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merrysithmas · 3 years

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The good thing abt Steve and smth ppl are missing in the current discourse is he really did say Fuck America literally every chance he got and criticized the US govt every second he wore the suit and the govt absolutely hated him for it.

Even in the 40s he didnt want to kill anyone "for America", but as a disabled man couldn't fathom not standing up to the eugenicist Nazis. He wasn't politically motivated by nationalism but instead by human compassion. In fact, it is extremely likely he was highly critical of the US govt as a young man preserum given his impoverished life circumstances and constantly failing health. Living in NYC, seeing the shanty towns in Central Park, unable to afford life-saving medicine, watching Bucky and his mother kill themselves to make a nickle, surrounded by the radical leftist art scene in NY as an art student - Steve saw and lived injustice every day. And empathized with people who suffered different social misfortunes than he did (the woman crying in the movie theatre, "I don't like bullies", Peggy suffering sexism) although his personal list was extensive itself.

To him, the shield was always more of a philosophy and never attached to a specific country, which is what made it so easy for him to blow off 117 countries for Bucky, or tear the star from his chest yet defend the world in the vestiges of his armor against Thanos - he was fighting for what was right and not what was dictated by any country or political ideology (which is the main issue in Civil War with him being against the Accords, and one he was extremely well-positioned to understand having been used as a symbol and propaganda against his will many times, and having witnessed the dangers of state-sanctioned violence in WWII and CATWS. Even if Steve's argument was also faulty to an extent, you can absolutely see why he would argue for that perspective).

Steve was as FDR leftist artist in the Great Depression post Crash 1930s, disabled and chronically ill, diminutive and likely targeted by US eugenicits in NYC who vocally campaigned against disabled people being alive in the 30s (saying they should be sterilized or killed), son of an Irish immigrant single mother, lived in historically queer neighborhood of Brooklyn, an artist, and in the MCU coded as bi. He fights for whoever needs him, not for whoever tells him to. He was always highly critical and tongue-in-cheek/tired of the costume, drawing himself as the dancing monkey in CATFA ("Ready to follow 'Captain America' into the jaws of death?" he confides his mockery in Bucky, who heartwarmingly assures him that no, he is following Steve.) Steve continued to question, dog, and make trouble for the US continually after that until he wholeheartedly said Fuck You in CATWS and just dropped the shield (and never picked it up again until he handed it off to Sam, who he was confident could do something meaningful with it that he was not positioned to as a white man).

Steve visibly appears as a bygone era's "perfect man" and outright REJECTS both this supremacist definition and the shield's gatekeeping/the shield itself. Sam visibly appears as an "outsider" to exclusivist and systemically racist systems and yet EMBRACES the shield's potential. They are both radically standing up for the same cause in different ways and this comparison depicts why they are so closely aligned and best friends.

The irony of Steve Rogers as Captain America is hugely important to his character. In many ways, Steve is depicted as a reluctant hero who struggles with the strength of his own moral ideals versus the highly imperfect symbol he dons. This is different from other superheroes who usually self-create their alter egos as symbols of their more perfect, empowered selves.

In contrast, it is Steve's natural hardiness, independence, and righteous outrage in the face of wrongdoing which represents America's best ideals, but distinctly is opposed to its government which directs that he act as its image. As Steve holds the shield we see the image of a person who is critical of the govt for falling short of its principles and simultaneously embodies the ideal qualities that a equitable and free US is supposed to hold. Importantly, and definitively for his character, Steve as Cap shows how wanting the US really is for the goodness it robotically claims to have. And that is why he is important and impactful as Cap, essentially because he is uncomfortable with and critical of the costume.

The status of the suit often does not coincide with his personal beliefs. Yet he wears it to attempt to level up the system he is, for a while, mired in. Steve is not a patriot, not in the common sense of the world, he is instead a patriot of the humanist cause. This puts him on-site for many enemies, including those domestic to him and thus defines him as a hero.

Though his physical appearance suggests that he might wear the suit with a blind nationalist fervor a la John Walker (depicted as a perfect automaton soldier), Steve could not be further from that mindset (a good individualist man). As a now "perfect specimen" poised to be accepted and revered, Steve has the ability to choose an easy life where he is free of the hardships and ostracization he endured preserum. Yet instead, post CACW, Steve chose to continue to stand on the side of progress, the "little guy", to abandon the shield and now finally proudly embrace his pariah status and fight for those pushed aside or deemed unsalvagable or scapegoated (symbolized by Bucky) as he recognizes that while America's rule may benefit some, it still causes other to suffer and struggle (as he once did).

Not to mention, as a meta point, he was crafted as the "perfect man" from a sick, disenfranchised disabled boy who absolutely loathed Nazis by Jewish comic artists to mock the Nazi Aryan ideal - inverting their eugenicist visual image of perfection by empowering someone Nazis would view as worthless to burn their entire evil regime to ash.

He still, today, stands staunchly at odds with far right extremists and fascists in the US today and worldwide. He's the furthest thing from them and he'd have no problem in showing it. Choosing Sam as his successor, proudly, confidently, lovingly, and as a brother in arms who steps back so others can speak for themselves and tell their own stories, Steve shows his cultural and political understanding and his good heart once again - this time as an ally, friend, and a champion of the heroics of others.

#steve rogers #steve rogers meta in 2021 its more likely than u think #bring him back as nomad pls

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c-atm · 3 years

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She asked him to take her to it, her headstone. The one they made for her when she (Or rather 'Connie Maheswaran') supposedly died. She didn't exactly know why she wanted to see it; maybe it would jog some memories of who she was before becoming ' Sara's grand jewel' ...Before becoming 'Sheva.' Even the thought of those times enrages her to no end; how Connie was used as a tool of murder, espionage, seduction, and entrapment.

"Connie, you ok?"

Steven's voice, sweet, protective, and lovingly caring, as was his grip on her shoulder. The way her name ( Connie's name) came out of his voice sent waves of affection throughout her nervous system. Even after a month of traveling together, she still wasn't used to the new [old] moniker, nor did she feel she deserved it, but she wasn't going to stop Steven from calling her that.

"Connie?"

"Y-Yeah!" It came out brokenly harsh, more than initially intended.

"Sorry, Connie."

The guilt in his voice, slight as it was, hurt her heart immensely.

"No-nonono! You're ok! I promise, and I'm stupid, pleasekeepholdingmyshoulders !"

She covered her mouth and turned around before she became more of a babbling mess, something that has been becoming more common.

