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#otp: we unraveled a long time ago
luucypevensie · 1 year
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if they had a kid meme for the pairing you want to do this for the *most*
Thank you sm for asking! I think I’m going to go with my Glee OC, Augusta Carrigan. She is my other Glee OC, Thea’s, best friend since childhood, and a future love interest for Puck. So, this will be his and Augusta’s child (Btw, I recasted Puck’s fc to Jesse Metcalfe, and Augusta’s fc is Evan Rachel Wood).
Name: Este Thea Puckerman
Gender: Cisgender female
General Appearance: Este completely takes after her mother in looks: blonde hair, blue eyes, and a smile that can be sharp and calculating, but sweet around people she loves
Personality: Este is a bit of a mystery to those who don’t know her: on the outside, she is cool and cunning. However, around her parents and her friends, she is kind and sweet
Special Talents: Incredible dancer (her speciality is ballet), black belt in karate, and a very good singer (which is not surprising considering Puck’s voice & Augusta being in a well-known band as an adult)
Who they like better: Her aunts Thea and Iris Este doesn’t prefer one over the other, she likes them both equally
Who they take after more: Probably Augusta a little bit more (though she’s not as cunning as her daughter)
Personal Headcanon: Brittany has made Este her prodigy, and it’s actually hilarious watching the two of them together because they are two completely different personalities
Faceclaim: Lili Reinhart
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woonietune · 4 months
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Chapt Thirtyfive of Waiting for the Past isn't a chapter: it's fanart and self-reprobation and gossip and apologetics and an attempt to manifest world peace, cookies, or fix Writer's Block. Also, fandom drama isn't a MENA crisis
Chapter 35 of Waiting: A Fragile Covenant: Have Some Early Art
LINK HERE TO THE CHAPTER THAT IS NOT A REAL CHAPTER (be warned: it’s a 9500 word author’s apology about a fanfic on hiatus… Did I EVER say I wasn’t crazy?)
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Coming maybe to a future near you: another drabble about Woon and the quantum fields of consciousness
Excerpt:
The first drawing is of Saet-byeol by my beautiful friend Peggy (have we known one another for almost 2 decades now?)
The second is a stunning drawing of Hye-won, in old shaman form and in young god of destiny form by the amazing writer Tepid_T . I KNOW! For the longest time, I didn’t know she was such a good artist either! I was really touched when she drew this for me. It was drawn over a year ago. 
And third, by my lovely iuiushi , a sketch of Dong-soo and Woon as chibis in drag!
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10) WBDS fic recs
The above sketch was for a fic I never ended up writing, but you know who DID write a magnificent, funny, touching, and wonderfully adventurous fic with our boys in drag? Milliecake! It’s All the Queen’s Men and one of the joys of my fandom life.
It’s actually Part 2 of Some Like it Joseon
There’s another fandom fic I’d like to rec by a writer who recently appeared on the scene. Canon compliant, sad, but oh so well-written. Hits all the beautiful chords: The Moon is Crying by YumixYagi4ever
And if you missed the last short fanfic by Memory, you missed a masterpiece. It hasn’t received enough love. A story about Mi-so feeling misunderstood. She’s so ignored in canon, as are all the women characters. Of Course You Wouldn’t Know unravels delicately, bringing past, present, and future into a satisfying resolution for Mi-so and all lovers of good stories (this fic is one of my absolute faves in this fandom). The characterization of Auntie Jang-mi goes beyond her being the usual comedic foil who feeds everyone. Woon, who doesn’t speak much, is an accomplishment of characterization by just being there, and the ghosts of canon don’t hurt so much here; this story made me smile at the end. Read it.
This has been long enough. This is one of those a/n’s that’s going to make someone on R/fanfiction go “wtf” right? Whatever. This is a personal essay. Not exactly Michel de Montaigne but the personal essay is a literary genre–go ahead, report me.
I did some writing, eh?
#excuses excuses #MFA stories #I loved being a fanfiction writer #Dong-soo and Woon are my OTP of all time #mentions of sex and rape, not fictional sex and not fictional rape either, nothing graphic #I want to write again please help #grief is a bitch #did I mention dead babies? Mentioning them now. I think about dead babies all the time; I was obsessing about dead babies long before it was the fashion #I’m a Jewish mama #fic recommendations #some nice WBDS arts #and a prayer #apologies to the seculars out there but I’m the praying type #whenever I try to take the high ground, I find I’m not actually very high
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kumeko · 4 years
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Title: for the dances that never were
Prompt: Exploration, Secret, Ambition, Devotion, Bonus: Gossip
A/N: For the Fódlan Bakeoff challenge! I couldn’t post it on time due to internet issues (sadness). I had a hard time picking what characters to write before realizing, I haven’t posted anything with my OTP of the series!
i.
There was, Claude had to reluctantly admit, a sort of grace to Fódlan dancing. Standing in the Great Hall, he watched as his peers swirled on the dance floor. Above them, enormous chandeliers gave enough light to chase the shadows out of every corner. Dresses swished as women twirled, the silken fabrics resembling a fully-bloomed rose. Pairs of dancers glided past one another, just narrowly avoiding collision.
 This dance was nowhere near as loud or energetic as an Almyran dance. There was a vibrancy, a feeling of life in their movements that just couldn’t be matched with a simple twirl and side-step. Still, the dances here were nonetheless pleasing to watch. Standing in a corner, he swirled his wine and watched as the lion prince and eagle emperor dominated the dance floor, elegance and poise radiating off every step.
 Claude wasn’t the only one watching. Across the dance floor, he spotted Byleth and Jeralt chatting amicably, their eyes firmly on the students. Well, he guessed they were having fun. It was hard to tell with his professor sometimes, her expression was often blanker than a slate.
“Whatcha looking at?” A familiar voice asked beside him and he didn’t have to turn his head to know it was Hilda. Slightly breathless, she leaned back and fanned herself. “Or should I say who?”
 “You can say whatever you like,” he replied smoothly, smiling as he turned to his exhausted friend. Her neatly coifed hair was starting to unravel, stray hairs falling out of her bun. “Someone’s popular.”
 “Please, I’m not that popular.” Despite her words, she looked utterly pleased. Winking at him, she gestured at the professor. “She’s everyone’s first choice.”
 That didn’t surprise him in the least. It explained why Byleth’s expression looked slightly worn, the way it did when she’d entertained too many of his questions or cleaned up after his pranks. “I wonder who her’s is.”
 “No idea.” Sighing, Hilda shrugged. “She accepted everyone who asked, which is really stupid. You have to be picky or you’ll wear yourself out.”
 “Like you have?” he teased, smirking.
 “I am just taking a short break. I can still dance.” Hilda glanced at Byleth, than at him. “You going to ask her too?”
 “Maybe.” It wasn’t a bad idea. She was Jeralt’s daughter, a teacher at the academy, the wielder of the Creator’s Sword, and seemingly Rhea’s favourite. There were only bonuses to getting closer to her. One way or another, she’d be useful to his ambitions. He wasn’t sure why he was hesitating, standing on this side of the room and as far from her as possible.
 “Ohh, too late.” Hilda giggled as Sylvain approached Byleth, looking as charming as ever. “You have to be fast to catch her.”
 “There’s always the dance after.” Claude shrugged. Holding out a hand, he winked. “Care for one more?”
 Hilda frowned. She still took his hand. “I thought I told you I didn’t like too much work.”
  ii.
Claude stared at the ceiling. It was funny how, five years later, this sight remained the same. The dorms hadn’t been as badly damaged as the rest of the academy in the attack, but his room had remained utterly unscratched. The structural damage remained unseen.
 Closing his eyes, he listened to the leaves as they gently rustled. An owl hooted nearby, crickets chirped. Five years ago, there would have been students chattering as they snuck off for a nightly escapade. Now there was just the clink of chain mail, the guards patrolling the area in case of attack.
 After tomorrow, they wouldn’t need to. A final clash between Empire and Alliance, one that would hopefully go as the battle of Eagle and Lion had gone years ago. Claude sat up at the thought. Who was he kidding? That had been a friendly bout between houses. Now almost everyone he’d defeated from that time was dead. Running a hand through his hair, he sighed. There would be no sleep tonight, which was a pity. A tactician needed his rest. Edelgard and Hubert wouldn’t make tomorrow’s battle easy.
 Slipping out of his bed, he crept out of his room. The sensation as he stalked the school at night was both familiar and strange. Even now, he remembered the secret passages, which stairs creaked, the best shadows to slip in. Yet the stairs were different, the walls lined with scorch mark, and he felt like he was exploring an entirely new place, an explorer finding ruins where a city should have stood.
 He was not sure what led him to the great hall, to the half-collapsed ballroom. He wasn’t sure, but when he spied Byleth inside, sitting on a jagged piece of rubble, he couldn’t stop his smile. Somehow, his path led to her, and he shouldn’t have expected this to be any different. They were connected, fates intertwined, and he was certain that if she died, their journey would end right there.
 Despite his quiet entrance, Byleth noticed him right away and watched as he slowly approached him. Bathed in moonlight through the broken roof, there was something ethereal about his former teacher. She had always been a mystery, even before all of this. With her blank expression and gaps of knowledge, there had been something interesting about her. The secrets she held now only made her even more intriguing.
 He always liked puzzles. Sauntering over, he asked, “Couldn’t sleep, Teach?”
 Byleth shook her head. Her eyes looked even darker in the gloom. It was strange to think that he’d seen this place entirely lit up once. Now all it held were shadows.
 “Me neither.” He leaned against the rubble, looking around him. “One way or another, it will end tomorrow.”
 “Can we…” Byleth trailed off, her voice so low he could barely hear it. She wrapped an arm around herself, her fingers digging into her arm. “Do you think we can…”
 “Win?” Claude guessed, giving her a confident smirk. “Of course.”
 She shook her head. “Save them.”
 “Oh.” That was a harder question. Almost impossible to answer. Edelgard and Hubert would fight to the death; he had never seen either of them back down. Dedue seemed to be on a suicide mission. How many others were left alive? Petra, Dorothea—but who else? Maybe some of the Blue Lions had survived that last skirmish and were just hiding. “I don’t know.”
 Her shoulders slumped at the answer. It was strange to think that at one point he thought her emotionless. Her tells were more subtle than others, for sure, but he could read her now. It was hard to mistake the sorrow washing over her for anything else.
 Maybe she wouldn’t smile, but he wanted her to be at least a little happy before it went down. One way or another, it would end tomorrow. Maybe he’d die. Maybe she would. Maybe neither of them would and he’d remember this night as the time he had been a little dramatic. Claude gestured around them. “Remember the last time we were here?”
 Byleth glanced at him curiously before nodding. “The dance.”
 “Yep. I remember someone being very popular that night.” He winked at her. “I think you danced with everyone that night.”
 Still not following him, she nodded. “There were a lot of hands. I didn’t want to refuse anyone.”
 “Even Marianne asked you to dance.” Claude sighed. “And yet, I think I’m the only one who didn’t get a dance.”
 “You didn’t?” Byleth frowned, ticking off her fingers as she remembered that night. It might have been five years for him, but for her it must have felt like months.
 “Every time you took a break, someone else approached. What’s a poor guy to do?” Claude tapped his chin for a long minute before pretending to come up with an idea. “Oh, but you’re free now.”
 “There’s no music,” she pointed out, catching on.
 “That’s fine.” Claude held out a hand. “I still want my turn.”
 She looked at him for a long second, and he wondered what was going on behind her green eyes. There had always been a practical air about her, no doubt from her lifetime of mercenary work. He wasn’t even sure if she liked dancing, let alone wanted to do it. Before he could retract the offer though, she slipped her hand in his. “Alright.”
 “Great.” He pulled her down from the rubble and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer. Winking, he started waltzing through the debris. “I hope you haven’t forgotten how to dance.”
 “I never learned in the first place,” Byleth answered, her tone lighter. It was a start.
 “Then I’ll just have to take lead.” Claude twirled her. He wasn’t sure when it happened, when he’d stopped thinking of Byleth as a friend and instead as something more. Maybe that was what had stilled his hand all those years ago, an emotion that had slowly taken root and refused to go.
 He had always known he was a bit of a coward, but hadn’t realized that it even extended to his feelings.
  iii.
 It wasn’t a surprise to find Byleth alone, after all was said and done. They had defeated the Empire and yet somehow, it didn’t feel like a win at all. They had lost almost all their classmates, either at their hands or at the hands of the Empire. Even Dedue, who had reappeared out of nowhere, had fallen in his last-ditch attempt to avenge his king. And even then, after killing Edelgard, they had discovered that they had an older enemy to face.
 It was no surprise that victory rang hollow. His peers were scattered about the monastery, trying to make sense of it all, and so it wasn’t a surprise that Byleth had isolated herself as well. What was surprising, though, was that he’d found her here in the ballroom once more. The repairs were almost done now, the rubble from before cleaned up. There were cracks along the walls, signs of the war that wouldn’t fade, but with a little paint this would be a ballroom once more.
