their rightful place. He’d told her multiple times that she didn’t need to apologise for tripping, but she still did, the habit too ingrained to break. It was endearing, though. “You?”

“I’m fine!” Colette smoothed out her skirt (though there weren’t any noticeable wrinkles in it from the fall,) and sat down to rest her weary feet, giving Lloyd the cue to sit down as well. “Thank goodness I wasn’t wearing heels…”

Lloyd did not want to imagine what would have happened if she was - she might have twisted her ankle, or worse. She rarely wore heels due to her clumsiness, but when she did, all sorts of accidents tended to happen.

He stuffed his hand into his pocket again, fingers feeling the velvet texture again.

It’s still here.

"What's still here?" Colette’s confused voice broke through his relieved thoughts. Her hands were resting in her lap and she was leaning forward, eyes shining with a curious light. The usual white lights of the new condominiums close to the carnival grounds shone, a few glimmers of pink visible as people celebrated Pink Dot. It was at this very moment that the Ferris wheel's lights turned from purple to pink, the spokes emanating soft pink light that washed over Colette, making her hair glisten - almost like an ethereal fairy with imaginary wings that shimmered, having come to visit him on this mortal plane. The dog ears only added to that image, somehow. Even now, the sight of her was enough to make him feel dizzy, both out of love and awe, even if he no longer blushed like an embarrassed schoolboy. Awe that she could get more beautiful every time his gaze landed on her. And awe that such an incredible person had chosen to trust him and stay with him.

He was so enraptured by the angel before him that it took a few seconds for her words to process in his mind, after which he froze in horror.

OH NO, HE’D SAID IT OUT LOUD. A thousand alarm bells were ringing in his head. Some days he was reminded that he was an adult now, and other days he was reminded that he was as much an idiot as he used to be. Some things just never changed.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Colette said, a teasing lilt to her voice as she rested her chin on her palm, an amused smile playing on her lips.

He could just play it off - he knew Colette wouldn’t pursue it any further if he gave off the signals to drop the topic. She was just like that: the most considerate person he knew.

But…

The original plan had been to do it on the Ferris wheel. It even had Zelos' approval. This, right now, was the perfect chance to just let the cat out of the bag. And he would grasp the opportunity in hand before it could escape him.

For he could think of no future happier than one spent Colette’s side.

Taking a deep breath, he pulled the purple box out of his pocket with a shaking hand, dropping to his knees on the surprisingly clean carriage floor, devoid of the usual spilt drinks and crumpled up tissues.

He could tell the exact moment Colette gleaned the true intent behind his actions, the blank, confused expression on her face morphing into one of shocked disbelief, eyes widening and hands flying up to cover her mouth.

Damn it, he’d completely forgotten the script he’d written with Zelos’ assistance in a back-and-forth over messages, Zelos alternating between giving actually good advice and being extremely annoying, though Lloyd had gotten them to shut up by asking them when they planned to propose. The two of them had both struggled to find the right words, since neither of them had done super well in English. But Lloyd had persevered, wanting to get his feelings across eloquently.

But now that he was staring into Colette’s blue eyes, all the words were sprouting wings and flying mockingly out of his head, leaving only blank space for him to reach uselessly for.

The one piece of advice Zelos had given him that continued to stick in his head was this: speak from the heart, and surely she would understand.

He couldn’t keep her waiting forever.

“I… ” He couldn’t help but start off slow, struggling against the block in his mind but determined to push past it. The words then seemed to just come to him, progressively faster as time went on, stumbling out of some unknown part of his mind - or perhaps it would be more accurate to say his heart. Somehow, throughout it all, he didn't drop the box despite his trembling hands. “Colette, you’re the most amazing person I know. Your compassion, your gentleness, even your clumsiness, they’re all vital parts of my life that I wouldn’t give up for anything. You are my shining star in the sky, the one that gives me hope, that inspires me to be the best version of myself. If I had the choice to relieve my life from the start, I wouldn't change a thing, because meeting you on that playground all those years ago was the best thing that has ever happened to me. All my years spent with you have been incredible, and I would like to spend many more by your side. So, just like years ago, Colette, I have something I need to ask you, right here and right now.”

“Will you… Will you marry me?” He finished, voice drifting off into silence as he flipped open the box to reveal the two plain, thin metal rings he’d bought. Colette wasn’t the type to go for flashy diamonds or colourful gems. She’d appreciate something simple like this.

He waited, the few seconds of deafening silence seeming to stretch out into eternity, broken only by the sound of blood rushing past his ears. This wasn’t the first time he’d asked this very question, if in a different and less dramatic form. He’d already received her answer once. But he would respect whatever answer she gave now, and most of all, they would keep the promise they had made at this very place: that they would always remain friends, no matter what.

~~~

Colette still couldn’t quite believe her ears, gaze flitting between Lloyd’s face and the box he was holding up towards her, the two rings housed snugly within reflecting pink light.

Marriage had crossed her mind many times. She had learned over the years that it wasn’t a penultimate goal that had to be reached to prove her relationship successful, and she’d told Lloyd as much when he’d asked her two months ago if she’d be willing to get married.

But still, even if she had managed to break free from most of the notions the fairytales of old had implanted into her head, able to just enjoy them as sweet stories now, she couldn’t quite rid herself of the dream of having a fairytale wedding. One that was perfectly planned, with family and friends present to stand witness to their union.

She’d told him yes. That she would be willing to tie the knot with him, the one she loved. The expectation of a proposal had been simmering in the back of her mind ever since, often going forgotten. She had not expected the time would be now. Lloyd had been more fidgety than normal, constantly checking his pockets while disguising the action as keeping his hands in his pockets. She’d known something was up, but his true intentions had escaped her detection until just moments before, when she’d been taken off guard. All she’d thought when he’d pulled out the box was that it resembled the ring boxes in the dramas Sheena was always recommending to her, the ones that appeared in all the emotional proposal scenes, until the realisation had hit her in the chest like a truck.

Once again, like years ago, they’d reached the top of the revolution. The silence remained unbroken as Lloyd patiently awaited her answer, not pushing her towards one. And so events repeated, mirrored across time.

Colette slowly stretched out her arm, eyes shimmering with unshed tears as a smile graced her face. She nodded, her throat blocked by all the emotions that swirled in her chest, unable to say ‘yes’ out loud even as she screamed it over and over in her mind, the tears finally breaking free of whatever barrier was holding them back to spill down her face.

Lloyd broke out into the most beautiful smile she had ever seen, radiating pure joy as he slid one of the simple, elegant, silver bands onto her ring finger. It fit. Perfectly. When had he even learned her ring size?

She picked up the other ring that was meant for Lloyd, marvelling at how her hand could somehow remain stable as the rest of her body trembled in barely contained emotion. The ring was so tiny, held between her thumb and index finger, and yet it held such significant weight as she slid it onto his ring finger, the skin of his hand rough against hers and the metal cold.

Lloyd jumped to his feet, pulling her into an embrace and pressing a kiss to the top of her head (his nose bumping the dog ears), holding her close, his happy laughter rumbling through his chest. Even now, when he must have been bursting with joy, he was still mindful of her boundaries, refusing to do anything that would cross the line. Heart filled with warmth, she pressed herself impossibly closer, intending to just melt into his arms forever -

"Please get off the carriage."

The deadpan voice that belonged to neither her nor Lloyd broke through the peaceful bubble that had been constructed around the two of them. She froze, feeling Lloyd stiffen around her as well. Looking to the left yielded the view of solid ground, and the same uninterested attendant gesturing towards it.

Ah. They'd reached the bottom without even noticing. This was… embarrassing, to say the least.

Thankfully, no one seemed to be in the queue at the moment, allowing the two of them to escape from the Ferris wheel without much attention. It appeared that only the attendant had borne witness, and she couldn’t seem to care less, having returned to the booth.

Their interlocked hands swung in the air, the matching rings glinting under the bright neon lights of the carnival as she wiped away her happy tears, both of them grinning uncontrollably.

"I love you," Lloyd said, the words leaving his lips with ease, as they always had. "Shall we go home?” he asked.

Home was with friends and family and Lloyd, the one who held her heart.

Colette squeezed Lloyd’s hand. She felt light as a feather, like she could somehow fly with wings that she didn't have.

"I love you," she replied, the words coming so easily now. "Let’s.”

~~~

The attendant shook her head, scoffing as she returned to scrolling through Twitter.