Ever since that dream...Hell, ever since they reunited (met), told her his name, and ripped that collar off of her; that spark of need, of craving...Of humanity seem to grow brighter gradually with every smile, touch, or kind deed her hero sent her way and how scared it made her to lose him. The adoration he sent her way, how it warmed her heart to the point of feeling burned.

How she would excuse herself before breaking into full-on bawling on more than one occasion. Steven was wasting it on her; she couldn't even understand natural human affection anymore.

She was so broken.

Connie breathed out before turning to him. "I'm...sorry that was weird of me...I'm strange...And umm... Nervous."

"I would believe so," He gave her a ginger smirk, holding his hand out to her," We're about to visit your memorial. "

"Connie's memorial." She snided before she could stop herself. "Ah..I-"

"One and the same." Steven interrupted, kissing her hand softly before massaging it with his thumb as he interlaced his hands with hers, giving her a small but loving smile. "Come on. You don't want anyone to find us, right?" He whispered, wiping her cheek of a runaway tear.

She could only nod and offer him a silent smile. He was right; she didn't want any of the residents of his (and hers as well, she figured) hometown to know they were here(her nervousness, caused by him).

It was twilight when they traveled to the cliff overlooking Beach City and Little Homeworld (spending most of their day at an abandoned lighthouse), remaining unnoticed by the populace (their attention on something called ' Beach-a-palooza'). What greeted them was not a simple headstone.

In her sights was a statue of who she was...Of ' Connie Maheswaran.' Made of marble, Ice and layered by some illuminated solid of cobalt stood a picture-perfect image of herself(?)Brandishing a naked blade on her shoulder with a star hilt, silky hair flowing down to her upper-back with some resting on her shoulders and an attractive bang, dressed in a crop letterman jacket with a star on the breast over a sporty halter top, low-rise Bermuda shorts, a pair of thigh-high stockings some loosely laced boots but obviously secured.

'Well...At least, they didn't take my fashion sense.' She mused, taking a look at her current outfit, a mimic of the statues (ironic or inherited, she didn't know). Looking back up, she focused on the differences.

'Connie's' hair was loose, free, and weightless, while hers was in a tightly braided and heavy reaching her waist.

'Connie's eyes were determined, fiery, full of life and light. In contrast, her eyes were duller, colder, and steeled by guilt (though being with Steven has brightened them up a bit.)

The most contrasting thing would have to be the smile.

Looking at her past self, at 'Connie's' bright and confident grin that displayed her teeth and radiated

Looking at her past self, at 'Connie's' bright and confident grin that displayed her teeth and radiated victory and promise, made her feel small. Seeing that kind of smile on that face, on their face, was so foreign and daunting to her. Someone who hasn't truly smiled or laughed until a month ago, which was due to killing her tormentor (who she still has sob evoking nightmares about). Even still, her smiles were weakly small, few, and full of painful appreciation.

Connie's' laughing, even more so.

"She's beautiful," Connie spoke in reverence to the memorial as she walked into the small garden on Bluebells, Hibiscus, and Orchids with various pictures of her past life that surrounded the statue. Photos of trips with human and gem friends, graduations, various other accomplishments...Moments of bliss with Steven(some with a pink lion).

"She had her whole future ahead of her."

"You can still have a bright future." Steven's voice from behind her.

"Heh." She scoffed, "You're sweet." She turned her eyes to the description under the statue.

- Connie Maheswaran

Student, Friend, Daughter, Sister,

Cherished Crystal Gem & Adored Jambud.

Our valorous knight, who outshines diamonds and stars alike.-

"It's hard to believe that I was her."

" Are ...You are her."

Connie shook her head, "we aren't the same."

"Connie?"

"I don't have that smile."

"You do."

"I'm not that strong."

"You are."

"I can't be as warm as her."

"You can."

"NO, I CAN'T !" Connie yelled, holding herself tightly, "I'm tainted, Steven...Broken. '' she rolled up the back of her top, exposing the numerous shards integrated into her brown back.

"A pile of shards upon flesh from years of experimentation and 'education ,' made into a masterpiece of murder, of violence, of spying, of abduction, of sex." She spat in disgust, nostrils flaring in anger. " How dare you?"

"Connie?" Steven took a step towards the angered ex-weapon.

"How dare you say that about her?" She hiked her breath as a sob came out." How dare you insult her by saying we're the same!? "

"Connie!" Steven turned her to face him. " Rather you want to admit it or not; it doesn't change the fact... You are her!" He said sternly.

"No..." she shook her head. "I can't believe that I can't."

"Connie?"

"She wouldn't do the things I've done."

"You can't blame yourself...You..." He tightened his hold on her shoulders, "they violated you, abused you...You are a victim in this."

"Exactly..."

Steven looked as she stepped out of his hold and pointed to the statue. Her fist clenched and face down. "She's not a victim..."

"Connie..."

"She would never have been a victim. Captured and made into a weapon...a tool." She started to laugh, a shallow sob still in her throat. "This is stupid...I came looking for ways to jog my memory and now, that face to face with it. I wanna reject it."

Steven kept silent as he pulled her in his torso, his arms around Connie's back and nape, keeping her close as she soaked his shirt.

"I'm jealous..."

Steven gazed at the top of her head as she gripped his shirt.

"I'm jealous..." Connie admitted through closed eyes, gritting teeth, trembling lips, and running tears. "I'm jealous at how determined I was. How accomplished I was. How large and bright my smile was..." she looked up at him. " How easy it was to reciprocate your love." It took all her will not to run when he wiped her eyes of tears." She did it so easy, right?"

"You..." He corrected, "You did..."

"Of course.. bet she didn't run from your affection. Lock herself away to cry...Cause she didn't know how to deal with honest adoration...It wasted on me, Steven." She gave him a broken smile, "even now I wanna run away, cause I can't fathom your warmth...I don't deserve you...but I'm afraid that I'll lose you."

"Silly Strawberry." Steven breathed, cupping her cheeks and resting his forehead on hers. "I searched for too long for you and gone through too much to just leave...My heart is yours, Connie."

Connie's fist started trembling as her face glowed in maroon, her heart pounding, and her black eyes seemed to dilate. Before looking down,00, "P-Please...Don't let me go...I really wanna go and hide right now...S-See hehehe...Weak. I'm so weak."

"You're far from weak. A weak person wouldn't take her life back from those who took it."

"Only because you provided a chance with the breaking of the shock collar and of Sara's jaw."

"Still took the chance." He argued. "Don't diminish your courage."