 The late evening light bathed the room a dark red. It wasn’t the same colour as Edelgard’s cloak, as her blood, but he couldn’t look at it all the same. Byleth stood in the center of the room, back toward him. He wondered what expression she had.
 “You okay?” he asked, leaving off her nickname as he broke the silence. It was too quiet in here. It reminded him of the throne room and he didn’t want to think of that.
 Byleth didn’t reply. She turned toward him, looking utterly heartbroken.
 Stopping next to her, he lifted his hand before dropping it back to his side. He didn’t know where to touch her, what to say that wouldn’t hurt her. She had looked like this as she’d lifted her sword, as Edelgard had closed her eyes. He should have stepped up then, taken her sword so she didn’t have to carry that burden too.
 He could still hear the sound as Edelgard’s head hit the ground. Maybe she was still listening to it too.
 Finally, she uttered, “Did it have to be like this?” Byleth gestured around, her voice cracking slightly. “We danced here. Edelgard, Dimitri—I danced with all of them. Couldn’t we have done something?”
 It was a question he had asked himself many times. There had to be a path, somewhere, somehow, that had all of their houses surviving, all of the people coexisting. But there had been too many secrets, too many untold ambitions and hopes. “I don’t know,” he answered honestly.
 He hoped there had been but it was too late now.
 “I should have been here,” she murmured, her shoulders sagging from the weight of it all. He had never thought of Byleth as a small woman, but she looked tiny now. A single touch could shatter her. Somehow, despite it all, she didn’t cry. Her expression looked like she wanted to, needed to, but her tears remained unshed.
 “There’s nothing you could have done.” Gingerly, he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her in for a hug. He hadn’t understood the word devotion before, what had made his mother leave her homeland and everything she’d ever known, but he could feel it now pulsating through his veins. Claude would give anything to make Byleth whole again but after this, he wasn’t sure anything could.
 “There had to be something.” She rested her head against his shoulder.
 “Even if there was, we can’t change the past.” Claude slowly walked her around the room, a slower version of the waltz they’d done just a month ago. He hadn’t imagined that the next time they’d be in this room, they’d feel even worse than they had then. “There’s only the future.”
 “The future.” She followed his steps automatically. “Another fight.”
 “Beyond that.” He shook his head, pulling back so she had to look at him. Smiling gently, he added, “After the war, after it all—that future.”
 She still looked lost. “What happens then?”
 “Many things. My dreams. Yours.” He rested a hand on the small of her back, guiding her through the dance. Half of him wanted to confess, to kiss. To show her there was some light in the darkness. But the future was still too uncertain and he didn’t want his love to be another stone she had to carry. “We’re bringing peace to everyone. We’re going to change Fódlan, for the better.”
 “So no one has to go through this again.” Byleth nodded, her lips pulling up slightly.
 “So no one has to feel like this again,” he echoed, resisting the urge to push back her hair. “We can do this.”
 “Yes.” While her expression still looked bittersweet, he thought it was more sweet than bitter this time. “Thanks, Claude.”
 “Anytime. We’re in this together.” Claude winked. “We’re partners, right?”
 “What about you?” Byleth asked, looking at her hand. She turned her attention to him, her green eyes bright. “How are you feeling?”
 “Better now.” It was a truth, in a sense. He felt much better now that she did. After all this was over, maybe he’d tell her what was really in his heart. When she still looked doubtful, he playfully added, “Teach, I didn’t know you cared so much.”
 She didn’t refute him, like he’d expected. Instead she gave him a flat look. “Of course I do.”
 Claude wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He wasn’t even sure what she meant, or if he wanted her to clarify. There was no way to tell without asking. Faking a laugh, he replied, “Aww, Lorenz will be jealous.”
 “How are the others?” she asked, looking past him at the ballroom entrance. “I should check on them.”
 “They’re coping, but I think they’d like a little comforting from you.” Claude sighed. “I guess I can’t hog you all to myself.”
 “No, you can’t,” she agreed, letting go. Byleth had always been all work and no play, and he had expected this reaction.
 That didn’t make his hand feel any less empty. “I’ll head to the war room, then. Maybe Judith has some information on those slithering guys.”
 Byleth nodded before heading to the doors. At the threshold, she paused and looked at him over her shoulder. “After this is over, let’s have another dance here.”
 “A dance?” Claude smiled as he looked around the room. More than a paint of coat, what this room needed was laughter, was the smell of sweets and the bright lights of a thousand candles. It was what they’d all need, after it was all over. “Yeah, that’s a good idea. A party would lift everyone’s spirits.”
 “And this time, you’ll ask me to dance.”
 He whipped his head to the entrance, but she was already gone.
 Maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t the only one who had some feelings left unsaid.
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talesfantastic · 4 years
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To those who are new (an open letter to FF7R fans)
I am not a Fandom Old, when it comes to FF7. FF7 is a lumbering beast that’s been around since 1997 - twenty three years ago! I have only been active in the fandom since... what, maybe 2009? A bit before, I think, because Crisis Core was still relatively new and that came out in 2007... At the time, I didn’t realize how big a deal it would become to me, so I didn’t keep track. The point is, I’ve been here long enough to be comfortable, but I still stand on the shoulders of those who came before. Some, I’m lucky enough to call friends.
I wanted to say, above all, welcome. Even though FF7R is not a part of the Compilation, it’s its own beast with it’s own quirks, there is overlap in settings and characters and events. You are breathing life into something that had become quiet, though not lifeless. You’ve also brought back with you a lot of fans who had meandered away - old faces I’m overjoyed to see, in the fanfic, fanart, and yes even roleplay communities.
This isn’t going to get deep, I wasn’t here for the worst of the shipping wars and drama as things were first unraveling, I leave that note for those who were there, who know their history, who can give you the proper warnings from a place of first hand knowledge. But, perhaps I can give you a little advice from things I have learned from my 10+ years in the fandom.
Canon is lovely, but it’s not the be-all-end-all, and some people - a lot of people - are going to prefer fanon, if for no other reason than the fact that FF7 - and apparently now FF7R - have inconsistencies in timeline and characterization.
As an example, I’ve roleplayed Lazard Deusericus (Crisis Core) seriously since 2012. He is a side character, an NPC, and a plot device with a face at best. But I have poured my heart into making a fully-fleshed out, 3D, real, coherent portrayal of this man. And in doing so? I’ve realized a lot of his arc conflicts heavily with his character, and had to make decisions on what parts of canon I was going to accept and what parts I had to rewrite for myself. This will probably happen to you at some point - and that’s okay! Welcome to the glory of AUs and Canon-Divergence.
The timeline is probably not going to make sense, beyond a surface glance. Maybe not even that. Like, I have not played FF7R, I have not read the Ultimania. But even just hearing the characters ages... well, look. This is not new. The Compilation timeline is a trainwreck, I say this with all the fond exasperation anyone can muster, but it is! Did you know there were even two different sets of years? Look into it sometime, if you don’t mind a headache. One of my good friends is OG old guard and I came in with Crisis Core and we regularly have to just... smile and nod at each other because we use completely different timelines. Not the events, per se, but like, what years they actually happened in. It’s wild.
And finally, the two I just have to tack on because I have already heard the rumblings start:
There is no “best ship” even if one ship is canon - in fact, while OTPs (”one true pairing”)  are fun, sometimes there’s a lot of relief in giving in and shipping as many things as you want. I, personally, do not have “a” ship. I have an armada.
On a side note, shipping wars are pointless, painful, and make you look rather childish. Not only that, but the fandom has been through it already, we’ve had the Cloti/Clerith/Clack/Sefikura debates already. Thank god I was not here for the worst of it, but I seriously don’t want to see it again. And really, neither does anyone else. Ship and let ship, okay? We’re all valid. Even especially the crack ships.
Also, and I don’t think this needs elaboration but it bears stating, do not character bash just because someone is “in the way” of your ship. If nothing else, it’s really hard to take people seriously when they do that.
You hating a character (valid) doesn’t make them a bad character, and doesn’t make people who like them bad. Like... let’s say Hojo. Hojo is a villain, he is amoral, he might even be a little unhinged at this point in the storyline - he certainly was out there in the OG. Feel free to hate him for the atrocities he’s done. But that hatred, that strong feeling that he evokes, says they did something right. He has the potential to be a fascinating character, in fact, and I hope they do that potential justice in the Remake instead of just a cardboard villain (again) but we’ll see.
This is getting long and I didn’t set out to be deep, so I’ll leave this here, and welcome other people to add on to it.
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unreachablevoice · 4 years
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Moving In Is What Started It All
Summary:
With Marinette’s parents being away with work, she is left in the care of one of their supposedly family friend; who just so happened to be someone who she has always been idolizing. And throw in the fact that she is having a hard time with friendships experiencing hardships, bridges being burned, and secrets unraveling and her parents unintentionally (plus being clueless with their daughter’s suffering) throwing their daughter in a pit of misery.
Note:
This fanfic will not contain Miraculous. Though, This does still contain the concept and some of the episodes of the show just cut out the parts of Ladybug and Chat Noir.
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Chapter 1 |The Surprise (to be honest, not quite)|
Narrative POV
It was a typical Monday morning, those mornings where you just don't want to get away from your bed.
Where you don't want to open your eyes.
Where you don't want to get up early and go to school.
But too bad, Marinette had school today because it was Monday, the day of the week where people were the laziest. Her phone rang under her pillow, it was where she puts it so that she'll hear her alarm more clearly. Slowly, Marinette's eyes fluttered open.
She woke up.
Still being a bit sleepy, Marinette rose from her bed and slowly headed towards her bathroom to get ready for school. She took off her nightwear, getting ready to hop into her tub that's filled with hot water to the brim. She dipped her toes in, and then the rest of her body was next. Her white, pinkish porcelain skin covered in warm water stood up after a short soak. She then got out of the tub and walked towards the shower to wet her hair. Marinette put her unscented shampoo in her hair and gently massaged her scalp.
After, another drop of unscented body wash was put on a fluffy baby pink scrub. Marinette began to scrub her body lightly; gently and carefully cleaning every part of her body she could find. Again, she went to the shower and took a fast but thorough rinse, making sure that no soap was left on her body. Her feet then, gracefully walked towards the tub, ready to jump into the warm water once again. As her toes touch the warm water, a slight tingle had risen in Marinette's body, maybe it was because of the cold rinse from earlier.
After a long soak in the tub, Marinette got up, patted herself dry, and drained the water-filled tub. She wrapped herself with her towel and went out, it was a good forty-minute bath.
Opening her closet, she grabbed a nice set of neatly folded clothes. She wore something a bit different, Marinette had an oversized red sweater with long sleeves that has "Princess" written in the middle of it, in a cursive font, and white color. She partnered it off with white shorts that just covers up one-fourth of her legs. And she wore sneakers that have white shoelaces and is the same color as her top. Her hair was put in her signature hairstyle, low pigtails tied using a pair of red ribbons.
Marinette was ready to head off to school, all she needed was to eat her breakfast. She then rushed downstairs to their kitchen and greeted her parents. "Good morning Maman et Papa! What's for breakfast?"
Her father answered with a bit of an apologetic tone for her mother was too busy to even utter a single word to her. "Good morning Marinette, I'm sorry but the bakery is a bit busy right now. Would it be alright if you cook food on your own?" Tom asked.
Marinette just nodded off. Knowing that both her parents are too busy to even catch a glimpse of her, she decided to skip breakfast so that she won't be a bother to her parents in the kitchen. She went back up to her room and brushed her teeth. Then, she grabbed her readily prepared bag, which was fixed beforehand on the previous night. She then ran downstairs again and left for school.
But before she could even touch the doorknob, her parents called over to her and said, "Don't stop by anywhere today, okay? We have something important to tell you when you get home." Marinette let out a small "yes" and now, went out for school.
When she arrived, Marinette was greeted by her best friend Alya. "Morning girl! Well, you're early today. Did something good happen?" she asked, raising her eyebrow and spoke with a singing tone. Marinette giggled at the ridiculous action that Alya did.
"Nothing, really. I just, unexpectedly, woke up from my alarm." she smiled and shrugged nonchalantly.
Alya rolls her eyes at her best friend, "Whatever you say, girl. Come on, let's go. I've been standing here for like a minute or so."
Marinette threw a fit of laughter, a laugh that was not too loud but was audible and pleasant. A little giggle if you might call it. And Alya liked the sound of it. Everything about her voice, from speaking to laughter.
Alya may be a responsible, and a great blogger and reporter, but she sure can be laid back sometimes..., Marinette thought. After a few seconds of laughing, Marinette wipes the tears that were formed because of her giggles and nods to Alya's request to go to their classroom.
When they arrived, there were not that many people yet so they decided to head to their lockers to get some stuff. "Girl, what's our third period for today again?" Alya asks.
The girl shook her head, not knowing what Alya would do if she wasn't around to help her. "It's Science Alya, you kept on asking that exact same question every Monday for like a whole month now. Do you even have a copy of our class schedule?" the blue-eyed girl asks, being a bit disappointed that her best friend was being extra laid back, except for reports and blogging that is.
