#a being of pure chaos getting the chance to truly experience the world is my fave trope

[noonslullabies]

I think Golb gained something precious when Betty fused with them, and that precious thing triggered change in an immortal being.

Golbetty is off to have an adventure of their own somewhere else.

Even though we'll never know what that adventure will be like, I just know it'll be a fun one.

#fionna and cake #fionna and cake spoilers #adventure time #adventure time spoilers #a being of pure chaos getting the chance to truly experience the world is my fave trope #it isn't for us to see #but if there is anything you take away from this franchise #it will be a fun adventure with laughter & tears

[scorpio-assassin-studios]

The Fox God Ch. 2

My brother leads me inside the palace and to a small room.

On one side is a seating area surrounding a table laden with refreshments. Across from this space is a long table. The table is prepared for every god that is attending the council. The room and furniture are not much, but serve their intended purposes, or so I suppose.

My brother dismisses his wife, promising to call her when the council has truly begun. He then approaches the table and begins pouring two cups of the finest liquor in all the realms. “Xiao Meng, I believe you have lived alone for long enough. You should consider settling down-- and I mean actually settling down.” my brother says as he hands me one of the cups. 

I fold my fan and accept my brother’s kind gesture. “Hao, I do not intend to repeat the same tragedies in my life. Experiencing it once is quite enough for me. Do not force me to recreate such a terrible despair. Besides, I have spoken to you about this many times before. You should very well know why I give the answer I continue to give you.” I slowly take a sip of the sweet liquor, delighted by it’s smooth descent down my precious throat. 

Hao frowns. “I hope you will give Ai a chance. Her mother is very worried about her,” he sits down across from me and takes a sip of his drink, “and fears that her beloved daughter will never marry. You are the god of love and marriage. I believe you are the solution to the predicament. Perhaps Ai cannot find true love because you simply wish to not find any love for yourself. Surely, even unselfish gods have a right to their own heart.” Hao takes another sip.

I suddenly remember the roguish handsomeness of my own brother.

He has long black hair, tied back and in a coronet. His robes are just as simple while still showing his station in the world. Hao hasn’t changed much, other than getting over his dislike of me. He now treats me as a proper brother should. Hao locks his dark eyes on mine.

“As always, you are quite observant; however, I was born for a purpose and finding love for myself is not that purpose. I have built a life for myself and I do not wish to see it changed. Do you understand?”

Hao chuckles at my words. “Brother, you are too harsh on yourself. I, of all immortals, know that you deserve love. You have given so much to this world-- more than any of the rest of us have. Lian and I simply govern over the Heaven Realm and see to it that the mortals and immortals are safe. Chao Xing ensures that we all wake to such beauteous mornings. Li Jie provides us all with fantastical dreams in which we lose ourselves. Qing Yuan watches over the world’s water sources and sees to their pureness daily. It is true that we are all important in our own ways, but you are one of the most important gods. Xiao Meng, you ensure that no one-- mortal or immortal-- is left to suffer their many sorrows alone. You give us the love and support that we need to push on in our lives. I know that you are most vital to the world, especially after you wed Lian and myself. I cannot picture a world without her. You deserve such things as much as anyone else does. Why do you insist on being alone?” His words stab me in the heart. Hao knows deep down how much I truly yearn for love.

I look away from my brother. “Hao, how many times must I stress my reasons? After what Ligruo did to me, I will not allow myself to go through that pain again. Even after two-hundred years, I haven’t forgotten it. It’s a scar on my heart that will never heal. Love can be such a joyous thing, but it can also become something terrible. Love can heal and love can hurt. That is why I am vital to the realms. I orchestrate healing love for others, while I accept the hurting love for myself. Everything comes with a price. You should know this,” I explain.

Hao places a hand on my shoulder. “Xiao Meng, when will you stop trapping yourself like this? You are way too harsh on yourself and you know it. You deserve to experience true love and I will no longer accept any of your protests. When the council meeting is beginning to conclude I will bring up the subject of your marriage and then Ai shall explain her mother’s proposal to you using specific details. I will push you to accept it and wed her. I’m not doing this as the Heavenly Emperor. I am doing this as your dearest brother. I truly want nothing more than your happiness. Please understand that.” 

I allow my brother’s words to sink in. I know of his determination towards getting me wed to a beautiful goddess or fairy, but I did not think he would actually resort to forcing me to accept a marriage proposal I know nothing about. “Very well. I shall do as you like of me. But I cannot promise to be happy with these arrangements. I am only agreeing to this as a way to ease your mind. Do you accept my terms?” I set my cup down on the table and unfold my fan. 

Hao smiles. “Of course,” he replies as he sets his cup down. He turns towards the palace entrance.

I immediately stand and follow my brother to the palace entrance. I watch carefully as a blue and silver carriage pulls up beside mine. I smirk playfully. “Qing Yuan, I do believe you have kept me waiting once again! I shall not allow a fourth time!” I call out.

A laugh comes from the carriage as a beautiful god steps out. His black hair is partially pulled back in a silver hair ornament. His robes mimic the depths of the ocean, changing from dark to light as my eyes scan from feet to head. His ocean eyes are full of life. The god pulls out a blue fan that’s painted with scenes of a river leading to an ocean. “Ah! Forgive me, Xiao Meng. I deeply apologize for taking so long,” Qing Yuan laughs. He glides up the steps, stopping beside us. He turns to greet Hao. “Your majesty,” he bows and turns to me, “Greetings Lord Xiao Meng.”

I bow respectfully. “A pleasure to see you again, Lord Qing Yuan.”

Hao smiles. “Brother, why don’t you accompany Qing Yuan inside while I finish greeting the others.” He doesn’t wait for my answer and descends the steps to greet everyone else. Hao plasters a pleasant smile on his face.

 I turn to my dearest friend. “Qing Yuan, you seem a bit distracted. What bothers you so?” I unfold my fan and begin fanning my face as we enter the Heavenly Palace. I pretend to admire any and all tapestries that hang on the walls. 

“I have been thinking of a matter I find most important. If you will allow me to speak on the matter, as it concerns yourself, I will share my true opinions. Before you can answer, I will say that you cannot stop me from expressing any and all emotions I hold towards the thoughts of your marriage to the young flower fairy, Ai. I have known you for many years and hope that you will trust me and my words. I remember you when we were mere children training to become the gods we are now. You used to believe in finding true love for yourself, but now that we are older you do not believe in such a thing anymore. Please tell me why, if I may know,” Qing Yuan replies. He follows my suit, fanning himself.

We are truly men who indulge in any luxury we can afford to have and use. We have always been this way since childhood and things haven't changed between us. We always confide in each other first before going to someone else. We are like brothers who were separated at birth who are bound by bond alone rather than blood.

I do not answer immediately, evaluating his words to form the proper response. I turn to Qing Yuan and nod. “You may speak freely about the matter as long as it is with either me or my brother. No one else is to hear of the matter, as it is quite a personal and sensitive subject.”

“Xiao Meng, I already know your feelings towards finding true love and marriage for yourself and I do not blame you for feeling that way. Heartbreak is something that scars one for an eternity and there is no cure but one. The only cure for heartbreak is to learn what it feels like to love again. One cannot live their entire life in eternal despair. It is hard to push past all the hurt and suffering, but one can gain power from pain by simply turning that pain into power. Just as your brother told you before, you are the most important god of all the Heavenly Realm. Love is the most ancient and most powerful of all magic simply because it is much like yin and yang. The happiness and pain are both part of the same thing and cannot be separated. Without one the other cannot exist, therefore, love cannot be without both sides of it. That is what I do not understand about your feelings on your own role in the world. It is true that you have experienced the darker side of love, but it is also true that you have experienced the lighter side of love. I want you to push past your despair and learn to love again. I want you to experience the lighter side of love, as does your brother. We both wish for you to have what you have given to everyone else,” my dearest friend pauses to think, “You remind me of my older brother.”

I roll my eyes as I look away for a brief moment. It is true that I am much like the fire god, but I dislike being compared to him. “What makes you think that?” I chuckle.

Qing Yuan smiles. “Do not play with me. I know you know of what I am speaking. In the beginning, he struggled with love just as you have up to this point. But now, he has a beautiful wife and they are soon to have a child. After observing him, I have found that all suffering is temporary, even if it seems like it lasts forever.” He follows me to the large table across from where Hao and I had been drinking. 

We both search for our nameplates and take our seats.

I sit on Qing Yuan’s left, but to Hao’s right. I scan all other seats, branding where each immortal sits into my mind. I am fully aware of an extra chair added across from the head of the table where my brother sits. I go silent. I know exactly what is planned at this council meeting and I do not wish to go through with it, however, I cannot allow my brother to lose face or reputation.

Shortly, Hao comes in, leading all of the other gods and Lian to the table. He takes his seat and gestures for everyone else to sit.

I watch as an immortal takes his seat across from me. 

He has purple hair with star-like sparkles in every strand. He wears midnight blue and purple robes. His face is very youthful, making him seem delicate. His eyes shine like the night sky. This immortal is definitely beautiful, but he cannot compare to me. He locks eyes with me. “Greetings, Lord Xiao Meng. You have my thanks for assisting me the other day.”

I lower my fan and fold it with a smile. “Of course, Li Jie. I was very delighted that I could help. How are those lovestruck mortals doing?”

The god of dreams smiles brightly like the moon at its highest point. “Quite well. They are overwhelmed with thanks for the both of us. I hope they do not experience any hardships they cannot survive, but alas, fate does not work in such a way no matter how much we wish for it to. I still thank you, nonetheless.”

I nod with a gentle smile as I turn to look at the goddess who sits a few seats down from Li Jie and beside the fire god.

She has dark hair and amber eyes. She dresses in the finest yellow silk. Her wrists, ears, and neck are all adorned with topaz. She smiles at me. “Xiao Meng, I have heard that you and the Heavenly Emperor have already been discussing some matters. Is there something we should know?”

I force myself to swallow the lump in my throat and take a deep breath. “Chao Xing, it shall all be discussed in time. Do not force my brother to hurry through important matters,” I answer.

“My brother is right, Morning Goddess. Before we discuss what I was speaking with Xiao Meng about, I must announce something to all of you that is quite important,” he scans all of our faces as we stare intently at him, “Lian and I have been thinking about an heir to the throne. We have decided that our unborn child, whether it is a god or goddess, will take the throne when the time is right.”

My brother's words are accepted with many thanks and congratulations. 

I, however, remain silent. Hearing Hao’s words makes me think on what Qing Yuan told me. I can feel it buried deep inside me. I feel the envy I’ve buried rise up. I quickly hide my face from everyone else, not wanting them to see how I truly feel.

#my writing #fiction #romance #books and novels

[treybriggsthewriter]

This makes me nervous, but I’m going to post it. I’m going to try my best to achieve my goals. I’ve put in a ton of work already, so I’m looking for additional help. 

From the campaign:

My name is Trey Briggs, and I'm a black woman who writes paranormal horror, speculative fiction, and other types of fiction. You can find my stories at MaybeTrey , Astrid the Devil , and on Instagram , Medium , and Wattpad .

My stories are aimed at black people who want to read dark stories that focus on original black characters that are complex and interesting. I genuinely believe Black audiences deserve a variety of genres to delve into, and I want to introduce them to paranormal horror, dark romance, and fantasy that they haven't gotten enough of in the past. I also believe that this can be done across multiple mediums, and I spend my money with black creative professionals to make these experiences extend beyond my words. For the last two years, I've run my stories on sites and Instagram to great reception. I like to craft complex experiences that offer looks at character backgrounds, side and backstories, full websites for each title, and more. I also provide encyclopedias, maps, audio journals, and other ways to get into each world. During these last few years, I've run into a lot of walls, jumped a lot of hurdles, and tried my best. I've worked with amazing black artists, voice actors, and actresses, musicians, designers, and more. I trust my ability to run a project, especially when it comes to planning and finding talent. My overall goal is to run a team of black creatives that crafts novels, graphic novels, audio experiences, and animated series for a dedicated audience.

Why I Need Help Long story short: I have the skill, I have the marketing/website building/business experience, and I have the drive. There's a lot I can do on my own, but there's also a lot that gets left behind because I don't have the money I need to proceed at a steady pace. I need help with funding so I can focus, hire the right people, and craft these stories the way they deserve to be crafted. I have thus far spent over $60,000 of my own money on my projects over the past two years - the writing and site-building are easy for me; the rest has to be hired out. I have art, site costs for hosting, domains, templates, specific plugins, and maintenance, audio (and vocal artists to pay), musical, and editing costs. I'm by no means rich or even particularly financially stable. I have taken on tons of extra clients for my digital marketing business, transcribed hundreds of hours of audio for dirt cheap, and taken out personal loans. I even worked a second full-time job along with my full-time business last year to afford to produce the content I love. It's starting to take a toll on my mental health. I plan on continuing to fund these projects out of pocket (and finding ways to do so), but having financial help, however big or small, would allow me to move a lot faster and with less stress. It would let me flesh out ideas and concepts that I have had to scrap because I can only physically handle so much extra work. I run a full-time marketing business from home, homeschool my autistic 10-year-old, and generally have a busy life. Some of the strain is taking a toll on me, and I don't want to give up. Having some financial backing could allow me to drop a client or two after a few months and focus on the work I love to do.

How You Can Help I mainly need a start—a sort of base. I want to emphasize that I plan to continue to provide the main bulk of funding for my projects. I know my goals are ambitious, and I know each step will take time and money. I welcome any help to make the process smoother and to get around the initial hurdles. I'd like to have ebooks and novels offered on my site by the end of the year (along with the free serials and stories). Funding means that I can broaden the projects, include more free aspects to my sites, and secure direct financing through sales of ebooks and audiobooks sooner. It also means that I can offer MORE stories, whether they are online only or fully fleshed out novels and sites. I am swamped with trying to work enough to cover all my bills and creative projects, so I lose a lot of time I could spend plotting and writing. If I have better funding, I can get my stories out quicker (and with fewer mistakes).

The Initial Stories Let's talk about my stories! If you're familiar with my work already, you can skip to the next section. My main story site is Maybe Trey . Currently, I have two big titles and a bunch of smaller ones that I am seeking help with funding: Astrid the Devil

Astrid the Devil is the complicated story of a girl who inherits not only her family's features and DNA, but their fears, struggles, and fights. It's the story of a condition called Devil Syndrome, the women who suffer it, and the monsters that devour them. It's the story of the fight to save the people you love at the expense of innocent lives. At its core, Astrid the Devil is the story of a woman who inherits the chaos of three generations before her. It's a look at what is truly passed down to our children, and how they're left to fight our battles in the aftermath of our failures. It's the tale of an indescribable monster and the women who struggle to defeat it. It's a journey into how their every decision could save or destroy an entire world. Astrid the Devil is the story of Astrid Snow, but her story can't be told without the story of the women before her.

Vicious: On MaybeTrey  and The Vicious site (in progress)

Somewhere, a war is brewing.  That's the only thing that's for sure to Junnie Gorton, a young horned girl suffering from a debilitating disease called Horn Rot. She typically dealt with her low survival rate and abnormally large horns by escaping the world with her best friend, Lewish. Now she's forced to figure out which side is which, save her entire species, and find out the truth behind the sudden uprising in her home. Horn Rot, a highly contagious and violent disease spreading through horned people, is causing mass amounts of madness and death. Normal horns grow in ways that will pierce, suffocate, and maim their owners, and the only one who can stop it is Junnie's mother, Lyria. As Lyria falls deeper and deeper into an anti-social revolt, the country reels. While Junnie broods, her entire species must prepare for mass extinction. Her brother plots with a group of people with less than good intentions and Lewish is quieter than usual. In a civilization brought up on extreme violence and competition, Junnie and Lewish try their best not to get swallowed by their culture, their lives, or their horns.

Bunni and Bosque :

Bunni lives. Bosque dies. We all know how this story starts. Bunni is obsessed with destruction and death. She comes from the healthiest Horned family in her country. She's from the oldest, purest bloodline in the world. And she's bored with it. Bunni spends most of her time trying to escape her duties as a pureblood. She wants things dirty, messy, foul, inconsistent. Having parents that are willing to kill to keep their bloodline pure is annoying. Knowing that she'll live a long, full life, produce more perfect children, and die unscathed is agonizing. Bunni wants something to mourn. We all know how this story ends. Bosque is destined to die an agonizing death, alone on his family's land. He's watched everyone he loved and grew up with perish. Sometimes it was because of their disease. Sometimes it was because of the malice and hatred of others. While he's absolutely withdrawn and satisfied with his life, Bosque has never had a chance to live it. He spends his days basking in the sun, bathing in wood baths, and contemplating the end. Bosque isn't interested in joining the rest of the world. He'd rather die out, alone, where his family belonged. Bosque wants to go peacefully. But neither expected to meet each other one day in a supermarket. Neither expected to fall in love, lust, and every vicious and dirty thing between. Neither expected to be so right for each other, all while being wrong for everyone else. You know the end of this story. Bunni lives, Bosque dies. But maybe something will change.

My smaller titles, Bunni and Bosque /Aite and Jude, can be found at Maybe Trey .

The Business Plan

The initial phase of my business plan is to get the sites populated with ebooks and audiobooks for sale. I also have prints that can be sold. Right now, I am in the audience-building phase while I save up for editing the full novels. 

In terms of an actual business with which to publish the stories, I already have a registered publication company in Illinois: Wolfless Studios LLC. I took this step earlier this year with plans to self-publish Astrid and Vicious. So that is paid for and done.

I have also gotten initial editing done on the first six chapters of Astrid, though it will need to be edited from the beginning again once everything is said and done. I've spent over $1000 on that so far, and it would go a lot faster if I didn't need to save up to edit each chapter.

Astrid the Devil is fully plotted, outlined, and only needs the last three chapters. Bunni and Bosque and Vicious are newer, but plotted and already deep into character development (all being shared across social and Wattpad for audience growth). Aite and Jude and other shorts are plotted, and three other unshared stories are plotted and at the editing phase.