She didn't answer him at first. "I killed her...I threatened you with the same fate right after. How can you not be mad at me? How can you accept me? How can you love me?"

"You're Connie Maheswaran." He answered truthfully, "Not just in the physical way, the night I saved you. The defiant look on your face as I approached." Steven grinned gently, "That more than proves you and her are one and same. It's not hard to love you when I never stopped."

Connie remained silent at his words, but she was decidedly more heated than before as she leaned into his facial hold, holding his hands in her own. "Can you...Can you promise not to leave me alone?

She didn't expect him to answer her question the way he did.

Steven lips caressing hers in a gentle, tender, heartwarmingly familiar lip lock. The feeling

Of his suckling upon her top lip, mixed with the massage of his tongue onto and across her own, made her shiver and evoked moans of need towards him as she gripped his shirt, pulling him closer.

After a few moments, they broke their kiss, breathing a shared breath deeply as he placed his forehead on hers.

"You can't leave me." She pleaded, nuzzling against the bridge of his nose with her own.

Steven answered by pecking her once more, getting a trembling -squeak!- in return.

"I promise that I..."

-Koff!-

Connie could only watch in horror as Steven blood met her face from a wet cough.

Shocked tears ran from his brown eyes down as he took a step back before coughing up more blood. His back in a wet pain. His sight going hazy, watching her look at him with tears streaming down.

"I won't leave......"

Was the last thing he said before the light left his eyes. His last image was something pink joining her side.

#steven universe #connie maheswaran #connverse #steven universe future #steven universe fanfiction #steven and connie #older steven #older connie #connverse fanfic #face meme #grand jewel #femme fatale au #angst

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flowerbeom · 5 years

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Sweeter Than Pi | Mark Tuan

Mark Tuan x Fem!Reader

Genre: High School AU. Nerd Mark x Athlete Reader. Fluff. F2L.

Warnings: Some squishy ass, fluffy fluff.

Words: 5.3k

Concept: Your place on the softball team rested on the back of you passing your General Maths midterm. Though Maths was always your worst subject, your genius best friend, Mark, could offer assistance in helping you study. If you could bring yourself and your heart to ask him...

A/N: Happy Birthday almost twin @inkahgase! Fuck me, I’m sorry this took so long and that it is sooo long. I don’t know how to write short stories. I’m sorry. But I hope you enjoy soft, nerdy, cute AF Mark. Cause bro, this broke me...

“What was that?” Jackson slung the strap of his overfilled duffle onto his shoulder, rounding your desk to sit on the one beside you. Your voice continued to muffle into the pages of the textbook you were flattening your face into.

Jackson, in all his measured audacity leant forward, flicking your ear as he ripped open the wrapper of a protein bar with his teeth. “Speak up woman.”

“I failed!” The whining tone of your voice echoed around the empty classroom. You groaned as you tipped your head back over the chair, arms dangling pathetically beside you. You flailed your legs under the table, sliding down the chair a little more with every exasperated kick.

“It’s just a mock quiz, it means nothing.” Jackson mumbled through chews.

“Jack, if I failed the mock quiz it means I’m going to fail the mid-term.” Head still slung back over the chair.

“And?” Jackson barely audible, his mouth preoccupied with trying to tongue chunks of his white chocolate raspberry quest bar out of his molars.

“And?! If I fail the midterm I’ll get kicked off the team!” Jaw dropped to allow for the extended grown to rumble out of your throat, you lifted your hands to card them frustratedly through your hair.

Having had enough of your self-loathing, Jackson kicked the edge of your chair, knocking you sideways and out of your moaning. You snapped a hand down onto his ankle, steadying yourself from falling and pulling him off the edge of the table at the same time. Jackson broke his fall with a hand smacked against your forehead. Hands were thrown and insults were flying around until the commotion ended with your fingertips twisting the sensitive skin along his ribs.

“Gah! God, okay okay!” Jackson shifted away, picking up his bag and moving to the door; pausing to see if you were following him. You were, albeit slowly, trudging to the door; dragging your equally overfilled duffle bag behind you.

“Ever consider getting tutored?” His tone suggestive.

“Can’t afford it.” Your tone defeated.

“You really are stupid.” There was no fight in you left, rather acceptance and the vivid image of your softball uniform being stripped from you, leaving you standing in your underwear in the middle of the field. You shuddered at the thought.

Approaching your lockers, you stood in a daze, fingers mindlessly rotating the dial on your padlock, not even sure if the combination was correct. Suddenly, and as softly as anyone could manage, you felt a shoulder nudge yours. It could only be one person, and you felt your body shrink into itself upon recognising the familiar smell of the fabric softener his mum used on his shirts.

“Hey!” Effervescent, cheerful and light. You looked up to see Mark standing beside you, the glasses meant to be perched on his nose rather perpetually hovering above it as they were lifted by the plump in his cheeks made by the smile he could never control. Backpack full; books spilled out into his arms, one sleeve of his unzipped hoodie pushed up while the other dangled below his fingertips. The adorable nerd, Mark Tuan.

You always felt yourself mirror the smile he effortlessly gave you, as if there was no other acceptable response to give him. No matter how grouchy or sullen you may have been, Mark was always this beaming beacon of joy, and it was impossible to resist getting pulled into the overwhelming happiness that seemed to radiate from him.

If he was smiling, you were too. If he was laughing, you were too. If you were crying, he never had to do much to stop the tears from falling. It had been that way for years, having grown up beside him, literally. Neighbours since birth, playmates in preschool, deskmates in elementary school leading naturally to best friends in high school. You were inseparable, even when his interests leant towards equations and dabbling in applied physics at the college level while yours swung towards swinging bats at balls that soared past the car-park behind the field and making college scouts travel across the country to watch you play. But as thrilling as all that may be, Mark was the spark that lit your days ablaze. Though it was a shame you could never really tell him that.

“Hey man.” Jackson reached over your head to knock knuckles with Mark; Jackson tipping his chin while Mark smiled even wider, again completely out of his control.

Jackson, as he liked to remind you and Mark constantly, was the reason you and Mark stayed so close over the years. As your interests and hobbies split down the middle, Jackson provided the glue that held you together. While you and him bonded over a shared love of sports, he and Mark bonded over a shared love of video games.

So, afternoons were spent waiting at the end of the pitch after softball practice for Jackson to finish soccer training. He’d jog to you, one arm shoved into the sleeve of a fresh t-shirt while the other had his jersey still hanging off the bend in his elbow. You’d walk home together - Jackson never failing to leave a trail of corn chip crumbs behind him and finally ending up on Mark’s couch; splitting your time doing homework together and watching him and Jackson take out Marakov soldiers in Modern Warfare 2. An unlikely trio, though it somehow worked.