"Haha... Funny you asked. You see, I kinda threw it away...? I figured since it didn't have any use, I had to get rid of it." the brunette answered in a kind of a questioning and nervous voice. Marinette facepalmed and sighed. I guess it's that time of the year where Alya gets super laid back, huh? Marinette thought.
She just smiled back because she still loves her best friend even though she's like this and because it was too early in the morning for her to scold the stubborn brunette. After they grabbed their stuff, they head back to their classroom and saw Adrien already sitting on his seat. Marinette was feeling nervous, there sat Adrien, the love of her life. She was ready to do anything just to greet the blonde normally in the morning.
Adrien noticed the two best friends and gulped, he prepared himself awhile ago to greet them in case the two girls were early today. He wished Nino was with him right now. "Good morning Alya! Good morning to you too Marinette! Y-You're early today! Hehehe..." Adrien smiled and became flushed right after, he felt embarrassed that he stuttered in front of Marinette and Alya. Plus, he just laughed weirdly in front of her. Both girls greeted back, although Marinette’s was as awkward as the blonde’s.
Alya facepalmed at the actions that her two friends just made. These dorks, why don't they just get together already?! Such oblivious lovebirds... Alya sighed. She knew both of them were in love with each other, they were just too oblivious to see it. Plus, the other one thinks he's got no chance with the other one and vice versa.
A while later, Nino arrived. And now, the whole gang was there.
Alya explained to Nino how she just witnessed an irritating event. And Nino groaned, equally pissed off as Alya. The couple ships the two, they're their major OTP. But too bad, the noirette and the blonde wasn't together, crushing both the couple's dreams. They cried silently and internally, but that didn't stop them. They swore to each other that they will do everything in their will power to make their two best friends a couple too. “Operation: Project Adrienette” as they (or everyone in the classroom — sans Chloé) calls it.
Alya and Nino started dating a while back when Nino finally told Alya his feelings. In which, she returned with much glee so it was obvious that they would ship the two as much as the others would.
After a few chatting, the whole class was now there and Mlle. Bustier arrived, a bit later than usual. The class stood up and greeted her, Mlle. Bustier greeted back while gesturing for them to sit down. Their attendance was checked, surprisingly nobody was absent, and then the discussion started. The class was being taught of different things, there were some instances where someone makes a joke and everyone would laugh that they would get off-topic and forget that they're being lectured about something.
After periods of teaching, it was now lunchtime. Marinette didn't go back to her house since she decided to skip lunch, again. She decided to wait for classes to start again while playing with her phone. She texted Alya, her parents—because they asked her why she hasn't returned and she lied saying that she'll just eat outside, and someone very important.
The bell rang and everyone arrived in their classrooms, including Marinette. The gang—Marinette, Alya, Nino, and Adrien—greeted each other. As usual, they were all very happy to see each other, acting as if they haven't seen each other for years.
And another set of periods that contained thousands of knowledge was bestowed upon Marinette and her friends (*this sentence right here is a bit weird hahaha*). And after that, it was time to head home. Alya was supposed to invite Marinette and the boys to eat somewhere outside, like a café or something but Marinette refused, she told Alya what her parents told her to do and, thankfully, she understood.
"Sure girl, but promise me you'll hang out with us sometime, okay?" Alya gave with a reassuring smile, and Marinette nodded.
Sadly, even Adrien couldn't hang out today. "Sorry Alya, I also can't make it. My Father said he also has something important to tell me," he said feeling melancholy.
Adrien really wanted to hang out with his friends, but then his father had to ruin everything. Though, everything's alright since Marinette also had something important to do. Alya sighed and turned to Nino, "I guess we'll all just hang out some other time then..." Nino nodded sadly in agreement. And they all bid each other goodbye.
Since Adrien's driver was busy picking up his father from somewhere, Adrien had to walk back home. When he reached his house, his father was already in their living room, waiting for him. The older Agreste noticed him arrive and greeted him.
"Welcome back son. We have guests today so after you put your bag down, and come sit down here. I cleared your schedule for today, so let's wait for them together." his father said in a formal look but with a soft voice, smiling like a touched father who just witnessed his son pet a stray little puppy. Adrien smiled back. He ran upstairs to his bedroom, throwing his bag in his bed, too excited to even notice his stuff became scattered on the floor because of his strong throw.
He rushed back downstairs, feeling thrilled. Having a smile plastered on his face, he felt that the people coming over are going to be good news. I might not be able to hang out with Alya, Nino, and Marinette, but I still get to spend time with Father so I guess that's alright with me. Adrien thought.
◎◎◎ ◎◎◎ ◎◎◎
As Marinette arrived back to her home, her parents were waiting for her at the front door. Marinette was confused, why were her parents downstairs? "Dear, we will be gone for as long as it takes, we don't really know when the problem's going to be solved... I guess you could say it's a business about that again." her Maman sighs and shakes her head disappointingly, giving emphasize on the word ‘that’.
So it's about that huh? Wonder what's the problem this time? Marinette thought, irritated by the fact that a problem has stirred up again.
"Oh! And you will be left in the care of our old friend! He has a son your age so we think you'll like it there. So go upstairs and pack your stuff, we'll go there today." her Papa added, looking at her Maman with a small, secretive smirk plastered on his face which was also copied in her Maman’s face. Something that Marinette didn’t quite understood.
"So.... I'll be staying at your old friend's house while you're away? Why not in the usual one instead?" Marinette asks, it was weird how they seemed to have changed their usual setting. 
"Dear. You know it's too far. We said you're going to school by car but we heard that you didn't want to cause a stir so you chose to walk and we don't want you to get too tired from all that walking. So we decided to ask our friend instead."
Marinette just nodded in approval and her parents told her to hurry up and pack since they'll be leaving in an hour.
Marinette did as told and went to her room. She packed her clothes that are enough for a couple of months, her sketchpad that contained some of her latest designs, her diary, and of course her sewing kit and machine. She put them all in a pink, white polka dotted luggage, she grabbed her signature pink purse and skidded downstairs.
"Maman! Papa! I'm ready!" she shouted. As she was about to take the next step on the staircase, she tripped, face planted on the floor. Marinette groaned as she slowly lifted her now crimson red face, clearly being hurt by the bad fall.
Her parents scrunched their face, showing a pitied and hurt expression for their daughter. "Geez Marinette, be careful!" her Maman said while her Papa helped her up. Marinette gave out an embarrassed laugh and accepted the given help.
They headed out to the front door and locked it. There, outside, they saw their silver car waiting for them. Their chauffeur put Marinette's luggage in the trunk and they hopped in and rode to a white mansion.
Wait a minute, this place looks familiar... Marinette thought, squinting her eyes to get a clearer vision of the house. It took a while for her to remember what the mansion reminded her of, but it eventually came. 
"The Agreste Mansion??!!"
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gingerbreton · 5 years
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otp playlist
I got tagged ages ago by @dafan7711 sorry it’s taken me so long but thank you so much for the tag!  I did one of these fairly recently for Freya x Blackwall but it was a very new ship and I barely had any songs!  Disgraceful, i know.  Well now I have an ever expanding list, so I’m going to do it for them again.  
FREYWALL  
(full kudos to @bitchesofostwick for the name XD)
Tumblr media
Devil’s Backbone – The Civil Wars
Oh Lord, Oh Lord, he's somewhere between A hangman's knot, and three mouths to feed There wasn't a wrong or a right he could choose He did what he had to do Oh he did what he had to do Ooooooooooo Ooooooooooo
Give me the burden, give me the blame I'll shoulder the load, and I'll swallow the shame Give me the burden, give me the blame How many, how many Hail Marys is it gonna take?
Don't care if he's guilty, don't care if he's not He's good and he's bad and he's all that I've got Oh Lord, Oh Lord, I'm begging you please Don't take that sinner from me Oh don't take that sinner from me
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I had to pick this one because it is absolutely perfect!  And I cannot resist the Revelations feels.
The Few Things (with Charlotte Lawrence) – JP Saxe, Charlotte Lawrence
I don't say whats on my mind quite as much as you'd like me to I've been hearing that my whole life, I promise, it's not just you But I so confidently want you That when you say you're insecure about my feelings I don't take it serious But if you need me to tell you more
You're one of the few things that I'm sure of You're one of the few things that I know already I could build my world of One of the few things that I'm sure of And I want you to unravel me Come closer, come closer Come closer, come closer
I don't say what's on my mind quite as much as you'd like me to And often when I'm quiet you worry I'm hiding from you And I know I keep a lot to myself But still you're more part of me than anybody else So if you need me to tell you more
---------
I love this version because it’s a duet that suits neither of them not being the most openly communicative of people about their feelings, at least not in the beginning, but when it comes to it, they are unshakable in their dedication to each other and the relationship.  
Loving You – Belle Mt
Breaking through my composure No she don't stop for the walls Between the wreck and the ruin We rebuild it all And we endlessly falter Its a faith to be true On such a delicate tightrope But It's a risk we choose
When darlin' you're the only fit, you should know Each time I break the final straw It's loving you, blinds the senses Reveals my inexperience Oh, I can't even help myself So how do I handle someone else? It's loving you, takes me higher The only thing that keeps the fire Is loving you Loving you Lovin'...
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What can I say?  He did try to push her away, it just didn’t work, and I suppose that’s the beginning of their troubles.
Holy Ground – BANNERS
And we're standing on holy ground So heart don't fail me now And even if the walls were falling down It will always be us, be us This is holy ground
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Because I couldn’t resist something at least slightly Herald related!
Cringe (stripped) – Matt Maeson
Lover come over Look what I done I been alone so long I feel like I'm on the run
Lover come over Kick up the dust I got a secret Starting to rust
She said I'm looking like a bad man Smooth criminal She said my spirit doesn't move like it did before She said that I don't look like me no more no more I said I'm just tired She said you're just high
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This one is because I seem to be incapable of a purely fluffy playlist for these two.  Angst is incredibly key to portions of their relationship.
I’ve probably tagged a lot of you recently, so just ignore me if I have!  Tagging:  @bluekaddis @dickeybbqpit @allisondraste @tortuosity-writes (I’ve delved into the dysfunctional LI playlist XD) @whereismywarden @cassandra-pentughasst   and anybody else who wants to because i love finding new music from you all!! 
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Text
Tantric Flames: (reupload from previous accounts): Chapter: 4
Tantric Flames
Originally for Nalu Week/Fluff Week/Lovefest 2017 (on previous accounts)
Genres: Romance, Humor, New Adult Fanfiction
Nalu Lovefest 2017 Prompts: Lust, Stockings/Lingerie, Sweets (Implied) Dreams(Implied) Games and Roleplay (Kind of Implied in Form of Teasing )
Vera's March 2018 Prompt Challenge: Fantasy/Creatures (which fits since Fairytail is a fantasy series and Natsu' species is dragonslayer/ Demon hybrid in this fic that's slight AU. Though this might technically still be true for the overall series since he's an etherious demon/wizard capable of using both fire dragon slayer magic and of his curse power)(was on previous accounts)
Upcoming Nalu Love Fest 2018 prompts: Kiss/Makeup (kind of) Playful, Desperate, Unbearable, Estatic ,(Implied) and Teasing 
Pairing:Nalu (Natsu x Lucy)
Rating: M for language, steamy and mature adult sexual content (all consensual) in these and future chapters. Reader Direction is advised.(You've been warned!)
Summary:One look, one smouldering hooded gaze, one word, one fiery kiss, one magnetizing touch was all he needed for her to completely unravel at his mercy alone, succumbing to the sinful temptation of her inhibitions, his love, his feral passion, his raw, insatiable desires, his "Tantric Flames". Originally an Submission (slight Au) for Nalulovefest 2017 (on previous accounts) in which Natsu gives his mate a tantric massage-after much persuasion- she won't soon forget when it turns into so much more. Also previously featured in Nalu Week , and Fluff Week with first two chapters on celestialgeekmage accounts.
Chapter 4: Kiss From A Dragon's Flame: Part 1
A/N: Hey everyone, it's me again Anyway, there isn't too more much for me to say in the beginning A/N: this particular time of around since I've reserved any particular notes on housekeeping for the A/N: at the bottom after the main chapter. That being said, just wanted give everyone a quick headups that the particular scene that I've mentioned a few times which the lovely @soprana-snap/soprana and @wildrhov were kind enough to help me with which will now be in Chapter 6 due the length of these chapters. (soprana-snap and wildrhov if you're reading this, it's me the former cosmicdragonwizard/dragon-shield-maiden/star-crossed- dragon) Still plenty of sexy good times and fluff between our OTP (Nalu) to go around though! Now, without further ado here's chapter 4— enjoy and don't forget to review!
Disclaimer: I don't own Fairytail which belongs to the one and only Hiro-sensei instead!
Read More Here:
1.Tantric Flames
A. Tumblr
Chapter: 1 (Click Here:)  (or here: https://millennial-star-gazer.tumblr.com/post/179863946153/tantric-flames-reupload-from-cosmicdragonwizard/amp?)