“I suppose love does make the world go round.”

~~~

Next chapter

#fanfiction #multi chapter #tales of symphonia #colloyd #colloydweek2021 #day 3: first kiss/confession #colette brunel #lloyd irving #sheena fujibayashi #zelos wilder

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sobdasha · 3 years

Text

i’ve been rereading a lot of my favorite stuff for months now

since I'm lacking in spoons for library trips

And when I was cottoning on to the fact that I have, in fact, been autistic all along, one of the things I realized is that the connecting thread between the kinds of stories and kinds of characters that I like is in fact that they display autistic or autistic-adjacent traits. I had realized this, come up with a lot of examples. I knew this.

Haha yeah as I'm actually rereading the things the evidence is damning that I did not come even close to understanding the full depth of it.

~ Taucris Ithesta is Autistic and Other Adjacent Things re: Leckie's Novels ~

Actually let's start with The Raven Tower because you can't actually argue with me about autistic Siat.

Siat actively avoids eye contact, is """shy""", speaks too softly, has an excellent grasp of humor, likes rocks as a special interest, likes to collect rocks, likes to sort rocks, likes to line up rocks, has one (1) bff to conduct social interactions for her, notices patterns, is good at learning, and is considered disabled by society's standards.

Ughhhhh all that talk about rocks makes me sad all over again that I pitched my rock collection when I moved out (I saved the best fossils, though).

(ETA: I have since bought more rocks because polished gemstones with carvings on them make for great stims, I am very pleased with me)

Okay so now that that's been established, let's talk about Strength and Patience of the Hill.

Because this rock gets me. Originally I figured it was probably, y'know, like with Ancillary Justice Leckie's given me an ace-aro main character and I can identify with that as an ace-aro. But unlike Breq, who very much loves people and wants to take care of them and found family etc, Strength and Patience of the Hill doesn't give much of a shit about people. With some exceptions of people that are it's people, how dare you mess with them, Strength and Patience of the Hill will kick your ass. Although even then I'm not sure Strength and Patience is all that great at taking care of people. Also Strength and Patience of the Hill is very much absorbed in its own selfishness, very much consumed with his own internal world, and I am also a jerk like that so it was very relatable.

(Yes I am using multiple pronouns because one of my many favorite parts of the book signing was watching everyone scramble over pronouns for a rock because "It never came up so I never figured it out" and I'm pretty sure Strength and Patience doesn't even use pronouns because why would you need a gendered pronoun to refer to yourself??? You don't even need a name to refer to yourself, actually I'm pretty sure Strength and Patience doesn't actually consider itself to have a name.)

So it made sense that this rock just really gets me. I know it's bad when the majority of representation for ace-aro characters is stereotypical robots or rocks or aliens (oooh or sentient space rocks wait wAIT now that I've said that I've just realized the Myriad is the definition of a Crystal Gem, pffft) or whatever but honestly I don't care because I just really identify with the robots??? So I really liked it, YMMV.

(It's probably also bad if the trend for autistically-coded characters is just stereotypical robots or rocks or aliens or whatever too but like honestly a big autistic #mood is feeling like you are a robot or an alien or whatever so maybe that's why I'm not offended???)

My point being that Strength and Patience of the Hill displays a lot of autistic traits and is therefore very relatable, in this Ted Talk I will.

Strength and Patience of the Hill processes things slowly. She will come up with the perfect retort and tell you 5 years later with absolutely no context.

It loves daydreaming, staring at things, noticing patterns, and enjoying quiet and solitude. It loves thinking about why things are the way they are. Look I have fantasized about what if I could exist as just a pair of eyeballs and a mind floating around in space, observing things, thinking things, and not having to actually interact with the world, and I'm pretty sure this rock is living that life. (Until y'know it gets told life doesn't work like that.)

Despite his slow processing speed, and taking a while to learn language, Strength and Patience of the Hill is good at learning things, and I feel like it's the kind of sort-of-sideways, context-based accumulation of knowledge that I learn through as well.

Strength and Patience of the Hill has one (1) friend, and through the Myriad it benefits from the fact that the Myriad has an actual social circle, without having to put forth any effort of maintaining friends on its own, which is 100% the way to do it.

Strength and Patience of the Hill tends to attract the other "quirky" kids--that is, my impression is that the people who become his priests tend to be those people who look at the world a little differently, those people on the fringes. Trans people, autistic people, people with other disabilities.

Strength and Patience of the Hill trying to explain the state of affairs in Vastai to Eolo: "Okay so my first memory I can recall is…" No, okay, no, I know, it's just literally how the narrative has to be told, I'm not criticizing, but that doesn't make it any less reminiscent of "autistic person trying to explain a simple thing but starts in with 10 pages of context first to ensure the over-explanation makes sense" (haha that's why I consistently got stuck training endless new hires, I'm literally so bad at it that I'm the best in the department and I hate life).

Difficulty understanding other's feelings/points of view/circumstances (I know it's because he's a rock and a god but that doesn't make it any less relatable), hmmm what else…

Oh right, a typical interaction with Strength and Patience of the Hill:

Person: (gives offering) Strength and Patience: (offering is accepted because the transaction literally occurred, no need to respond) Person: "(asks petition)" Strength and Patience: ... Strength and Patience: wait Strength and Patience: what Strength and Patience: wait was I supposed to do something else Strength and Patience: did you ask something of me? Strength and Patience: I don't understand what you asked????? Strength and Patience: it's been an entire year now it's too awkward Strength and Patience: i'm sure it's. Fine. Strength and Patience: It's fine. (rinse and repeat)

Like I said, this rock gets me.

(Haha I was reading through my notes from the book signing and I found "Strength + Patience doesn't give a shit about balance, Strength + Patience is just selfish, which it manifests as apathy, which is why this rock gets me. All of my best interpersonal traits also spring from not giving a fuck and waiting ppl to go away faster lol" and why is that, oh because ~I'm~ ~autistic~ pfffft)

I started this post a while ago and this was as far as I got and I don't remember if I had more??? Time to talk about Taucris probably!!!

(I'm skipping Ancillary Justice etc for now because I do want to make a post about that but like there's just. So much. In those books. It's masking all the way down. So it can be its own post. One day.)

Because I waited so long I forgot what I was going to write so I'll just grab the book and flip through and comment as I see things.

To start off with: Taucris and adulthood. I've seen other people pick up primarily on the gender aspect of it--that Taucris waited until almost 25 to take her adult name because she she never figured out what her gender was (non- uhhhhhh what's the word for binary when it's three and not two? Non-tri-something Taucris in a society with 3 options but all 3 options are gendered? I'll go with that.) What really resonated for me was that Taucris waited until almost 25 to take her adult name because she never felt like an adult. And I get that ~everyone feels that way~ but I feel like it's Different for Taucris in the same way it's Different for me. Anyway I feel like no matter which aspect you choose, it's probably an autistic vibe.

Also Taucris seems to have a bit of a flat affect? She seems very serious (both in body language and in speech), and kind of intense sometimes when she talks, and Ingray notes how Taucris usually doesn't smile (she smiles with Ingray because Ingray makes her comfortable) and has always been """shy""".

Also Taucris...talks strangely? I am not sure exactly how to explain it. It's not written badly or anything, it's...you know how sometimes you suddenly sit back and look at dialogue and go no one speaks like this and it throws you out of the story because you dropped your suspension of disbelief? Taucris kind of gives me that feeling, and only Taucris. Almost like her speech is a little bit stilted? Awkward? She's very serious and matter of fact and says things like "You've always been so kind to me" with a straight face. But it doesn't feel like a """bad writing""" (quotation marks for subjectivity) thing. But I notice it every time I read her dialogue… I think it's just that Taucris is autistic and awkward and that's how she speaks. Also I think she's adorable.

Police work is Taucris' special interest. So much so that that's the entire reason she became an adult, so she could engage in her special interest better. She's ~weird~ for her single-minded interest and her interest in a job below her ~status~ and she doesn't care, she set her heart on this anyway, volunteering and interning so on.

Oh that was something else I was going to talk about--Taucris mentions feeling like she doesn't have her shit together, not like Ingray (who also doesn't feel she has her shit together. Kind of like "no one really feels like an adult). But Taucris seems quite calm and capable in Planetary Security. I don't know if this is just masking, but...I really hope that she does feel that way in her job. That because it's her special interest, that helps balance out the stress of being alive and simultaneously employed full-time. That because she's been volunteering and interning here so long, she's been familiar with the office and it wasn't a stressful transition. That she acts confident because she feels competent and respected. Taucris may look calm and cool and collected on the outside and be screaming on the inside but I hope she actually feels pretty good on the inside too.