“Oi!” Jackson dug an elbow into the side of your arm, drawing a hiss to rattle the chemistry paper wedged between your teeth. “Ask Mark how his AP Calculus class was.”

“It was really good, we started on fundamental theorems and.. “

Jackson tutted, making a sharp clicking noise with his tongue against his teeth; Mark’s grin dropping slightly at the corners.

“No no, she has to ask you first.” You shot puzzled eyebrows in Jackson’s direction, shoving a textbook into your already full bag.

“Why do I need to ask him?” The edges of the chemistry paper nipping against the corners of your lips as you spoke, Mark glanced around you to stare at the indiscernible look on Jackson’s face.

“Ask him how his AP Calc class was.” Said sharply through gritted teeth.

“Why?” You and Mark returned in unison, the word drawn out in confusion.

“Just ask him how his AP Calc class was, goddamn it!” Slamming his locker door shut, Jackson’s eyes growled at you to turn around and do as instructed, but you weren’t one to back down. Ever.

“Geez, why do I need to ask Mark how his AP Calc class was?! We all know it was ‘amazing’ and ‘interesting’ and that he’s still top of the class, so why are you being an ass!?”

Tense pause. Loaded silence. Darting eyes.

“OH MY GOD!” Dropping your bag to the floor, mouth gaping, your test paper billowed to the ground as you spun to face Mark - almost making him drop the books held precariously in his hands as you smacked your hands onto the sides of his arms. Jackson sighed from behind you, an unmistakable roll of his eyes evident in his exasperated breath.

Mark’s eyes were blown wide, only to be magnified by the refraction of his lenses. You froze for a second, taken aback by the hint of rose tinting his cheeks and the way his lips rounded into a perfect circle of surprise and you wanted to melt into your sneakers but there were more pressing matters at hand. You made yourself believe that there was, no matter how furiously your heart was pounding in your chest. You sucked in a strengthening breath, his glittering eyes would not distract you now.

“Mark, Mark! Oh my god, Mark!” Your fingers were digging into his biceps, the fullness of them surprising you.

“Yes?” Replying through a giggle, the smile he could never control once again taking over his expression.

“Mark, can you tutor me?! I swear to god I will fail my Gen Math midterm if you don’t help me!” You were shaking him, wobbling his thin figure in the air as you continued to ramble. “I can’t fail Markie, I can’t get kicked off the team! Not before graduation! Please--”

“Yes.” Sincere.

“Help me, please Mar--” Almost manic.

“Yes!” Heartwarmingly earnest.

“--Kie, please! Wait, what?” Stupefied.

Mark’s eyes folded as his smile widened, his arms tightening their hold on his books as he rocked back on his heels. “Of course I’ll tutor you, I’m surprised it’s taken you this long to ask!”

“You and I both, dude.” Jackson smarted from behind you, his hand gripping onto the strap of your bag to lift you up after you had sunk to your knees from equal measures of shame and appreciation. Your eyes lifted to see Mark fumbling with his bag, one hand shoved into its depths. Taking his pile of books out of his other, Mark grinned so endearingly you swore you felt your heart bounce off your sternum. Fishing out his car keys, Mark gently took his books back into his slender hands.

“I’ll come round after you get home from practice. About six, right?”

“Right.” Your hand lifted almost robotically to return the dazzling wave Mark gifted you as he skipped down the hallway.

Mark’s ready eagerness to help you had made your heart swell with affection, and despite every desire to act on your feelings continued to tap away at your sanity, you knew better that someone like Mark was better off with someone who could actually challenge his mind. All you could do was beat him in a foot race. So you let Jackson cup your shoulder and drag you outside; critical paths and parabolas would have to wait, and it seemed trying to ease your heart would have to as well.

As you wiped away a rogue bead of sweat that trickled down your temple, you asked yourself how someone could look so effortlessly perfect. Walking languidly along the footpath that lined your street, you stared at Mark as you approached your house. Sitting on the front steps of your deck, Mark cradled a text book in one hand; elbows leaning into his knees. From the curve of his wrist, your eyes trailed along the lines of his bare arms to the once, maybe twice, rolled up sleeves of his t-shirt. Your lips found themselves wedged between your teeth.

Watching one delicate hand lift to push his glasses up his nose, you followed his fingers as they combed back his hair that always fell right back down to tickle his lashes. The setting sun sifted golden through his charcoal hair, as if it was made to reflect the light. And as you rounded your mailbox to walk up the paved path, Mark’s ear pricked to your footsteps and he greeted you how we always did; with one perfect smile and your knees went weak.

Clutching onto the strap of your duffle bag, you pulled it tighter across your body as Mark rose onto his feet. You met him at the foot of the stairs, one step below the one he stood on. Mark clapped his textbook shut and slung his backpack onto his shoulder.

“Ready?” You weren’t exactly sure what he was referring to, but if it was the hand that he reached out to gently sweep down your braid, you knew for sure it wasn’t that. He leant forward, glasses slipping down his nose as he tilted his face to look past your shaking eyes to what his fingers were doing. You could smell the eczema cream he rubbed into the back of his elbow as his index finger curled hair behind your ear. It felt like your entire body had broken out in hives, why was his face so close to yours?

“How many deep hits did you dive for? You have so much grass in your hair.” Mark knocked his knuckles into your shoulder, lightly pushing you back before he turned to step towards your front door. Following slowly behind him, you needed to catch your breath or else asking him to tutor would be a massive waste of time. You can’t tutor someone if they’re dead.

“Come on, those quadratic equations aren’t going to solve themselves!”

Mark stood there patiently, one hand deep in the back pocket of his jeans while the other held his textbook to his chest. Unlocking the door, you let it swing open before stepping through, Mark close behind you.

“Bedroom?” Eyes shooting open, you whipped your head around to Mark’s innocent expression.

“Sorry, what? Bedroom, excuse me?” Blinking rapidly with every vowel, you watched Mark slowly tilt his head to the side; his puppy like eyes giving you puppy like confusion.

“Want to study in your bedroom?” Not a completely outlandish question. Mark had been in your bedroom plenty of times over the course of your friendship. Sleepovers were a plenty and Jackson joined the fray once your duo became a trio. But it had been a while since it was just you and Mark. Alone. In your bedroom. So you deferred, you didn’t need the distraction; for he, in all his tall, slim, attractiveness was one giant distraction already. A disruption of the sweetest kind that you weren’t completely against but you really needed to study.