Chapter: 2  (Click Here:)   (Or here: https://millennial-star-gazer.tumblr.com/post/179863946153/tantric-flames-reupload-from-cosmicdragonwizard/amp?)
Chapter: 3  (Click Here:)  (or here: https://millennial-star-gazer.tumblr.com/post/179864756428/tantric-flames-reupload-from-previous-accounts/amp?) 
Chapter: 4  
Chapter: 5  (Click Here:) (or here: https://millennial-star-gazer.tumblr.com/post/179872139218/tantric-flamesreupload-from-previous-accounts)
Chapter: 6(Click Here:) (or here: https://millennial-star-gazer.tumblr.com/post/183149105838/tantric-flames-chapter-6-despojado-stripped)
Chapter: 7 (Click Here:) ( or here: https://millennial-star-gazer.tumblr.com/post/185033161848/tantric-flames-chapter-7-what-belongs-to-a-fire)
Chapter:8 (Click Here): (or here:https://millennial-star-gazer.tumblr.com/post/188352271948/tantric-flames-chapter-8-tantric-art-of)
Chapter:9 (Click Here:)   (or here: https://millennial-star-gazer.tumblr.com/post/624402662880854016/tantric-flames-chapter-9)
B. Fanfiction (Click Here:) (or here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13114990/1/Tantric-Flames-reupload-from-cosmicdragonwizardaccounts)
C. A03 (Click Here:) (or here:https://archiveofourown.org/works/17063882/chapters/40123739) 
2. The Draconic  Demon Within
A. Tumblr:
Prologue and Chapter: 1 (Click Here:) (or here:https://millennial-star-gazer.tumblr.com/post/179816192273/the-draconic-demon-within-reupload-from/amp?)
Chapter: 2 (Click Here:)  (or here:https://millennial-star-gazer.tumblr.com/post/179816192273/the-draconic-demon-within-reupload-from/amp?)
B. Fanfiction (Click Here:) (or here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13113898/1/The-Draconic-Demon-Within-Reupload-from-cosmicdragonwizardaccounts)
3. Grey Days
A. Tumblr  (Click Here:) (or here: https://millennial-star-gazer.tumblr.com/post/179767381833/grey-days-reuploadfrom-dragon-shield-maiden/amp?)
B. Fanfiction  (Click Here:) (or here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13112482/1/Grey-Days-Reupload-from-dragon-shield-maiden)
4. The Rest of My Writing
A. Master Fic Rec Post (Click Here): (or  here: https://millennial-star-gazer.tumblr.com/post/179665258923/master-fic-rec-post
Legend:
Italic: Song Lyrics
Bold: First Person Thoughts
Bolded Italics: Empathized Word
Bolded Italics (Within and Outside Bracket) including for author's side notes also known as (A/N:) within brackets (though none for side-notes in this chapter ).
"O, Wanderess, Wanderess,
when did you feel your most euphoric kiss?
Was I the source of your greatest bliss?"
(Roman Payne: The Wanderess)
"Uh Lucy... not ... that... I'm ... not lovin' ... how much of a little spitfire ... you're... being ... right... now... sweetheart, but... do... ya... think ... you could ease up just a little?"
Lips were peppering scorching, wet open-mouthed kisses from along the corner of Lucy's mouth to her jaw spurring her on enough to continue .
"Why? Don't you want to?" She questioned, breathy voice muddled with the searing desire more hotter than the blistering heat of a thousand suns.— Not to mention mystification. The astral mage couldn't fathom for the life of her as to where this sudden change of heart about the change in pace came from seeing it was clear that these misgiving weren't out of doubt or lack of desire.
I honestly don't get it... He didn't seem to have an issue with us getting hot and heavy a moment ago... So where is this sudden reluctance out of the blue coming from ?
"Of course I do-fuck that feels good," came Natsu's reply, words coming out as a strained hiss between gritted teeth; all this from the force of his hips bucking into a feminine hand pumping his tumescent member ."God...do I ever want to."
"So what's the problem?" Was all Lucy had to inquire in response, drunk on the power of the effect she had on him— especially after managing to draw another low, guttural, moan out of the dragonslayer from giving the tip a few light taps for good measure. The celestial mage desperately wished to see whatever other noises she could pull from him, the same buzz of intoxicating power singing in her veins ." Like tell me why."
God... all of this is getting me really hot and bothered !
"Okay-fuck-you're really making this difficult aren't you? Now how do I put this? Let's just say your little  handiwork here is getting me all fired up" The dragonslayers rumbled, gravelly words almost a growl . They were rough, low and wild, dripping with the sinful promise of dark intent enough to send a electrifying thrill down her spin— not to mention make her toes curl; all from the power of his hips riding the hand still working his now mostly likely now- throbbing length where she could feel the beads of pre-climax much like the aching heat between her thighs. "enough to the point of drivin' me over the edge and it's all I can do to rein my more primal dragon-demon instincts just screamin' to bend ya over the massage bed for the fuckin' of your life-not without your of course."
" Okay, but I still don't exactly see how that's a problem." Lucy challenged, a wily gleam twinkling in her coco eyes. The astral zodiac wielder couldn't but help but long to see her dragon unravel for what she couldn't give to catch a glimpse of the feral gleam in his emerald depths when he lost control; picturing herself spread over the massage bed as his hips pistoned into her with wild abandon again and for the sake of both of their pleasure. The visual image of which sent a tingly jolt down south enough to make her toes curl . Plus if any one of them had a sudden change of heart he would stop immediately , she knew which made the all the more appealing.
And besides It's not like Natsu would ever even think of harming or even laying a hand on me like that without my consent. Not to mention pull out if needed out of respect for me - so it's all good.
"It's not that big of an issue really. "
"For you, maybe— but for me it's a different story. As in just cuz one part of my instincts are demandin' that I jump you right here and now, doesn't that the other part doesn't also wanna try and take things slow."
"Okay, so what you're saying is?"
"That what I want to do right now, is what I've been dyin' to to with you all day before we get into the other stuff. So basically massage first then sex ."
" I see what you're saying Natsu , but it's not like it has to be one way or another. In fact, why not change the order up, shake things up ? Give me another taste of your inner primal dragon-demon instincts by fucking me first , then help your girl unwind with a massage ".
"And normally I'd be pretty much down for getting down and dirty like the way we usually do when things get all hot and heavy between us - I really do Luce, believe me. I love our wild romps as much as I do making love to you on top of all the other sexual, intimate, and romantic stuff along with everything else being with you brings. But l also wanna try thing things a little differently today . You know take our time , start off a bit more slow with the massage and the rest of the foreplay that leads up to sex as part of the build up for both our sakes. You know instead of me just cavin' into my instincts to pounce on ya right away as fun as that may be. I mean there's definitely gonna be foreplay either way— but you get the picture."
"I do."
"Then you get the gist of what I'm saying! . Not to mention think about the extra time we'll for some great conversation! Trust me when I say the reward is the well worth the wait."
"And I appreciate that, I really do . All of which greatly appeals to me seeing how how I value everything that was just mentioned as much as you. Still, you should know I'm down either way."
"I'm glad to hear it but I wanna do things a bit differently."
"Hey, no sweat. It's all—"
"Lucy, no".
Natsu's patient yet firm, assertive voice was effective enough to cut Lucy off, when robust fingers were wrapping around her wrist to pry her hand away in favour of resting it on a more neutral place around his neck; all this before she could even work any more of her magic which nearly drew a small noise of protest from the stellar mage.
"Hey—what gives? . I thought— " whined the stellar mage , unable to stop disappointment from bleeding) into her already sulky tenor as if she were a child whose toy had been snatched; only for the words to die in throat when he silenced her with a withering glare — the kind that brokered no argument.
"What gives? Are you freakin' kidding me right now Luce?! I just had to pry your own hand away cuz you were being away too handsy for your own good... or mine for that matter cuz damn did that feel good— but that's beside the point. What I'm trying to say, missy, is that I had to make sure we stopped before you pushed me too far over the edge... which now that I think may about probably wouldn't have been so.. urgh! Goddammit-you have me doing it again! Goin' off on a tangent! "
"Anyway the point is that I went to a put in a whole lotta effort in making this impromptu date romantic for the both of us— which I'm more than happy to do since I love and want you to feel special cuz you are. But you're making this a lot harder than it needs to be."
"You're right—I'm sorry," Lucy apologized with a heavy sigh , feeling a twinge of guilt thread through her from at her boyfriend's light rebuke. Here he was trying his damnedest to put together a romantic date for the of two of them and then she had to go and nearly ruin it all by undermining his efforts!
All because I'm an impulsive moron who couldn't keep my impulsive hands to myself! The zodiac wielder admonished herself. Jeez... could I be any more hopeless?!
To Be Continued
Fic Tag Squad: @writer-appreciation​  @fuck-yeah-nalu @soprana-snap  @phoenix-before-the-flame     @nunnatheinsanegerbil @mautrino @rougescribe @goddesofimortality @phoenix-before-the-flame  @nalufever  @petri808 @thecelestialchick @nalu-natic  @superdomo360 @pyroandtheprincess  @rayhneatess  @nothingbutwordsstuff  @petri808  @thecelestialchick  @chiire  @nalufever @shootingstarssel  @chamilsanya  @rougescribe  @lover-of-the-light117  @rougescribe @narutoyaoifan
A/N: See you in chapter 5!
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dimancheetoile · 7 years
Text
your crooked smile and counterfeit soul
Read it on AO3
somebody help me, I’ve got a new OTP. I need help. Also this whole thing comes from a gif and you’ll probably figure out which one by the end (cookies to you if you don’t because you must be one hell of a ninja to sneak past that monument of modern culture)
There is something to be said about coming back from the dead. Not that he actually died, but his heart did stop for about a minute before Sakura managed to bring him back, which does count for something. So let's say that there is something to be said about coming back from a one minute-long death. He can't seem to see the world the way he used to. For a Hyūga, it does make for a strange epiphany.
Neji would have never pegged himself to be the type to linger on rooftops at six in the morning, quietly enjoying a sunrise, or stopping at a dango stand to enjoy a sweet after each training session. And yet here he is, walking the streets of Konoha at night just to enjoy the festive atmosphere, the paper lanterns and the stars. He doesn't remember when he last looked at the stars other than to find the north.
The rebuilding is going along fine, better than he would have expected at first, given how many people they lost. But strangely, it brought a closeness to those left and made them work together in ways a lot more efficient than they would have been before the war. Neji hates to see it that way, but the war did bring some good things after all. When he sees the lingering looks on his friends' faces as they look at each others, relationships forming and parting with a lack of care typical from people who just realized how short life is.
He has seen some strange things since everything ended. People he never thought would get along ending in bed together, friendships forged in blood and grime turning into happy marriages— Shino and Tenten, who would have thought? And yet Neji had found himself nodding when Tenten asked him to be her bridesmaid, giggling along with her as he did her hair. He doesn't remember the last time he laughed either.
The war did change everything.
And so there he is, wandering around in the alleys where bars are open and shining warm lights into the dust of the streets. He's quietly enjoying the feeling of people moving, laughing, breathing, of the blood pumping through his veins and reminding him that he's alive.
Neji doesn't expect to hear a somewhat familiar voice coming from a nearby bar, and curiosity draws him to enter. He's never been there before, his team being used to another bar closer to the center. That one is of the traditional kind, where the only people you find are old shinobi missing limbs and ANBU coming back from months-long missions with a slaughterhouse in their hollow eyes. There is a counter in the center and about thirty small booths made to house two or three people at the time, not a single more. All of them have a view of the door and the back entrance, with a quick access to either in case of emergency. The lair of paranoia in its purest form.
And there she is, ordering another bottle of sake if the empty one she's bringing back is anything to go by. He hasn't seen her since the war, since she plunged her hands into his chest to heal his wounds from the inside, sealing the blood vessels as quickly as she could and leaving him gaping open but alive to go back to the fighting. She's very different now.
Her hair is as short as Kiba's, brushing her temples where it falls in small strands. Her red outfit is gone, replaced by a standard blue jonin uniform, the green jacket forgotten in favour of a white medical coat. There is a second seal on her forehead, and he can't resist. Neji activates the Byakugan and can't control a wince when the full force of the supernova hits him. It's bright like two suns and exhilarating, shortening his breath without his consent. He's quick to close his eyes and revert back to a normal vision.
She's going back to her booth, the bottle in a steady hand, but she slumps on the seat without a care in the world. He takes a step in her direction and she immediately raises her head, her posture straightening without missing a beat. Neji doesn't falter and keeps going, sitting next to her a second later. Sakura doesn't look at him and pours herself a cup of sake, offering him the bottle as she downs it with the other hand.
"Sup, Hyūga?"
Neji snorts. "Exactly how drunk are you?"
Sakura squints at her empty cup, a frown on her tired features, before looking back at him.
"I don't remember."
Then she bursts out laughing, like she just said the funniest thing in the world. The other patrons carefully don't pay attention to her, which tells two things to Neji. First, she's as terrifying as ever, and second, it's not the first time she drowns herself in sake in this bar.