I would also like to say that I like Taucris' nother. Despite what Danach implies, I get the picture from Taucris that e is supportive of Taucris' personality and interests even when e doesn't get it. E indulged her interest in police work, e didn't understand why Taucris wasn't taking an adult name but tried to be patient about it...so I assume that also means that e was understanding of all of Taucris quirks and stims and particularities. E's been a good support system while Taucris' peers have not.

(Except for Ingray, Taucris' one (1) friend.)

I like Taucris' relationship with Deputy Chief Veret too--the way Taucris quietly manages breakfast so e doesn't have to think about it or be put out (this is The Love Language to me, not being inconvenienced, and I feel that this is part of my personality because my personality is autistic, so). I don't know why specifically Taucris does this, but all the reasons I could come up with feel very wholesome. Taucris respects Veret as her boss and as a person. Taucris is empathetic and thoughtful (she doesn't like Danach but she tries to consider and understand where he's coming from; Taucris isn't Hatli but she considers Veret's fasting etc to be valid rather than a choice of superstition). Taucris' situation is different but she knows that it doesn't feel good to be treated as weird, to be sneered at because you don't act the way people expect you to. Taucris, being autistic, maybe has a lot of experience with "perfectly good foods" she won't eat. Taucris strikes me as someone who observes quietly, and considers carefully, and maybe takes a long time to make up her mind but when she moves it's deliberately and not carelessly. Which is, to me, a masking trait.

In the quantum version of this post I was going to write everything so polished and lay out my points so nicely but clearly that didn't happen and I don't know where to end this and I'm sure I didn't even explain things that well so I'll just say, I feel it was very autistic of Taucris in the last chapter to just be like "well IDK what you want from me and rather than expending massive effort trying to suss it out and guessing wrong I'll just be direct: I know you can't talk about what happened so I won't ask you about what happened unless you want me to ask you about what happened in which case you should say so and I will ask but I think maybe you just need to watch a movie with me instead."

#sobdasha fic adjacent #al provenance #the raven tower #HAPPY AUTISM MONTH #look i actually did a thing while it was still april #all my faves are autistic #also is this not showing up in the tags as punishment for my sins or like can I not see it because dumblr

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fullmetalscullyy · 4 years

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Hello I don’t know if this is the right place for requests but can u do a royai angst where roy is the fuhrer and has diminished the power of miltary and has introduced democracy and the war criminals of ishvalan are being put to trial and basically some intimate royai moments leading up to their deaths . Thank youu and love your workkk

aaaah anon thank you so much 🥺 you’re far too kind <3 and yes, this is the right place! this was a gooood prompt, very angsty!! i’ve not written something here about leading up to their trial (the reason why is explained in the fic), however this is their “last night together” 👀 hope you enjoy!! and thank you for the ask <3

also, if you’re interested, i’ve already done something similar to this request if that’s more what you’re looking for! riza goes ahead and gets put on trial before roy after he’s part of a political marriage with drachma. it’s call “the last dance”

rated: m | words: 1679 | warnings: adult themes, discussions of death/execution

“So…”

The single word hung in the air of his home office, feeling like it signalled the end of another chapter in his life. Fuhrer Mustang sat back in his chair, sighing as the last piece of work he needed to complete was signed off and ready to be presented to parliament tomorrow. It would signify the end of his reign as Fuhrer and would put him on trial for his war crimes, along with all of those who participated in the Ishvalan Civil War as State Alchemists.

It was a marvel, how the single sheet of paper upon his desk would end his life. The document held such a power of him that it was almost terrifying. Although, that may have just been pure instinct talking. He didn’t want to die. A part of his mind was screaming at him to burn it however it was only a tiny part. It was quickly shoved aside and replaced by grim satisfaction. He’d achieved what he’d set out to do. His goals had been reached and there was nothing more for him to do now. Tomorrow, with this document, his power would be dissolved, and he’d be in prison.

“It’s done?”

Glancing up, he caught Hawkeye’s eye. Her expression was calm and collected like always as she patiently awaited his answer.

Roy nodded. “It is.”

Nothing more was said. There didn’t need to be anything else spoken. Not until she started to pack up her things, her movements slow and controlled.

Working from home had become the more preferable option as of late. His old wounds would ache so much from time to time that he would be left breathless, so remaining at his home office was better for him. Roy felt as though he had the body of a pensioner, but in truth it was only forty-five. Still, he’d lived too long and seen to much not to be in the mindset of the elderly. He was weary from his uphill battle to Fuhrer, but one of the hardest parts, the final part, was only just beginning.

Of course, being his adjutant, Hawkeye had come to work within his office at home as well. Where he went, she followed. Despite his insistence that he’d be fine and that she should go into HQ for the day, there was no arguing with her. As stubborn as ever, Roy noted fondly.

“Stay for dinner?”

It was a request he put forth every time, which she politely declined. He hoped… Well, if this was to be their last night of freedom, Roy wished she would say yes.

Her movements slowed and then she paused, staring down at her desk.

“Our final meal?” The corners of her mouth quirked up slightly but didn’t stay.

Roy nodded. “We can do that.”

“All right,” she agreed.

There was no fanfare to it. They didn’t particularly deserve to have one final night together, but now that their judgement day was here… Roy just wanted to spend time with her. If he had to watch her die, be executed, then he wanted this last night together.

Grimacing as he stood from his chair, Roy breathed out hard as his side continued to ache.

He cooked for her. They chatted, but it was subdued and remorseful. She never met his eyes for long, opting to stare down at her food. It killed him inside but would never fault her for it. He’d signed her death warrant that evening. How could she be happy with him? Roy knew Hawkeye was committed completely to this goal, but still… It didn’t sit well with him that he’d agreed to send her to her death.

“Is…”

He glanced at her. They’d had a brief moment of silence as they finished up their meal.

“Is it… wrong of me, to not want to leave?” Her head lifted, meeting his eyes. There was no sadness there, just curiosity and a slight frown on her features.

“I felt the same way looking over that document,” Roy revealed. He placed down his knife and fork, wiping at his mouth with a napkin. “But I don’t think it’s wrong,” he added gently. “As a species, we don’t typically want to jump headfirst into death every day.”

“No,” she shook her head. “Well, I suppose yes, that’s what I meant too but…” Her eyes were fixed on his, and Roy finally caught her meaning. “Is it wrong of me to not want to leave here tonight?”

Roy blinked at her. Again, her face was calm, her tone even. It betrayed none of her wants and desires.

“You can stay,” he replied slowly.

“I’d like that, Roy,” she whispered.

* * *

Roy held her close as they both swayed gently in time to the music in his bedroom. Riza’s head lay against his shoulder, his cheek resting against the top of it. One of her hands was gripped tightly within his, which he’d moved above his heart as they moved together. His other was wrapped tightly around her waist, holding her body close, while Riza’s free hand was on his lower back. Over time, her hand had fisted in his shirt, as if that would bring him closer to her. They’d been like this for a while, but she had no desire to leave his embrace. She would remain there until morning if she could.

“I know what we have to do,” Riza swallowed, “and I’m steadfast in my decision, however…” She gripped his hand tighter and Roy understood. It always amazed her how he could read her so easily.

“I don’t want to leave you,” he whispered.

“I feel the same way.”

Roy pressed a kiss to the top of her head and Riza’s eyelids fluttered closed. She would cherish this moment and this night for the rest of her short life. It would get her through the trial to come.

“That’s what’s making me fight this internally in my mind,” he added. “Leaving you, signing your death warrant, and ensuring your execution.”

“We decided –”

“We did decide together,” he conceded, “I know. However, how can my heart and soul rest when I know I’ve sent the woman I love to her death?”

“How can I rest easy, knowing that decision resides solely on your shoulders? I can be open and agreeable to it, but it’s you who has to present it to parliament,” she countered. “It’s you who has to announce to the nation that you’re killing your friends… and me,” she whispered. “I can’t rest either, knowing that you’ll be gone.”

“We’re going together,” he replied firmly. “I can’t… I can’t let it happen, knowing that one of us went first, leaving the other behind.”

It didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, but Riza appreciated that.

It was cathartic discussing this with him. They’d have no time once they were arrested. There would be no open shows of affection when they walked head-first towards the execution squad. They’d be back to Fuhrer and his Aide. This night was all they had. Selfishly, Riza wanted this night with him, and she wanted it not to end.