“No.” Far too blunt to seem polite. You winced at the your own brashness.

“No?” Mark’s body seemed to stutter, never having heard you be to short before.

“Sorry! That sounded so mean! It’s just post-practice me talking.” You let your duffle bag crash to the floor, your hands quick to cup your cheeks to mask the red glow building under the skin.

“So…?”

“Dining table! Closer to the kitchen, closer to snacks!” Good save, you thought to yourself as you tapped your belly with one hand, the other resting on your hip. A bad impression of Jackson whenever he wanted to not so subtly tell you and Mark that he was hungry. Amused with the imitation, Mark hooked the straps of his backpack carefully on the back of one of the chairs bordering the dining table before taking out his notes and sitting down. His eyes glanced over to you expectantly.

“Shall we get started then?” Timidly, you lowered into the seat next to him. Twirling a pen between his fingers like a poker player juggles a chip on their knuckles, Mark showed you nothing but honest determination as he displayed just how incredibly intelligent he was; yet it took a little longer for any of it to rub off on you.

An hour had passed. Mark was nothing but sweet in his explanations and patient as you continued to endure this special form of torture. Math and Mark; one hard for your brain, the other excruciating on your heart. Every slight brush of his shoulder against yours as he leaned in to see your work sent shivers to crawl down your spine. Every time his hand would pull yours back so he could write the proper formula beside your incorrect answer made all the air block in your lungs. Mark was incredibly intelligent, but pretty dumb when it came to body language. And you were beyond thankful for that.

Despite your body’s conflicting emotions between emotionally flustered and mentally confused, you had actually made progress. Whatever method Mark used to make you understand what your teachers had failed to teach you was proving a success. Question after question was solved correctly, Mark high-fiving you with the most genuine smile on his face with every tick he inked onto your page. However, expanding equations had shrunk your stomach - snack time was calling, and the time was now.

“Super spicy or regular spicy?” Calling from the kitchen counter, two varieties of ramen held in each hand.

“Can you just nuke me a plate of broccoli in the microwave? I’m trying to maintain my figure.” Mark bellowed from the dining table. Brows furrowing together, you threw your head over your shoulder catching Mark doubled over - body shaking with silent laughter upon seeing the look of perplexity on your face.

“Regular spicy please, heavy on the cheese.”

Once the narrow in your eyes had dropped and Mark heard the tap pour water into a pot, he turned back to the flat lay of books on the table. He was curious as to how you were doing so badly in class when you had made so much progress beside him. He always knew you were smart, and how focussed you could be - so he wanted to know what had stumped you so badly when it came to math.

Slipping the textbook off the corner of your notebook, Mark began to thumb through the pages, searching for clues as to where the numbers stopped making sense in your mind. Page after page failed to reveal much; half written questions with notes sloppily taken in rushed handwriting that he knew wasn’t like you.

Picking up the notebook, Mark closed it to gather the bottom corners under his thumb to start flicking through the pages rapidly. His eyes scanned the pages as they flew past, a chunk of blank pages ended with meticulously written words at the back of the notebook. Laying the notebook down, he smoothed out the spine so the pages stayed open on the table. Mark felt his lips carve a smile into his cheeks, his eyes following the intricate curves of your handwriting across the page.

“Is this why you’re failing Gen Math?” A chuckle finished the question he threw behind him.

“What?” Fumbling with a bag of shredded cheese as you answered him.

“Who’s got you so distracted in class?”

“What are you talking about?” Rounding the counter with both bowls in hand, you froze one step away from the table; Mark’s index finger drawing an invisible line under the words who had written in the back of your notebook.

“I’m not being obtuse, but you’re acute guy.” You placed both bowls on the table, mainly because you’re hands had started to go numb.

“You are one well-defined function.” You lowered slowly into the seat next to Mark, fingertips clawing into your knees.

“Mark…” Voice shaky at best.

“Oh this one is good. If I went binary, you’d be the one for me.” His soft laughter jiggled his glasses down his nose as your hand lifted to gently pull your notebook away from him.

“Mark, stop please..”

“Oh no, no this one’s my favourite.” Watching his finger hover below the last sentence on the page, you felt your body heating up from its core. Nervousness pulsated from the depth of your stomach and radiated through your skin. You saw his eyes crinkle at their corners, his ears twitching as he grinned.

“You are sweeter than Pi.” He turned to you at that moment; cheeks plump, smile intoxicating. A wave of anxiety crashed over you.

“No wonder you’re failing. Dude, seriously, who’s got you so distracted?!” Mark was asking you as if he really didn’t know; and a part of you wanted it to stay that way. You wanted to leave him in his naive innocence and continue on being brilliant, and wowing college mathematicians with his insight and natural numerical skill. You wanted him to find someone who would be just as excited about binomials and integrals as he was or at least someone who could understand them.

Mark lifted his arm to sling his elbow over the back of the chair. Combing back his hair with his other hand, he pushed up his glasses with his thumb before flicking you in the shoulder, and you knew it was because you looked like an idiot. Your face held no expression, your body was frozen in place.

You knew pressure. You knew what it felt like having everything on the line. You knew what it meant to have both joy and sorrow rest in your hands. So in that moment, you would have gladly taken loaded bases, deep hit into left field, sun in your eyes as you lined up your mitt to take the last catch that would secure the last out to win the game. You would have gladly taken the chance to lose the championship over the way Mark was staring at you. Over the way his sparkling eyes were boring into you expectantly for an answer you weren’t sure he was ready for. Or more so, one you were about to give. Especially if it was the wrong one.

“So, who is it?” But Mark always got the right answer.

“You.”

The pen Mark was twirling between fingers his crashed onto the table. An exaggeration, but everything seemed heightened after you somewhat easily confessed your feelings to Mark. Your hands had found themselves back on your knees, and your lips had found themselves between your teeth. Mark pulled his arm off the back of the chair and mirrored your stance, yet you noticed him swallow roughly. Your heart stammered at the sight.

“We’re not even in the same class anymore..” You fought the urge to laugh, Mark’s charming naivety cutting through the tension in the air, his eyes twinkling in your direction. Lips parting to pull in a breath, you blew loose strands of hair off your forehead before letting your shoulders relax. Mark was doing it again, comforting you in his own special way. In the way only he could, even if he didn’t know he was doing it.

“That’s the way it is, isn’t it? Love..”

“You-you… love me?” Mark pushed up his glasses with both hands, swinging his legs around to face you; his knees merely grazing past like a single gentle flap of a butterfly’s wing. You sunk into your shoulders, there was no turning back now.