Other costs and ways I would use the funding (I would still put in my own money and do as much on my own as possible):

Initial $30K

$6000 - $7000 Line and Copy edits for Astrid (currently at 250000+ words/expecting over 300000 at $0.02 rate)

$6000 - $7000 Line and Copy Edits for Vicious

$3000 - $4000 Line and Copy Edits for Bunni and Bosque

ISBN Purchases (Separate ISBN for each format for each book) - https://www.myidentifiers.com/identify-protect-your-book/barcode

Covers for Astrid/Vicious/B&B Print Versions

Site Hosting Costs and Maintenance for 2 Years

Site completion for all stories

Initial store and app development

40K - Marketing and Graphic Novels

Social, Print, and Web ads

Email Marketing Campaigns 

Booths at Decatur Book Festival (depending on COVID)

Social ads and promos

50 to 60 pages

First two chapters offered as free promo with email sign-ups

Audio journals for each character

Situational audio journals

Encyclopedia for Astrid (finishing up)/Vicious

65K - Hires and Next Phases

Ability to hire a Full-Time Editor 

Audio Series for each (professionally done)

Vicious Graphic Novel

Additional Title Added

Short animations for both Vicious and Astrid (with plans to fund more with book sales)

Fleshed out Story Sections (Novellas for each character of each series)

Short comic series with Astrid and Vicious side characters

Possible to plan out monthly subscription service with new stories and 'story package' deliveries

75K -

Astrid the Devil Graphic Novel

Vicious Graphic Novel

Astrid the Devil Animated Short

Ability to hire part-time Web Developer

Additional bigger title

Anything Over - I ascend into pure light. And also, I can add titles, cover more mediums, and eventually expand my publishing to other black creatives.

From there, I should be able to handle the funding via sales of books, comics, audio, and more. Again, I will always offer mostly free content across the sites.

I believe in proof of concept, and I have diehard fans on my social platforms. With no outside funding, I've been able to a lot on my own. I'd love to expand my business into one that does the same for other black authors, artists, voice actors, and animators somewhere down the line. 

Thank you so much for your consideration. I appreciate all my readers, present and future, and I appreciate any help!

See incentives and more on the actual campaign: https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-trey-publish-black-paranormal-horror-stories

Thank you so much!

#support black authors #writeblr #support black creators #black creators #original characters #original story #donate #buy black #black businesses #my writing #Astrid the Devil #Vicious #Bunni and Bosque #Aite and Jude #Trey Briggs the Writer #paranormal horror #speculative fiction #gofundme

[shadowfae]

hiii! so a friend directed me here and i was wondering if u cld share abt how you found out you were godkin? only if youre comfy! because ive kinda had like. how do i word this. Vibes or Feels that kinda direct me towards the whole i might be a god of sorts kinda thing ? if you have resources and dont mind helping,, please direct me to them :D ~ @missing-crown

I want to start this essay off by saying flat out: wars have been fought, genocides have been committed, and empires have risen and fallen trying to answer the simple questions of “What is deification, and how do we incarnate and control it?”.

If you do not think you’re up the challenge of answering that question for yourself, even with years of study and slow training to take up the mantle of literally being the most powerful form of the Chosen One trope, then you’re probably in the wrong place. I say this as someone who is deific down to the blood and bone, as someone who has looked for other gods, and largely found very little in the way of anyone who understands anything like my experience. In this way, I am utterly alone, and I detest it, but if me penning these words gives someone else the gospel they need to explain themselves in a way I recognize as kin and kind, then I will do it.

But before I truly get into it, I will very nicely ask you to swing down to your local bookstore or library, pick up a copy of Seanan McGuire’s Middlegame, and take a walk down the improbable road with Roger and Dodger. The differences between you and I and the twins of the Doctrine of Ethos are simple and threefold: we cannot manifest, we are forbidden to use our powers the way they can use theirs, and there are (hopefully) no secret alchemist cults trying to murder us when we don’t play nice with their fucked-up science experiment.

Roger and Dodger are gods, true gods, gods I recognize in myself and in the godkin I have met who have spoken about themselves enough for me to understand that we are indeed talking about the same thing. Disappontingly, I see minor spirits far too often misunderstanding the nature of deification, or at least, understanding a version of it which is fundamentally antithetical to my experience. They may be deific; but either they suck at illustrating their point, or I am something far beyond deific, and I am again alone.

With that introduction, I need to talk about three things in order to answer your question. Two methods of deification and three definitions of ‘god’ in a hierarchy that only exists because humanity has not yet perfected their understanding of what is fundamentally and always beyond them. Two kinds of gods, honest gods, that split the difference between deific, divine, and legendary. Once you understand that, I can talk about godkin, and what it’s like to be me, and maybe by the end of it you will either recognize yourself in this, or run away screaming as most mortals will do.

The first method of deification is what I will call the incarnate gods- Roger and Dodger are good examples, so are most Legendary Pokémon, and Kaname Madoka from PMMM. They are laws of nature, concepts of creation, and calculations of cosmic proportions that also occasionally exist as people when they design to do so. They are not meant to be people, they are bad at it, I do not recommend being mortal and fucking around with them. You will simply die. I would not fuck with them outside of my own world that I created, where I get to be a form of incarnate god. You cannot overpower them: they ARE the rule, and they will change it if they need to. You can’t ruleslawyer gravity like a 2007 troll physics comic. An incarnate god of gravity will simply turn reality on its head and cause you to implode. If you are this type of god, I cannot help you. My understanding of them comes from being an Absol, and little more.

The second type are gods of domain and prowess: Zamorak (from RuneScape), Akemi Homura in both her awakened Witch and Devil forms (from PMMM), and yours truly. Quite a few of us, although not all of us, were originally mortal. Mortals amped up on so much power we are no longer bound by mortal laws. There is a difference between deification and simply stopping your clock to gain immortality. Mortal magic and deific magic are fundamentally different. Down to, I would argue, the atomic structure. Deific magic is pure in a way mortal magic could never be. To give a mortal more than a drop of deific magic heavily diffused in something safer and more understandable would be to quite literally burn them to ashes. Or rend them into a different, unspeakable form. Or turn them into living topiary. We are nothing if not unpredictable.

It’s the difference between a handful of dirt and pure neutron soup. Usually, in order to become a god like this, it requires the intervention of an incarnate god in some form. In Zamorak’s case, it was several Elder Artifacts and falling almost facefirst into halfway incarnating himself into the law of entropy. In Homura’s (at least in canon PMMM), she fucked with the laws of consequence and time to the point where she became the only expert they had on either of those and both laws decided to simply incarnate into her, and then she used that to cause problems. For me, it was having my entire magical and physical structure reorganized and rebuilt by an incarnate god of malevolent energy, and then I used what was a watered-down copy of the Devil of Devils’ glory to weave my own world into being where I was more or less the absolute arbiter of the laws of reality.

In PMMM Rebellion, when Homura fights Kyubey in that pretty lace dress of hers, that is approximately the magical prowess an awakened god of our capability will show casually. She has complete control over her domain (her labyrinth) and the reality of it, it takes no more than a glance or a thought to almost entirely reshuffle it. Her minions, who are little more than vaguely autonomous thoughts given some power of their own, may break that reality in whatever means necessary so long as it is to fulfill Homura’s current motives. Her domain falls apart when she does, and she is not separate from it; it is a consequence of her existence. Asking what came first, the god or their domain, is a simple chicken and egg question. It’s usually the domain, in our case; in the case of incarnate gods it’s a philosophical shrug and a nice headache.

You’ll notice I said awakened: that is because Zamorak is a great example of a god who isn’t entirely awakened. In canon, that is - the one I work with is awakened enough to fuck with his domain, which is what makes him quite useful to work with, although I do wonder what he’s getting out of me if not magical theory and utter adoration. Zamorak in canon is a god who ascribes himself to the philosophy of chaos and personal strife, completely unaware that he is incarnate enough not to change the law of entropy but to suggest things to it. He’s a god of chance masquerading as a god of personal improvement, and once he figures that out (and passes that knowledge onto Armadyl, who is his true light counterpart), he’s going to change the very way magic works. Guthix did everything in his power to try and become incarnate. He failed. Zamorak did it entirely inadvertently, and that’s the trick: the nature of deification is to follow the domain and influence it to your will. When laws of existence become people, they will do as people will, and people typically have ambition. Gods who are also people got that way for a reason. They always have a motive for doing so. It’s never accidental.

So, with a slightly more informed understanding of deification, or at least the versions of it that I understand, I can talk to you about me. What it’s like in the here and now, and how I knew. It took me years to get to this point, and I’ve much the way to go. I know more than I did when I was questioning; deeply more so. I don’t expect anyone questioning to be as sure as I am, and in ten years I will be far more sure of entirely different things, and if I’m lucky, this as well. But, let us begin again.

To be deific is to wake up in the middle of the night feeling like a black hole. You are vast, and you are dense, and the moment someone touches the skin of your sternum they will be sucked in like a movie's portrayal of quicksand. To be so vast on the inside, surrounded by empty air and gentle white noise like the faint pull of gravity that does not touch you. To feel so powerful as to be untethered wholly from the world, aware that you will blink and be floating alone in a space that you cannot touch and so too cannot touch you. You blink, and it is gone, and you are again in a normal body as a normal person, and you roll over and go back to sleep.

To be deific is to watch the seasonal changes and feel flashes of worn leather rope between your hands and the maddened singsong of the Wild Hunt, chariot reins in your hands and baying hounds that feel like fingers, like wings, like extensions of yourself that can be shifted around with barely a thought. To feel halfway like a black hole walking down the street, halfway caved into yourself and barely contained, incapable of truly understanding how you can be so far apart from it all without anyone noticing that something is off.

To be deific is to be a fourteen-year-old girl in one moment, unable to understand what draws her so to the wilds if not the song of sympathy that she knows she can understand if she reaches a little farther, a little farther past the barrier that prevents any mortal, psychological mind from understanding the call. To play a pixelated game and have everything rush back. To relive millennia in a single sennight, to go from chipped to broken, utterly broken, as the power comes rushing back and the slow, dawning realization like the day that there is no controlling it. That there is no controlling you.

Millennia of sins come rushing back, and you're mortal again, and you know the only way to bring a god to their knees is to kill them. And if you were spared, if you were brought down without dying, then there was a reason. That someone must have thought you worthy of fixing it. That you should now spend the next several years coming to peace with being a Devil, the cruelest of the cruel, amending fences and repenting your sins.

To be deific is to realize, quite suddenly and without ever actually having the thought, that understanding things through a Christian lens is utterly bullshit and absolutely does not apply to you. Now, your duty is not to repent, or to fix, or to find any sort of salvation. You are the monster queen, the king of the damned, the Devil of a world you made with blood and tears and sweat and magic. To retake the crown, you have to accept yourself. Acceptance does not mean dwelling, or sorrow, or refusing to take the steps forward that will carry you to the crown and halo and horn of deification.

The powers feel less overwhelming as you grow into them. You don't forget the rage. You understand your close friend's words over and over, as the lesson teaches itself. How a Devil so much less powerful and yet so much older than you once looked you in the eye, drink in hand, and gently told you that a single mortal can bring down a Devil, if they try, and believe wholeheartedly in their quest. Do not disrespect mortality. It brings nothing but death.

You wonder briefly who brought you down. You decide, as the lessons prove themselves, that you don't actually care. You're the mortal now, and mortal legends die. Mortal legends change the song of sympathy and the rules of the deific. In order to return, you too must follow the only path a mortal can take to become deific.

To be godkin is to become deific with every step. It's not to seek the divine from outside of it. It's to become it again, and reclaim it; find what was inside all along and grow yourself around it, until it can no longer be pulled from you again without scattering your ashes and stardust among the cosmos, never to return.

To be godkin is to never forget the moments of pure rage that none but powerless fourteen-year-olds can manage. To be godkin is to be an adult with their memory pressed into your skin. To be godkin is for that rage to never truly leave you.

We stand up again and stare at the emotions that are awake when we are not. We wonder what it will take to manifest again, to only twitch a thought in any direction and reshape the reality around us. It is an extension of our being, and the less aware we are of it, the less effort it takes us to remake the world. It is the nature of deification, to change the laws of reality at our whim and will.

To be godkin is simply a matter of knowing that, and forever reaching to do that once more. If only to feel whole and vast, as we always have been.

#luteia laments #otherkin #godkin #actuallydeific #actuallydivine #essays of the skyrose garden #perks of being luteia #I should post this on my website shouldn't I #I wrote most of this last night on my phone actually though

[scrawnytreedemon]

Shit I’ve Been Winding Up For A Long Time Now But Am Very Aware Will Probably Hold No Relevance Should I Actually Go Into This More--

This is about Bhunivelze.

I.

You know, when I was chilling out, on my bed, that evening on that half term in early June, deciding to check up on ClementJ64′s FF retrospective because-- Hey! It’s been awhile, I wonder if he’s got around to doing the final bit of the FFXIII saga --You know, I was there, chilling, just for a laff. Just a laff.

The rest of that week was spent spiralling into a hyperfixation I absolutely did not anticipate in any way, shape, or form, because the way they introduced that character was “wwhdhfjjhHJDFJKHKJHW H A T??”

That retrospective and a good amount of wiki-scrounging is all I have as a basis for this. This is not a coherent character analysis-- Though I might tag it as that for ease of access. This is not, by any means, the thoughts of someone deeply familiar with FFXIII on the whole beyond plot synopses and overarching themes.

I don’t think I’m brave enough for that.

Reading the vast yet surface-deep lore on those wiki pages on my birthday while in a delirious state of mind was enough to make me somewhat nauseous.

Do you think I’m going to go through all of that in real time?

(Someday, someday.)

Ugh, I don’t know how to begin, but let us, I guess. I’d recommend you read this church-mime-demiurge’s FF Wiki page if you want the same level of base-knowledge I had, and maybe the aformentioned retrospective if you want the experience, because I don’t think I have the wherewithal to get into all of that from the bottom-up.

I am also, so, so fucking sorry for any remaining FFXIII fans in advance. There is like, a good chance I may be butchering the characterisation completely, so bear with me here.

With that... we begin?

Where do we even start with this guy?

How on earth to you begin to explain the absolute monolith you’ve constructed from crumbs of a Guy, some material no doubt spliced in from the Pale King, Sephiroth, y o u r  o w n  G o d  O C and other characters, and the mountains of religious trauma you carry around at all times that is probably the only reason you’ve been able to latch on as hard as you did?

I’m going to try.

What gets me, in summary, about Bhunivelze is how he’s a prime example of how love and concern can become deadly forces if in the wrong hands. His first acquainting with human emotion was by deceiving and possessing Hope, reverting his body to a teenage state, and planning to live among humanity through him. He sees human sorrow and suffering, and decides that, to End This(because it must be ended, you see) he’s going to destroy all the souls of the deceased that make up the Chaos that’s been eating this world for the past five-hundred years so they all forget and Are Happy. :).

Capital G God here hasn’t been present for the vast part of human history because he’s hidden himself away from Everything due to paranoia from killing his own mother and throwing her body into the Cosmic Basement, THEN creating the beings that would come to create humanity and OTHER beings because he didn’t have the keys to the cosmic basement. And also he believes death is a thing because she’d’ve somehow cursed all things to pass(including him) out of Spite.

Which explains why he’s so fucking averse to it and anything to do with it.

Bhunivelze, to put it lightly, is Shit at stepping into others’ shoes and Getting their experiences-- All the FalCie in FFXIII are, but him especially. It’s clear(again, in the f u c k i n g JP--) that he makes attempts to sympathise with them and does what he can to help, but it’s with such a loftiness and a complete inability to Understand why anyone would want grief, The Worst Fucking Experience In Existence, and even less why they’d be willing to Go Up Against Him And HisThe New Perfect World just for it-- And what would it matter, anyway, forgetting their loved ones. It’s not like you can grieve lost memories, right?

Right.

It reminds me of when at the end of the story of Job in the Bible, where, after putting this man through hell on earth, God rewards Job by giving him ten new children to make up for the ones that he lost. I. And that’s fucked! Nothing can replace the sheer uniqueness of each individual person you loved so dearly! But if you were a nigh-omnipotent deity high and mighty, with a cursory, almost mechanical knowledge on the functionings of the human psyche, that would seem adequete; enough.

Bhunivelze is doing that on a cosmic level.

I now want to get onto the romance: that being, his affections for Lightning. I don’t know how much I’m going to say, but it’ll probably be alot. It’s something that hits very close to home.

There is this... thing, within certain branches of Christianity, perhaps even in those of various Abrahamic faiths, where God’s love is posited to be the love-- The ultimate, most-fulfilling, all-encompassing love you could ever imagine --Because, well, he is love, so the story goes, and so often the best way to convey that is through the imagery of...

Marriage.

Giving up yourself so completely, to serve, to be the Bride; to be bound by him for all eternity; and for there to be no higher bliss than this.

This angle is pushed on young girls and women the most; from the mere parallels to the woman’s role in marriage, all the way down to downright-horrifying ultra-Evangelical purity pacts. With men, God is your dad, your best bud and confidant, your boss, your king, your this, your that, and the ‘marriage‘ as it were is relegated to a sort of half-thought; a metaphor.

For me, God was an attempt at all that, and my arranged groom.

(It was almost incestuous; was incestuous, that my own Divine Father would reach for my hand in marriage.)

Bhunivelze experiences Emotions™ for the first time through Hope, experiences Hope’s sheer overwhelming admiration for Lighting(whether there were any baby-crush feelings mixed in, I can’t say), and promptly falls into a nigh-romantic obsession with Lightning, deciding that she will be Etro(his all-but daughter)’s replacement, will be his Goddess of Death to-be-- He even calls her as such, before the final boss-battle--

...In the JP.

What happened in localisation, probably due to a number of factors, all the way back in early 2014, was that everything emotionally challenging about Bhunivelze was scraped off, like it was extra fat, and tossed aside, leaving us with the bland, clichéd shell of a foe-god we’ve seen time and time again. And I mean everything. I mean his very love for humanity; the fact his ploy was, in his eyes, to save them. Because if they’d left that all on, then it would raise the question of even if there was such a seemingly pure, all-knowing, loving being hell-bent on setting things “straight,“ would they truly be unquestionable? Would we have the right to fight for our humanity in the face of the Creator of the Universe?