“I love you,” she whispered against the skin of his throat. She’d turned her head, angling it around the collar of his shirt so she could feel his skin against her cheek. It was warm, like it always was. A beacon of comfort for her.

“I’ll love you always, Riza,” he murmured into her hair. “Never forget that, please,” he pleaded.

“I won’t,” she reassured him. “I could never.” Her lips pressed a kiss against his throat, sealing her promise. It made his breath hitch.

“If anything happens… That will always be true.”

“I know.” If anything was mentioned about them being executed together, there would likely be rumours. They’d be denied, stating their friendship was purely platonic and professional.

He pulled back from her, bringing his hands up to cup her cheeks. His scarred palms weren’t rough against her skin, they were soft. His smile was sad when he looked at her. Riza’s hands gripped his wrists tightly, nodding at him, only barely, to grant his unspoken request.

Her lips were slowly brought up to his. It was agonising, the anticipation of the kiss. She needed him completely. She needed to commit herself to him just one last time before it all went to hell.

The grip on his wrists tightened, their mouths almost clashing together in their sudden desperation. Roy’s mouth opened and Riza’s quickly followed. Her hands left his wrists, dropping to his hips to jerk his body against hers, making him groan. One of Roy’s hands followed suit on her waist, his fingers digging into her skin, but the other got tangled in her hair. They’d been content to dance together to the music, but after they’d spoken, they couldn’t get close enough to one another. They needed this.

“I love you,” he whispered breathlessly against her lips. “I love you so much and –” he cut his rushed speech off, choking on what he was saying.

“Roy, please,” she pleaded. She could feel her tears building in her throat. She didn’t want to do this now. Right now, she just needed to feel… Needed to feel him. She needed his love. It may have been selfish of her, again, but he suddenly felt like a drug to her. However, she thought that may be the case because she had the knowledge this was going to be their last time together. She’d make it last right through until morning if need be. She wasn’t going to waste any more time with him.

“Later,” she promised. There would be more talking once they’d come down from their emotionally charged desires.

“I’m going to love you like you’ve always deserved, but I could never give,” he promised fiercely. She could see that he meant it in his tear-filled eyes.

She smiled sadly, lifting her hand to cup his cheek. “All I ever needed was you by my side.”

As their lips met, she walked them back towards his bed.

#royai #royai fic #royai fanfic #royai oneshot #ask #anon #writing prompts #fic request #emma writes

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delightfulstarlightparadise · 4 years

Text

Stardew valley Imagine. Reader/ Sebastian (?)

-Before we start, oce again I remind you that English is not my main language, but I am doing my best.

“I didn’t think you were so tired to the point of passing out in that sofa.” Sebastian says while taking a drag of his cigarette. “If I knew we would have come earlier.”

“Aw... I shouldn’t have drink that beer.” you say, feeling sick to your stomach.

“If you are going to throw up, please do it in some bush and not near me.”

You didn’t even bother answering him. Next thing you knew, you were kneeling down barfing behind a tree. You were not very used to drinking.

“Sorry.” you say when you can finally talk.

“What about?”

“Everything.”

He shrugs and helps you stand up.

“You are... different.” he says.

“I know, I am weird.”

He laughs.

“You think you are weird? My best friend is the weirdest person I know. Being different in a town like this is not a bad thing you know?” he says.

You stare at him for a while too long, he blushes showing is uncomfort.

“You didn’t pass as a supportive type at first.” you say.

“Don’t get used to it.” he says smirking at you.

When you arrive the farm you can see that the seeds you planted in the morning had turned into little saplings already. You shake your head, sure that it is a prank of your dizzy mind, but they are there.

“Sebastian, can you see those or am I really wasted?” you ask him, pointing at the saplings.

“I can see them, but I am also pretty sure you ARE wasted.” He mocks you.

“How can it be?! I planted them this morning!” you look at him completely astonished.

“So what?” he asks.

“They were not supposed to grow like this… I mean, this is crazy!”

“Oh really? I don’t understand much about farming.” he says while getting another cigarette from his pocket. “I will be going now, ok? Thanks for the game, I had fun. Destroying Sam every time was starting to get boring.

As he goes, you sit down on your porch staring at those little saplings.

…

You have a dream.

You are playing with your cousins by the mountain river. A younger Sam and a younger Sebastian are there too. Sebastian is ginger back then, but Sam’s hair still challenges gravity somehow. There is a third boy that is not from your family, he is brunette, very alethic and seems to like you a lot.

Sebastian challenges you all: who can go up a tree by the shore faster. You are the first to run there, before anyone even agrees to the bet. He doesn’t like it and runs as fast as he can, followed by the other boy and your cousins. Sam kind of gets left behind.

You start climbing the tree so fast, you didn’t even remember being so agile, you feel like a feral squirl. The other boy is right behind you, he even tries to hold your foot and tickle you, but you don’t give up. As you laugh together, Sebastian gets to pass you, but you quickly follow after him.

Somehow you manage to get to the top first, Sebastian is all sweaty and puffing. The other boy comes after and congratulates you on the win. He kisses you on the cheek and you get all red about it. Sebastian doesn’t like it, actually he seems really jealous. You think it is about you having won and start mocking on him.

You call him gingerbread man. He hates it and pushes you. Because of your weigh the branch you fall on cracks and you fall on the river. You can see both Sebastian and the other boy reaching towards you.

Your head hits a rock and you get unconscious. But actually, you just can't move, you still can see... everyone is jumping on the water after you, but you feel like you are nowhere to be found. Maybe that is it, your short life has come to an end.

You hear a funny sound and turn your head to the left. You see an apple.

The apple has two eyes and pink cheeks.

There are others, they are all around you, making that funny sound and lifting you up from the bottom of the lake.

Next thing you see, a hand grabs your wrist, lifted by the little apple spirits. You are pulled out of the water by Sebastian, he has almost drowned too. He is crying and doesn’t stop apologizing, but you aren’t able to say anything to him, the words don’t come out.

You spend some days in the hospital, all your vitals are ok, but you keep seeing those little apple spirits around. The adults are afraid you had too bad of a concussion and no one believes in you... except for... grandpa?

He says you were saved by the forest spirits, but your mother and father tell him not to incentive these kind of thoughts in you. Eventually, they stop taking you to Stardew valley.

The longer you are away, the more you forget about your time there.

When you wake up, the dream seems like a shadow, but you feel very different.

…

They were even bigger! From one night to the other, the saplings have grown as much as they should in a week.

“Am I going insane?” you ask yourself.

You water them and put some extra fertilizer, then you decide to go to the city and buy some food for the farm. When you arrive there, you see Mayor Lewis in front of a big old house behind the square.

“Oh, hi y/n!” he calls you, as you two seem to be the only people around. “Come here a second.”

You feel a little annoyed. Is it going to be like this now? Every day that amount of interaction in your life... how can you handle it?

“Good afternoon, Mr. Lewis.” you say.

“Call me Lewis.” he says with a gentle smile. “Do you remember this place?”

You take a look at it. Everything is so broken and old you can swear it is probably haunted. You can’t seem to remember anything like it.

“I see.” he says. “You were so young, but you, your cousins and your grandpa used to come here. This is the community center of Pelican town. Well... it used to be. Come on in.”

You follow him inside and it looks even worse than the outside. Bindweed has taken over the walls, there isn’t a single piece of wood that is not broken or rotten and there is even a tree fully grown in the corner of the main hall, but even that tree seems to be decaying.

“This used to be the heart of the town, everyone in the community gathered here for parties, birthdays and even city events.” he says. “But as time went by... it seems like these kinds of things are not as important nowadays.”

He starts a discourse about how people would rather watch TV instead of gathering with the community, but you can’t follow because... there is an apple jumping by the window.

“Y/n, what’s with you?” the mayor asks turning to the place you are looking.

It immediately disappears.

“It was...” you are about to tell him about the apple but, why bother? “I think I saw a mouse.”

“This place is probably infested by mice, it has been closed for so long.” He says and sighs. “It is sad to see it like this. But I think that is what happens to old things, see Paradise farm, for example. Good that now you are there to rebuild it. Too bad for this place, there aren’t people willing to do it.”

“Did you ask people?” you ask out of curiosity.

“Unfortunately, every time we set to rebuild everyone was busy with something else. Eventually, I think everyone just gave up.” the mayor let go a long sigh. “And since Joja Mart came to town, they keep making offers to buy it and turn it into a warehouse. I am thinking about selling it by the end of this year... the city could use the money.”

You look around once more. It does seem sad to let ANYTHING that once was good end up in Joja corporation’s hands. Wasn’t this what happened to you.

You feel a strange connection to the place.

“Anyway, I must be going now. Have some mayor duties to accomplish. Thanks for giving an old man some time to be nostalgic.” he says and chuckles. “I will leave this place open if you want to take a look, maybe you can find some of you Paradise kid’s old toys in the crafts room.”