“It’s funny right? How you stopped being in my classes years ago, but as soon as I look at an equation my mind flips and all I can think about is you. How funny is that?” Leaning forward to lean an elbow onto the table and your cheek into your hand; your eyes locked on Mark. He held your stare but you were caught in the unravelling of your own sanity to see how his eyes were flitting across your face.

“Man it’s so funny. Mr. Grant stands at the chalkboard and starts drawing up some parabolic graph, and all it does is remind me of your smile. I open up my textbook and start reading about perfect angles and all that I can compute is the goddamn perfect angles of your cheekbones against your jaw.” You were laughing now, completely out of control. You weren’t even aware of what you were saying, the words simply falling out of your mouth. Blame it on dehydration, practice was gruelling; sure you could do that - but you simply kept talking. You weren’t even looking at Mark anymore.

“I try you know? I try really hard to study. And it’s only maths. I ace every other subject - I have no issue with Lit or History. Go, ask me anything about the Balkan War, I know it all. But Maths, phwoah..” Your head tipped back against the chair, your braid swinging behind it.

“Maths, man I can’t even concentrate. All I see is your face in the numbers. All I can think about is your laugh when someone starts reciting algebra formulas. And when exams come around, I’m stumped.” Mark jumped in his seat when you shouted out a laugh.

“I stare and stare at the exam paper and think about how you would solve every question and how quickly you would have done it. And once I’m thinking about you, that’s it. I’m gone.” Your rambling halted when Mark reached out his hand and placed it atop yours. Lowering your head back to level with his eyes, you saw the sheer shock in them. You swallowed dryly, the realisation of the utter madness you had spat out finally overwhelming you. Mark scooted forward in his chair, clearing his throat and lifting a shaking head to sweep his fringe off his eyes.

“You know, Madison Kim asked me out in the same way.” Your hands went limp, the weight of your heart dropping into your stomach caused your shoulders to slump forward. You were an idiot. Literally, figuratively, emotionally. Of course Madison Kim would have asked him out the same way. She may be a genius, but she was an airy head girl, who in all honesty would be a fool to not ask out the gorgeous man who sat beside her in AP Calc every day.

You shifted back in your seat, but Mark’s hand tightened around yours; your eyes darting up to find a softness in his eyes you had never seen before. In the entirety of your lives together, you had never seen that look, and it terrified you.

“She asked me out with silly little mathematical pick up lines that she slipped into my textbook and I turned her down.” You could feel your teeth grind against each other. Your tongue pressed against the roof of your mouth as you swallowed down the saliva that had pooled beneath it. Mark scooted forward a bit more, taking your other hand in his.

“Do you know why I turned her down?” A simple smile painted across his lips, his fingers curling around your palms. You shook your head, too afraid to speak; too afraid to let your stupidity form any more sentences than it already had.

“Because she isn’t you.” A breath caught in your throat. Then swiftly gulped down with the lump that had clung to your tonsils.

“Wh-what?” Mark sighed through his nostrils, a sweet tender exhale as his thumb drew circles into the back of your hand.

“Since we’re confessing, I’ll go next.” Mark straightened, lifting his chin as if to give his valedictorian speech. “I never told you I love you because I never thought I was right for you. That I wasn’t the guy to make you happy.”

Your chin dropped into your chest, eyes folding in amusement; your shoulders bouncing as you chuckled.

“Now why would you think that?” Speaking into your stomach before looking up at him with a tilted head and an angled grin. Mark released his hold on one of your hands to hold his nape instead, fingers rubbing into the skin; a flush of embarrassment evident in the pink smoothing over his cheeks.

“I don’t know.. I just thought that you’d prefer someone who could keep up with you. I can barely do a push up..” Timid and a little hushed; Mark darted his eyes around the room before slowly meeting your gaze. Like him, you straightened, shifted forward in your seat and retrieved his hand from his neck to lace your fingers between his.

“Then I guess we’re both stupid.” Mark’s confused puppy expression returned to his face, and you suppressed a giggle to answer the question his eyes silently asked you.

“I never told you I love you because I didn’t think I was smart enough for you. That sooner rather than later, you’d get bored of me..” The flush of pink that had filled his cheeks crept over yours; you bit down on your top lip. Mark stared at how your bottom lip plumped into a pout and felt his heart stutter at the sight.

“We’ve known each other our whole lives, you think I would’ve gotten bored of you by now.”

“Hey!” Ducking but failing to dodge the sharp whack that your hand delivered on his arm, Mark grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards him. Lifting his other hand, Mark hesitated for a second before reaching forward, gently cupping your cheek. You swore he could feel how hot you were, your cheeks burning so fiercely you were afraid his fingers would singe. But he didn’t pull away. He kept his hand tenderly pressed against your cheek and you began to drown in the smile he gave you. Another one of his perfect smiles.

“Let’s not be stupid anymore, yeh?” Blinking softly, his bottom lip folded between his teeth as he awaited your answer. Leaning forward, closing the space between your faces, you took a moment to catch the glimmer in his eyes. Whether it was the light catching in his lenses or the spark they naturally held; you wanted to get lost in the magic of them. But he was waiting, and Mark always got the right answer.

“Okay.”

His kiss was as tender as you imagined it to be. His lips were as soft as you had dreamt them to be and you could feel him smiling against yours. Breaking the kiss, Mark pulled back to rest his forehead against yours as he drew in a breath. You weren’t sure if you were breathing, but you could see his glasses begin to fog so you knew you must have been.

Both sitting back, you stared at each other silently; your hands fitting perfectly in each other’s. Yet the gaze was fleeting, both you and Mark breaking into laughter; possibly from the haphazard confessions or your shared stupidity. Either way, the air was clear and the problem of your irrational hearts solved. Mark would have enjoyed that the most; solving a seemingly unquantifiable problem and the thought made you feel warm.

“Now I’m even more screwed.” Mark hummed quizzically in response, reaching under his chair to pull it closer to yours; letting his thigh press against yours as he removed the space separating you.

“Now I really won’t be able to focus on Maths...” Mark laughed with his entire chest, head tipping back to let laughter tumblr out of his mouth, yet his hand never let go of yours. Finally regaining composure, Mark angled his body to face you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his chest. Reactively, and almost naturally, your arms weaved around his neck. A single giggle fluttered through his lips before he spoke.

“I guess I’m just going to have to tutor you every day until the numbers make sense.”