To reject a love so personal?

That’s what gets me about FFXIII’s tackling of God, no matter how hackneyed and poorly-executed. It’s personal.

It’s from a feminine experience.

I know that terming is... vague, and problematic, but the way Christianity and much of the video game industry handle femininity itself is weird and problematic, so as it stands, I’ll have to simplify it. Apologies.

What sets FFXIII’s Let’s Kill God™ plot aside from most JRPG Let’s Kill God™ plots is that with our protagonist being a woman, and one who is very in touch with her femininity alongside her sheer strength; often, in these stories, God is reduced to Yet Another Foe, expected or unexpected, and you are tasked with taking him down unquestioningly for the Good of Mankind-- You will fight God, because you are right to, and you will go man-to-man-to-however-many-men you decide to bring along for the bloodbath.

And that just, doesn’t speak to me.

Even as an Extian.

Especially as an Extian. And an AFAB one with a deeply complicated experience with my gender, at that.

Leaving Christianity was painful. Questioning God was painful. Coming to terms with the fact that I had been mentally, emotionally, and spiritually traumatised under the guise of All-Encompassing Love was so, so fucking painful. I had been taught since I was five years old to devote myself to him, spent my life desperate to feel something, anything, to stay connected because I just, I never could Feel It on a deeper level, never could Give Up Myself, all I was, couldn’t Die A Spiritual Death And Be Reborn As His Eager Vessel, thus deeming myself to be worthless and a broken vessel for years and years on end... And for all that to have been... Nothing.

Lightning is hollowed out, the shards of her dead sister ripped from her in-stasis, leaving her emotionally numb for the majority of the game, Bhunivelze sweeps it under the rug, pretends he’ll perform a miracle and return Serah to life in exchange for her compliance, then sends her on her way to do his work, all the while knowing he’s going to pull said-rug from under her and elevate her such dizzying heights in the aftermath--

That he’ll deny her humanity.

Sand down all the rough edges that make her her, and polish her up afterwards, gild her as he is gilded, make her a Goddess.

And he’ll do it all because he loves her.

You can’t fight God like you can everything else. To fight It is the fight Existence Itself; FFXIII even conveys that by making Bhunivelze’s model part of the arena; it’s baked into the fabric of the game, no matter how minute.

While Lightning Returns is far from perfect in its execution of this concept, and that in itself makes me wince, not even taking into account the horribly botched excuse for a localisation Bhunivelze endured, it speaks to me more than anything else I’ve seen so far.

And it’s helped uncover some things within me. Helped me untangle them, just a little more.

So, yeah. I have alot of Thoughts on Bhunivelze, I want to share them, and I’m kinda really sad I have no one but my currently-absent friend Vee to share them with. I could get into alot more, like his very Fucked relationship with familial bonds, and how Lightning’s role as saviour so deeply parallels the overwhelming panic and never-ending guilt of Evangelical proselytisation, but I think I’ll leave those for another time.

In short, Bhunivelze is the epitome of Divine Love gone deeply wrong; on all fronts.

And if all of that isn’t enough to intrigue you, then, in Vee’s words, Lightning and Velze are literally canon endgame Sefikura lmaOOOOOOOOOOOOOO--

#ffxiii #lightning returns #bhunivelze #analysis #scrawny speaks #scrawny rambles #this was written on and off over the course of a couple months #i know this will only get two notes #if even that #but fuck it i love this guy and i'm going to puke words for his sake #religion mention

[drazavonia]

She will no longer "Embrace Destiny"

Destiny is more often that not a goal or fate one's life is chained to. If destiny is a force of the universe, no one can "control" destiny so to speak. However someone of a higher power, domain or "providence" can change the destiny of one with lesser power, control and/or knowledge (of their own destiny).

Kairi was only four years old when Apprentice Xehanort took her, experimented on her and shipped her off of her world for two purposes apparently:

1) For her "Heart of Pure Light" to resonate with the "key bearer" and lead Xehanort to them.

2) As of Melody of Memory, apparently Apprentice Xehanort also wanted Kairi to arrive in a world of neither light or darkness which could possibly be The Final World. Ironically, this would mean he was successful on both accounts by the end of this game.

However, it's clear up above Kairi is upset and that line of "You're the one who keeps messing with my fate" implies much like how Aqua finally figured out in Kh3/Remind that Xehanort possessed Terra, Kairi will finally find out how and why she was ripped away from her grandma and home of Radiant Garden. Not only that, but it shows us she never really had a choice in how her fate was twisted and manipulated to whichever way the Xehanorts needed at the time:

- Apprentice Xehanort shipping Kairi off to Sora and Riku

- Ansem SOD/Riku sacrificing Destiny Islands causing Kairi's heart to take refuge in Sora's heart.

-Xemnas and Xehanort taking Kairi to crystalize her heart to use as a final gambit to open Kingdom Hearts.

The next lines "If it weren't for you Sora and everyone would be safe...I won't let you walk away" indicate for Sora, her friends and herself, she will no longer allow anyone control over her destiny. She has the strength and determination now to make her own destiny and fight against anyone who messes with her fate again.

This is the reason I can see Kairi getting a new keyblade.

A lot of the main characters' keyblades are symbolic of their hearts and roles within the series, as well as how they've grown and evolved over the course of their journeys.

The most obvious case being Riku.

Riku

Kingdom Key> Soul Eater

The Kingdom Key was originally meant for Riku, as he was the keyblade's chosen. But when he chose to give in to the darkness the keyblade went to Sora instead, and of course Soul Eater was a weapon of darkness given to him by Maleficent to signify his alignment with her.

Soul Eater> Way to Dawn

It's in the name.

But seriously Way to Dawn is a perfect symbol of Riku's journey of acceptance of his darkness and redemption from kh1 to kh2. The keychain is the dark heart on his "Dark Riku" form which signified his complete fall to darkness. But from the keychain upwards we see the "Gazing Eye" encircled by an angel wing and demon wing, symbolizing Riku's decision against alignment with light or darkness. Afterwards majority of the blade is the demon wing from Soul Eater largely because Riku's role within kh2 is him working from the shadows undercover as Ansem and doing his best to distance himself from his friends who walk the path of light. However at the very end, an angel wing meets the large demon wing which is symbolic of us teaming up with Riku finally, as he showcases his mastery of light and darkness alongside Sora and friends.

Way to Dawn> Braveheart

In DDD, Riku materializes Soul Eater and questions his worthiness as a keyblade wielder. He still has doubts but still continues to hold on to his true motivations being to protect Sora. Riku accepts that he can use the power of darkness while standing firmly on the side of light to protect his friends. He no longer needs to find or follow the way to dawn, because by the end of DDD came the Dawn of Riku, a Keyblade Master and Guardian of Light.

And "Braveheart" is pretty simple. Riku found the strength to protect what matters, and it's perfectly symbolized by Riku's sacrifice for Sora.

"I'm ready now, I'm in control now."

Terra and Aqua (technically Ven as well) have never left home by the beginning of BBS and throughout the game they experience trials and tribulations that challenge their friendship and we see by their Keyblades at the end the results of these trials.

Terra

Earthshaker> Ends of the Earth

Strong and powerful, after hearing Riku's motivation for strength being his friends he bestowed upon him the keyblade which reignited his devotion to his friends. This is also symbolized with Lingering Will, as that's the keyblade he's left with. He'll go to the ends of the earth to save his friends and right his wrongs.

Ends of the Earth> Chaos Ripper

Terra's devotion to protect his friends turns into rage against Xehanort for killing Eraqus, taking his home and manipulating him. Allowing darkness to further consume his heart.

Aqua

Rainfell> Stormfall

Aqua's journey mostly consist with things happening around her and to her friends. Aqua being the only master of the three and worried for their safety, Aqua does her best to assume responsibility and watch over them. Much like rain, it was a light and simple task. But Xehanort's manipulations and temptations with both Terra and Ven, increased Aqua's worry and need to have control over her friends to keep them out of danger. Unfortunately certain seeds had already been planted amongst them, causing Aqua's worry and concern to come off as patronizing and distrustful of her friends. This weakened the trust in the bonds they share making her job to protect them even more difficult and adding to the weight of responsibility she carries.

Stormfall> Brightcrest

Terra and Ventus have both lost their hearts to darkness. With Venuts sleeping in Castle Oblivion and Terra taken over by Xehanort, Aqua was their only chance of ever coming back. She was the only one who knew how to find Ventus and the only one left to defeat Xehanort once and for all. She stood tall and was willing to risk it all for her friends, she was their "light in the darkness".

Ventus

Wayward Wind + Lost Memory

Ventus' keyblade is the only one that doesn't evolve or change throughout the game. Instead Lost Memory is gained when Vanitas forces Ventus to remember how he came to be. Ventus gains a newfound acceptance for his fate with this knowledge and only cares if his friends are safe.

Axel/Lea (Dark Rescue)

Flame Liberator

Axel betrayed the organization. Axel did everything he could to keep Roxas and Xion unaware of the truth so they could live in blissful ignorance (or be happy). He saved Sora at the last minute in DDD and made it his mission in KH3 to get Roxas back. He even declared to Saix that he would bring him home as well. His keyblade represents his determination to save and free his friends from a cruel fate.

Destiny's Embrace also tells a story for Kairi, but much like how she got it, the symbolism isn't representative of her personal journey.

- The keychain of Destiny's Embrace is funny enough, a popular fruit. When two people share paopu fruits, their destinies become intertwined.

- The chain, unlike many others is a red thread in knots, most likely representative of the Red String of Destiny. The "Destiny Knot" (pokemon references ftw) is what ties two people together romantically or what ties two destinies together.

- The hilt of the keyblade is the King chess piece. The king in this case referring to Sora (Crown, Throne, Holds his keyblade like King Arthur in artwork). To me this is symbolic of how Kairi has literally held Sora's fate or destiny in her hands at certain points in the series.

• In kh1, Kairi reverts Sora back from a heartless/the darkness after sacrificing himself to restore her heart.

• In khcom, in order for Sora to regain his memories, he has to focus on his "light in the darkness".

• In kh2, it's not until after reading Kairi's letter to him that the Door to Light opens the way for Sora and Riku to return to Destiny Islands in the realm of light.

• In kh3, it's Kairi's light that keeps Sora from fading away within the demon tide and holds him together so he can save the other guardians.

- Surrounding the grip is a heart with half of it having a sea/ocean/wave aesthetic. It could be representative of Kairi's heart and the heart of her nobody counterpart Namine, whose name means wave.

- Half of the heart with the vine extending down the blade is identical to the keychains of Sora's Ultima Weapons in kh1,2,DDD,3.

The crown connects to the heart which belongs to both Kairi and Namine which makes sense because Sora and Kairi together created Namine.

- I'm not sure what the blade symbolizes aside from maybe fire because of her entanglement with Axel (doubt) or more likely the fires of Kairi's determination to improve, so she can stand by Sora and Riku.

- The flowers at the end with "logo" heart of course represents Radiant Garden. I think Nomura always planned to explore Kairi's past at some point especially with how connected it is to Union X, and that Kairi as well her grandma would be the bridge connecting the past and the present.

However, because of kh3 and most likely M.O.M, I think Kairi will quite literally be freed from "Destiny's Embrace", both Xehanort and the keyblade.

Like I said before, a lot of the symbolism for Destiny's Embrace is externally based. Mostly because Kairi never gets the chance to shine nor do we get to see what's going on inside of her head. Some of this is also because of Kairi's reluctance to bring up her past trauma when asked about it.

• Sora is gone, no need to be a plot device/motivation for him. Instead it's the other way around.

• Namine is her own person now.

• Melody of Memory will finally tackle and resolve Kairi's past.

Everything Destiny's Embrace represents will be resolved by the end of Melody of Memory. So just like how Riku completed his Darkness character arc by the end of DDD and got Way to Dawn replaced by Braveheart as a symbol of his newfound growth, either by the end of M.O.M or in KH4 Kairi will be rid off all of the things holding her character back from truly growing on a narrative and meta level and the keyblade that symbolizes all of those things:

Destiny's Embrace

*This is the other part of the Melody of Memory sticker post.

(Credit to Hartmann-lionhart for their Destiny's Embrace/Ultima Weapon Analysis)

#kingdom hearts #kingdom hearts 3 #kingdom hearts 3 remind #kh kairi #kh3 kairi #kairi kingdom hearts #kairi #sora #sora kh #namine #namine kh #riku #terra #aqua #axel #lea #ventus

[starlit-pathways]

rules: tag people you would like to know/catch up with❤️

thank you so much @faeinthefog for tagging me, you have such incredible taste???? (as always) also, brb adding piranesi to my already-too-long tbr list

...speaking of lists that are far too long!! *cracks knuckles* let's get down to business!!!!

last song: excluding my many varied writing playlists, then probably eclipse by moonbyul or love poem by iu, including my writing playlists then this was my last listen

last movie: the prom. didn't personally vibe with it but i know it meant a lot to some (personally, i feel like a lot of what it was trying to do has already been done better by other films—like ek ladki ko dekha toh aisa laga). it had very pretty colours in it?? and i definitely wouldn't pass up the chance to play emma in an actual musical, but i feel like the story itself is too much of "aaaaand THIS is how the Gay Struggle™‬ applies to the average straight person!!!" which I don't even mind in a story that's done WELL (again, see ek ladki ko dekha toh aisa laga, or even one of my favourite books; the seven husbands of evelyn hugo) but i don't personally feel like it was done well enough here to pass it off

currently watching: oh no. a LOT. uhhhh okay let's try counting

1) godless—a miniseries on netflix which is v. good and very beautiful; essentially a story about fatherhood, masculinity and the loss/lack of it in a historical "wild west" type setting (it's a lot more diverse than it sounds. i promise.)

2) the fresh prince of bel-air—i shouldn't have to describe this one to many people lol, but it's basically a comedy about a quick-witted, very street-smart boy who goes to live with his very wealthy and privileged family in bel-air. it's very funny, and very heartwarming but i'm only a couple episodes in so far.

3) my mister—i'm only a few episodes into this drama myself but. damn. it's a show about two very broken, wearied people whose lives are falling apart in different ways (a very principled slightly older man, and a very... alternatively principled younger woman), who find each other and help each other heal. i've seen their relationship described as "everything but romantic", though the subject of romance and the nature of their relationship is questioned in the show and sometimes by the two characters

4) taskmaster—this one's just FUN, and also quite honestly pure chaos. i'm trading favourite shows with a friend, and damn if i'm not having a blast with this one. it's basically about a group of comedians who get given a set of tasks/challenges to do, to see who does them best—it has the exact same vibe of the joke "how many comedians does it take to change a lightbulb?". if nobody watches anything else of the show, i implore them to at LEAST watch this tree wizard clip. it's a masterpiece.

5) rick and morty—probably not my favourite type of show (monster of the week's not my usual style), but still good if you're it's intended audience. trading this with another friend, and i'm very much enjoying the experience of trash-talking all of the adult characters every episode with them.

6) mr. iglesias—this one's a very new addition. am also watching it with a friend. comedy about found family in a classroom full of underprivileged kids and the one teacher who really cares about them. i like it! i love marisol a lot as a character and mr. iglesias is very wholesome

re-watching:

7) the untamed—i'm going to be watching this show in some capacity for the rest of my life. i'm on my seventh watch by now and it never diminishes in quality. it's a truly epic introspective character exploration, about a quick-minded, entirely chaotic and very free-spirited man who dies and comes back in quite literally the opening moments of the show. you get to see his descent from being the world's envy to being the world's villain. it's a wonderful fantasy series about perception, the nature of morality, of family (born, raised and chosen) and about building a better world. did i mention that the main character is—as far as chinese censorship laws would allow—very bisexual and the story very heavily features a love story between him and another man? this was the edit that got me into it (it has spoilers but without context it won't make any sense anyway)

8) healer—what a drama. this is all about the power of information—how being informed and making information available can heal a nation that was built to be corrupt. starring a character who is basically a man who is a much poorer batman (kind of like a batman for hire?) with superman's love life (the show's got one of the best and most valid love triangles i've ever seen—and that's coming from somebody who typically HATES love triangles with a burning passion) and a woman who is feisty and strong-willed but not in an overbearing way? as well as amazing action, from somebody who normally can't stand action. i love the chemistry between the two romantic leads and just. i love the three leading characters, and a great deal of the periphery ones a lot. this show is absolutely incredible, would highly recommend

9) it's okay to not be okay/psycho but it's okay—a show that says neurodivergency and found family rights!!!! it's a very healing and introspective drama, but equally very intense/gripping/interesting? the chemistry between the two leads is astounding, and i just really love the amount of empathy this show has? it's truly stunning to watch and experience. starring an absolute badass of a woman, who acts almost entirely on impulse and communicates with the world through storytelling and fairytales, alongside a very kind and nurturing man who doesn't know how to communicate when he's miserable and an autistic man, who struggles deeply with his own fight for independence (i wasn't too sure on him at first, but he grows into just as much of an equally important character as the other two and i loved his arc).

currently reading: the earthsea quartet, by ursula le guin—i'm really loving it! it's probably not one of my favourites (yet), but she has such an interesting way of building up her world, and there's such a strong sense of compassion in every word she writes.

also i've recently found and fallen in love with this fic series. it's very nsfw and modern au's aren't usually my thing for historical (or even semi-historical) fiction/fantasy, but there's just something about sex worker!wei wuxian and translator!(and also secret fashion nerd!)lan wangji both being absolute disasters and also really cute and really repressed but also being neurodivergent and disabled characters (i'm SO here for autistic!lan wangji, traumatised!wei wuxian and chronically ill!yanli all being happy) and getting therapy that really appeals to me.

currently craving: crisps. always. of the salt and vinegar variety (this specific variety especially), of course, but there's never a day that passes when i'm not craving crisps

this was really fun!!! now for the worst part of this............ tagging. OKAY. so... please know that nobody is under any obligation to do, or even acknowledge, this—and also, if i missed you, you see this and you WANT to, then consider the act of seeing/hearing this a formal invitation

@ethereal-sserendipity @lillb5678 @genericfandomusername456 @mars-aria @ikatella @juliedohbigny @multiplequestionmarks @itiredwriter @myrim-anna-rose @gaysofmyheart

#yes i spent much more time than necessary on this #long post #tw food #moonbyul #iu #the prom #ek ladki ko dekha toh aisa laga #the seven husbands of evelyn hugo #tshoeh #godless #the fresh prince of bel air #my mister #taskmaster #rick and morty #mr iglesias #the untamed #healer #it's okay to not be okay #psycho but it's okay #wizard of earthsea #earthsea quartet #ursula le guin #ursula k le guin #fanfic #fanfiction #mine

[snowbellewells]

Self Promo Sunday: “The Simplest Touch”

Today’s selection is an older one shot I wrote during 3b, back when Emma was still fighting hard against that attraction and connection she definitely felt with her pirate, still not sure she wanted to make the strange little town of Storybrooke (and all that came with it) her permanent home. There all of these beautiful little quiet moments between CS in that stretch of the show, and particularly in 3x18 - that almost-touch of Killian’s hand at Emma’s back! - which really prompted this.  It’s pretty much canon compliant up to that point as well.