It is weird because you wouldn’t usually do something like that, but as the mayor went away, you started exploring the rooms and they seemed to bring you back some blurry memories. Maybe you played with your cousins in that corner. Maybe you attended someone’s birthday and ate cake by that old table. Maybe you sat with your grandpa in front of that big fish tank and he told you stories about fishing.

You hear a sound and it immediately makes you turn to the decaying tree in the corner of the main hall. Your heartbeat increases as you see not one, but many apple spirits jumping around and waving at you. They seem to be talking but you can’t quite understand.

“What the hell is going on with me?” you say, rubbing your eyes and shaking your head.

They are still there.

One of them, a green one makes you a sign for you to follow it Still uncertain, you do, and it takes you to a golden scroll in the middle of the crafts room. You see there is something written there, but you can’t quite understand it.

“Junimos?” is the only thing you can discern.

The little apple starts jumping and making that funny sound as if it is agreeing to you.

“You are Junimos?”

It seems even more excited. The more it makes those funny sounds, the more it seems like it is saying your name.

“You know me, isn’t it?”

It seems to agree.

“You saved me that day.” you say. “So either everyone was wrong and I didn’t go crazy back then, or I am going crazy right now.”

“You are certainly not going crazy, my dear.”

You yell as you listen to a voice come from behind you and a figure comes from the shadows of the corner of the room. A purple bearded wizard dressed up in a fine robe walks towards you.

“Don’t be afraid. I am Rasmodius, the Wizard, keeper of the secrets of the forest, master of the elemental’s knowledge... you get the picture.”

“Where did you come from?!” you yell as you try to step back, but you end up tripping and falling.

“I have been paying close attention to you for the past couple of days. You are the one whose arrival was foreseen by the valley. The one connected to the forest powers, the one to change the valleys destiny... well you, my friend, are a hero to become.”

“What the fuck is going on here? Am I dreaming? Am I dead? Am I dreaming in a comma?” you star hyperventilating. “I have gone crazy, that is it. I finally lost it!”

“Please, calm down.” the wizard says as he can see you going pale.

“Oh my, what if I never left Zuzu city? I must still be in bed, I need to wake up to go to work, that is it! I am not crazy I am just sleeping...”

The little Junimo beside up jumps and slaps your face with his little stick hand and it hurts way more than it seems to be possible.

“What the...” you say, but it seems to take you away from your anxious thoughts.

“As I was saying...” the Wizard cleans his throat. “You were brought back to this valley to help it heal from the many hazards it has been imposed by both mankind and witchcraft. Also, I have seen, to change the destiny of the people who live here.”

“Me?” you screech with unbelief. “Man, I can’t barely fix my own life.”

The wizard chuckles.

“Well, sometimes to help another one is the best way of helping oneself.” he says.

“What the hell is going on?” you say rubbing your temples.

“You will understand when the time is right.” the wizard replies. “For now, drink this.”

He extended to you a cup filled with a green liquid.

“You are kidding right?” you say.

“No, you are supposed to drink. These are the ingredients from the forest, it will help you understand the language of the elementals.” he says.

“I am not drinking it.”

The Junimo beside you starts jumping and puffing in a way to demonstrate impatience and he seems so angry that you take the cup from the wizard’s hand and, after taking a nauseated look at the content, you drink it.

You feel dizzy and things start moving a lot slower. You can see the memories of yourself as a kid running among trees, playing in the river, collecting and eating savage berries. You see yourself playing with animals, riding a horse, rolling in the mud with grandpa's pig.

You see the faces of some people from the town. You are beside them, helping them and doing nice things, things you had never thought you would do in your life. You feel happy to help, you feel like a part of something. And then... there is this someone you suddenly see yourself kiss.

“If you might ever need me... meet me in the towers west Cindersap forest.” you hear the Wizard’s voice.

As you open your eyes, you see the image of a man and a girl, both with glasses in front of you.

“Y/n? Are you ok?” you hear Maru’s voice coming from the distance. “Oh my Yoba, what a scare you gave me!”

“What? Where am I?” you say slowly sitting down and looking around.

“You are in the clinic. Maru found you passed out near the fountain. You have symptoms of an insulation, perhaps you have been working too hard in the farm.” the man says, adjusting his glasses. “I am doctor Harvey.”

“Insulation? Last thing I remember I was drinking that green thing from the wizard...”

Both Maru and the doctor stare at you, looking concerned.

“I mean, I probably had a bad dream while passed out. Thanks for bringing me Maru, sorry for the trouble.” you say.

“No problem, I am stronger than I look.” she says. “Now lay down, you are taking intravenous medicine, you seem to be very poorly nourished. Have you been skipping meals?”

She gently pushes you into laying down.

“I forget to eat sometimes.”

“That is very hazardous! Even more being a farmer and working a lot in the sun and with so much physical effort!” says Harvey, looking very angry.

He gives you a full lecture about the importance of eating healthy and says that he is going to give you some supplements. You are actually worried about how you are going to pay for the treatment.

…-

Next part here:

Credits for the pose reference: https://snuffysbox.tumblr.com/post/160658875287/have-another-angsty-draw-your-otp-%E1%95%95-3-%E1%95%97-please

#stardew valley #stardew valley fanfic #stardew #stardew valley fanart #stardew valley Sebastian #sdv #SnufkinWasHere #stardew valley rasmodius

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inkinghubris · 3 years

Text

Hemingway and Other Things You Shouldn't Talk About

Hemingway Said, You Do Not Talk About Writing

Rule number one: You do not talk about writing. Rule number two: You do NOT talk about writing! I always picture Brad Pitt walking around telling a group of authors all the rules before a furious word slinging writers event, in some dark, seedy basement covered in sweat and coffee stains.

Hemingway and Fight Club have things in common, such as rules about not talking. Obviously this is not the case. However, as writers we have a series of unwritten laws that we tend to either abide or pretend to be oblivious too. I am Jack's complete lack of interest. Writers Have Heroes, Too As writers, we have authors as heroes just as those school kids look up to athletes. Stephen King, Ernest Hemingway, Henry Miller and Stu Stein, to name a few. These authors broke the first rule of Writing Club: they all have a publication called On Writing. "Throughout Ernest Hemingway's career as a writer," says Larry W. Phillips in his introduction to Ernest Hemingway on Writing, "he maintained that it was bad luck to talk about writing." So what else are we mortal writer's, superstitious or otherwise, not supposed to do or say? There is quite a list, actually. I am Jack's bleeding heart. Rule #1 As we have established, it is bad luck to talk about writing. Thanks, Ernest. Why, though? Basically, as Hemingway explains further, it is better to just write and not speak of it. In his method of removing all the bullshit and leaving behind only the greatness. I disagree with this almost completely. Almost. I feel that we are just glorified campfire story-tellers. It is our duty to tell stories. Written down for others to enjoy at their leisure, obviously, that's why we are "writers". At the core of it all, however, we tell stories. Talking about our stories is just in our nature. I am Jack's gaping mouth. I do agree with the concept that we shouldn't brag, and we also shouldn't try to school or teach every passer-by with our knowledge of the process. Just tell the story, mate. Rule #2 Another no-no myth is that we should write perfect. I am Jack's decaying ego. As the saying goes: practice makes perfect. I disagree. I used to tell my football teams that practice does NOT make perfect, only perfect practice makes perfect. They just looked at me and nodded "yes coach".

Don't practice writing, practice perfect writing. In writing, this same method applies to an extent. If you practice writing you will get better, but only so far as you write perfect. The problem is that no one just writes perfectly out of the box. If we did, there would be no need for drafts and we would just pump out perfect final drafts day in and day out. James Patterson was said to have written over a million words before he wrote his first novel. Writing makes you write better, but to write better you don't just write words, you write better words. The one issue I have with this is that trying to write every word perfectly distracts from the art. Instead, I suggest that you just write. Worry only about perfection while editing and focus on writing perfectly whilst writing the final draft. Otherwise, just write. Rule #3 Don't write like your idols. Sigh. I have heard this over and over and over and every time it upsets me to no end. Believe it or not, there is a finite number of writing genres. We are drawn towards certain ones and turned off by others. I, for example, love thriller and horror and dislike romance and most young adult. Having authors as idols is not a bad thing and if we aspire to be an author then who should we emulate? Our idols. Exactly. So why are we told not to? The reasons vary from one mouth to another, but the main theme seems to be that we should write our own style in our own voice. I tend to believe, though, that our own style and voice will come out, anyway. We should write like our idols. I don't write romance, and would never try to emulate Nicholas Sparks. However, writing horror I see nothing wrong trying to write in similar styles of King, Koontz or Barker. Will I ever write a book and have a publisher read it and say... "Hey! did Clive Barker write this?" No. That will never happen. However, if I am trying to sell a horror book and someone compares it to Clive Barker, then I should feel overwhelmingly excited about that. Writing like your idols is never a bad thing. Rule #4 You should never ask your mom for feedback. Again, heavy sigh. Friends and family are essential for writers' feedback, especially if you are just starting out. While it is true that mom and dad will have a harder time giving you negative feedback (generally) this is not a bad thing. As a writer, you will experience enough setbacks and hardships and negativity to last five lifetimes. Eventually it will harden you, make you better, make you more fierce. In the beginning though, it's detrimental to your writing career. If you start out with negative feedback, you will eventually believe it. Having mom coo and gush over your first few works will help boost your ego and keep you going. From there, you will begin perfect practice and have thousands more words under your belt. You must seek out your mom and close friends for feedback in the beginning (and again any time you need to return to your happy place of believing you can accomplish this task). It is essential, and helpful. I am Jack's boastful pride. Rule #5