Trying not to let any laughter flicker out, despite your heart racing in your chest; you thought that you could be a little bold. “Do I get a kiss for every answer I get right?”

Mark edged forward, touching the tip of his nose against yours.

“Of course.” Mark briskly pressed his lips against yours as a full stop to his statement. Giggling as he pulled away, his arms slid off your waist to turn you back towards your notes.

“Come on, you have three more equations to solve then we’re done, and we still have to eat. I’m starving!” Flailing in your chair in protest, Mark silenced your whining with another kiss planted onto your cheek.

“I’m not going to go any easier on you cause we’re dating now.” You couldn’t help but feel your heart swell. Picking up your pen, you slid over your notebook that was still in front of Mark. Turning back to the page you were on, you gave Mark one last narrow-eyed look.

“A kiss for every correct answer, remember.” You nodded in agreement. He was a brilliant tutor after all. And a cute one at that. Because he was Mark Tuan, the adorable nerd. Mark Tuan, your adorable nerd.

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thebutterflyranger · 4 years

Note

We all know this but I want to give you a reason to talk about Will: your favourite fictional character and why you love them

*Breathes in* Apologies, but this is gonna be a very long post.

John Flanagan has done a lot wrong - so many things that I will never forgive him for. But one thing he did so right, is my man Will Treaty from book 1-11. I know he seems like an average main character, but to me, he is way more than that. He is the embodiment of an imperfectly perfect person. I could talk about him in-depth, including all the headcanons and analysis, but to make it simple, I’ll just focus on the canon.

Why Will Treaty is the fictional love of my life:

1. He is incredibly strong not just physically which he really is idk why people sleep on that but the mental perseverance that is shown throughout the entire series. From the first book to the end. His life is so tough, more than we can really fathom, and yet he pushes through it all.

2. His curiosity is very cute to me. Like the fact that he wants to know everything, but not in an annoying way...his mind is just trying to absorb everything at all times.

3. His ability to catch things on really fast. Like, not much gets past him at all. And once he got something,,,he got it. Halt said it, and so did Berrigan. Whether its picking up songs, or that little coin trick, or a bird whistle. He is quick.

4. His respect for his elders. Whether its Halt or Crowley or Arald or anyone. He is the classic good-boi who just wants the adults to be proud of him. All jokes aside, he is probably the last person to do anything that would remotely make Halt upset. He makes jokes and is light, but never crosses the unspoken line.

5. His sense of humor. Lmfao because he is funny as shit and witty as fuck. That joke about a good knight’s sleep? A riot. Lmfao at I love that he just wants people around him to laugh, and he knows what to say to lighten up the mood.

6. The fact that he always seems to know the time and place for things. He knows when to get serious and when to crack a joke. He very rarely says things out of turn, and when he does he backtracks instantly. You won’t catch Will saying something insensitive or rash. It's shown several times that he makes people around him comfortable by just being around them.

7. THE WAY HE TREATS THE WOMEN IN HIS LIFE. All of the women he has interacted with….ooofh he exudes big feminist energy. From his respect and love for Pauline; calling her “Lady” until she tells him not to, making promises to her that he remembers throughout his mission. The modesty and respect he had for Edwina - and the fact that she took an instant liking to him. His interactions with Jenny - the way he compliments her and makes her feel better about herself, the way he is a literal brother to her. Even Cassandra; the way he took care of her and gave her comfort when she needed it, and afterward how he always had respect for her. Ceilma!!! Delia!!! He is Good to all of them. And then there is Alyss.

8. There are several things about his relationship with Alyss, besides the fact that he would legit commit treason for her, that GET ME IN THE SOUL:

a. The fact that he would go miles out of his way to make her feel loved and not alone. He signaled to her for DAYS in Macindaw, with no reply back from her and no guarantee that she would reach out. But he made sure he would be there if and when she did.

b. The fact that she knows he would wait for her patiently. Like No rush. Take your time baby.

c. The fact that he is a strong enough man to marry an intelligent and highly capable and strong woman like her

d. The fact that he is protective of her, but has no doubt in her ability. The only reason he is reluctant when she goes on missions...is because he loves her and doesn’t want anything to happen to her.

e. He is super affectionate. Holding hands, kissing, hugging. Ahem, I love that for him.

9. His readiness for death. It gets me every time, how he is in the heat of battle and fighting for his life, but the moment he realizes there is no way he can get out of the situation alive...he relaxes. He closes his eyes and waits calmly, seemingly at peace. It is eerily beautiful to me.

10. His selflessness. Putting his life on the line for others - over and over again. He did it for Halt, he did it for Horace, he did it for Alyss.

11. He is perfect Husband Material (see 12-17)

12. He can cook. Very well. As Alyss said: Get you a mans that can cook

13. And he can clean, AND he is organized? O h?

14. He can sing too??

15. Oh btw he can also play an instrument.

16. I forgot to mention that he is very good with young kids.

17. He is loyal as fuck. Won’r cheat, the thought won’t even cross his mind.

18. He is smart as hell. The decision making, the planning, the ambition of his ideas. His innovation. description of his quick mind is just ahskajkh. The fact that Halt would choose him over Gilan and Crowley because of how quick he is (and because that’s his literal son) just gets me. His vocabulary is out of this world - which has convinced me that he is an avid reader. His ability to put two-and-two together almost immediately

19. He has a temper, but when it’s valid and necessary. You hurt the people he loves? He will murder you. You cause harm to innocent people? He will reign justice on you. You annoy the fuck out of him? Best believe he will whOOP YOUR ASS. He is no innocent timid pushover. Things will bother him, and he will lash out. He is human. It’s normal. It’s hot.

20. His love for animals. The way he is with Tug is so heartwarmingly endearing. He genuinely loves him and considers him his friend. The conversations they have together. And his care for his dogs is so adorable I can’t. The way he trained Shadow and Ebony to do those cute things...you know he would be a great father.

21. The energy he gives off to other people. Throughout the series you have people who have only interacted with him briefly, thinking about the pleasantness of him. He is just a good guy and people seem to be comfortable around him. He makes them smile, his face puts them at ease, he speaks softly. Whether it’s the boat keeper at Seacliffe, Umar and Ceilma at Arrida, or Malcolm, or the multiple farmer families he interacts with - they always mention how respectful and lovely he is.

22. His care and love for Horace. Their banter and ease with each other. The fact that he would kill and die for him. The fact that Will wishes Horace could live next to him. Its that classic cute “I-want-to-hang-out-with-my-best-friend-all-the-time-cuz-he-make-me-happy.