The reason I’ve truly chosen it for this Sunday’s Self-Promo though is that I shamelessly want to show all of you and sing the praises of the fic art to accompany it that was made for my this week by @searchingwardrobes​. <3  Thank you so much for this lovely story cover art Melanie! I’m so flattered at the thought and how wonderfully it fits the story I had in mind. 

Summary: In the moments between scenes in 3x18's "Bleeding Through" there is more brewing under the surface for Emma and her pirate than they yet know how to express...

Notes: This little one shot fits right into show canon during episode 3x18, and more than being divergent or AU, it’s missing moments in a way - or at least, it’s the thoughts and feelings behind some of the quieter, tiny moments we saw onscreen.  I was attempting some stylistic things in this, and to switch from Emma to Killian’s point of view at various moments in that episode. I still think the result turned out pretty well. Enjoy, and please let me know what you think!

"The Simplest Touch"

by: @snowbellewells​

He acts as though he is cursed.

Emma Swan doesn't understand what has changed in the pirate captain, but something is different. His eyes haven't twinkled mischievously at her these last few days, and she suddenly realizes how much she liked the playful attention, how it made her cheeks flush and her heart beat fast, even as she rolled her eyes and pushed him away. His innuendos are missing from their most recent interactions, and though Emma did nothing to encourage his outrageous attentions when he was lobbing them at her constantly, she feels strangely bereft now that they are gone. When he does toss her a line now, it feels empty without the lascivious heat and intent, and she comes close to begging Hook to tell her what is wrong, what has changed…why he no longer seems to want her.

Thinking back over the past week, Emma cannot come up with any new disagreements they have had, insults or slights directed at Hook. There is no way for her to question him the way she wants without revealing just how much she really cares, how much he does mean to her. Instead, she practices her magic, making sure she can protect him – and all of those she loves – prompts and playfully needles him while trying not to let his blackened mood and purposeful distance sting…and she hopefully watches and waits.

^^^00000000000000000000000000000000000^^^^

She touches his stump as if it is the most normal thing in the world.

It nearly steals his breath, heat rising unbidden within him at the sensation of her fingers lightly gripping the leather that covers his violently truncated wrist. So many years – literal ages – have passed since anyone made to hold what was once his left hand, and the sensation of warmth and comfort would risk bringing him to his knees if he were not already seated at Regina's table. Most avoid getting anywhere near his left arm, and especially the prosthetic hook and brace, but his Swan has surprised him once again and claimed even more of his affection.

Killian Jones, notorious pirate captain and erstwhile villain of the realms, is holding his breath at the mere pressure of a lost princess's fingers, but he cannot help the reaction. For one horrified second, he had wanted to shy away from her, pull his arm from her grasp for fear she would make contact with the amputated limb and show disgust, but he had held himself steady, and now he is praying that she doesn't let go. Emma prompts inexplicable reactions within him: thaws parts of him long frozen in hatred and anger and makes him want to feel. Her simplest touch can do things to him that the most powerful magician surely could not accomplish. This though, is new and even more intimate. Her gentle clasp around his brace, that he swears he can feel completely even through the heavy leather, shows no fear, no horror or repulsion, and speaks to him of nothing more than pure, blessed acceptance. His devotion to her swells even higher – when he could have sworn he would never be able to love her more than he already did.

Her fingers clasp just a bit tighter, holding on that tiniest bit more firmly, almost as though she wants to stroke his skin. Her eyes lift from where they have followed her fingers' movements to meet his gaze. She gives him a wavering half-smile, in spite of the chaos and dead witch summoning about to begin, nods to him slightly, and he simply knows. They are in this together now, and they will be from now on…

^^^^0000000000000000000000000000^^^^

He had nearly guided her down the stairs with a hand at the small of her back.

Emma sucks in a sharp breath at the tingling sensation he causes with his good hand wavering just shy of touching her until he snatches it away. Whatever has been troubling Hook is still present; he retreats just before making physical contact, and it has the effect of making Emma feel starved for his touch. She doesn't understand the reversal that seems to have taken place; her following him, being drawn to him, and Hook pulling away from her, but he seems to have decided he is some sort of poison – a threat – the way he so studiously avoids contact when always before he has been creeping into her personal space.

They are preparing to leave Regina's after the failed séance, to make another patrol seeking signs of the Wicked Witch. She wants to pull him after her, drag him off into the woods where they can find some true privacy, not be overheard, and she can demand that he explain what is troubling him. The near-touch was tantalizing enough in its assumed closeness and almost possessive nature. The pirate captain, for all his dangerous rebel tendencies, is an old-fashioned gentleman when all is said and done. The chivalry in his nature still sometimes steals the breath of a formerly unwanted, ignored, orphan Lost Girl. Moments like this one, where they are about to go out seeking danger again, show her anew that he is right here at her back, intending to guard it with all that he has.

She brushes her hair back impatiently from her face, stealing a quick glance over her shoulder at Hook before turning again to precede him down the steps. There are too many words she wants to say to him for the company they have and the task they are attempting, but she wants him to know that she is onto him, she sees what he is doing, and she wants to help. He wouldn't allow her to be alone in a world of lies, and so now she won't let him drown in whatever lie he is determinedly keeping.

Her skin burns with longing for the touch he almost gave unthinkingly, and then robbed them both of. She is not accustomed to letting someone else take care of her; it is a concession, a weakness that has always made her distinctly uncomfortable. Wanting to allow him so much of her now is both frightening and a long-awaited relief. They will fix whatever has been marred – she will not leave him alone until he tells her his secret – so that she has the chance to experience how good letting him in could be.

^^^^0000000000000000000000000^^^

Killian knows that he has been cursed.

If he had thought there was any loophole, any way to lessen the pain for what has been lost, he sees now that those were vain hopes.

He watches Emma darkly as he broods in his seat at one of the booths in Granny's Diner. She seems so light, so happy, since she has just made a mug of cocoa with cinnamon appear before her at the counter, and he wants to smile, to chuckle along with her, and celebrate her unparalleled brilliance when she magically makes it disappear and reappear in front of him. He does not wish to darken her mood or spoil her moment, but he cannot bring much joy to the surface either.

Cringing at himself, Killian wants to stab his hook into his own chest when he snaps at her for playfully stealing the weapon with her powers. The mischievous light in her eyes flickers fitfully, and she stops teasing him, lowering into the other bench at his claimed table. She starts to reach out, to take his hand, and he wants so badly to meet her halfway, to pull her close, to rain kisses all over her face and tell her everything. Knowing that he can do neither seems almost too cruel to bear, but he cannot give in. The risk is too great; he will not have anyone else he loves hurt because he fails them.

Something in Emma's expression makes him think she knows, or has guessed, more than he realized, and he lets himself dare to hope that she understands his fear. She cocks her head, raising an eyebrow at him curiously and blowing out a tense breath. Finally, she comes out and asks him beseechingly what is wrong. He leans forward, literally biting his tongue so as not to let it all pour from him in a rush.

Then Belle is there interrupting breathlessly, and Emma snaps back to attention, a true leader through and through. He cannot help watching her in awe, drawn to stay near her; despite the pain it causes, he cannot separate from her. He watches her make up her mind and stand from the table. Following her, he cannot help believing in this tough, street smart princess, and hoping that there may still be a cure for Killian Jones – a chance for redemption at the touch of Emma Swan.

#self promo sunday #cs one shot #ouat 3b missing moments ff #the simplest touch #cs canon compliant #gorgeous cs fic art #thank you a million @searchingwardrobes

[onstraypapers]

delicate | james & grant (cont. from this thread)

@morethanabattlescar

tw: literally everything, we’re the worst. child/parent death, cancer, war, violence, severe injury, hospitals, surgery, amputation mention, ptsd, panic/anxiety attacks, depression, grief, therapy, insomnia, nightmares, negative thoughts, divorce, pretending like they haven't already caught feelings

James wouldn't protest being tucked into blankets and snuggled by Grant just then, or at any point through their relationship, really. It helped that just being in his space was relaxing for him and it took some of the weight of the week away. The invitation made him smile and he slowly made his way through the apartment, pausing to look at art on the walls with a tip of his head. He enjoyed the sight of all the books on the shelves and the fact that everything was actually lived-in.

The sight of the office made him smile, and it told him that was where Grant truly lived but that was hardly surprising to him. Coming back to him, he slid his arms around his waist just to let himself hold him for a moment. "I like it," he told him easily, and that was the simple truth of it. "Did you get what you needed to done for your trip?"

--

The office was the kind of chaos where he knew where to find everything, but the organizational system probably wouldn't make sense to anyone outside his head. It was also the only place he had any photographs, a framed one of his parents and another of him and May. There was little else about the past he wanted to be reminded of on a daily basis, but he liked the idea of having a more recent one of James if the opportunity happened to present itself.

He wrapped his arms around his shoulders and relaxed into him, skimming his lips lightly over the corner of his jaw because he really could not be trusted to behave himself. "Good. I hope you'll be here a lot. Whenever you want," he said softly. He liked having date nights with him, but he also just wanted him around whenever he had free time or didn't feel like being alone. "Yeah, I'm all set. It'll be mostly meetings." He didn't leave a lot of room for anything else in two days. He hadn't yet gotten to the point where he did more than tolerate New York City while he was there. Eventually, he hoped he'd enjoy it again. It was a beautiful city. "Do you have any plans?"

--

He tipped his head to give him plenty of room because that was something he had absolutely no reason to deny him when he wanted it too. It was the sort of thing that was addicting and he was wholly alright with it. "You would never get rid of me," he murmured, his hands sliding over his back purely to touch. "My favorite person in a comfortable place that I'd be all too happy to spend time in?" And he wouldn't have to be alone with his thoughts, he'd have someone to share them with that could understand.

Angling his head, he brushed his lips softly across his cheek and temple, resting with his lips there for a moment of affection. "Meetings are awful, but they have to happen, I guess," he teased lightly when he finally pulled back just enough to look at him. "Well, I took a personal day tomorrow, so I get a long weekend, and I'm going to try and sleep," he admitted softly. "But otherwise, not really. The brat has a grooming appointment Saturday, and that's it."

--

That silent invitation was too good to pass up, and he pressed his lips more firmly against the corner of his jaw. He forced himself to limit it to a single kiss or he wasn't sure he'd be able to stop himself. He tipped his face into his neck instead and breathed him in, his arms tightening a little around him. "I don't want to get rid of you. I want you here with me, where I know you're safe and happy." Admitting that kind of weakness to anyone else would have at least given him pause, but it felt safe with James. If he didn't already know how captivated he was by him, it wasn't going to be a secret for long.

"An unfortunate part of life," he agreed with a smile. It wasn't one of his favorite parts of his job, but he usually enjoyed the collaboration that came out of it. It depended on the writer, of course, but his experiences were more good than bad. "Good, I hope it helps," he murmured. He worried about him not sleeping, but in the way he knew he couldn't do anything about it but be there for him, the same way James probably worried about him in the past couple days.

--

He shivered lightly, quietly delighted by the firmer press of lips he was gifted. One hand slid up to drift into the short, soft hair at the back of his head and wrap him tight and close. "I want to be here with you, too," he admitted softly into his hair. "I don't mind being here just for company, whenever you might want." He knew that he would always want to be right here, but he never wanted to intrude on his sanctuary and solitude if it was what he wanted.

"I'll send you ridiculous pictures," he decided with a little laugh, thinking it was the absolute least he could do. His nails scratched lightly though his hair as he considered his weekend with a soft hum. "Normally does. This doesn't usually last too long," he reassured him. Lifting his head, he tucked a finger under his chin to lift his face so he could kiss him lightly. "I'll be alright," he reassured him.

--

"Whenever you want, too," he agreed. He wasn't sure he'd ever not be aware of James in his space, but he thought they'd get to a point where he wasn't so aware of it that he couldn't do anything else. It wouldn't be hard for him to shift his working hours around James's schedule so their free time matched up a little better than just dinners or the occasional day off. He pressed lips against the soft skin of his neck and lifted his head before he could be tempted to do more.

"I'll send you some too." He smiled. That would be easier now that he felt mostly human again, and there was always plenty to photograph in the city. He usually took pictures for reference rather than fun, but he thought he could get into the habit now that he had someone to send them to. He shivered lightly under his nails and tried not to let it distract him. "Okay." He nodded, trusting him to let him know when he wasn't alright. He tipped his head to meet the soft kiss, fingers lightly stroking the back of his neck.

--

"Tell you what," he paused for a moment, brushing his lips softly as he thought, "if you're ever not in the mood for company, just tell me that. Otherwise, I don't mind spending my free time here with you. And if I am just not, I'll do the same." He couldn't imagine not wanting to be with Grant, even on his worst days, but the offer deserved to be there, going both ways.

"I'd like that," he admitted, knowing it would make him smile. He didn't even care if Grant just chose to share his reference photos. It was him choosing to share part of his life with him. The soft touch to the back of his neck drew a quiet sound out of him. His brain reminded him that they had plans, but then another part reminded him that they hadn't started yet. His fingers slid firmly along his jaw and he slid them into a firm kiss, shifting closer so their bodies were a solid line of heat.

--

He couldn't help a smile at the easy way he had of leaving him an out. Grant wasn't sure he needed one, but it was nice that they both had it. Even on the days like the ones this week, he didn't really want solitude from James. He was easy to be around; his company didn't take anything from him like most people did. He didn't know why James would want to be around him when he was like that, but that wasn't his choice to make. "That's perfect," he murmured.

The trip already sounded better knowing that he had an excuse to contact him while he was away. That soft sound had him pressing in closer even as the hand at his jaw became firmer. His own hand slid further into his hair as he kissed him, and it was all he could do not to completely melt into him. He was only too happy to be distracted from their dinner plans for the moment, glad to know that James was as affected as he was.

--

There was no part of Grant's life that he didn't want to be a part of, the good, the bad, the ugly, and everything that came with it. He wanted him to know that he had someone on those days where all the world was grey and muted, that wanted nothing more than to be there in support and care. For fifteen years, he hadn't wanted anyone else there, didn't think it was fair to ask someone to be. Grant was different, always had been.

He didn't think there was any way James would ever be unaffected by Grant, and definitely not when he was wrapped up in him and being kissed that way. He absolutely melted into him, unable to help himself or keep him from knowing exactly how affected he was by him.

--

He wanted to be there for James on those days too, for the insomnia and the nightmares and the gray days when it didn't seem worth it to drag himself out of bed. Grant knew he couldn't fix any of that for him. It didn't work like that, not even when you loved someone, but he could be there for it, and that was more than either of them had ever had with someone else.

James's body molded to his like it was meant to fit there, and he still wanted him closer. His lips parted and he deepened the kiss, momentarily forgetting all about dinner or the fact that they'd decided to take this slow. This was exactly the reason kissing him was so dangerous. He'd known the moment he did, he'd promptly lose all his reasoning ability.

--

Closer, always closer, it's all he ever wanted to be when it came to Grant. He made it easy to forget all the promises he had made to himself to take everything slow, to do right by him during this new chance they'd been given. He was so much of the good and bright in his world already, always had been. It was even better now, and he couldn't help but wonder if the darkness they'd lived through separately contributed to that.

He let himself sink against him, sink into the kiss, a quiet groan escaping him against his lips. Slowly, he pulled himself out of the kiss, softly brushing his lips over his while he caught his breath. "Dinner, supposed to have dinner," he reminded himself out loud, his hand soothing through Grant's hair.

--

Grant had no intention of abandoning those promises, and he knew that James didn't either. But there had always been a ticking clock on how long they would be able to keep up any sort of physical distance. As impossible as it sounded, James had gotten even more gorgeous in the time they were apart, which was both amazing and completely unfair.

He'd wanted to kiss him since he saw him in the coffee shop, for the past fifteen years, since the last time he'd kissed him like this. Either his memory didn't do it justice, or it was better than he remembered. He thought it might be the second one, since everything about James was better than he remembered. He was breathless by the time he pulled away and grateful that at least one of them could be trusted to keep his head. "Dinner," he agreed. He stole another soft kiss before he moved away, already missing the warmth of his body.

--

Grant was heartbreakingly beautiful, always had been, but is was even more so now. Growing up, years and life, had done him a lot of good, both of them actually. It had been hard to keep his distance, but entirely worth it to get to this. It was so much better than he remembered, better than he had hoped.

As they separated, he ran his hands down his back softly and tried not to whine at the loss of warmth. Instead, he ran a hand over his arm and gave him a soft smile at the soft kiss. "What are we having?"

--

Everything about him from his soft smile to the hands warm on his back through the thin cotton of his shirt made him want to close that distance again. There was fifteen years of longing packed carefully away and now threatening to overwhelm him. Only the fact that he'd been dealing with it for so long and he wanted to do this right made it possible to keep moving back until it was just James's hand on his arm, his hand sliding into his.