"You should go home, Haruno."
"Nah, I'm good. Whatcha doin here?"
"I heard you, so I came inside."
She shakes her head. "I meant outside. At night. You know, walking alone in the dark."
"You make it sound creepier than it is."
Sakura snorts in laughter, the sound quickly turning into another fit of giggles, and this time she drinks directly from the bottle. She puts it down a little too strongly and wipes her mouth with her hand.
"What is going on with you, Haruno?"
She's smiling like a loon, eyes crinkling and cheeks pink with amusement, the picture of happiness and mirth. She's relaxed and confident, her green eyes sparkling in the orange light of the bar, and she looks like a queen-
"I'm dying."
She looks like a queen as she keeps on smiling, and repeats.
"I'm dying."
Then she takes a mouthful of sake, keeps it in her mouth for a second and swallows it.
Neji is trying to remember how to breath.
"It's actually pretty funny, when you think about it," she says with a tilt of the head, like she's actually considering the subject. "Naruto has a giant fox sealed in his stomach, Sasuke has murder eyes that should make him blind, and yet here I am."
She smiles again, her shoulders hunched and leaning towards him like she's about to tell a joke.
"I'm going to die at nineteen and those bastards will keep on flipping the bird to the shinigami until they're a century old and counting."
Sakura pours herself another glass and gives him the bottle.
"What a funny world we live in."
Neji lifts the bottle to his lips and empties it in one go.
He's never been in this position before. Granted, he didn't have many opportunities to be, but every time one of his teammates asked to cover for them, Neji had always carefully stayed clear of it. Now, he's carrying a secret so heavy he feels like it's choking him, and he didn't even think about it at the time. Though, to be fair, he might have drank two or sixteen cups of sake too many when he had agreed to keep her secret.
He doesn't see her much more than he did before, and yet he feels like she's everywhere. Every time he turns, she's breathing behind his shoulders and it's like they're drawn to each other by the sheer magnitude of what's happening.
Neji sees her going to train with the Uchiha, laughing at something he said and bumping her shoulder with his. He sees her bringing grocery bags to Naruto's apartment when he's busy at the Hokage Tower, helping the Rokudaime. He sees her posing for Sai whenever she's not working at the hospital, gifting him with a blinding smile and a kiss on the cheek. He sees her keep on living as whatever's killing her eats slowly at her insides.
Neji regrets not asking what she's suffering from. He's a bit afraid, too, because whatever is capable of taking down the best medic of all times is one fucking scary thing. He wonders how no one noticed the weight she's lost and the bluish tint her skin has taken where her complexion is too pale now to hide her veins. Then he sees Shikamaru hiding a sob at a party after hugging her and he understands. It's not about noticing her illness. It's about the warmth back in Sasuke's smile and the relaxed line of Naruto's shoulders and the sincere happiness on Sai's face, all of it because Team 7 is back together.
So Neji slips next to Shikamaru on the couch where he's pretending (and doing a good job at it) to be okay. He carefully presses his arm against the Nara's and admires the inner workings of the disaster squad that Team 7 is. He hears Shikamaru holding his breath and feels his eyes burn a hole in his cheek. So Neji gently pushes him with his shoulder and Shikamaru exhales, his head falling back on the couch.
"You know?"
"She told me, about a month ago," Neji whispers.
"I don't get it. Why is she doing this?"
Neji shrugs, staring at this incredible woman who had their lives into her hands and saved them all without a care for her own safety.
"And those morons, how come they don't see it? I can feel her ribs when I hug her!"
Neji briefly puts his hand on Shikamaru's knee. "I know, but we can't exactly force her to tell the truth."
Something dark unravel in the Nara's eyes and Neji holds his breath.
"But we don't have to force, do we?"
"What are you thinking?"
Shikamaru doesn't answer and gets up, sneaking past their friends scattered in small groups all around the house. He goes straight to Sakura and grabs her by the arm, nodding at Ino who looks at them with an amused smile. He then proceeds to drag the pink-haired woman straight to their couch and sits her next to Neji, before sitting as well on her other side.
"That was surprisingly energetic of you, Shikamaru. What is it?" she says, a smirk on her face.
"Don't bullshit me, woman. I know, and I know that Neji knows. So tell me, what's your reasoning? How did you come to the conclusion that shutting up was the best idea?"
Her face darkens suddenly and she clenches her jaw. Her eyes screen the room and then she's up, taking both of them by the hand and leading them to a bedroom. She doesn't slow when their friends start whistling and catcalling them and closes the door behind them. Sakura gestures to the bed and the two men sit down, looking at her with a frown. She crosses her arms and sighs, beginning to pace in front of the bed.
"You seriously need to keep quiet. I can't have the story running around, are we clear?"
Shikamaru snorts. "Please tell me you don't expect anyone else to not notice. Have you looked at yourself in a mirror lately?"
"Thanks," she grumbles. "I'm keeping this up for as long as I can, and you better back me up on this.
Neji scowls. "Only if you explain."
Sakura sighs again and slumps against the wall, sliding down until she's sitting with her knees against her chest, facing them.
"I have degenerative pathway disorder." At their puzzled face, she explains. "Apparently, it's particular to the Uzumaki genome, and I have enough blood relation to them to get it. You know how big their chakra reserves are? Well, they have to adapt their pathway to accommodate it, right?"
Neji nods. "I've seen it on Naruto, it's frightening when he's calling the Kyūbi on top of it."
"Yeah, well this means the pathways enlarge when you pull a stunt like, I don't know, unlocking the fucking Yin Seal in the middle of battle while summoning a small thousand of slugs. The disorder makes it so that they never revert back to their original size."
Neji can't help himself. He activates the Byakugan and ignores the supernova on her forehead, concentrating on her pathways. He's never done that before, always drawn to the burning pyre of chakra, and what he sees is horrifying.
"You're-"
"Yeah. My pathways are almost as large as my thumb, which means they're sucking up all my chakra faster than I can replenish it. I'm basically bleeding myself dry."
Shikamaru recoils like he's been hit. "That's how you managed to get a second seal in barely half a year."
She shrugs. "I have to do something with the excess chakra, you know? Otherwise I would have to go blow shit up in the training ground every day."
"I'm guessing there's nothing you can do."
"Nope," she says with an exaggerated pop. "I tried surgery on a pathway in my feet and I basically killed one of my toe. I can't feel it, I can't move it, it's all but gone. I'm not chancing it on my hands or heart."
"What does Tsunade-sama think about that?"
Sakura grimaces. "She's pissed. She's been trying to find a solution for the past year, but nothing yet. It's hurting her more than I expected.
"Of course it's hurting her," Neji says through gritted teeth. "She's your mentor. What do you think we feel?"
She levels him with a cold glare. "Well, I don't know about Shikamaru, but I don't expect anything from you. You've always made clear how stupid you thought I was to hang onto Sasuke as a kid, and me saving your life didn't even get a thank you out of your arrogant Hyūga ass."
"I-"
"She's kinda right, man," Shikamaru shrugs.
Neji looks down. "I'm sorry. Thank you, Sakura. None of us would be here without you."
"I wasn't fishing for compliments," she grumbles.
"You should, though," Shikamaru says. "We owe you a lot. And I'm not sure you realize how devastated your team will be. Gods, Ino, I don't want to think about Ino. She's never gonna forgive you."
Sakura snorts. "I trust you to handle the pig, lazyass."
They fall silent, quietly getting lost in their thoughts. Neji has a hard time wrapping his head around what he just learned. No one would know about the disorder, with the Uzumaki gone for more than two decades. They're going in blind, with apparently only Tsunade and Sakura working on the matter. There must be something they can do, she can't just... die.
"How about using the chakra in your seals to replenish your reserves?" he offers.
She shakes her head. "We've thought about it. I tried, and forty minutes later all of it was back in my forehead and I had a gigantic headache."
Shikamaru frowns, looking at Sakura before staring at Neji and going back and forth. The other two let him, knowing his formidable brain is on the matter now and might just come up with something.
"Sakura... how much do you rely on medical techniques when you fight?"
She thinks about it for a moment, muttering things under her breath. "I'd say about sixty percents of my fighting style is based on medic-related jutsus."
"So you could theoretically fight without it, right?"
"Yeah, I mean I would be a bit handicapped, but I could. I'd mainly use my dōton and strength."
Shikamaru nods, his hands locking in a familiar position that means he's deep in thoughts. Neji looks at Sakura and sees the careful hope settling over her sunken features, the paleness of her cheeks matching the while wall behind her. A few minutes pass as they stay quiet, letting the Nara think. Then Shikamaru sucks on a deep breath and looks at her with wide eyes.
"I can save you. Sakura, we can save you!"
She's shaking. "Tell me!"
"It's not a perfect solution, you'll be severely disabled for a few months, if not a year, and you'll have to adapt your entire fighting style and frankly, probably all of your life choices and career plans at the same time but-"
"Nara Shikamaru, you will tell me right now!"
A blinding grin slowly spreads on his face and a surprised laugh escapes his throat.
"The solution is standing right next to me."
"Neji?"
"What is the sixty-four palms all about? Come on, indulge me."
"Stopping the chakra flow by blocking-"
Shikamaru giggles. "By blocking the pathways!"
"You're kidding me."
Sakura stares at him with watery eyes, her breath quick and pained.
"You're kidding me. Shikamaru, you beautiful genius!"
She starts laughing, tears streaming down her face, and Shikamaru joins her. Neji looks at them, not even realizing his own tears until Sakura grabs his hands and puts them on her heart.
"You can save me," she whispers and he nods slowly, his mouth slightly gaping.
Like Shikamaru said, it does involve a lot of planning. The sixty-four palms isn't meant to stick, only to disable an opponent. Now, Neji needs to do it hard enough to permanently shrink down her pathways, with the risk of blocking them forever. It also means Sakura will be unable to move on her own for a least a week, until her system adapts and the chakra starts flowing back into her muscles.
His uncle is surprisingly open to discuss the jutsu with Tsunade, coming up with ways to do it in the safest way possible. It the end, they agree to perform it three times, instead of making it stronger. Hinata will start, then Neji, and Hiashi will deliver the final blow. Shikaku offers the Nara forest to do it, because it's going to be loud and flashy and Sakura is most likely going to scream. She's still hellbent on not telling anyone, which means she doesn't want her friends to hear her.
The day of the procedure, Neji can't stomach any food and he sees the same anxiety on his cousin's face. They could permanently disable Sakura, condemn her to a bed for the rest of her life if they don't do it right. No matter how confident Hiashi and Tsunade are, it's still one of their comrades, one of the Konoha 11 who helped end the war.
In the end, it goes better than expected. Oh, she screams, she screams so loud her voice breaks and she's left shaking on the ground, blood spilling from the corners of her mouth. They carry her inside the Nara Compound where a gathering of nurses is already waiting to put Sakura to bed. But instead of the expected week, Sakura takes three days to recover. She's walking to the bathroom by herself on the morning of the fourth day.
Tsunade warned her, though. Medical ninjutsu is over for her. She'll never have the chakra control to back it up now so she can forget about her hopes of research and surgery, her dream of overseeing the hospital. Her chakra reserves are through the roof, so large she can barely stick a leaf to her hand for the next eight months after the procedure. When she finally gets it under control, almost a year has passed.
Sakura never told anyone else about what happened. Kakashi covered for her and assigned her a long-term mission to study the Nara medical techniques (which is a load of bullshit because she already did that the first year after Tsunade accepted to teach her). It does mean no one asks question about her lack of field trips and suspiciously long stays in the Nara Compound.
She's still not cleared for leaving the village, her fighting style having shifted in a way she never had to adapt to before. She's a powerhouse, a tank of fists and mud barrelling through the training grounds with the force of a earthquake. She's absolutely useless in a real fight as it is, because her strength is so big she's likely kill her teammates as well as their enemies. Until she gets it under control, she trains every day and tries not to break the doorknobs every time she enters a place. It's a work in progress.
The secrecy does mean she spends a lot more time with Shikamaru and Neji than her actual teammates. Naruto, Sasuke and Sai are absolutely terrifying and completely useless for missions because they have the stealth of an elephant in a china shop paired with a complete inability to fight long range. Finding them missions is a nightmare and Kakashi is suffering.
It all comes to an end after a risky sparring session where Neji almost lost an arm to Sakura's sudden loss of control. Shikamaru is trying his best not to laugh, resting against a tree at the edge of the training ground. Then Sakura playfully pushes Neji when he tries to sneak up on her and she accidentally sends him straight through a nearby treetrunk. Shikamaru loses it completely and falls down laughing, small tears rolling down his reddening cheeks.
"Oh gods, Neji, I'm sorry!"
Sakura is running after the trail of shattered trees and Shikamaru is rolling on the floor, howling with laughter. She comes back with a battered Neji grumbling about unfair strength and backstabbing Nara boys. They sit down next to Shikamaru and wait for him to recover, finally joining their circle under the tree's shadow. Sakura is looking at them with a lazy smile, the relaxed line of her shoulders telling about the trust and happiness she's filled with at the moment.