23. His relationship with Halt. I need a whole separate post for this.

24. His humility. From his aversion to attention to his inability to take a compliment, to him being watchful of sounding boastful or arrogant. And the fact that he doesn’t even realize how his name and image has impacted thousands of people. He is a whole legend...and he don’t even know.

25. The fact that he is the most capable and skilled Ranger there is. Periodt. I don’t want no one to @ me. You know I’m right. At his peak, he was the best in the history of the Corps.

26. Will is adorkable. The corny jokes he makes, the fact that he talks to his horses, the fact that he doesn’t realize that he is a pull god. Cutie. 10/10 would die for the dude.

27. The fact that he is clumsy when it comes to food. That is me. If food is in my hands, 9 times out of 10 it gets in somewhere on my clothes.

28. His coffee addiction. It geeks me so hard how he literally can’t help himself. He want. He is tired and he just want the coffee. Give it to him

29. His hatred of goodbyes. Idk i just think it’s heartbreaking but also very touching how he doesn’t look back when riding away from someone.

30. The fact that he isn’t afraid to show emotions. I don’t see very much, if any, toxic masculinity in Will. He is manly in his physique and power, but also in that he is comfortable in showing his emotions. He is a strong enough man that he married a strong woman. He doesn’t shy away from saying he is scared, or worried, or anxious. He tells Halt or Alyss all his feelings, without worrying about sounding weak. He openly cries many times throughout the books.

Ummm these are all that I can think off the top of my head.

#rangers apprentice #ra #will treaty #this is my love letter to the boi #im not even ashamed #ranger's apprentice #will treaty the dark sexy god

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inlovendwar · 4 years

Text

feels like a lifetime — drabble

The fire crackled in the fireplace, the orange flames, which were the only light in the living room, casting a soft glow over the furniture.

It was quite hot in Rome this time of year, but they’d still made the choice to ignite a fire inside. One of the reasons for it was that neither Lou nor himself liked feeling cold. It was constant warmth in their life together, tight embraces, heated kisses, lying together next to lit fireplaces. Always warmth and never distance unless it couldn’t be prevented.

Their force was far too magnetic to ever stay apart for too long. They’d tried and luckily failed. Their entire lifes would be miserably different if they hadn’t realized the truth. They would’ve never gone to Rome for the first time and found out about Pax, they would’ve never gotten married, had two beautiful twin girls, the house would’ve never been purchased, and they wouldn’t have had the joy of adopting Milo and building the tree house in the back yard. Xenophilius would’ve died at age thirty one from a curse that caused his lungs to collapse if he didn’t have Eloise to safe his life. He would’ve never held Ximena after waking up and felt overwhelming gratefulness to be alive. Three more boys and a little kitten would’ve never found a home with them and Perseus would’ve never joined the family as the last baby boy. Xeno wouldn’t trade the past century for anything in the world. The laughing, the kisses, the crying of an abundance of children, the arguments, the getting up at two in the morning to sit the bed of a weeping child frightened of the shadows in the corners of the room, the pain of worrying and the bliss of relief. For every hard moment there were countless other unforgettably perfect ones to make up for it.

And Xenophilius knew he was the luckiest man in the world to have lead a life like this, at the side of the love of his life. Something like this was rare and at times it still felt unreal. He thought back to the fateful day at the pond in Eloise’s hometown, to his own disbelief that it was actually happening. That he was lucky enough to get everything he’d ever wanted. To love and be loved. By her.

That’d been a whole one hundred and eleven years ago and his feelings for his wife and family had only gotten stronger over the decades. It was what kept his head over water most of the time.

But while his feelings had been strengthened, he himself had gotten weaker. It was a slow progression at first, something that could be chalked up to getting older, but the past week he’d felt it more than usual. A strange fatigue that kept his energy at a low level at all times despite getting enough sleep, troubles in spell casting, a heavy head, and gradual trouble breathing. The latter worried him most. It brought back terrifying memories that Xeno would much rather forget than have to deal with ever again. The curse had been broken, but the feeling of choking on naught but air remained with him, making it hard to let go of the past, making him paranoid.

Eloise and Xeno were lying on the sofa right in front of the fireplace, wrapped up in each other’s and the fire’s warmth. She’d fallen asleep while reading, the book now lose in her grasp and resting on his chest. Their day had been spent inside, instead of at the café Lou’d been wanting to show him for ages now, under the false pretence that all of their days had been busy enough and that they should’ve have at least one day of only lying around and enjoying each other’s presence. In truth, Xeno hadn’t trusted himself to go out that day without worrying her senseless. That day had been the worst so far. But he’d made the promise to let her show him the café the next day, a promise Lou had been heartwarmingly excited about. And he was excited to see it himself. After all, it’d been a long time coming.

Xeno’s knuckles brushed gently over her hair, the skin of her neck, her shoulders, wandered back up to her checks while his eyes glanced down to see strands of her hair fluttering up rhythmically due to the puffs of her breath. His heart constricted purely out of love. Overwhelming love that he most of the time had no idea where to put except to lay it at her feet together with the world.

The springs of the sofa were starting to dig into his back and a yawn was building at the back of his throat. Right after, a soft sigh left his mouth. Tomorrow would be a different day, a better day. He’d feel better and banish those gnawing worries to the back of his mind. But for now, sleep was the best plan.

Careful not to wake her, Xenophilius took the book out of her grasp and placed it on the little table next to the sofa, moved away under Eloise and gently picked her up in his arms, one under the backs of her knees and the other cradling her back. He forcefully pushed the realisation, that picking her up wasn’t as easy for him as it used to be anymore, to the back of his mind. Just one more proof of his weakening condition.

He carried her to the bedroom, carefully maneuvering them through the hallways and rooms before finally setting her down on the bed and lying back down next to her. He rested on his back when Eloise curled up to him in her sleep, a wonderful little gesture that had developed over an eternity of sleeping next to one another. He somehow managed to pull the blanket over the both of them while his other arm snaked around her to pull her even closer.

An involuntary breath of relief escaped him at the sudden feeling of peace, eyes slipping shut. It was a constant with her. This here, falling asleep next to Lou, was one of his favorite things. If this was the last thing he’d experience on this earth, he was in paradise already. Giving into the exhaustion and slipping away into a deep sleep was the easiest thing in the world now.

Paradise was close enough to touch.

#xenoise — i was made for loving you #drabble #it'll come as no surprise to you that i was listening to july the whole time #for a more immersive experience i'd recommend listening to the song #while reading #and i hope this doesn't suck

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