He brought his fingertips to his lips and kissed them and then tugged him gently toward the kitchen. It was usually stocked for a handful of basic meals, and he hadn't had anything in particular in mind for tonight. "I have the stuff for spaghetti, stir fry, tacos." Or anything else that took similar ingredients. Grant tended to stick to the basics, but he was willing to learn from him. "What sounds good?"

--

James let out a soft sigh of contentment as their hands wound together just in time for his breath to catch at the soft kiss. He didn't think he would ever stop reacting that way to the soft moments of affection. Following that tug, he knew he would follow anywhere Grant led him, to the kitchen and farther.

He pondered the options presented and let out a thoughtful hum, his thumb stroking along the side of his hand. "Let's do tacos," he decided, "We had pasta at my house." It didn't mean much, since he could eat it all the time, but that was beside the point. "How can I help?"

--

He half-wondered who they thought they were kidding by taking it slow. He already couldn't stand to let him go long enough to move across a room. There wasn't even a voice in his head telling him he was too attached because the voice didn't bother to state something that obvious. The only time distance from James had ever felt like a possibility was when life forced it on them, and even then it felt terrible and wrong.

He didn't have a problem with pasta multiple times a week either, but it was nice to mix it up. "Is chicken okay? I don't do a lot of red meat. Maybe for grilling." It wasn't even a health thing so much as that he just wasn't that fond of it and never had been. He gave his hand a light squeeze before pulling away to start gathering ingredients. "There are pans in that cupboard. And then pick some music?" He could work all day without it, too far in his head to notice much outside of it, but as soon as he was doing other tasks, he preferred to have background noise.

--

James hated it every time they had to separate, that deep seated fear that it would be permanent rising up to choke him. Clinically, he knew the attachment was too strong too fast, but emotionally, he didn't care. They had lost enough time together that he was far more invested in the emotional response for himself.

He smiled softly and nodded in agreement, "Chicken is good. I'll keep that in mind." It was an easy mental adjustment for him to make for Grant's comfort, and he'd make plenty more before it was all said and done. Stepping away, he went to pull out thee pans they needed and take them to him at the stove. "Music is a good idea," he mused, actually pulling up his phone for a playlist he regularly added to and had added quite a lot to in the last few days.

--

He wouldn't know where to begin trying to slow this down even if he'd wanted to. In theory, he supposed they could spend less time together. In practice, he didn't see what difference it would make. The emotional attachment was already long-established, and apparently time hadn't affected it much. What was left was figuring out how they fit into each other's lives now, and more space wasn't going to help with that.

"It's not a big deal." He didn't consider it a rule so much as a habit he'd picked up at home. He set the chicken to cooking and started on the vegetables, leaving room for James to join him if he wanted to. The song he chose made him smile. He had playlists for everything too, and his taste was sort of all over the place, not going too far into any one genre but picking up a little from a lot of different ones.

--

He wanted stable places for them in each others' lives, an ease of shared space and time. That wasn't going to come with space, but with time together, and that wasn't going to help them slow down much. He would have to be active about slow, and he didn't know if he was going to be any good at it.

"Doesn't matter. I'm going to remember it anyway," he pointed out with a charming smile. He wanted to know Grant's preferences, the things that made him happy, all the small and large things. After the music started, he settled in next to him to help him with the vegetables, a comfortable line of heat against his side. His music slid between various genres, mostly just things he liked and songs that meant something.

--

Grant was almost positive he wasn't going to be good at slowing things down. That was unusual for him in everything except James, apparently. He took time to think things through, and he usually didn't make a move he wasn't reasonably sure about. But for whatever reason, he'd been sure about James the first time they met, and he was sure about him now. He didn't need more time to think about whether he wanted to be with him, just in how they were going to make that happen in a way that was good for both of them.

"It seems you can't be stopped." He ceded the point with a small grin and a hint of teasing. He wasn't going to argue what was basically James being sweet, even if it wasn't wholly necessary. It was nicer than he could have imagined having him in his kitchen, the warmth and steadiness of him beside him a welcome change. A few songs passed, most of them from different genres or decades. He couldn't pick out a common thread among them, but there was nothing he didn't enjoy so far. "Is this stuff you like lately, or is there a theme?"

--

"Absolutely not," he laughed and bumped him lightly, enjoying the comfortable atmosphere that settled between them and how relaxed Grant was. "You know I want to know everything, right? The little things you prefer or don't like at all, everything," he pointed out gently. His hand brushed over his forearm and he gave him a little smile.

The question made him flush lightly and clear his throat. "Ah, it's um... important events and people... songs that make me think of them, and also that I think the people will like," he explained carefully. There was a lot on that playlist that was Grant and Grant-centric, had been in every format the list had been in. It wasn't all happy, couldn't be, but that was life.

--

"Alright. I hate raw onions, mustard, and pineapple on pizza. Love potatoes, all kinds. Can't even think of a way to mess that up," he laughed softly, nudging him back. It was rare to find someone who actually cared about all the small details of his life. It felt strange to share them, but it was the kind of strange he thought he could get used to. He wanted them to know each other. "I want to know everything about you too. Whatever you want to share."

It was unusual to see James flustered by a question. He wasn't sure exactly what about that one had made him go awkward and careful. "That sounds nice," he said honestly. Everyone who made playlists had them about people. He had one for James, even if it didn't have his name on it. Songs they'd listened to together or ones that reminded Grant of him after they'd parted. It was one of few ways he'd allowed himself to hold on, allowed perhaps because he never called it what it was.

He had more questions about it, but not at the expense of James's comfort, so he let the subject drop. When a familiar song from the time they were dating came up, he thought he had a partial answer anyway. Maybe it had other associations for him now, but the song had been everywhere that summer. Even if you didn't like it, you couldn't help but hear it wherever you went. He didn't say anything, but he reached out, lightly squeezing his arm.

--

“Pineapple should never go on pizza,” he agreed with a laugh, glad they wouldn’t have to do that. It was the little things that made the difference in day to day life. Grabbing someone’s favorite something just because you saw it and thought of them could change their whole day around. He wanted to be able to do that for him, to remember the small things that made him smile. “I hate raw onions too, love mustard but hate mayonnaise. I like dark chocolate, but not white chocolate. It’s not even real chocolate,” he chuckled.

“It was something I started when I first started going to counseling,” he admitted. This particular playlist was like a record of everything he had ever discussed in therapy. He had others, specific ones for people, for certain moods, but this was still his go to option. Self-torment and happiness all wrapped in a single playlist. Some of that self torment wasn’t attached anymore,  not to the level it once was, at least.

One of the songs of one of their summers together played and he smiled softly to himself. Rose gold memories flitted through his brain and he looked over at the soft touch to his arm. Leaning over, he gave him a soft kiss. “There’s a lot of you on it,” he admitted softly, “But… you have your own, if you ever wanted to listen.”

--

"Glad we agree on that," he laughed softly. Not that pineapple on pizza was any sort of deal-breaker. It made him smile to hear the small details he thought important enough to mention, and he made an effort to commit them to memory. Eventually, that would be the kind of thing they'd know without having to think about it, but he wanted to remember now. "Fair enough. No particular feelings on chocolate, except that coconut shouldn't be in it."

Music and therapy was an interesting combination. Not things he'd ever personally linked, but he could see why it would work. "Does it help?" It made him a little sad to know he was one of the things James needed to work out in therapy, but it wasn't exactly a surprise. Talking about it was probably healthier than what Grant had done, which was to compartmentalize that part of his life as hard as he could. He leaned into the soft kiss, lifting a hand to brush through his hair. "So do you," he murmured. "We can trade sometime."

--

He liked learning the random tidbits of information, adding them to the mental file. It helped remind him that this was real, they were together again in a way he had given up on a long time ago. They had a long way to go to learn who they both were now, but he was looking forward to it. It was a new adventure despite how comfortable they already were with each other. History could do that.

He thought about it, a soft hum escaping him, because the only person who had ever asked him about it had been his therapist and that had been the original one back in active duty. “It can,” he said carefully, “Sometimes when it dredges up a memory, it’s not always a happy one. Most of them I’ve worked through enough that it doesn’t drag me down. There are a few, though.”

He leaned into that touch, his hand coming up to curl around his wrist because he really loved that soft contact. “I’d like that a lot,” he decided. Sometimes it was just easier to say a lot that way, with words and pictures instead of words. He wasn’t quite as good with them as he used to be all the time.

--

"Music is like that," he agreed softly. Good or bad, it could put him right back in a memory. It was part of the reason he had a James playlist when he didn't have photos out or hadn't allowed the subject to come up outside of therapy for over a decade. Short of cutting all music out of his life, which even Grant realized was unreasonable, there was no shutting that out. There were some songs, on some days, that he just couldn't hear, but most of the time it was one of few acceptable reminders of the past, bittersweet as it might be. "Skip something if you need to, okay?" It was James's playlist anyway, but still, it needed to be said.

"Me too." He stroked fingers again over the soft strands, remembering how much like a cat he was the first time they were dating, a James who would just flop into his lap with his I'm-adorable-please-pet-me eyes. It was possible that was different now, but given the easy physical affection they'd already established, he didn't think so. He'd find out for sure at some point and put that information to good use. He brushed another soft kiss against his lips and pulled away to check on the food before they got distracted and burned something.

--

"It is. I wasn't too comfortable  with it at first, it wasn't something I was used to using as a... language, I guess." He had never thought about it as such before his therapy, and that hadn't occurred to him as thought until years into his service. He had never been good at letting go, at loosening his hold on much of anything. It had lent itself to his struggle after his family had moved, when he and Grant had begun to disintegrate. "I will," he agreed. The inability to make decisions for the sake of other people never sat well with him, as hard as he had worked on it.

His eyes drifted shut for a moment, wanting more of the petting and never wanting it to stop. Grant had always been good at knowing just how much pressure and scratch to put into those clever fingers of his as they worked through his hair, and that didn't seem to have changed. He wanted more of it, but food was on the stove and it made him want to grumble at the inconvenience of it all. If he pouted slightly when he pulled away, he would never admit to it. "Plates?" He worked at getting everything else ready so Grant could finish the actual cooking this time.

--

"And now?" He was interested to know whether James counted music as one of his languages now. He hoped knowing would help him realize it if/when he was trying to tell him something without words. They were better than they should have been at reading each other, but Grant didn't fool himself that he picked up everything that wasn't said. He wanted to learn to communicate with him in every way that he found comfortable.

He couldn't help a fond smile at the look on his face. It was nice that not everything had changed, and it made him want to drop everything to give him all the attention he wanted. He filed that away for later and loved the fact that they had a later. "There. Glasses in that one." He indicated the right cabinets. Between the two of them, everything was done in a few minutes and ready to dish up.

--

“Now… it’s one of the easier ways to say what I want to,” he admitted. In his long list of languages he had become familiar with, he could add that to the list. A book, a song, a food, everything someone suggested to a person had bearing, was indicative of their thoughts about them, and he was aware of it. He had learned quite a few ways to communicate but it hadn’t necessarily helped him thus far.

He wanted all of the pets and affection but he knew that dinner was imminent. It helped to know that they had later, and any variance of later that they wanted. He stepped to the indicated cabinets to get their plates and glasses setting things near Grant to be dished up and grabbed their preferred drinks while things finished cooking.

--

He nodded thoughtfully. He'd been paying more attention to the music since he indicated its importance, but he'd make sure he kept the habit now. "I'll try to listen." He sent him a soft smile, brushing fingers over his hand. He couldn't seem to stop the small touches now that they'd started, at least not as long as they were welcome. But that was a language for them too, wasn't it? One Grant had gotten out of the habit of speaking, but still there.

He enjoyed working alongside James to make dinner as much as he had the first time, and he hoped it was a pattern they could continue. With dinner served and seats taken, his mind had wandered back to their conversation about little preferences. It was sort of in keeping with the one about music too, and there were still so many things he didn't know about James. "Favorite music artists? If that's possible." He smiled. Grant was fond of top 3s, top 5s, top 10s, but he realized not everyone worked like that.

--

He smiled softly, “I know you’ll hear me when it matters.” He had a lot of faith in that particular belief, that they could understand one another easily with time. They were different than they used to be, but they had always been so good at learning each other. But then, there had been so much less to learn, so much less history to navigate then. He didn’t want the touches to stop, them speaking in a way he didn’t trust himself to yet.

He wanted this to be a part of his normal life, making dinner alongside Grant and talking about whatever they wanted, big and small. As they settled down to eat, he was comfortable and happy in a way that he knew he wanted more of past that night. “Oh… no… that’s evil. Okay,” he wrinkled his nose as he thought about the artists that inhabited his playlists the most. “Five Finger Death Punch, for a lot of reasons,” he finally said, “Halsey… and probably… well heck. “ he laughed when he couldn’t think of any other artists he listened to abundantly.

--

Grant wanted to believe that he would. He knew it was a failed marriage whispering doubt into his ear that he wasn't good at this, at listening, at being what people needed, and that James would be no different. Maybe he would have ruined them too, if they'd managed to keep it together that long. He acknowledged the fear, tagged it as not wholly rational (and certainly not the kindest interpretation of what had happened between him and Anna), and set it aside for now. Self-doubt didn't change anything. He could only try to do better.

It was too new to have the familiarity of routine, but there was something familiar about it anyway. That kind of summed up their whole relationship so far, somehow new and familiar at once. "Sorry," he chuckled, but he didn't take the question back. If the list needed to go on for a while, he was comfortable with that, so it was a small surprise when he only named two. "Love Halsey. I'll add the other one to my playlist." He'd heard of them but couldn't have named a song. Listening to James's favorite music knowing that it was his favorite--probably tomorrow on his drive--filled him with happy anticipation.

--

He smiled happily at the idea of Grant adding something to his playlist just because he liked it. “I can send you a good song to start with,” he mused, thinking of a few of his favorites. He was already going to send him a whole playlist anyway, and one was likely to turn into multiple as it was. “It’s hard to think of favorites when I listen to so many so regularly,” he explained the short list because it was amusing to him.

“Your turn, favorite music or artists,” he requested with anticipatory delight. It was exciting, getting new information about someone he had known and loved for so long. He highly doubted he would ever learn something about him that he would actively hate.

--

"I'd love that." He grinned at the idea of getting to know some of his favorite songs. He was probably going to send him a playlist or two as well. He nodded his understanding. He had a similar problem when it came to narrowing down artists of any kind.

He figured he would turn the question back on him, but that didn't make it easier to answer. A top ten would have been hard; two was almost impossible. "I have the same problem, but if we're going with two? I guess The Gaslight Anthem and The Weepies." James was right; it was an evil question. There was so much left out of that answer, but if the inside of Grant's head usually sounded like something, it was probably that.

--

James couldn't help but laugh a little and nod in absolute understanding. It was a hard thing to try and narrow down something so broad and wide-reaching as their music tastes seemed to be. "I'll add them to the list," he chuckled, knowing his stuff was going to be flooded with all things Grant for a while anyway. There were far worse things to have in his head, to let broaden the edges of who he was.

As they ate, he pondered another question and smiled a bit when he decided on one. "Is there anywhere you want to travel? Anywhere in the world you really want to see? Anywhere you've been that you love?" He chuckled when one question wound up being three, but he couldn't help it.

--

He couldn't say for certain they were bands James would enjoy, but it was sweet of him to give them a shot. "I can send you something to start with," he offered with an easy smile. Sending songs back and forth over the weekend sounded as pleasant as sending photos. James already lived in his head almost non-stop since they'd seen each other again. It might as well have his soundtrack to go with it.

"Haven't done much traveling lately. Never made it overseas," he admitted. "You know my mom. She hates flying. It was always road trips growing up." He grinned. It wasn't a complaint because he'd gotten to see a lot of the continental U.S. like that, but it was nothing like James's travels. "I guess I'd like Europe. Anywhere, really. There's so much art. What about you?"

--

There was very little that James didn't enjoy when it came to music, so he was sure it was going to become a part of his regular music rotation. "I'd love that," he told him with a little grin, knowing he was parroting but couldn't help himself. Communicating in songs and photos was easy and safe, but a great way to share what was on their mind. He was looking forward to the weekend even more now, even though they would be apart.

He chuckled at the reminder of Grant's mom and remembered more than one tirade when they were planning to go anywhere. "Road trips are great. All the clouds look the same from above," he pointed out with a little laugh. Not that he saw a lot from inside a cargo plane or a lot of the flights he took, but that was beside the point. "Europe would be really cool. I didn't get to spend too much time there, and when I did, it was only work."

--

He laughed softly when they both echoed their earlier conversation because damn it, he was adorable. "I like road trips," he agreed with a smile. He didn't mind driving back and forth to the city despite the traffic. There was something comforting about driving and music and scenery. He had a lot of good memories like that.

Grant didn't have anything against flying, himself. He'd been to Hawaii with his ex-wife. Beautiful, but he wouldn't call it a place he wanted to return to. "Where would you want to go? And was there anywhere you really loved?" He was stealing his questions, but they were good ones. He wanted to know everything about James, but especially the things he loved and wanted.

--

That made him smile softly, "So do I. Doesn't matter how long or short." He regularly tried to take road trips to visit a buddy from his unit whenever he could, especially if they had something big going on. "Windows down, music up, and a long road ahead," he sounded almost wistful, missing it since he hadn't gone for a while.

"I want to go see Eastern Europe: Hungary, Romania, Russia," he admitted, knowing it probably sounded so strange. "It wasn't an area there was a lot of call for us to be." He paused to think about where he had enjoyed the most and had to really think about any time off he'd spent off base or not on an assignment. One popped into his head and he finally nodded, "Barcelona. I got to spend a few days there on leave. Beautiful city, you'd love the art. The music? Amazing. The food? Even better."

--

"We could do something like that, if you want," he offered. His voice had gone soft and hesitant. He wasn't sure they were to that point in whatever this was yet, but even friends took trips together, right? They didn't have to go cross-country. It called up a lot of memories of plans they'd made back when they thought they'd have a whole life together.