If you don't know, believe you know. Base it on natural physics or biology and readers will believe it as real, too. Write what you know. This is tricky and I agree with it to a very limited extent. Readers (and publishers alike) know when you are bullshitting them. If you are writing about car mechanics and you know nothing of repairing an engine, you will turn your readers off. Once you lose a reader because you don't know what you are talking about, they will never believe another word you write, if they even finish the book. However, just writing what you know will severely limit what you write about. And what about things that no one knows about? Aliens, vampires, deep space... if we only ever wrote what we knew, then books like Lewis' Narnia or Tolkien's ring quests and hobbits, would never exist. I take the phrase "write what you know" and change it slightly to "write what you believe." A simple change that allows the author to have a slight edge in the truthfulness in the story. I am Jack's cancer-ridden mind. We Don't Know Everything Certainly no one knows about hobbits, but Tolkien believed in them so much that what he said about them was a gospel of truth. No one doubts hobbits because Tolkien didn't doubt them. However, we can't always write absolute fantasy. So you should know your material. You need to know how wounds heal, how radios operate, or how television signals work. Otherwise, if you bull shit these small details, You won't have much success. Roald Dahl wouldn't have such success with Willy Wonka. Sure there is a great deal of fantasy in that chocolate factory, but imagine if Dahl had simply made up how television signals work? We would never believe that it was possible to travel through those television waves and might have put the book down. Believe what you write and learn what you do not know. Don't be afraid of research and get the small details right. Rule #6 Don't write cliche. The main problem I have with this "advice" is that we then have to define what is cliche. Then, further, if we don't write cliche, there wouldn't be cliche to write. The issue there is that cliche works. That is why it is cliche. Now you are asking yourself how many more times can I possibly say that word in one paragraph. The answer is 97. However, I will refrain. Yes, the works can be overworked or even trite. They are important. This is never more obvious than when you get ideas for stories. Just like Hollywood, the literary world goes around in a circle. For example, right now we have an influx of super hero movies that followed a slew of Romance and Romantic comedies. True, too, will be that the literary world will follow suit. Wizards and broom stick games followed by vampires and werewolves. It's all a Cycle Horror is popular when Young Adult is on the decline and Romance blooms when Fantasy fades. Just because you write cliche projects (96) don't worry about it. You may have to put it in a drawer and forget it for a few years, but soon and once again, the time will be right and people will be clamoring for that long-forgotten cliche (95) to be unleashed. Don't be afraid to complete a project, just because the market is currently flooded with a similar style of work doesn't mean it won't get noticed. "It's only after we've lost everything that we are free to do anything." Rule #7 You must find your unique voice. Umm. This is such a convoluted piece of advice. Yes, you do, but no, you do not. Confused? You should be. I spent too many wasted hours trying to follow this seemingly simple "fact". Hours I will never get back. Quickly (as I have other posts and pages about voice here that go into deeper detail), voice is not how you talk or the sounds that come from your characters mouths. Voice is, in essence, a style. The catch, however, is that your book's voice is unique to that book. Your voice will change from project to project. Do you need to find it? The real answer is that you will notice the voice emerging as you work. From draft to draft your project's voice will emerge and you can then focus more on it. For now, in the beginning, it isn't such a big worry. It will come and if it doesn't, then that is one tale-tell sign that perhaps that particular project isn't making the finish line. Rule #8 Finally, the old tale to ensure you write every single day. You must write X amount of words, or for X amount of hours every single day if you are going to be successful. There are so many "facts" to support this: King writes 2000 words every day and won't stop until he's done it. Or, Koontz ensures, he writes for a minimum of 2 hours each day. Yes, that method works for some, even a lot of, people. However, these famous authors are paid to write. Are you yet paid to write every day? I know that I am not. I have work, and children and family and friends and shopping to do and places to go. Let's be frank. You need to make the time to write. It does need to be a habit that you can do and get into. If it's ever a chore, then perhaps it isn't for you. It is nice to have goals. However, I will fight to the death against anyone that says I must write a certain amount or for a certain time every single day. We Have Lives I have a life. You do too. While you, like me, want to make a career from writing, you also have other obligations and other spontaneous things that appear that take our time, focus and attention away. Go with it. Get a break. Take a day or even two off. Go outside. Research. Read. Watch a movie. Get some sun on your skin. Go shopping. You do not have to write every single day. Just as long as you don't fall in the hole and make not-writing the habit. I am Jack's exhausted colon. Write. Write often. Get lost in it. Talk about it. Get positive feedback. Enjoy what you do and do it with a fervor and a vigor that rivals pure passion. Read the full article

#Novels #Writing #writingrules

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sal2724 · 4 years

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IMPORTANCE OF READING

“A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies, the man who never reads lives only once. ~ George R.R. Martin”

Reading is a basic tool in the living of a GOOD LIFE. The more you read the more things you know. The more that you learn the more places you’ll go. I always used to wonder why some people are creative and some are not. But then when I searched about it every research said that reading is a great tool to success. It is said that Every reader may not be a leader but every leader is a great reader.

Reading is an exercise for the mind. It helps kids calm down and relax, opening doors of new knowledge to enlighten their minds. Kids who read grow up to have better cognitive skills. Reading is good for everyone, not only children or young adults.

Why reading is important for all age groups?

1.It helps you discover yourself

Every good book opens up new dimensions of thoughts for the reader. When you read a book, you somehow try to connect the events, emotions, experiences and characters in the books with yourself. This not only keeps you engrossed into the book but it also makes you realize how you would react and feel to those situations that have not yet occurred in your life.

It helps you broaden your dimension of likes and dislikes and things that would please you. So with every page that you read, you have a chance to discover a new part of yourself!

2. Imparts valuable lessons from years of experiences

Books are not written in a day. For an Author, it takes a lot of hard work, understanding, experiences, knowledge and in many cases lots of pain to come up with a single book. But we as a reader get to read them in just weeks or days thereby living years of experiences in considerably less time.

3. It improves your Focus and Concentration

The Internet has definitely revolutionized our world. But there’s a huge drawback too. For many of us, a large part of our day is spent surfing, chatting, watching videos, reading unnecessary memes and articles online. No wonder people are growing more impatient and losing focus.

However, reading books is one of those constructive habits that actually help us improve our concentration power. It helps us to train our brain to focus our attention and live in the present.

4. Reading improves your emotional health

Books are full of emotions. Sometimes they will make you cry with every turning page and sometimes they will just keep you smiling. It can fill you with anger when the antagonist of the story succeeds in his evil plan, but again it can give you immense pleasure to see your hero achieving his goal.

Books can make us happy, sad, jealous, loved, betrayed and so on! Books are thus an amalgamation of different mixed emotions that ultimately help us grow emotionally!

5. Importance of Reading in memory enhancement

There are a lot of things that we need to remember while reading a book. Name of the characters and their features, name of the places, plots and sub-plots, the sequence of events, important conversations etc. are some of the key information we need to keep in mind while reading. And the ability to retain these information keeps improving with the number of books that you read.