Slowly, she extends her hands and patiently waits when they exchange an unsure look before each taking one in theirs.
"If it's not too much to ask-" she begins with a soothing voice, but Neji interrupts her by blurting out;
"Anything. Really."
And Shikamaru is laughing again as Neji blushes sharingan red and Sakura hides her mirth in the Hyūga's shoulder, her hands still in theirs.
"As I was saying, if it's not too much to ask, I'd love to fuck you."
Shikamaru immediately stops laughing, choking on his breath and becoming as red as Neji.
"Hum, who-"
"Which one-"
Sakura smiles playfully and tugs on their hands.
"Both. Both is good."
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beth-is-rainpaint · 7 years
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Book meme
I was tagged by @littlereyofsunlight
1. What is your favorite book of all time?   When We Were on Fire by Addie Zierman. I first read it in early 2015. I’ve read it five times since then. I’ve never related to a book so much before in my life.
2. What are you currently reading? Jesus Feminist by Sarah Bessey and Daring Greatly by Brené Brown. I also started The Liars’ Club by Mary Karr a little while ago and need to pick it up again (I really enjoyed Lit but this one’s taking me a bit longer to get into. The paragraphs are long and I am lazy). 
3. Have you ever thought about writing a book?   Definitely. I’d like to write a memoir, but I’m not sure if I’m at the right stage in life to start.
4. What’s your favorite series?   I don’t really have one right now. I’m kind of in a memoir-reading phase. But when I was younger, I loved the Redwall series and the Heartland series.
5. What is a book you want to read? Faith Unraveled by Rachel Held Evans. Introverts in the Church by Adam McHugh. Persuasion by Jane Austen.
6. What’s in your TBR pile? Technically Daring Greatly and Lit are in a (very small) pile in my office, plus my journal for taking down quotes I like from what I’m reading. Does that count?
7. Who are your favorite fictional characters? See, all the fictional characters that are truly my favorites are from movies or TV shows. But I do love Mark Watney from The Martian by Andy Weir, Ove from A Man Called Ove by Fredrik Backman, Britt-Marie from Britt-Marie Was Here by Fredrik Backman, and Havah from Havah by Tosca Lee.
8. Favourite Ship? I’d probably have to say Amy and Ty from the Heartland books since they were my very first OTP (I’ve loved them since I was eleven) and the reason I started watching the Heartland TV show.
9. Open the first page of the book closest to you and write down the first paragraph. “Here, let’s do this. Let’s try to lay down our ideas, our neatly organized Bible verses, our carefully crafted arguments. Let’s take a break from sitting across from each other in this stuffy room.” (from Jesus Feminist by Sarah Bessey)
10. What was the first fandom you were in? Heartland and The Chronicles of Narnia. I wrote fic for Heartland (still do) and read an excessive amount of Narnia fic from the ages of 16 to 21-ish.
tagging @octoberbebz, @heartland-lb, and @the-real-tc
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lonepiper5758 · 7 years
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Long long ago, @ladywiltshire​ tagged me in an 11 Things Tag and I really wanted to reply, so here goes. Thanks for the tag! and sorry for my extreme tardiness.
1. Do you remember your first time watching or reading Fullmetal Alchemist? What was your first impression?
I saw 2003 first and even on first viewing I thought it was a bit “story of the week” and the overarching story was developed in a piecemeal fashion. This was not helped by the fact that life was very stressful and I’d often drop off to sleep for a bit during the episode. :-/ But I still thought it was pretty good.
Then Second Son learned of Brotherhood and persuaded me that it was even better so I watched it and was BLOWN AWAY!  The brilliant story arcs, the amazing and believable characters, the complexity of the world, beautiful artwork, flawless animation, fantastic music, arghhh….. just W*O*W!!!
So now I am finally reading the Manga and the learning all the stuff that was left out of Brotherhood and being blown away by this amazing work all over again.
2.  Tell us about The Fave™.
I’m really torn between Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye as The Fave™. And can you have one without the other? But today I’ll say Roy Mustang. He’s this great balance of power and dorkishness. And that’s part of his appeal because a character who is constantly epically badass is boring. I also think he’s appealing because as a leader he’s motived by his desire to protect those around him, and not to exercise power over them. And that makes his relationships with other characters far more meaningful.
He is heroic and flawed and there’s so much we don’t know about him, and how his values developed which ads a layer of intrigue. I just want to sit down and have coffee with him and generally offer to help out with any plans he has going at the moment.
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Source: hisokan
3.  Do you have a favourite fan work? Fanfics? Comics?
The works of “That Hoopy Frood” (That_Hoopy_Frood) on AO3 impress me hugely. And Elena’s @theysangastheyslew art constantly amazes me with the way she can pack it with narrative and character.
Then there are so many shards of brilliance floating across my dash I’m hesitant to start listing people for fear of omitting some. Suffice to say I hold my mutuals in very high esteem.
4.Hit me with an analysis/opinion you have on the series or characters!
Now I suspect others have said this but, I think that the energy to transmute matter, or at to least to start the reaction, originates directly from the alchemist performing the transmutation. This explains why just about every alchemist we see is pretty lean. Performing alchemy consumes energy and burns body fat.
This is why Colonel Mustang is often napping when he should be doing paperwork.
In the case of Edward Elric, performing alchemy from such a young age has contributed to his underdeveloped stature. As a result of less alchemy/fighting during the months immediately preceding the Promised Day, he was able to grow a bit.
As to other analysis, I have been known to go on a bit about Episode 19.
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(Just wanted a gif with Riza. :) )
5. Tell us about a project you have going on! Or if you don’t have one, maybe something you’ve always wanted to write or draw?
No big projects. I’m trying to finish a few things in my WIP folder, all of which are likely to be pretty short. I’m always torn between thinking my writing is waffling on and not pithy, and then wondering why I write short one chapter things?
I’m planning to have a go at Royai Week 2017, even though I suspect I’ll crash and burn because -
Not sure how I’ll go responding to prompts.
I think I write quite slowly.
Life will probably flare up and get in the way.
6.  Favourite opening/ending number and why?
I really love the animation in a few opening/ending credits, but for the combo with the music my favourites are -
Opening 1 “Again” by YUI - great song, heaps of energy and nice synergy in the editing. Love the bit where Ed and Al start unraveling. (And of course the now infamous “Harder Colonel”.)
Ending 4 “Shunkan Sentimental” by SCANDAL. - again I like the song and I like the visual of travelling through the tunnel.
7. Tell me about a scene that really touched your or made you realize something about yourself.
A scene that always hurts is just after Bradley murders Martel while she is inside Alphonse. How Alphonse is just sitting there in a pool of Martel’s blood. For a young man who is so compassionate and caring to be so powerless to help and to have the trauma of her lifeless body cleaned out from inside him. It always says something to me of how there is a cost when we try to help. 
Showing genuine care and compassion will cost you, so be prepared.
8. OTPs! Who are they? Why are you WEAK FOR THEM??
OK, so as mentioned above in Q2 Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye are The Fave™ so no surprise that OTP = Royai! 
The obvious care, trust, understanding, dedication, fondness and just everything they have for each other, of course they love each other, that’s part of the package. It’s all the stronger because they don’t get to be smooching and holding hands. Their relationship, with all its pragmatism and unspoken truths is the result of intentional choices and not transient feelings. There is a maturity about them and they stick together no matter what is thrown at them. 
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At this point I’m going to melt just thinking about them and rely on quoting a post by @mylieutenant because I think she says it so well.
“The thing with Roy and Riza is that they don’t have to get sexual, romantic, or even touch each other at all, for it to be clear they have chosen each other as partners in a common goal for a long term, possibly for life. In this partnership there’s trust, respect, communication, affection, and even need.
This much is established in the series. So, does the fact that there’s no conventional sign of courtship make this ship any less canon?”
9. Funniest headcanon you’ve ever seen. Go!
This is vain but I think a funny hc is one I put forth about Major Armstrong - 
“Major Alex Louis Armstrong personally employs a group of tailors who work endlessly to re-supply him with uniforms and other clothes after he rips them off.  Homeless people in Central who find his discarded clothing use the fabric to build temporary shelters.”
Remembering that I am Tumblr sub-atomic - this one post seemed to double my followers in one afternoon????
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10. What spurred you to join the fandom?
WelI… I really like FMA and one bored day about a year ago I thought, I want to look at pictures of Mustang. (This is possibly unusual for my demographic, but hey, so what!)  So I googled and somehow ended up reading some FMA fanfics on AO3 and I thought “Jeeze! You can do this??!! I wanna try!!”
So I started having a go at writing and posted a couple of stories on AO3. Then reading stories on AO3 and some folks referenced things on Tumblr. It seemed Tumblr might be a fun place for discussion and to share stories. So I very tentatively wandered into Tumblr-land and have found a really cool corner filled with friendly, creative, helpful people.
And if that fits the definition of “join the fandom” that’s it!
11. Definitely the same question… have a fandom meltdown here and tell me why you love your fandom or show/comic so much!
Yeah? Why do I love this show so much? Sometimes I catch myself fangirling in my mind over Roy Mustang and then I think, hang on, this a fictional character and I’m 20 years his senior, so just grow up and calm down. Then I see a screen cap or something and I’m thinking good god he’s fantastic. Is it just that he’s a good looking representation of a bunch of interesting and admirable character qualities? Is it the combination of character and narrative? What?? Why am I like this?? There is No Hope. I am lost!
So there’s my answers. I really enjoyed thinking this through. Thanks again for the tag.  I’m not tagging ‘cos it was soo long ago….  Thanks if you’ve read this and happy day to you. :)
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divagonzo · 7 years
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Especially from You - a Look at Me installment
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Porridge the Tawny Barn owl - residing at the Barn Owl Trust
(Imagine what you can get when you search for Porridge and Owls)
Ao3 // FF.net
A/N: I hadn’t thought of writing anything for OTP Day today, but a before-coffee request came in that I write something so here you are.  This is a subsequent chapter to Louder than my Words.  – DG
Tagging @ragam-groove since they asked oh so nicely, @barmy-owl because of Porridge the Owl, and @ronaldswheezy since this references her ficlet from this morning to a small degree.
Happy OTP day to anyone celebrating. And this is Rated T for innuendo and crass language. Ace mostly safe. (Cavent Emptor)
Hermione looked up from the morning edition of the Daily Prophet to the young woman plonked her bum down across from her in the Great Hall. She’d been in the Great Hall since half seven, after spending an hour in the Library studying Arithmancy which was giving her fits, unlike the disheveled witch sitting across from her, looking considering worse for wear.
But then winning the Quidditch match yesterday against Ravenclaw, 350 to 200 thanks to the Gryffindor seeker, a sprite of a third-year witch named Imelda Tompkins prompted much celebration very late into the night. Hermione escaped at 6 to go study in the Library while Dean and Luna, along with the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, partied late into the night. She returned at half 12, after making rounds tonight with a fifth year Hufflepuff prefect since the Hufflepuff Head Boy Sidney Fysh switched shifts tonight – to console his Ravenclaw girlfriend.
“Finally roused yourself from the comfort of your bed, did you? Serves you right to have a hangover, after drinking so much butterbeer I had to use magic to hoist you up to your bed. Do you know how much mental effort it takes to lift an inebriated witch six flights of curved stairs in the tower? I should have bumped your head a few times for the trouble.”
“I’m not hung over, Hermione.” Ginny looked up from her plate, already covered in fried eggs, bangers and rashers, beans and fried tomatoes, and scones with butter. “Harry was on duty last night with Hemera and he popped over. He wanted to see you but you disappeared. He only had a few hours before needing to return to the Ministry.”
Hermione groaned into her tea.
“Yes, I drank plenty of butterbeer, but that wasn’t all that happened.”
Hermione put her head into her hands. “You are completely mad, Ginny.”
“I’d not seen Harry since Christmas, Hermione.”
“You’re still barmy, you know that?” Hermione ignored the ache in her chest from not getting to see Ron since that morning so many weeks ago. “And how did you manage to escape Jones? You know she patrols the halls at night, under the guise of making sure we’re tucked into our proper places so evil Death Eaters don’t sneak in and kidnap us in our sleep.”
Ginny smirked. “Who said we left the tower?” She picked up her teacup and took a long sip, looking over the rim at Hermione with smoldering eyes. “Being a prefect has some benefits, I reckon. And since I’ve been sharing a room with you all year, and you were gone, I took Harry to ours for a bit of fun.”
A screech from the open windows underneath the hammerbeam roof of the Great Hall announced the morning mail. There might be no post on Sunday but that didn’t apply to the owls at Hogwarts, thankfully.
“Well, since Harry was with you last night,” Hermione raised one eyebrow at the witch tucking into her breakfast across from her, “I doubt you’ll be getting much since you obviously received more last night.”
“Hermione, don’t be jealous. You know my prat of a brother would love to be here, throwing you over his shoulder for a leg over. He’s barking mad for you and you know it.”