"What do you like about it?" It was an interesting choice, not one he'd have guessed most people would make. It was James, so of course he wanted to know his reasoning. A pleased smile crossed his face at the idea of him in Barcelona. That had to be beautiful. "Yes! That whole city is art. Gaudí is everywhere. I bet that was incredible."

--

Hearing the soft hesitation, he reached over to curl his hand over his cheek, brushing his thumb softly. "I would love to take a trip with you," he reassured him easily. What difference did it make if they spent their time together in an apartment or in a car? They'd had heads full of plans together when they were young and planning a life together, and he could recall quite a bit of them. However, he found he was looking more forward to any plans they made now.

"For better or worse, I think they're closer to their roots. Sure, a lot of that is compliments of politics, but, it feels old. And they have some of the best stories," he grinned.  He loved seeing his reaction to the idea of Barcelona and swore right then that if this worked, if they worked, he was going to take him. "It was," he admitted, "I liked the architecture too. But I most definitely paid more attention to the food and music. I did go to this one art museum, though, it was spectacular."

--

"Where do you want to go?" He curled his fingers around his wrist and knew how soft it was when he smiled. He couldn't look at him any other way right now. He kept waiting for this to get harder, or to at least discover something they didn't like about each other, but everything he learned about James just made him want to keep him close. It wasn't that he wasn't flawed; he could see that, but even the imperfections had a kind of beauty. It wasn't like Grant wasn't covered in fracture lines too.

"Alright. History and stories," he summed up, smiling. He wanted to think they'd get to do that together sometime, but maybe they could get through their roadtrip before they started planning internationally. He wasn't that interested in revisiting the past either. Their present held a lot more sway right now, along with this tentative future they were building. "That sounds amazing." He wasn't surprised to hear it, given how much he loved cooking and music. Barcelona was supposedly a great city for all those things. "Which one?"

--

"We could go to Baltimore," he suggested, content to stay as they were, slightly curled into each others' spaces. They were going to hit rough patches eventually, he knew that, but so far the rosy warmth made him happy. They had their cracks and imperfections, had touched on some of them, so it wasn't like they were hiding from them.

"Exactly," he smiled happily. He could picture Grant there with him, wanted that to be their reality one day. What they were working on had promise, and they weren't hiding from the fact that they wanted it to work, to grow into more. "Ah, the..." He trailed off to think back and recall the rather long name to make sure he didn't mess it up. "Museu Nacional d’Art de Catalunya, it's like a central museum for all the Catalan art."

--

"That sounds nice," he agreed. He'd mostly only passed through it on his way to somewhere else. It wasn't too far away, so there wasn't really time to get sick of the drive before they got where they were going. He leaned slightly into James's hand on his cheek and then tipped his head to brush a kiss against his fingers.

"I've heard that's amazing." And more spectacular architecture besides. He was glad he'd gotten to see something beautiful despite his traveling being mostly for work. Dinner seemed to be winding down, and he gave his hand a soft squeeze before he pulled away. "Are you done?" There was more if he was still hungry. He usually erred on the side of cooking too much, since leftovers made for easy lunches later in the week.

--

“I think so too,” he agreed. It was a nice spot that was new for both of them where they could make memories together and just relax and enjoy a place in each other’s company with no history or expectations. His face went absolutely mushy when he tipped his head into his hand. He knew his heart was on his sleeve with Grant, and he was mostly okay with it.

“It was. Hopefully one day you’ll see it,” he smiled easily even as his mind tried to get ahead of where they were and he had to reel it in. “Yeah. I’ll help clean up,” he decided as he stood up and grabbed both their plates.

--

A place with no history for either of them sounded ideal at this point. He didn't think this trip was even particularly about the place so much as spending time together at something they both enjoyed. He wanted to hear James's playlists in the car and know what his face looked like with the windows down and nothing pressing on his mind. It didn't really matter where they were going.

It helped to know that James was as soft as Grant was for him. He could read that much in his expression, and it made it safer for him to not try to hold it back. "Maybe someday," he agreed with a smile. It wasn't something he'd thought about much in the past several years. Traveling alone didn't hold a lot of appeal. He joined him at the counter to help with the dishes and put away leftovers in what he hoped was becoming another easy routine.

--

Softness wasn’t something that James had seen or felt much of in recent memory, but he loved the look of it from Grant so he figured the same applied from the other side. He wanted him to know that he was cared for, that there was someone at his back and in his corner. James was all to happy to be that person for Grant.

It was nice to work alongside him and work at building a new routine. He liked the way they worked together and moved in each other’s space. “What would you like to do when we’re done with cleanup?” He knew neither of them would be too willing to part just yet, if their last date day was anything to go by.

--

Grant couldn't help but care about most people he came into contact with. He'd always been like that. Letting people care for him was where he struggled. He hadn't been able to count on anyone to have his back in a long time, but he also realized that if he wanted this thing with James to work that he had to try. He couldn't just close himself off and handle everything himself (and was that really working out so well for him, anyway?). It was a little easier to trust him with it because he already knew that he could be trusted.

He loved having James in his space, looking like he belonged there in the kitchen beside him. It made him happy to know he wasn't planning on leaving so soon. He considered the question, keeping in mind that the next couple days were going to be busy for him and that James hadn't been sleeping much, and decided they probably both needed something relaxing. "We can pick a movie, or just keep the music on. I'm fine with anything. What do you want?"

--

They had already established they were quite content to spend their downtime together so he saw no reason to rush off. He certainly didn’t feel any driving need to do so. James wanted him to go on his trip as relaxed as possible, so that was definitely the name of the game he was after. His own lack of sleep barely registered in the face of getting to spend time with him and take care of him.

He hummed thoughtfully and liked both options. As he finished his work, the song changed and he waited for Grant to be done before reaching for him and taking his hand, pulling him close to sway them into a dance. “I’ve got what I want. Right here,” he murmured softly.

--

Grant certainly didn't want him to leave. He felt as he had earlier, that he wanted to wrap him in a blanket and make sure that he got rest and snuggles for a while. James had automatically moved into the category of people he wanted to take care of, probably the person he most wanted to take care of.

They finished with the dishes, and he dried his hands, smiling as he allowed James to pull him closer. His heart practically melted when he realized what he was doing, and he easily closed the remaining space between them, curling a hand over his shoulder. He tipped his face close, brushing lips over his cheek as they swayed to the music. "Were you always such a romantic?" he murmured, knowing that he was. He wouldn't have forgotten something like that, or how completely soft it made him.

--

He was absolutely gone at the way he simply trusted and came close, his heart melting at the soft kiss. Pulling their joined hands to his lips, he brushed them softly together and let out a thoughtful him. “I think I used to be better at it,” he chuckled, thinking back to their first chance. He simply loved finding all the best ways to make Grant smile, would do whatever he could to make that light happen.

He started humming softly to the song, one he’d added in one of his softer, more wistful moments over the last few days. It was all too easy to dance them through the kitchen, his hand drifting down Grant’s back as he pressed a soft kiss into his hair.

--

"Nothing against past you, but no," he disagreed softly. James had been easier in his skin back then; they both had. Sure, he was more charming and flirty back then, and Grant had been thoroughly swept away by him right from the beginning. He didn't know if he could explain how it mattered more now, or why the fact that a James who made dinner and danced in the kitchen with him, who was willing to accept him like this, broken pieces and all, was more romantic than just about anything he could think of.

It wasn't the past version of him that he was rapidly losing his heart to. He'd loved that person, but James was so much more now. He smiled softly, gently resting his head against his and listening to the lyrics and James's humming while they danced. It was hard to imagine a prettier song, and there was no mistaking the meaning of the one he'd chosen. He pressed a soft kiss to his lips when the last notes faded. Grant paused long enough to choose another song before pulling him back into his arms. He'd said music was like a language for him, and he wanted to continue this conversation.

--

There was a comfort he hadn’t expected in hearing those words. Past James had been the one to catch his attention, to be at his side for years and make plans for a future they’d lost. When they made their way back to each other, he came full of broken pieces and heartache, heavy with loss and that included the loss of Grant. It had been as permanent a loss as all the rest.

But as they danced now, feeling the real, solid warmth of Grant against him, the soft puff of his breath, it told him a new story that fit with that comfort. The soft kiss made him want to chase after him but he saw he was just going for a song. He slipped easily into those arms again, sinking in and listening to what Grant had to say. This song filled in the parts of the story he couldn’t on his own. Who they had come back to each other as was more than enough. He wasn’t the only one falling, knowing he could trust Grant to catch him and either let him down gently or hold on to him with everything.

--

Past Grant was always going to be in love with that version of James, but he was a long way from the teenager he'd been. They both were. What he needed out of a relationship now was entirely different. He'd never imagined them fitting together again as well as they did. Somehow, even apart, James had still managed to grow into exactly the kind of person he wanted to give his scarred and battered heart to. He'd never imagined trusting someone with it again.

He took his hand and spun him slowly, the movement easy despite the fact that he hadn't danced with anyone in years, a small smile on his lips as he pulled him back in. If they were going full-on romance, then Grant had a bit of that in him too. He'd been the polar opposite of smooth when they met. He'd learned how to dance specifically for James when they were younger. There was no way he was going to let him go a second time. He was going to keep him safe here in his arms for as long as it was allowed.

--

When he spun him, his heart fluttered and he was sure his heart was in his eyes when he looked at him. If it wasn’t then, the sight of that smile surely did it. His breath hitched lightly and he slid his hand to curl at the base of his neck, forearm along his shoulder in a way that let him close. “I’m not the only romantic one,” he pointed out once he felt he could trust his voice.

He remembered dancing, both of them younger, smaller, more uncoordinated than now. Dancing with Grant now was like something out of a dream and he added it to his list of favorite things. He never wanted to leave the safe circle of his arms, and he chose to sink into the moment instead. Every moment like this took more of his heart and put it into Grant’s hands, but he was beginning to think it would be okay to do that.

--

He loved that look on his face, and he wanted to keep finding ways to put it there. He knew it was reflected in his own expression. He didn't have any reason to hide from James at this point. It was already obvious how completely gone he was for him. "I guess you bring that out in me," he agreed softly. It was a part of himself he'd thought was gone forever, but it felt as natural as everything else with him.

As soon as James had pulled him in at the first song, he'd known he was done for. It didn't matter what lines they crossed now. Grant's heart was already his, and he wasn't going to pretend to himself that there was any other way for this to go. Instead of trying to hold back, he'd rather put his energy toward making James feel as safe and loved as possible. He'd swept Grant off his feet once. He'd be glad to return the favor. He tightened the arm around his waist, drawing him close again while they swayed to the music, his lips brushing his ear. "I hope you know I'm not letting you go again."

--

It made him weak to see what he knew his own face was showing on Grant’s face. His thumb slid softly across the side of his neck as he gave him a soft smile, a silent way of letting him know just how quietly happy he really was. “Careful, I might get addicted,” he teased even as he knew it was far too late for that and he was sure Grant did too. It felt like breathing to be like this with him.

His arm curled around his shoulders completely when he was pulled closer and he tucked his face into Grant’s hair. A shiver went down his spine at the soft touch of lips at his ear and he thought he stopped breathing for a moment. “I don’t want you to,” he admitted softly, shifting to press his lips to the soft skin behind his ears. “I don’t plan on letting you go either. I want you Grant, however I can have you as long as I can.”

--

"I hope so. I have to keep you with me somehow," he teased back, an easy smile on his lips. Romance was all well and good, but it couldn't single-handedly sustain a relationship, and he didn't expect it to. There were things they were already establishing that were more important to both of them. But little things mattered too sometimes, and finding ways to make James feel special and adored could easily become one of his favorite things.

He pressed his face into his hair and breathed him in, holding him tightly. A small bit of tension he hadn't realized he'd been holding onto ran out of him at those words. It was a rare thing, the person you wanted most wanting you back. "You have me, sweetheart. I'm not going anywhere," he murmured. They'd made those promises before, but he felt like they were in a better position to keep them now. He knew how easy it was for life to tear people apart, but he was holding on with everything he had this time.

--

“That’s going to be ridiculously easy for you,” he reassured him. The romance was nice, encouraged, but not all he wanted out of their relationship. They were building the important things and everything else was coming along with it.  He wanted to make sure that Grant knew just what he already meant to him.

He slid his hand from Grant’s to wrap his arms around his neck, brushing his lips softly over his neck. He pressed close, happy to be held so close and tight. “Neither am I.” He was going to fight tooth and nail for them to be able to keep these promises this time. They were both much more able to do it now than they were fifteen years ago. More than that, he felt something stronger, deeper, that made him think this was more likely to last the way they wanted it to.

--

It was never easy to stay together, but this was already easier than he'd ever imagined it would be. They were both willing to work at it, and that was the important thing. They wanted to try for each other. He just smiled, brushing a soft kiss against his hair.

He wrapped his arms around his waist, James's body a line of warmth against his. "Good, I want you right here with me. I want you," he whispered, because that was all, really. However and for as long as he could have him, just as James had said. Holding him in his arms again was an unexpected gift, one he didn't want to let go of any time soon, and he was content just to stay like that for a while. Maybe if he held him long enough, it would feel less like a dream.

--

He knew their life and their relationship wouldn’t always be easy or soft. He wouldn’t trust it if it was. He wanted Grant to be his partner in every way he wanted to be. They both were willing to put in the work and to try and that was worth so much.

“I’ll be here, sweetheart. Every chance and every time you want it. Right here,” he assured him, because this was the happiest he had been in a long time. He let himself drift in the comfort of his arms, grounded in the very real warmth of him. The music kept playing softly in the background, every bit of it adding to the soundtrack of their life together. Idly, he brushed his lips along his jaw, tracing the line of it and marveling at it in his head. He had always been heartbreakingly beautiful to him. Time had only made it better.

--

He wasn't going to ruin this by thinking too far ahead right now or by creating complications because nothing real should be this easy. He had his hands full even adjusting to the idea that it was happening at all. He'd imagined having James back in his life a thousand different ways when they'd fallen apart, but when years passed, he didn't allow himself to consider the possibility anymore. There was no point in hurting himself over something that would never happen.

But somehow it had. Grant didn't know if this would ever feel like something he was allowed to have, but he was grateful. Second chances were rare enough that he didn't believe they existed, but James was here promising him that they did. "That might be always," he admitted, smiling as he rested a cheek against his hair. He'd almost forgotten about the music, so wrapped up in James and his own thoughts that he couldn't have said what the last song was. His eyes fluttered shut when lips traced along his jaw, and he turned his head, catching him in a soft kiss.

--

He smiled softly against his skin and let out a happy sound. “I’m quite happy with always, you know.” In fact, very little sounded better to him than having an always with Grant. He had given up on finding an Always years ago, had figured it just wasn’t in the cards for him however much he may want it. And yet here Grant was, again, despite all the odds to the contrary.

That soft kiss was enough to narrow his focus down to one thing: Grant. All of the rest of the thinking he could do about their past, their future, it didn’t matter so much. His hands slid up into his hair to tip his head just enough to slowly deepen the kiss, taking his time to sink into it and  pour everything that was bubbling over in him into it.

--

"I like the sound of it," he agreed. He knew his smile was verging on dopey, but that was fine. No one else was around to see it, and he might not have cared even if they were. That warm, bubbling feeling, it took a moment to identify it as happiness. Before this week with James, it had been a long time since he felt something like that, a happiness that was hard to contain.

Being kissed like that was enough to make his mind go pleasantly blank. The only things in the room, in the world, were the warmth of James's body against his, the hands in his hair, those soft lips that could slowly take him apart. They'd said plenty out loud, but words could only go so far. There was so much unspoken in that kiss that it could easily overwhelm him. He made a soft sound, hands warm against his back through the thin cotton of his shirt as he sank into him.

--

James had found that, at times, he was better at actions than words. In this moment, it was more to be able to wholly express what he was feeling because he knew that words just didn’t cover it. He knew a lot of words in a lot of languages and there just weren’t enough. Happiness, contentment, excitement, affection, heat, desire, all of it and more were just adding to what they had decided to build together.

That soft sound was a gentle breaking point for him and he slowly shifted them until he could back Grant up against a counter edge with a low noise of his own. The heat of his hands through his shirt, the softness of the hair in his hands, and his mouth under his were his anchors for that moment. There was so much that he couldn’t remember feeling before, a depth and a weight that drove it all and made him want more of him, every time they were together and apart, like he just couldn’t get enough.

--

Words were fine, good even, but they didn't mean anything without actions to back them up. It would take time to prove everything they were promising each other, and that was okay. This was a different kind of promise. They'd always been good at communicating without words too, in looks and body language and soft touches and kisses. It was like no one else could understand this language but them, and it had been years since he'd been able to speak.

He put everything into that slowly deepening kiss. The ache of missing him, the longing of finding him again, the joy of whatever they were starting here, and the promise that this time they could stay, and they could try, and whatever life threw at them, he just wanted to figure it out with him. His breath stuttered when his back met the counter, but he only tightened his grip, pulling him in close again.

--

This was a language for him and Grant alone, and they had never needed a translator for it. His kiss made him weak in the knees and one of his hands slid to cup his jaw, thumb blazing it’s own soft trail behind his ear. There was an indescribable joy in it, in finding him and having this second chance, in getting to hold him again.

Hearing his breath stutter that way made heat bloom in his core and he pressed himself against the hard line of his body without a second thought. All he wanted to feel on any level was Grant and that’s exactly what he was getting. A soft whine of need that was as emotional as anything else escaped him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been kissed in a way that made his head swim that way.

--

He shivered under that touch and the heat that flared so easily between them, as if it had never left. He'd imagined kissing him again, when he was younger and he thought he might suffocate under that loss, but Grant's imagination wasn't this good. It didn't take into account how different they would both be or how he'd want to spend forever learning the new shape of his body, still molded to his like it was meant to fit there. It wasn't more real than everything else that had happened, but it helped ground those things in reality. This was something he couldn't make up.

That soft sound made him feel weak, matching the longing he felt for him in every way. He slid a hand into his hair and kissed him steadily, a promise that he was here, and he had him, and they had time for everything they wanted. His other hand pressed against the warm skin of his back beneath his shirt, not wandering but just holding him there. Grant didn't care anymore if they continued to take things slow. He would do anything James wanted. It wasn't like he wasn't dangerously committed already.