As your brain learns to remember the information from the story-line, it also becomes better at remembering other things of your life. So by reading books, you are also indirectly training your brain in improving your memory.

6. It’s a great source of motivation Life is tricky.

Sometimes there are moments in our life when we feel down and discouraged. We may lose our hope and interest in life and just want to give up. Well, in times like this, sometimes all we need is a little motivation, little push in the right direction.

Reading a good inspirational book during such period can change our way of thinking and give us hope and motivation. Books are no doubt a huge source of motivation. We can derive great inspirations from them and transform our lives positively.

7. It expands your knowledge and makes you smarter

Books are a very rich source of information. With every book you read, you get to learn new things. The more you read, the more you know about different people, their behavior and experiences, different places, different cultures and facts that otherwise you would not have known.

Reading books somehow or the other adds depth to your knowledge base. With your increasing knowledge, you become capable of making better decisions and choices in life. You become aware of your surroundings and tend to have an open mind.

With so many new things learned, people who read, obviously tend to be smarter than people who don’t!

8. Broadens your Imagination and enhances your creativity

“It was a bright cold day on April, and the clocks were striking thirteen”. This is the famous opening line of the novel 1984 by George Orwell.

How do you interpret this line?

In reality, we hardly experience conditions like this. Standard Striking Clock strikes a maximum twelve times. Similarly, we rarely have a day both bright and cold simultaneously. However, George Orwell tries to paint the gloomy yet hopeful condition of life by some imaginative references. The interpretation can vary from person to person though.

This is the beauty of books. It makes you imagine things beyond possibility – things that would not come to our mind normally. Books give you a lot to think about. They also give you the opportunity to have your own perspectives and imaginations into play!

Apart from this, different creative characters, plots, and approaches trigger your creativity as well. You become both creative and imaginative!

There are also many books on creativity that can particularly shape and boost your creative thinking.

9. It makes you more empathic

Another reason why reading is important is because it makes you empathic. Being empathic means being able to understand and share the feelings of others. Books connect you with their characters and plots. You yourself become a part of the book and feel what the characters are supposed to feel. You understand their pain and grievances.

Books also somehow make you feel connected with the authors. You are constantly in some sort of conversation with the book. When you are attentive to reading books, you are actually listening to what the book has to say to you. This makes you a good listener. So reading books develop empathy and thus help you to understand what others feel under different circumstances.

10. Reduces stress and helps you sleep better

Reading is one of the best ways to relax your mind. According to a

Research by University of Sussex

Reading for even six minutes can reduce your stress levels by as high as 68 percent!

Psychologists believe that this is probably because when we are lost in a book, our mind is focused on reading and that little distraction from the real world and our problems into a literary world eases the tensions in muscles and heart.

So the ultimate way of relaxing your mind is by losing yourself in a book! Read more and you will realize yourself that your stress level becomes significantly low with time.

Reading has a pretty positive impact on another important aspect of our life – a good night sleep! Reading books calms your mind and helps you sleep better.

However, avoid reading thrillers, horror, and mystery or suspense genre books before going to bed. If you are so lost in such books, you might end up staying awake instead. So, better read some calming, inspirational books that would give you positive vibes without making you impatient.

11. Importance of Reading in enhancing your critical and analytical thinking

While reading, a lot of information are being processed in our brain simultaneously. It opens up many different perspectives for your brain to comprehend. If you are reading a mystery or suspense book, your brain constantly tries to guess certain outcomes and events. It also has to relate one event to the other to make sense in the story. All this, in turn, sharpens our mind and enhances our critical and analytical thinking skills.

12. It gives you joy and pleasure

One basic reason why we read is simply because we enjoy reading. Reading brings joy and happiness in our life. We don’t have to depend on someone else to be happy and pleased. It’s true that sometimes reading can be little challenging or even boring, but such conditions are very rare if you know your taste and choose your books accordingly.

13. It makes you humble

Reading books not only enlighten you with knowledge, but it also makes you realize how much you do not know about the world. With each book teaching you something new, you can’t help but think how limited your knowledge is.

You read a book because you know it will add some new pieces of information in your mind which was so far unknown to you. However, it definitely does not mean you are not smart. It simply shows that you have accepted the truth that what you know is not everything.

There are so many things you can learn and this would not be possible unless you are humble enough to accept this truth!

14. Improves your vocabulary, language command, and communication skills

If you are a reader, you probably know the importance of reading in enhancing your vocabulary. Reading books is one of the best ways to improve your vocabulary.

Moreover, the conversations in the books also help you to strengthen your command over the language. Your sentence formation becomes quick, better and qualitative. You rarely get stuck for lack of words.

Once you have a richer vocabulary and controlled command over the language, your communication skills automatically become better.

15. Importance of reading in improving your brain functions

Books has tremendous power. It can shape our lives for good. It can also significantly improve our brain functions!

16. Being lonely will not bother you much

If you are a book lover, you are never really alone! You can always have a friend in the form of a book. And there’s reason why book lovers consider books to be their best friends. Books don’t complain, neither do they have any demands. They just be with you no matter what. You can carry them wherever you want and read them whenever you want provided you make time for reading.

17. It makes you a better person

One of the most significant importance of reading is that it helps you grow as a person. As mentioned above, reading makes you empathic and humble.

You learn about the hardships in life from experiences of others. You will learn to understand people and be kind and gentle. You will have a better emotional health. Your increased knowledge can also be useful for other people who may look up to you for advice and suggestions. With all this, you are bound to become a better human being!

SO YEAH YOU GUYS ARE AT THE END OF MY BLOG, SO IT MAKES YOU A VERY GOOD READER. CONGRATS. DO READ MY OTHER BLOGS TOO!!!

#writer #writers #reader #importance of reading #good reader is a good leader #leadership #blog #read me #reading is a great habit #red hairs #cute dog #blvm

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melyaliz · 4 years

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Past Loves and Future Babies pt. 7

Masterlist

Fandom: Marvel / MCU

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OC

Notes: I feel like this chapter get’s a little muddy in the middle. I am TRYING to move the plot along but… these two are so slow. And I also got hella stuck, I think it was because my editor is ripping apart my novel and I am questioning everything.

All Masterlists @melyalizarchive

Connect with me! AO3 / Instagram / Pinterest

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“Good morning huckson.”

Steve blinked owlishly standing in the doorway of the bedroom staring at Dixie. Seeing her awake before him was a sight he wasn’t quite used to. In Fact he wasn’t sure he had, in the almost three weeks of living together, seen her up before noon. Already wide awake and ready for the day, the perky girl was holding a mug of coffee in her hand with a huge smile on her face.

“Where did you get that apron?”

Dixie giggled twisting the frilly pink apron slightly. “Do I look like a little housewife because I’m getting those major June Cleaver vibes.”

Chuckling Steve nodded even though -like most of her references- he had no idea what she was talking about. But her excitement was always infectious. Letting out a yawn he ran his fingers through his hair which only made his bed head worse. He reminded Dixie of the small dog, Beaver, she had as a child. The little dog’s ears used to fold over when he fell asleep on the couch only to wake up with a growl looking around as if ready to fight off the world. Poor little thing use to think he was a lot bigger than he really was.

She had loved that dog

“What are you making?” Steve broke through Dixie’s daydream about her first cuddle buddy as he looked over her shoulder at the slightly smoking pan. White blobs that were darkening around the sides looked up at him. “It looks… interesting.”

“It’s supposed to be pancakes but… I may just see if I have better luck with cereal.” Dixie mumbled poking the centers of the cakes making them oze slightly.

Grabbing two bowls Steve went for the cabinet that Dixie had stocked with all kinds of cereals. Each with its own colorful cartoon mascot on the front and prize inside. A week into moving in she had told him that she was an adult and was going to eat like one and then ordered a huge supply of every surgery cereal she could find.

Not that Steve could complain, especially after she showed him the wonders of mixing cocoa pebbles into your ice cream.

“So what’s the occasion for the cakes?”