“I know,” she put her teacup down, ignoring the bagels and butter in front of her. “And I’m happy for you. Really I am. But I do miss him terribly. Studying today for the Arithmancy exam tomorrow will take all day. And then I have to study for the Astronomy exam that is tomorrow night.”
An owl landed in the porridge in front of the young ladies before shaking bits of oats from her feathers. “Looks like my tosspot of a brother thought of you for today. I knew he wouldn’t let you down.”
Hermione looked down at the owl holding out a leg towards her with a scrap of parchment attached to her leg. “Me?” She unraveled the twine from the owl’s leg before plucking a rasher from the platter to her left and handing it to the appreciative owl.
“What’s he said today? Waxing crass about you in ways I don’t want to hear about?”
Hermione unrolled the parchment and scanned it before standing up and running away from the benches.
“What?” Ginny yelled but Hermione was dashing out of the Great hall, leaving behind everyone for the one she was desperate for.
Hermione ran until her lungs grew a dozen stitches, half-way up the stairs to the Headmaster’s office, before walking the rest of the way to the office on the other side of the complex. She made it to the stone Griffin blocking the doorway to the office. Cranachan she spoke clearly before the stone guardian moved to the side to offer her entrance up to the office. She dashed to the door at the top and froze, finally seeing her paramour standing up from the headmaster’s desk in front of her.
“Miss Granger, I presume you received this Auror’s parchment?”
“I ran once I read the summons,” she huffed out while trying to settle the pounding heart in her chest. “I didn’t want to wait an extra half hour once I read about the unannounced inspection visit.”
“Well, Miss Granger, seeing that you are our Head Girl, and this nice apprentice Auror is here for duty, I would hope you would escort him around the grounds, even if it is rather cold outside, to show him how we are doing in protecting our students.” The older witch in front of her gave a shrewd look with almost a hint of a smile in her worn visage.  Ron sat down and Hermione sat in the chair next to him. “He is to report back to the Ministry today at 9pm, so I presume 12 hours will be sufficient for Auror Weasley to collect his information for the report for Director Robards. Isn’t that so, Mr. Weasley?”
“That’s more than sufficient, Headmistress.” Ron kept his eyes forward but Hermione saw his ears were turning pink. “Director Robards thanks you for letting us have a surprise inspection. The threat hasn’t gone away yet, not with so many Death Eaters still on the loose. He wanted to make sure that the grounds were secure, especially after the Quidditch match yesterday.” He glanced to the side for a brief moment. “He has every confidence in Auror Jones but he said additional eyes inspecting the school wouldn’t be remiss.”
The Headmistress pulled a piece of parchment from her stack and wrote a few lines on it before handing it over to Ron.  “When you report back to the Ministry, please inform the Minister and Director Robards that we have zero complaints about their concern and well-being, and also the consideration of their efforts, especially with regards to Senior Jones. She has been a wonderful asset to the staff this year.”
Ron stood first, looking dashing in his new robes, and Hermione joined him. “Does he need to leave via your Floo when he is to depart, Professor?”
“It might be prudent, since his inspection of the grounds and building might impede him today.” Professor McGonagall gave them a pointed look. “Now, let’s not hold up Auror Weasley from his duties or yours today. And remember, he is to report back to his desk at the Ministry at 9pm.”
“Yes, Professor.” The two of them left her office and made it to the stairwell, riding it down to the next floor.
The stairs stopped and Hermione threw herself onto Ron, who easily caught her in his embrace. “I missed you too,” he whispered into her hair before hugging her closer. Her muffled sobs in his robes told him that, while being here was going to be brilliant, his girlfriend might have trouble adjusting her schedule to fit his needs – and hers. Going from her tosser of best friend to her boyfriend only changed a few things – but Hermione was still Hermione and adjusting to changes was still hard for her.
“It’s ok, I’m here,” he muttered while her sobbing slowly settled. “I know you like having some warning when I’m going to surprise you,” he kept the mirth out of his voice by the paradox that a known surprise was, “but I was only informed of such last night at the start of my shift by Robards. He’d already sent Harry over yesterday but said that the git didn’t include everything so he sent me too.”
Hermione pulled back and saw his beautiful blue eyes were darker than normal, and not because the alcove they were standing in was bathed in shadows.
“You’re actually here for work?  You’re not going to get into trouble with Robards for being here?”
Ron bent awkwardly to kiss her gently, fighting tooth and nail to keep it from turning molten in an instant. “I am, at Hemera’s request. She has everything sorted here but said it would be a terrific training opportunity for the apprentices to see what she has done in securing the grounds, and learn from it. I have to meet her at 5 at the front doors for a flight inspection of the grounds and then a walk-through the castle before we depart. So I get lunch and dinner with you, at least.”
“Her idea?”
“Yeah. When we’re on duty with her, we’re not allowed to show ourselves to students. I’ve seen you so much and it’s a pain in the arse on duty and can’t – “
Hermione pulled his ears down and kissed him deeply, begging entrance with her tongue on his lips which he gladly accepted. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he lifted her up off her feet and moved them around, pressing her into the stone wall behind her back. Her legs wrapped around his waist and the snogging continued until she was close to passing out.
“Robards asked for volunteers for this assignment and I asked to be on rotation here, after I was such a tosser last year and that I wanted to make this Valentine’s Day somewhat special. While – “
“You’re here and I appreciate it.” She hugged him closer, dropping small kisses on his chin.
“You can shag me in a minute but I gotta say this before I lose my nerve.”
“All right,” she whispered and quit kissing him, which he regretted for a moment before pushing aside his discomfort.
“Last year, we were barely speaking, after I was a twat for leaving you, and Harry. You had every right to be mad at me and Merlin knows I earned your anger.”
“Ron, I forgave you months ago.”
He continued, ignoring her interruption.  “And yet for all the fuck ups I’ve had, you’re still here, and told me that you love me and that’s bloody amazing. You’ve given me so much and I know I can’t  - “
“Yes, you can,” she interrupted.
“Say what I feel for you ‘cause I’m pants at words, I certainly can show you how much you mean to me, by giving you everything I can.”
“So when are we going to do the inspection?”
Ron lowered her to the ground and brushed his hand across her cheek, wiping away a stray eyelash that had fallen among the tears shed. “Later, once I’ve shown you how much I love you, and get a kip. I’ve been awake since 5pm and I am tired, but you come first.” His hands went back to her cheek, contrasting his hands to her skin. “And Merlin knows how much I’ve missed you since Christmas but sleep will wait. I need to show my girlfriend that Valentine’s Day means more than chocolates and plague.”
Hermione burst out laughing. “Plague? Who told you that?”
“Well, yeah. Jones mentioned that Muggles say that St. Valentine’s Day is also a day about plague.” He blushed, hard. “I thought you’d appreciate that nugget of knowledge. She is surprisingly well-read, like you are.”
Hermione pulled his ears down again for another kiss, giving promise what was going to come very, very shortly. “I do. It’s better than chocolates, especially from you.”
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thatgirlonstage · 7 years
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Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Characters: Lance (Voltron), Lance's Family (Voltron), Keith (Voltron), Lotor (Voltron), Shiro (Voltron), Pidge | Katie Holt, Hunk (Voltron), Allura (Voltron), Coran (Voltron), Iverson (Voltron)
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Memory Loss, this is VERY HEAVILY Lance, especially at the beginning, I promise klance will happen eventually, and we'll see the other paladins, but you're gonna have to be patient, because it is going to take a while, Bilingual Lance (Voltron), Galra Keith (Voltron), Angst, alllll of the angst, Insecure Lance (Voltron), blade of marmora, the real otp of this fic is lance x letters from the desert cryptid man, keith is a human disaster, Season/Series 02 Spoilers
Lance wakes up in a hospital on Earth to discover he has been missing for four months, with no memory of Voltron or the Galra. Drawn inexplicably to the desert where they found him, he discovers a hut full of research and notes that may provide the key to his missing memories. With secrets and conspiracies surrounding him, and the Garrison potentially hiding far more than he could ever have imagined, Lance grows to trust the notes in the desert - but he may not believe the person who claims he wrote them.
Dialogue in italics indicates it is Spanish. A huge thank you to @allsunkenhearts for the translation of the section actually in Spanish!
[Trigger warning for depiction of an anxiety attack]
                                                     Chapter One
           One step, then another. One foot at a time. One more step. One more step. One more step.
           The sun beat mercilessly through his suit, its black fibers greedily sucking up light and the heat that came with it. Meanwhile his face, his hands, and the back of his neck, wherever skin was bare it was growing steadily hotter and tighter, stretching uncomfortably every time he moved. His legs ached, creaking with exhaustion and weak with heat. His clothes were starting to chafe at him, itching against his wrists and his ankles. Occasionally the shirt started to ride up, exposing a thin strip of his lower back that blazed with painful warmth every time it was uncovered again. A distracted thought slipped across his brain: he wouldn’t be able to sleep comfortably for a week with the sunburn he was getting.
           One more step. One more step. One more step.
           His brain beat with his pulse, too fast and weak against his skull. His eyes seemed unable to focus on anything. His breaths fluttered through his mouth, hot air pulled in past a heavy, useless, tongue to scrape against the back of his throat. His muscles felt loose and shaky and his clothes were crusty with dried sweat.
           He had been soaked when he started walking. Now, his entire body was dry as a bone. Some piece of filed away knowledge whispered that that was bad.
           One more step. One more step. One more step.
           The world shifted and slipped and crumbled at the edges like the sand underneath his feet. Edges of thoughts peeked around dark corners in his brain but he couldn’t grasp them. He held on only to the knowledge that he had to keep walking, held onto his mantra for dear life, clinging on by his fingernails. One more step. One more step. He just had to take one more step, and then he could rest.
           One more step. One more step. One more step.
           His vision was blurring. The sun was ruthlessly bright, white light stabbing his eyes. He wanted so badly to close them, to stop for just a moment.
           He was starting to see things. A face dominated by round glasses that reflected the sunlight and burned away in its white fire. A headband unraveling and crumbling into sand. A scar across the world that seemed to break it in half, only for it to reform again. A pair of dark, round eyes that flashed purple before evaporating.
           One… more… step…
*****
           Someone was squeezing his hand so tightly it was starting to go numb. A voice spoke in a long, low rush of Spanish, her voice settling like warm, calm water in his chest. He licked his lips. Why was his mouth so dry? His skin felt tight and hot with sunburn. Had he fallen asleep outside?
           “…and Louisa is going to be back soon with Cal, she went to pick him up from school. He wanted to drop everything and come see you as soon as he heard but he had to talk to his dean first, would you believe they made him come in for an in-person meeting even though you were even in the news, it was ridiculous, but they got it sorted and he’s on his way now. Could you wake up for him, baby? He cried for months, it would mean so much to him to come in and see you up and talking. And Louisa, Louisa had to tear herself away, she ordered me to call her immediately if you so much as twitched a finger—”
           “Mamá?” he murmured, his words dry and cracked on his stiff tongue. The voice stopped, and the pressure on his hand increased. He thought he could feel someone leaning over him.
           “Lance?”
           “I’m awake, Mamá,” he managed. He felt like he hadn’t had a drink of water in ten years. His eyes struggled to open, eyelashes sticking together, and he squeezed them shut again briefly as a rush of light hit him. Trying a second time, he caught a look of his mamá’s face, bending over him, anxiety written into lines and sags he didn’t remember. And then suddenly, she was practically on top of him.
           “Lance!” she cried, making him cringe as his ribs protested her hug. “Ah, sorry, sorry, I’m sorry, baby, I’m just so glad you’re all right.” She pulled back and he caught sight of the tears streaked across her cheeks. He frowned. His head felt like it was full of cotton balls. Why was she so upset?
           “I’m fine, Mamá,” he said. “Do you… have a glass of water?” She wiped at her tears, sniffing, and nodded, seeming unwilling to take her eyes off of him.
           “One moment, let me call the nurse. I’ll be right back, okay? This will only take a second.” She lingered for a moment longer, sniffling again, and then bustled off. Lance turned his head, looking at the room. He was in a hospital, IV tubes dripping fluid into his arm, bandages stretched across his skin. What had happened?
           His mother was back faster than he would have thought possible, holding his hand while a nurse delivered a glass of water with instructions to drink it slowly. She checked his vitals and made some scribbles on a chart while he sipped at it until his mouth no longer felt like it was made of sandpaper. His mother smiled through an unending stream of tears, holding his hand as if she never intended to let go.
           “How are you feeling, Mr. Sanchez?” the nurse asked, smiling at him warmly. Lance frowned.
           “I’m… I’m okay, I guess but… Sorry, what happened? Why am I in the hospital? I think I was… in the desert?”
           “You made it to just a mile outside town,” his mother said. “They said you must have walked quite a long way.”
           “But where…” he trailed off, trying to rewind his thoughts. A sudden horrifying realization struck him. “Hunk and Pidge!” he yelped. “Are they okay?” The nurse and his mother glanced at each other, and that one look sent a stone sinking into Lance’s stomach.