--

The feeling was completely mutual, wanting to spend forever learning the new shape of him and let it ground their reality. For all he had imagined kissing him and holding him again, he never could have gotten it right. This was entirely new and it was exciting to him to explore and learn him.

He wanted to purr and melt under those attentions, the soft touches. The heat of his hand on his skin, though, that stole his breath and made him gasp softly into their kiss. Grant made his head swim in the best way and he simply leaned into him, happy to be held so close. A part of him wanted to keep chasing that heat, but the other part reminded him that he was trying to do this right. He slowly lightened the kiss before pulling himself away from his lips but allowing his lips to trail down over his jaw and down to his neck. He pressed a soft kiss there before tucking his face into the crook of his neck and letting out a shaky exhale. This was it for him and he knew it, even as early as it was, but he wanted Grant to have the time he deserved.

--

He wanted to memorize every soft sound and stolen breath, learn everything he liked that made his knees weak and his head spin. That was hardly a surprise. He already wanted to know everything about James, and this was just another aspect of that. Grant let him pull away slowly, for once not feeling the need to chase the kiss. He always wanted to kiss him, of course, but he trusted that they would have more chances.

His eyes fluttered shut as he traced a line of heat down his jaw and neck, his head tipping to give him room. When he tucked his face in, he wrapped an arm around his waist, his other hand sliding through his hair. It was as soft and gentle as it had been heated and needy a few moments before, his breath and heartbeat slowly evening out as he held him close. He had everything he wanted right there in his arms.

--

James knew they had time to learn everything about each other, even in this. He wanted to enjoy every step and every shift in their relationship. It helped that he now trusted in the fact that they had more chances for more nights just like this one, full of warmth and affection, dancing in the kitchen, cooking together.

It was a new feeling, being held this way and just not wanting to move away from it. This was even more precious to him than the heated moments they’d just shared. This was trust and comfort and everything he wanted. His arms slid to curl around him as he simply basked in his warmth and relaxed entirely.

--

There was nothing he would have changed about this night. It was already perfect in a way that felt almost fragile, but learning to trust again after they'd both been so hurt was always fragile. Even if they'd been married ten years, he thought it would have been that way. Loving something went hand in hand with the fear of losing it, and they'd both lost a lot.

He loved how completely relaxed James was in his arms, trusting him to hold and comfort him. He valued this more too. It was shelter and safety, and maybe not love yet, but close enough that the difference didn't matter much to him anymore. He relaxed into his warmth and pressed a soft kiss against his head, fingers stroking a gentle path through his hair.

--

Loss had made James careful, probably too much so to be healthy for him, but it had made his love that much more fierce when he gave it. He didn’t want this to be added to the list of losses again. There was hope and home available to him now in a single person and tonight was an example.

If there was anyone in the world James would trust with all of him, it was the man currently holding him. The soft kiss and pets made him him softly in pleasure at the sensation and he snuggled in. “Movie and cuddles?” The suggestion was born of a need to stay close but a desire for them both to be able to stay comfortable.

--

Grant did a good impression of being well-adjusted, but when it came to personal relationships, he had a tendency to hold people at a distance, even his friends. He recognized it as a thing he needed to work on, but it was safe. He didn't need more disappointment at this point in his life. He didn't know how he'd managed to do a 180 with James and let down every single wall he had in under a week, but it was worth everything they were risking to stand here and hold him like this.

Snuggly James was one of his favorite things, and there would have been protesting if he proposed anything that involved more space between them right now. "Mostly cuddles," he agreed, pressing a few more kisses against his hair. He reluctantly unwrapped an arm from him to pause the music, leaning forward to brush lips against his neck as he tucked the phone back into James's pocket. There was a fine line between cuddling and flirting, and Grant was a pretty good multitasker.

--

“Mostly cuddles,” he agreed happily, knowing he was only going to give any movie they turned on his partial attention. He enjoyed the press of kisses and thought he could used to those all too easily from him. It was all he could do to keep himself from pouting when he shifted away but it was definitely helped with how his phone was returned to his pocket.

His head tipped and his breath caught, his hands lifting to curl around his hips. “Thank you,” he smiled slowly, brushing his thumbs slightly under his t-shirt to catch his hipbones before turning him towards the living room. “Turn on whatever you’d like,” he requested, stepping up behind him to brush his lips lightly over the back of his neck.

--

"Happy to help." A slow smile spread across his face too, a trace more mischief in it. A small shiver ran through him at the ghost of lips on his neck, and he couldn't help leaning back into him a little. He'd started it, so that was fair. Rather than wrap James around him like a blanket, he slid a hand into his and pulled him to the couch.

He picked up the remotes and took a seat, holding out an arm for him to join him. "What do you like?" He clicked through some movies, looking for something pleasant but easy to ignore. Grant tended toward things with happy endings: Disney, musicals, superheroes. He had enough drama and sadness in his real life not to appreciate it much in his fiction.

--

The mischievous smile did things to him and it sent a little shiver down his spine, delight and anticipation filling him at the sight of it despite himself. He liked the way he leaned back into him and happily would have become a human blanket for hun. He was content enough to curl his hand around Grant’s and go with his pull. After all, that tug meant more cuddles and closeness and that was exactly what he was in the mood for.

He settled down next to him, curling under his arm and tucking his legs over his lap with no hesitation. “Something happy,” he decided with a little hum, “How about we go Disney?” He was unashamed of his love for Disney movies. He liked action movies too, but even those he wanted to see happy endings. Sci-fi and fantasy films were also always on the docket for him to watch.

--

He smiled as the weight of his legs settled over him, and he wrapped an arm around his shoulders, shifting until they were both settled in close. With someone he cared for, Grant was a major cuddler. Tangled on the couch, soft kisses, playing with hair. It wasn't something he'd had much of for a long time.

"Always good," he agreed, flipping to the right channel. He wasn't sure he trusted someone who said they didn't like Disney. Didn't sound like his kind of person at all. He settled on Lilo & Stitch because it was near the top and set the remote aside, wrapping that arm around James too.

--

It would likely surprise Grant to learn that James was very much out of practice with cuddling or close human contact in general. It had been a very long time since he had simply curled up and cuddled with anyone. This, though… this felt like coming home. Grant felt like home. Like peace. He hadn’t had either for a very long time.

“That was my thought too,” he murmured softly, already melting against the warmth of him and pillowing his head on his shoulder. Seeing the movie made him smile softly, as it was one of his favorites. “I love this one,” he told him quietly, his arms wrapping around him as he took a deep breath and filled his lungs with the relaxing scent of him.

--

Grant was out of practice as well. There was no one he'd wanted this close to him for quite some time. Even his last couple years of marriage hadn't included much softness, which in hindsight should have been a red flag. Caught in the middle of it, he couldn't see anything past his grief. Being curled on the couch with James was a bit of long-needed comfort.

"Me too." He smiled, brushing a kiss against his hair. He'd practically memorized this movie and didn't need to pay close attention to follow it. It was more like comforting background noise while he let his mind and body relax. It had been a weird week, to put it lightly, and he didn't want to think about anything more complicated than Disney aliens and the man in his lap for the rest of the night.

--

He wanted more nights exactly like this one, cooking and dancing and ending curled together in simple closeness and comfort. He had a feeling that Grant needed it as much as he did. James could imagine many a night spent with a Disney film on just to relax to and do absolutely nothing but be together.

A weird week was putting it mildly, in James’s opinion. His world had been flipped on its axis, everything he had been doing seemed lonely now and he wondered if he’d simply been blatantly ignoring it. Therapist: One. James: Zero. The arm across Grant’s front lifted  so he could slide his fingers softly over his neck and shoulder in an idle pet, occasionally sliding high enough to brush through his hair. He only gave the movie partial attention, knowing it by heart, and gave most of his attention to the man he was practically laying on.

--

He did need it, more than he'd wanted to admit before now. His therapist kept telling him people weren't meant to be alone, and he kept telling her that he wasn't. He had colleagues and friends, people he hung out with semi-regularly, and they both knew that wasn't what she meant. He didn't romanticize being alone, but it was hard not to be grateful they'd both been unattached and could give this a chance.

His fingers brushed a lazy path over his arm, and he occasionally pressed another soft kiss into his hair. His mind was wandering back to this is too good to be allowed, and the small touches helped ground him in reality. About halfway through he moved his legs up onto the couch and shifted to lie down, reaching to pull James down with him too if he wanted to come.

--

It was easy to drift on the soft wave of relaxation the soothing touches and warmth brought. He wasn’t really asleep, but he knew he wasn’t very alert. It was the first time in a long time he felt comfortable and even more… safe. It felt like something out of a dream, but his best dreams never felt so solid or so full of happiness the way this did.

When Grant shifted, he didn’t even pause to consider and simply shifted with him. He more sprawled on top of him rather like a blanket than laid down beside him, his hand sliding just under his shirt to rest on the warm skin of his side, the other tucking slightly under him.  His head went to his shoulder and the crook of his neck, burrowing in with a soft sound.

--

It filled him with a gentle happiness the way James just made himself comfortable, no awkwardness or hesitation, as though he was exactly where he was meant to be. There was something deeply comforting about the weight of him and the warmth of the hand on his side. He reached for the blanket on the back of the couch and tugged it over both of them.

He pressed a kiss to his forehead and curled an arm around his waist, the other reaching up to drift idly through his hair. If he had an evil plan, it was getting James relaxed enough to sleep. He worried a little about his insomnia. It might have been working a little too well though, since he was feeling relaxed and sleepy enough to drift off himself.

--

Meant to be or not, James was precisely where he wanted to be. That alone was enough for him to question absolutely nothing. As the blanket drifted over the pair of them, he let out a quiet hum of contentment and snuggled closer. He must have been a cat in another life, the way he preferred to cuddle in and be petted.

His eyes drifted shut at the soft strokes through his hair combined with the kiss. It was something out of his most far fetched but wanted dreams and he wanted it to be real too much to question it. For the first time in days, he felt the pull of sleep and tried to fight it for a little while, letting his eye flit between the screen and Grant’s face. It wasn’t long though before it took over and he drifted off into a soft sleep, his body going entirely lax atop him.

--

He remembered nights like this from before, how soft and snuggly James was with him, but he hadn't allowed himself to remember too vividly. For so long memories like that just hurt. It was coming back clearer than ever now, with more fondness than pain. He wanted to give him all the snuggles and pets he could possibly want.

He divided his attention between the movie and James as well, aware when he started to doze and not doing anything to disrupt it. He needed the rest, and Grant was happy he was comfortable enough to sleep even a little. He kept up the slow path of his hand through his hair until he started to feel drowsy too, and then he curled that hand over his shoulder and drifted off, the familiar dialogue a comforting background noise.

--

This was special to Grant and only Grant. He couldn’t remember relaxing so entirely or sliding so easily into sleep with anyone else. But then, he had never found anyone in his younger days or older, that he connected with as easily and as deeply as he did with him. He’d tried to force the memories away so often but it hardly worked. Now he was kind of glad because he was able to enjoy them on a whole new level.

He barely registered the slight shift in positioning or the cessation of pets, he was so deep into that soft sleepy place. Over the years, sleep had gotten progressively harder to achieve and he knew that he shouldn’t entirely give in here but he wanted to. He wanted to trust Grant with his sleep, with his most vulnerable moments. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Grant already. He didn’t trust himself not to ruin it when his subconscious took over and sleep was less than sweet.

--

Grant had done his best to move on after James enlisted, and by most accounts, he'd been successful at that. He'd loved Anna; of course he had. He wouldn't have married her if he didn't. It was different though, slower and quieter and based more on familiarity and time than the sort of overwhelming, immediate connection he'd had with James. He'd always been in a category of his own.

They hadn't spoken in depth about the insomnia or the nightmares and PTSD that likely came with an injury like his. Grant only worried about it as far as it affected James, and whatever he might be able to do to help him in a situation like that. Nightmares were pretty regular for him too. It wasn't on his mind at the moment as he drifted in and out of sleep, James a warm, welcome weight over him. He must have dozed more than he realized because the next time he opened his eyes, the movie was back on its starting  screen and he didn't remember seeing the end. He didn't feel any particular inclination to move though.

--

Genuinely, James hadn’t cared about moving on. He hadn’t had time for a relationship in all reality, with how he thrown himself into his career once he had realized he didn’t really have another choice. It had been easier and preferable to be married to his job, especially after the loss of his mom and Kim’s fiery independent streak.

He knew that eventually, he would have to talk to Grant about his PTSD, the insomnia, everything that came with it. He would have to tell him what it was like in those darkest moments of his mind and memories that he couldn’t shake and likely never would. He hadn’t spent the night asleep in a bed with anyone since his career ending injury, so he wasn’t at all sure about what it would be like for Grant. The warmth under him was a welcome one, firm and comforting. Waking up to the heavy weight across his back was new and he froze for a moment, hands tightening, before it all came back to him. He had to force a few slow, deep breaths and unlock his muscles as he reminded himself he was safe and everything was okay.

--

They had plenty of time to talk about the darker parts of their history. Grant wanted to hear all of it. He wanted to know him, even the shadowed parts, even of there was nothing at all he could do to help. Not every fracture line could be painted back together with gold. Some things would just always hurt, but he still wanted to know them. At least he wouldn't be alone with it anymore.

Drifting between awake and asleep fell abruptly into awake at the sudden tension in him. He wasn't sure if moving would help or make it worse. He compromised by waiting until James seemed more alert, and then he smoothed a hand back through his hair. "Okay?" he murmured. He stroked fingers over the back of his neck, lightly soothing.

--

The soothing touch helped him relax again, sinking back down against him in a loose puddle of limbs. He knew he wasn’t alone, knew that he could talk to Grant about it if he wanted to just then. All of his broken parts couldn’t be smoothed, they couldn’t all be put back together in a way that made sense or was inclined to stay together. He could only hope that they could make it through the learning of it all together.

“Now I am,” he said quietly, pressing his face into his neck. His hands smoothed over his sides under the soft cotton of his shirt in a gesture of gratitude. Lips brushed a soft kiss over his neck and he exhaled softly. “I haven’t slept with anyone since…” he rotated his shoulder slightly and sighed lightly.

--

He doubted there was anything James could tell him that would make him walk away. Everything he'd learned about this new version of him just made him want him more. Not the easy, idealized version in his memory, but the real man, the one who'd been broken but was still braver and sweeter than anyone he'd ever met. It wasn't like Grant was still in factory condition either.

He curled his arms a little tighter around him, pressing a kiss to his forehead. His hand kept up its slow path through his hair. It made him a little sad to hear he'd been alone all that time, and a little warm that he felt safe enough to fall asleep here. "You can stay, if you want. I want you to be able to sleep though." He didn't want to add to his sleep trouble by asking him to stay in an unfamiliar place or share a bed when he was used to sleeping alone, but he wanted him to know he was welcome.

--

He felt the comfort and care in that hold, the soft touches. It didn’t make him sad to think of the time he’d spent alone, since he has spent so much of it healing and not in any mental place good for another person. When he stopped to consider his sleep over the week, this was among the best and it was slightly startling to consider.

He lifted himself up just enough to look at Grant’s face properly. “I’d ask if that’s what you really want, but since I know it’s what I want, I have a feeling it’s mutual,” he murmured, his voice careful and thoughtful. “Instead I’ll ask… do you think it’s a good move for us right now? If it’s yes, I’m staying. If it’s no, then I’m going home. I promised you, sweetheart, we would do this right.” He brushed his hand softly along his cheek. “Don’t think about anyone else’s ‘normal’ timelines. For you and me, us and this thing we’re building, is it a good move?”

--

He was so beautiful, even in the dim glow of the tv, that it made his chest ache to look at him. He traced the side of his face, thumb brushing along his jawline. "I don't know. I don't trust myself to be objective about you," he admitted with a small smile. He didn't know what was good for them at this point. They probably wouldn't know for a while. He just knew he wanted him there.

He tipped his head forward just far enough to kiss him softly. "I can promise that if you stay, it's just for sleep. I'll behave. I don't want to rush this either." He still wasn't sure that it mattered anymore, as wrapped up in James as he already was, but he would never push him for anything. If they decided not to cross a line, then he wouldn't cross it.

--

There was no part of him that wanted to go home, to attempt to sleep in a cold, lonely bed when he knew he could be right here. He brushed soft touches purely because he needed the contact even while he tipped his head into that soft touch. “Oh lucky, we’re both terribly attached,” he murmured, a gently teasing note in his voice.

He hummed quietly into the kiss, leaning into it just a little bit. It wasn’t so much a concern about rushing anymore. His heart had done that and there was nothing to do to stop that. “I want to stay,” he told him softly and barely kept himself from saying that was a promise he didn’t need or want. Leaning in, he kissed him slow and let the kiss say it instead. He was safe, happy, and wanted and he wanted Grant to feel it too.

--

He was trying not to think too hard about James leaving. He knew he was going to miss him as soon as he left, whenever that was, and he decided that was a problem for another time. He smiled, knowing James was teasing, but he did feel lucky when it came to this. How often was the person you were terribly attached to just as attached to you? It was like winning the lottery, except he hadn't even been playing.

"I want you to stay." He murmured the words against his lips in between soft kisses. Grant wasn't expecting him to kiss him in a way that immediately challenged that promise, but maybe he should have. It wasn't James who had promised to behave, after all. He melted a little into it, his hand resting against the warm skin his back just beneath his shirt. Worth whatever torture he had to endure to keep him.

--

“Then staying it is,” he decided, completely content with their choice. Soft kisses and warm touches melted into something more in his chest as he purposely prodded at that heat to see if it would flare up again. He was already glad that Grant wanted him to stay because leaving was the absolute last thing he wanted.

He slowly lightened the kiss as easily as he’d deepened it, his hands brushing a soothing trail over his sides. “Sorry, had to,” he smiled slowly, brushing a kiss over his cheek.