“I wanted to try something new,” Dixie mumbled, scraping the charred bits into the trash. “It’s been officially three weeks since I moved in and no fights.”

“Has it only been three weeks?”

“Feels like an eternity doesn’t it.”

“In a good way.”

“That’s sweet of you to say.” Dixie took her bowl of Lucky Charms, taking a bite before moving to a seat on the kitchen bar. “So what are Mr. America’s plans for today?”

And their morning started. Each of them making plans over rainbow marshmallows. Helping each other grab water and napkins while moving around the kitchen. Both of them being super domestic

Steve didn’t even realize how much he had settled into their routine until he was handing Dixie her yoga mat on his way out for his run with Bucky and Sam. Her face lighting up as he mentioned maybe taking her to the beach over the weekend sometime since she had been saying she had wanted to go.

As he ran laps with Bucky and Sam he knew what he had to do. What Dixie deserved to know.

Because she was right, they were a team.

--------------------------

Having book time with Wanda had become a thing. Dixie had never been a tea and book girl, more of a “let’s go hang out at the mall and talk about boys” kind of kid growing up, but there was something about reading it with someone else that… gave it all a new perspective. Plus she didn’t know how Wanda did it but that girl made amazing tea. And sometimes there would even be baked goods to go along with the warm drinks.

And if there was one thing Dixie loved, it was baked goods.

She was turning into a regular little Hallmark girl.

Although she continued to stick to the small collection of trashy books that had been hidden in the corner of the beautiful library.

“I got you something,” Wanda said as they both sat down next to a spread of tea and scones.

“Aww why?”

“Well you were almost done with your book.” handing Dixie a box Wanda shrugged. “I was picking up some other books from a local used book store and I saw them in a dollar bin and couldn’t resist.”

“Are these?”

“Yep, amazing painted covers and everything.”

“Look at that hair.” Dixie giggled running her finger over the worn frayed paper cover. The man that held the beautiful buxom woman had the most beautiful hair. Honestly, Dixie was jealous. What shampoo did he wear?

“I am so excited to read these! Thank you so much.”

“Thank you for keeping me company.” Wanda said playing with the hem of her shirt. “It gets kind of… lonely here sometimes.”

Dixie felt a pang of guilt in her stomach. She always seemed to feel sorry for herself and how she felt out of place and alone here but she never really stopped to consider how the other heroes lived. What they had gone through, what trials they had had to face in their lives that brought them here.

It was probably something way more fun than a time magician telling you your future child to save the world.

Growing up, for whatever reason, Dixie had always had a hard time making and keeping friends. The fact that Wanda had come to her and took the time to make her feel at home really meant something.

From her morning with Steve to this afternoon with Wanda Dixie was starting to feel like maybe…

Maybe she belonged.

Or at least fit in for now.

It was good not to be hated by your roomates.

“Well cheers.” Dixie said, holding up her cup of tea, “to keep each other company and hair goals.”

Wanda giggled holding up her glass clinking the porcelain together. “I can’t wait for you to explain the plot to me in great detail.”

“Oh you know I will.”

--------------

“So you’ll never guess what happened… what’s up?” Dixie froze in the doorway of their apartment, the box of books in hand. Steve looked up from the couch where he was pensively sitting. Something about the way his blue eyes looked up at her through dark lashes told her he was about to say something she wasn’t going to enjoy hearing. Her stomach lurched slightly feeling sick. For a moment she wanted to run.

So much for fitting in.

“I… I want to tell you about something… or someone.”

“Ok” slowly she took a seat next to him, pulling her legs up underneath her. Calm down Dixie, he’s not upset with you. This is good, he’s opening up more. Taking a few calming breaths she tried to calm her heart. Tried to keep her mouth busy taking in air and not blabbering out her nerves.

They both sat in silence for a moment. It stretched across them filling the room. Sticky and sour Dixie wanted to open a window, or jump out of it.

“Do you remember how I was saying that I wasn’t going to be around?”

“Yeah?”

“Well there was… someone.” he paused fumbling with a small folder he had been holding, “I… she… I had the chance to go back but.” pulling out a small photo he handed it to her, “It was too late, she had moved on.”

Dixie took the black and whtie image, a beautiful dark haired woman smiled sassily up at her.

“Well fuck Steve, she’s georges. I would leave everyone for her too” Dixie said looking over the image.

“You’re beautiful too” Steve rushed to say, making Dixie wince slightly waving away his protests about their looks.

“I mean I know that but… like look at her.” Dixie held up the image of Peggy to her own face. “You can’t even compare us.”

“Yeah I guess.”

Dixie hadn’t really been that into history (or school) so she didn’t know much about the Howling Commandos. And after she had to go move in with their leader she had decided not to do any googling beforehand.

Better to keep your expectations and knowledge low.

“But It’s ok whatever you want to talk about, it’s ok.” Gently Dixie took his hand putting the photo on the coffee table. It was moments like these she wasn’t that good at. The sad ones. The ones where someone was trying to work through their emotions. “What happened?”

“I wouldn't even know where to start.”

“It doesn’t matter, go all over the place. I’ve seen Inception I can keep up”

He was right, there was so much. Peggy had been more than just who he had been before but she was also where he came from. Like Bucky, in many ways Peggy was what made Steve Rogers Captain America.

She was etched in his very being, written into his DNA.

They ended up talking for hours moving from the couch to take a walk around the compound until late into the evening.

Dixie had never assumed that Steve and her would work out. From the moment they had met. Yet they were fated to have a child together in whatever timeline mambo jumbo the gold ol’ Doc Strange had come from. But having a child didn’t mean anything. It could have been a one night stand, or a horrible ending relationship.

Or maybe Dixie was a different person then.

Or maybe Steve was.

So Dixie had decided before she got into that cab that no matter what she would keep this professional. That she would not feel anything romantic, she couldn’t let disappointment or that kind of hurt back into her life.

But under the stars listening to this man retell his heartbreak she couldn’t help but wish she could take it back. There was something tragically romantic about letting yourself love that way.

Maybe she had been reading too many romantic stories.

“You know, honestly, I’m envious.”

“You’re envious of my broken heart?” Steve asked

“No, I just. I never let myself feel that way. Pulling her legs up to her chest Dixie looked up at the inky black sky.

“It’s not about letting yourself, when it’s right… when you find that person you’ll understand.”

“I won’t” she whispered so softly picking at the grass at her feet. The words slipping from her lips before she even meant to say them aloud. Steve wasn’t even sure he heard it. Turning he looked at her as she threw the blades into the endless sea of green they were sitting in. .

“What?”

“Huh?” she blinked turning to him, her eyes wide, lips pursed. Looking like a child who had just been caught saying a bad word.

“What did you say?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

He wasn’t going to push it. She had given him time to tell her about his secrets and he would just have a wait for her to tell him his.

“You know” she said, pulling him back to them sitting there. To the night of stories and screits. “our kids are going to be adorable. I hope they has your eyes.”

Something about the sight of her. Curled up next to him with her arms wrapped around her knees pulling them close to her. The way the sky was so filled with stars, the silver moon giving the only light around them. Steve felt a warmth spread about them, even with the cool night air. “I hope they have your sense of humor.”

Leaned forward he kissed her. Enjoying her taste, the way she seemed to melt into him. Her body so soft and delicate.

“Oh but not my amazing looks?” she asked as he pulled away. That large smile on her face, eyes bright. Steve felt his heart skip slightly. She was so adorable in such unexpected ways.

“Those too.”

“No, you can’t take it back” she giggled grabbing his hand pulling him up. He watched her as she struggled to pull his large body up.

“What?”

“Dance with me.”

“There is no music.” he laughed getting up.

“So?” She shrugged before starting to hum softly. He wrapped his arms around her enjoying the feeling of her small curvy body pulled up to his.

“I’m glad it’s you.”

Dixie paused looking up at him, blinking rapidly, “What?”

“I’m just” he sighed, kissing her forehead, “I'm glad.”

“If you had to heal from a soulmate level heartbreak it was with me?”

“I didn’t…”

“No, I… that’s a huge compliment. Thank you Steve.”

“Our child will be lucky to have you as a mother.”

As they slowly swayed under the night sky Dixie couldn’t help but get swept up in the moment. That feeling a stability that she got when she was in his arms. That feeling of truly having a place to belong. A life that wasn’t just one day to the next.

In his arms she had to remind herself that nothing had changed. That he wasn’t hers and that she was a woman outside of this that she could never run from.

But in his arms it was hard to keep herself focused.

And that scared the shit out of her.

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Masterlist

Forever tag: @the-shadow-of-atlantis @coffee-randomness @0hmydeku @xx3fsxx @daisyboobear @jason-redhood @hello-i-lovespiderman-blr @pinkwitch21 @tomhncharliep @cdwmtjb8

Future Baby TAG

@itsmeeluciie @thefemalethatwrites

#Steve Rogers x Reader #Steve rogers fluff #Steve Rogers angst #Steve Rogers x oc #Steve Rogers x You #Steve Rogers x y/n

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