           “Were they with you?” his mother asked gently. Lance gaped, grasping desperately at his memories. Why were they slipping through his fingers like this? Why did everything he could remember seem so far away?
           “We… I’m not sure. We, um, we snuck out, well, Hunk and I did, we saw Pidge go up to the roof, and…” He stopped and shook his head. “Are we… in trouble?” he asked timidly. His mother brought her other hand up to grab his.
           “No, no, no you’re not in trouble, baby,” she assured him. “Please, just tell us what happened. Where did you sneak out of?” Lance frowned.
           “The Garrison, of course,” he said. His mother froze. There was another glance between her and the nurse.
           “Honey,” she said, brushing his hair back from his forehead. “Is sneaking out of the Garrison the last thing you remember?”
           “Well… yeah. I guess. I have no idea how I ended up in the desert. Does this mean Hunk and Pidge are out missing somewhere?” His mother pressed her lips together. Lance looked between her and the nurse, panic blooming in his chest. Had he gotten Hunk and Pidge into serious danger somehow? They were just planning to go into town, weren’t they? What could possibly have gone so wrong? He knew the look on his mother’s face, and it never boded well. “What?” he asked.
           “Lance,” she said, holding his hand close to her, “you, Hunk, and Pidge all disappeared from the Garrison over four months ago.”
*****
           His fingers tapped an aimless rhythm across the sheet. The knuckles were scraped and bruised and the palms sported calluses he didn’t remember. He watched them, skittering atop the hospital bed, imperfection blaring against the crisp clinical white sheets, as he avoided looking up to meet the gazes that all zeroed in on him. He hunched his shoulders, and felt Louisa tighten her arm around them, an effort at comfort that only left him feeling more trapped. “Take your time,” she murmured in his ear, but he didn’t want to take his time, not with Hunk and Pidge lost somewhere in an unforgiving desert. He’d had his time taken from him, and no matter how hard he thought he couldn’t seem to bring it back.
           “Maybe if we just… start over at the beginning, and go over it again.” The detective sounded tired, tucking his notebook under his arm in order to rub at his eyes. Lance looked up at him slowly. His suit was frayed at the cuffs and collar and there was sand stuck to his shoes. His eyes were bracketed with crow’s feet, scattered grey hairs jumped out against his black hair and skin, and there was an overall slump to his shoulders that spoke of too many long nights and time spent hunched over case files. He’d introduced himself as Detective Todd Hopkins, one of the lead investigators into Lance’s disappearance four months ago. The investigation into three teenagers who somehow managed to completely vanish during a lockdown that had not produced a single shred of evidence of their whereabouts. Louisa was watching at him dubiously.
           “I want to help, really I do, but I just… I can’t remember anything. Really, I don’t have a clue,” Lance said. His eyes stung. “I can’t…”
           “It’s not uncommon to suffer temporary amnesia in the wake of a traumatic experience,” the doctor spoke up gently from the other side of the room. “With rest and time to process everything, the memories will most likely begin to return in a few days.” He stood up and walked over to the bed, smiling at Lance. “You’ve clearly been through a lot. You shouldn’t push yourself. If you don’t start to remember what happened, we can put you in touch with some therapists who might be able to help, but for right now the best strategy is just to try and recover.” He turned to the detective. “There’s no use in berating him. He’ll remember when he remembers.” Detective Hopkins sighed, rubbing his forehead.
           “There’s one more thing,” he said. “Those clothes we found you in. What can you tell us about them?” Lance stared.
           “My… clothes?” he asked uncertainly.
           “They weren’t yours, honey, they checked with me while you were asleep,” his mother said from her chair in the corner. “I don’t know where you could possibly have found them.” Lance opened and closed his mouth a few times, struggling for any answer besides another “I don’t know.”
           “I… I’m pretty sure when I left I was just… wearing normal clothes?” he said. He looked from Louisa, to his mamá, to the detective. “Um… a… blue shirt, I think, and just, just jeans I guess. And that jacket, that dark green one I wear all the time. What… what was I wearing when you found me?”
           “Something real weird,” Louisa muttered in his ear. He tensed, and she rubbed his arm apologetically.
           “It was some kind of skin-tight black… a sort of full-body…” The detective gestured unhelpfully.
           “It was a what now.” Lance felt his stomach roiling. What the hell had he gotten mixed up in? Was this some kind of sick bondage sex thing? His toes curled under the sheet and he wondered how embarrassing it would be to have to sprint to the bathroom. To his relief, the detective pulled out a photograph of the clothes. Not nearly as bad as he had been expecting.
           “Do you recognize this outfit?” Lance took the picture and stared at it, willing it to recall something, some inkling of a memory, but he couldn’t even manage a touch of déjà vu. He handed it back to the detective.
           “No. Sorry.” Hopkins sighed and rubbed his forehead again, scrubbing it vigorously with the heel of his palm.
           “I guess that means you can’t tell us what it’s made of, either? Damn.”
           “Don’t you have crime lab scientists for that?” Louisa asked.
           “They’ve got no clue. Say it’s some kind of fiber they’ve never seen before. No one can explain it. You sure you don’t remember anything, Mr. Sanchez? Anything at all? Even the smallest detail might help.” Lance shook his head miserably. Hopkins let out yet another long-suffering sigh and tucked his notebook away, resigned but unsurprised. He pulled out a card.
           “Listen, kid, as soon as you remember anything, I want you to give me a call, alright? Your friends are still out there and you walked too far through a desert to give us any real clues on where they might be. We’re reopening the investigation, but unless you can come up with something we’re just going to run into the same brick wall of nothing as before.” Lance’s bruised and callused hand held the card carefully on his lap as he nodded, unwilling to meet the detective’s gaze.
           “I’ll show you out,” the doctor said, holding open the door. Louisa squeezed his shoulders again as they left.
           “It’s okay, Lance. You made it, so I’m sure Hunk and Pidge are fine.” He shook his head and buried it in his hands, crumpling the detective’s card, the edge of the cardstock digging into his forehead. The stinging in his eyes grew, threatening to overflow into tears.
           “I really thought they were with me,” he said. “I can’t remember anything but that’s all I’ve got – I think wherever I was, Hunk and Pidge were with me. What happened? What if they’re dead? What if I ran off and left them somewhere?” Louisa rubbed circles on his back.
           “Don’t be ridiculous, Lance, you wouldn’t do that.” Calixto was leaning against the wall by the door, his arms crossed. He had shoulders as broad as a house and a permanent scowl on his face unless you told him a good math joke, which always made him laugh for at least five minutes before you could get him to stop. He was going to college at Skilton University, a sort of sister school to the Garrison that taught theoretical physics and pure mathematics. Lance had joked when he first became a pilot that Cal’s friends at Skilton would keep him in the air in theory while the Garrison did it in practice. Four years older than him, Cal had seriously skewed his perception of how smart most people were for a long time. He’d thought for a while that he would have to publish at least one paper about quantum physics if he wanted to graduate high school.
           “Whatever happened, the most important thing is that you are here and safe,” Cal continued. “And if we found you after we’d all just about given up hope, then we can find Hunk and Pidge too.” The scowl seemed to push deeper into his face. Wiggling out of Louisa’s grip, Lance held out his arms.
           “Hey, Cal, come here, I haven’t give you a proper hug yet,” he said. Cal hesitated, then crossed the room in a flash and caught Lance in a surprisingly gentle hold, nothing like the brief bone-crushers he usually gave as holiday greetings. Lance wrapped his arms around his brother’s neck and rested his cheek on his shoulder, closing his eyes and breathing slowly. Some tension seemed to leak out of his chest. This felt safe, this felt like home – more than the Garrison ever had. They stayed that way for a long moment before Cal gave a funny little shudder and pulled away, swiping at his eyes.
           “I’m so happy you’re safe, Lance. I really… I really thought we’d lost you.”
           “You gave us all a big scare,” Louisa said, reaching out to squeeze his hand. He squeezed back. Everything felt tenuous and unreal, as if any moment he might squeeze too hard and this dream would pop, and he’d be back… wherever he was.
           A phone dinged in the quiet, and his mother, half-dozing in her chair, started. “Ah, your papá is here with Beatriz, Max, and Manuel, and Tío Javier with Elena. I better go–”
           “I’ll go get them, Mamá,” Louisa said, sliding off her perch on the edge of Lance’s bed. She reached out and ruffled his hair. “Be back in just a minute, little bro,” she told him.
           “I’m less than a year younger than you, Louisa!” Lance called after her, feeling the corners of a smile pulling at his lips. Good to know some things would never change.
*****
           The nurses had a job convincing Lance’s family to clear out as it started to get late, insisting that his condition was stable and the best thing they could do for him would be to leave and let him get some sleep. It took them over an hour, with Manuel, Lance’s six-year-old little brother, running back over and over to give him one last hug. Finally, though, he was left alone in the room, admittedly tired enough to fall asleep almost as soon as he lay back on his pillow.
           He woke up disoriented by the unfamiliar bed and the dark, the cottony hospital gown awkwardly scrunched up under his hip. He swung himself up to a sitting position, slid off the bed and stumbled, yawning, towards the bathroom.
           “…that Sanchez case is strange, though.”
           The words drifted through his door, open a crack, and he paused on the other side of it, his sleep-addled brain latching onto the words and trying to thrash through them for meaning.
           “What do you mean?”
           “Did you hear Dr. Young talking to that detective earlier today? Or even just look at his charts. Kid goes missing for four months, turns up in the middle of the desert, but aside from the immediate symptoms of dehydration and heat stroke, there isn’t anything seriously wrong with him. He’s not malnourished, he doesn’t have any ligature marks, he’s a little cut and bruised but it looks more like he tripped than that he got in a serious fight. There’s no sign of muscle atrophy, no sign of recent major injuries, no sign of prolonged dehydration, no sign of… anything, really. In fact, he’s in peak physical condition. It looks like he was doing fine until he up and decided to take a five-hour walk through the desert. Wherever he’s been for the last four months, they’ve been taking good care of him.”
           “Do you think he’s lying?”
           “Well if there’s a traumatic experience he’s blocking out, it isn’t anything physical.”
           “What did the detective say?”
           “He didn’t know what to think – and neither does Dr. Young.”
           “Weird. Well, I guess we’ll see if he gets his memory back soon.”
           “He IS just a kid. Although, where he could possibly have been for four months, with his face stuck on every lamppost and milk carton in town…”
           “Narnia. Clearly he went to Narnia.”
           The nurses’ laughter drifted away down the hall, leaving Lance unmoving and covered in cold sweat. He looked down at his hands, clenching and unclenching them. He felt wrong inside his own body. He didn’t recognize his own hands, didn’t know the hard muscles in his arms, didn’t understand how he could just be missing four whole months from his life. Remember, remember, remember, come on, Sanchez, this shouldn’t be this hard. He wrapped his arms around himself, squeezing his eyes shut, the cold floor pressing through the thin hospital slippers into his feet. His breath threatened to choke him. Why can’t I remember? It felt just out of reach, something terrible looming on the horizon, something he needed desperately to know, but every time he reached out it crumbled away like sand. His heart thundered in his chest, beating against his brain, remember, remember, come on, rememberrememberrememberREMEMBER—
           Lance flung himself back onto his bed, buried his face into his pillow and screamed, once, twice, then stopped and lay there, nose squashed, heaving with breath. He was gripping the sheets in his fists, hanging on white-knuckled as if he might find himself drifting through nothing if he let go. The pillow was getting wet under his face.
           Once his heart slowed he pushed himself up to his elbows, wiping away tears and snot. He stumbled to the bathroom, feeling blindly for a light switch and squeezing his eyes shut for a moment in the sudden brightness. He snagged a handful of toilet paper, blowing his nose and wiping off his hands. He closed the door, and then collapsed to sit on the toilet, pulling his feet up to the seat, wrapping his arms around his legs and resting his chin on his knees. He stayed there, breathing in the sharp scent of hospital cleaning supplies, the cold of the toilet seat and the glaring white of the walls all comfortingly, undeniably real.
           “My name is Lance Sanchez,” he said. “Mi nombre es Lance Sanchez. I am seventeen years old. Tengo diecisiete años. I am from Cuba, and I came here when I was thirteen to start studying to become a pilot. Nací en Cuba, y vine aquí cuando tenía trece años para estudiar y convertirme en piloto. I am going to be the best damn fighter pilot the Garrison has ever seen. Voy a ser el mejor piloto que el Garrison haya visto jamás. And nothing that might have happened in the last four months has changed any of that. Y nada que pueda haber ocurrido en los últimos cuatro meses ha cambiado algo de todo eso.” He dropped his head down and pressed his forehead against his legs, trying to breathe evenly. He shivered, the chill of the bathroom seeping in through the thin hospital gown, and slowly pushed himself back to his feet. After fumbling his way through using the toilet, he crawled back into bed, flipping his pillow over, and curled up on his side. “I’ll be fine,” he whispered to himself, squeezing his eyes shut. “And so will Hunk and Pidge. We’ll all be home and safe soon. We will. We will. We will. We will.”
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