--

He made a soft sound as the kiss deepened, his hand sliding further into his hair and the other tracing a soothing pattern over soft skin. Mixed with their sleepy cuddles, it wasn't quite the heat of earlier, but it was there, easily called to the surface if they wanted it. Grant had a feeling that would always be the case. He'd always been hopelessly attracted to him.

He huffed a quiet laugh as he pulled away, not altogether surprised to hear it was intentional. He didn't look at all sorry, but neither was Grant. If he wanted to wind him up, he could think of way worse ways to spend the night. "Troublemaker," he murmured fondly, tipping his head to press a kiss against his jaw.

--

It was so easy to give in to the endless attraction he had for Grant, the endless well of warmth and want he had always had for him. He liked how they could slide from soft and sweet to something heavier and then right back. Nothing they’d had before had really prepared him for how he felt now, how easily he could respond to Grant’s hands and lips.

He liked the sound of his soft laughter, a soft slightly dopey smile threatening to take over his face. “Mmm, you like it,” he snickered softly as he shifted his head to give him room in encouraging invitation. “Do you want to stay right here for a little while? Or more comfort?”

--

He was beginning to think soft and sweet might be their resting heart rate, the default setting they returned to in between everything else, and that sounded like a good way to spend the rest of his life. He tried not to look too far ahead, but the immediate future looked a lot better with him in it.

"I do, in fact," he agreed, taking the invitation to press a line of soft kisses down his neck. He liked James teasing and laughing, but he'd yet to see a side of him he didn't like. He pulled away before the urge to do anything more could overwhelm him. Trying to keep his promise would not be helped by Grant's desire to keep flirting. He settled back, thumb stroking softly over his back. He was comfortable and didn't really want to lose the reassuring weight of James over him, but he did want him to get a decent night's sleep. "More comfort," he decided.

--

James already looked more forward to his future with Grant in it than he had for a while. It was easy to get caught on autopilot and not really pay attention to the future even as it continued to come closer. “Oh good, then I can keep it up,” he teased, trying to ignore the shivers those soft kisses caused. He was absolute putty for Grant and he was happy to be.

Part of him wanted to pout at the idea of moving, but wanting Grant to be equally comfortable mattered more. “More comfort it is,” he agreed softly, pushing up and taking his hands to pull him up with him. He could always just flop on him in bed anyway. At least that way, Grant was laying on something soft and comfortable and he could be a ridiculous human blanket again.

--

Thinking too far into the future got dangerous for him, even before he met James again. It was enough for him to focus on making his day to day life tolerable without the pressure of thinking about the rest of it. "I hope so," he murmured against his skin. Even if it tormented him a little, he was here for it.

He allowed James to pull him up and managed not to groan in protest. It was his idea to move, but Grant acknowledged that sometimes his ideas were really stupid. He turned off the tv and swiped his phone off the counter on the way to the bedroom, making sure his alarm was set for the morning before he set it aside and crawled into bed.

--

He couldn’t stop the smile that spread over his face at the quiet murmur against his skin. He would absolutely enjoy tormenting Grant but he would be entirely happy to be tormented by him if he was in the mood to do so. Though, true torment would be no intent to follow through, and that was something he could never subject either of them to in this.

Relaxed, he watched with soft eyes as Grant trailed through turning things off. He knew he would wake up with him, so didn’t bother with his own alarm as he trailed after him. When he crawled into bed, he waited a beat before crawling in after him and draping himself right back how he had been on the couch with a little sound of satisfaction.

--

He made grabby hands for him, pouting a little himself at the small hesitation. The only reason he'd been okay with getting up was because he knew he'd have him back in his arms shortly. It was a brief warning of how bad this was going to be for him when they did have to say goodbye. There was going to be a lot of reminding himself that he was an adult who didn't need a permanent boyfriend-shaped carry-on.

He made a happy sound when James collapsed against him again, arms wrapping around him and face snuggling into his hair. He pressed a kiss to the soft spot behind his ear, fingers tracing a light path through his hair. He'd never thought he'd get to hold him like this again. Twice in one night seemed almost too good to be true, but he wasn't questioning it for now. Better just to take good things as they were given to him, and deal with the bad the same way.

--

James was quite content to be turned into a permanent boyfriend backpack and never have to leave Grant’s side. He didn’t really ever want to have to say goodbye, however temporary, but he knew that was going to be their eventual reality. He loved the sight of that pout, but hated that he had put it there at all.

A soft shiver escaped him at the kiss behind his ear and he snuggled in with a happy noise. Twice in one night for cuddling like this was absolutely unheard of for him. He brushed his lips over his neck and shoulder softly, tucking his hands back under his shirt against his side. “One Jamie blank or,” he murmured quietly.

--

He wasn't looking forward to tomorrow's separation, but he also trusted that they'd manage it and still find ways to be close. Knowing he had reasons to be in contact with him all weekend was reassuring, as were their plans for Sunday. He told himself not to turn into that guy, the kind who only existed as half a relationship, but for now he wasn't going to worry too much about something that was making both of them happy.

"My favorite kind," he murmured back, lightly stroking the soft skin just beneath the edge of his shirt. It was better than a weighted blanket, and he was guessing just as good for anxiety. He felt relaxed and safe under the warmth of him, the soft touches and kisses reassuring him that he was there and this was real; he wasn't just going to vanish when he woke up.

--

He could never just go radio silent on Grant, especially not now. Songs, photos, text messages, they were all things he would fill his weekend with to share his life with him even though they weren’t together. He didn’t think either of them would turn into those people, they both led their own lives already and he would never ask him to give that up. They made one another happy, and they deserved to celebrate that, but they were both more than that.

“I’ll be your blanket any time you like,” he assured him. It was comforting for him as well, and it was so easy to sink into him. “I’ll be here, sweetheart, all night,” he reassured both of them that this wasn’t a dream. “We can have breakfast before you leave,” he suggested.

--

"Happy to return the favor." He smiled, glad to make himself available for cuddles at any time. The reassurance made his throat unexpectedly tight, with that uncanny ability James had to guess where his mind was. Grant had considered that maybe he'd snapped and was making all this up, but if that was the case, his mental breakdown was years too late. He didn't say anything, instead sliding both hands over his back beneath his shirt and wrapping his arms a little tighter around him.

His face dipped into the crook of his neck, and he pressed a soft kiss there. "I'd love to have breakfast with you." He thought it might ease the separation a bit, or at least give them time to wake up and adjust to the idea, much as he wanted James to get some proper rest. He hoped he'd be able to go back to sleep once he left if he needed to.

--

James had no way to be sure that he wasn't entirely out of his mind except for the warmth and firmness of Grant's body under him. He didn't think a mental break could be quite that real, especially not with anything he hadn't had before that night. His fingers slid so they were tucked under his sides, his thumbs brushing soft paths back and forth.

"Good, I can make sure you're okay before you leave," he murmured softly. It was important to him to know that Grant was okay and taken care of in any way that he could manage it. He knew he wouldn't leave before Grant did, not in a million years. "And it makes our time apart even less," he said, feeling a little triumphant over t.

--

"I'm better than okay," he assured him quietly, still warmed by the fact that James wanted to take care of him as much as Grant wanted to care for him. It looked like a lot of things: snuggles and soft kisses, making sure he got a decent meal or a good night's sleep, texing while they were apart, or just being there to share it when life got heavy. They'd both lived without it for a long time and knew it was possible. Grant just didn't want him to have to anymore.

His hands stroked a lazy path in response. He was probably incapable of stopping it at this point. Touching him was as natural as breathing. He hummed softly in amusement, unable to help a smile. "I see your master scheme now," he teased. He wasn't sure who was more guilty of trying to get more time with each other. More fun that it was a team effort, anyway.

--

"I would like to keep you that way," the admission was soft and accompanied by a soft kiss to his neck again. He'd lived so long without someone there caring for him or for him to care for that he wasn't sure he'd find a way to mess it up eventually. He just had a visceral need to take care of Grant that he couldn't, and didn't want to, shake.

The soft touches made him sigh happily and snuggle closer as though it would get him more of them. He liked hearing him amused and happy and it made him smile against his skin before picking himself up just enough to look at his face. "Yep, big plans right here," he smiled slowly before leaning in to kiss him softly.

--

He shivered slightly under his lips and the soft, earnest way he said that. If James thought he wasn't very good at being romantic, he was wrong. Grant could think of few things more romantic than I want to take care of you and meaning it. It wasn't something he could have understood at nineteen, but he understood it now. "Me too, sweetheart," he whispered.

Snuggling closer would always get him more pets. He pressed soft kisses against his hair, his hand tracing a lazy path up and down his spine. "I don't mind as long as I'm part of them." He couldn't do anything but smile back. He was so goddamn adorable it was practically a crime. He tipped his head into the kiss, soft and lingering.

--

He was already addicted to the feeling of Grant's hands running through his hair, the soft kisses there, all of it. He wanted to arch into the hand leaving soft trails of heat over his spine, but he also wanted to press closer. It was a ridiculous conundrum he found himself in but didn't want to not have.

Lingering over that soft kiss was sweet and he never wanted it to end. He did pull back just enough to talk, his lips brushing his still slightly. "Baby, you're all of my plans," he admitted, his voice a little husky with it.

--

Physical touch was a cornerstone they'd both been without for a while. He'd let himself forget how much he needed the soft brushes of hands on skin or the warm weight of another body next to him. He thought he could easily spend the rest of his life just holding James close, trading soft kisses, and talking about nothing, which was somehow everything.

It was hard not to chase his lips this time even though he didn't go far. He couldn't tell if it was his voice when he said it, or the baby because his pet names had always had a way of melting Grant from the inside, or the way he knew James meant everything that he said, but the words sent a hot slide of heat down his spine. He freed one of his hands to slide it into his hair, letting a little more heat into it as he caught his lips in another kiss.

--

There was no way he would ever be able to keep himself from responding so readily to Grant, especially not like this. A rough groan was punched out of him from the heat in this new kiss, returning it in equal measure. His hands slid firmly under him to spread across his back, loving the weight of him pressed between him and the bed.

He pulled back out of the kiss just enough to nip at his bottom lip lightly, a scrape of teeth over that all too tempting swell. He pressed back into another kiss, sliding deeper and adding more heat because he needed Grant to know how much he felt for him. He couldn't keep it to himself, not in these soft moments that were all theirs and so easily committed to memory.

--

James moaning into his mouth was enough to wreck what was left of his train of thought, all of his remaining focus narrowing to the lips on his and the warmth of the man in his arms. It was devastating how he seemed to read exactly what he wanted and offer it without hesitating. Grant never wanted him to have to hide his feelings, good or bad.

His hands tightened slightly, holding him close as he melted into the kiss. He shivered at the soft scrape of teeth, nails running lightly over his scalp in encouragement as he pressed hungrily back into the kiss. A soft, needy sound escaped him at the slow, deep heat of it. He wanted to kiss him and keep kissing him, to sink into him and never resurface.

--

James never would have claimed to be able to just tell what Grant wanted, but he knew what he wanted himself and could only ever hope it aligned with Grant's wants and needs. He would never hesitate to offer anything of himself to him, his care, his heart, this was the easiest to give him.

He loved feeling those clever hands tightening and the way he shivered under him. Between the scrape of nails and that sound, he was lost and there was no real active thought. The kiss sank deeper, his hand sliding up his back to slip his fingers into the hair at the back of his head to tip it just enough to plunder just that much deeper. He would drown in this, let himself stay under, there was already nothing in the world but them, but this.

--

There was nothing he wanted more right now than exactly what he had, and that was James kissing him like the world started and ended with the two of them. The regret of pulling away from him that first time still hadn't completely left him, and he'd promised himself it would never happen again. He wanted everything that James offered so freely; he would take it and keep it safe.

He moaned softly when he tilted his head for a new angle, and he couldn't stop the way he melted completely under him. His fingers tangled in his hair, keeping him close while that clever mouth took him apart. There was no end goal or ulterior motive, neither of them trying to take it any further. James's mouth was a whole world by itself, and he'd be content just to kiss him for the rest of the night.

--

James's world did start and end with the two of them when they were together. Everything and everyone else was extra. So softly, and so willingly, he handed everything he was into Grant's hands, trust him with it and hoping he would treasure it. A part of him knew that he would, that his was wholly mutual on nearly every level, but he couldn't help but hold that hope in place.

All he wanted was to kiss Grant until they both forgot anything else, until everything was narrowed down to just that. He wanted to feel that soft, sweet surrender of him that was made all the better because it was for him. The soft, pliant heat of him made him groan softly because it was better than anything he could have imagined.

--

Grant was only too happy to reorient his world with James at the center. It felt right, as though something that had long been off balance had settled into place. It had always been that way with him though. He knew that they both had the ability to damage the other beyond repair if they didn't move carefully with this, but he trusted that in James's hands was the best possible place for his heart. Grant had to trust that he could keep his safe as well, that he could protect James even from his own sharp edges.

But there was no room for worry about that right now. All his finer thinking had been abandoned in favor of soft lips and hands and the gentle heat building between them. If he wanted surrender, then he had it. Grant was relaxed and yielding under him as long as he didn't stop. His fingers traced out the soft contours of his back while hot, languorous kisses started a slow fire in him set to burn away every last doubt.

--

James would have happily spent all night until the sun came up kissing Grant. The driving need for both of them to properly rest eventually took over, though, and after a (long) while, he slowly pulled back and soothed them both with soft touches and equally soft looks. Staying settled over him, it was easy to let sleep take over.

The sound of an alarm clock made him groan and bury his face. There was a brief pause when it wasn’t his pillow he was trying to burrow into. Instead, a comforting and familiar smell and warmth met him and he smiled softly. He seemed to have done his best octopus impression in his sleep and he gently tightened his limbs. “Morning,” he rumbled out quietly, voice sleep rough and low.

--

He kissed him until there were no thoughts left that weren't James, and then a little longer. He didn't protest when they settled into cuddles and soft touches. He wanted James to get some sleep, and it wouldn't be a terrible idea for him either. He was surprised by how quickly he drifted off though, soothed by the warm weight of his body over him.

Grant was awake before his alarm, a terrible habit he had, but with James octopused around him, he couldn't reach his phone to turn it off without disturbing him. Waking him would defeat the purpose, so he stayed where he was and enjoyed his warmth and the soft sound of his breathing until it went off. "Morning, sweetheart," he murmured, arms tightening around him and face snuggling into his hair.

--

This was a way he could get very used to waking up, frighteningly quickly. He wanted it to be his new normal, to hear that voice first thing in the morning before he even chose to open his eyes. He brushed a soft kiss to his neck and shoulder with a content hum, releasing one arm from his hold to brush down his side.

“How did you sleep?” He lifted up his head to look at that much adored face with a soft expression. His lips brushed over his jaw gently, a gentle show of affection that he was happy to be able to do.

--

He liked everything about waking up with James in his bed, but there was nothing about the past twelve hours he wouldn't want to repeat on a daily basis. It was exactly the kind of life he wanted to build with him. Much as he hated to leave today, it made him warm to think he had someone he didn't want to leave, someone to come home to.

"Good. You?" Better than he'd expected to. He closed his eyes under the soft kisses, running a hand idly down his back. The soft look on his face when he opened his eyes stole his breath for a moment, and he lightly brushed fingers down the side of his face. "You're beautiful," he murmured. He wanted to wake up to this every morning and fall asleep in his arms every night.

--

He lifted a hand to brush through all that soft blonde hair, already addicted to the sight of him in the morning. “Probably the best sleep I’ve had in a very long time,” he admitted against soft skin. Sleep wasn’t something that often came easily, so he knew to never look a gift horse in the mouth.

He leaned into that soft brush of fingers, his eyes fluttering slightly. “So are you. Officially my favorite thing to wake up to,” he said softly. He couldn’t wait for this to be their daily life, to fall asleep and wake up together, to share all the moments small and large.

--

"I'm glad." He smiled, happy to know that James felt comfortable enough here not just to sleep but to sleep well. Grant knew he wasn't a cure for insomnia, or anything else, but he was grateful for anything that helped even a little. He tipped his head into that touch, all but purring like a cat.

"I was just thinking I want to do this all the time," he admitted softly. He stroked the side of his face again before fingers slid into his hair in the soft pets he seemed to love so much. This part was kind of new. They'd never reached the point where they got to live together, and any mornings he got to wake up next to him were rarer than he'd liked. Being an adult wasn't always fun, but there were so many downsides to being a teenager.

--

He scratched his nails lightly across his scalp as he kept up the soft brushes through his hair, enjoying the sight of him like that. Grant could fix a lot of things for him, and he knew it, but he didn't want to put him in the position of thinking it was his lot in life. He was so much more than that, always had been.

"I do too," he admitted in return, knowing they wouldn't keep themselves from it too often now. His eyes finally fluttered shut and he definitely pushed into the hand stroking through his hair. If he had to choose one favorite display of affection that wasn't kisses or anything of that vein, that was it. He could vividly remember the times they got to wake up together, and there weren't many. This was an advantage to adulthood.

--

He made a soft, contented sound at the touch. He would fix everything for James if he could, even though he knew that relationships didn't work like that. He could do this much though, and more, to make sure he was loved and cared for. It wasn't a fix for everything, but it had a way of making the hard parts a little more bearable.

It continued to amaze him how effortlessly they seemed to be on the same page so far. They'd clicked immediately when they were younger too, but Grant would have said it was impossible as an adult. He would have been wrong. He continued the soft pets, tipping his head up to brush a few light kisses against his neck. He could see them both easily getting distracted if mornings like this became a habit.

--

He wanted to be the cause of more sounds like that, knowing he made him that relaxed and happy. They were both going to have to work on the art of give and take, but he had a feeling they would figure it out. It would make everything better for both of them in the long run if they could.

His breath hitched at the soft kisses and he tipped his head to give him room for more. Morning distractions seemed like the most perfect thing to him if they were caused by Grant. A soft hiss of air through his teeth was all he had before he rolled them over so he could look up at Grant with soft eyes. "You're the best thing I've ever seen," he admitted, his hand trailing through his hair again.

--

No relationship was without its problems, but he thought they were doing alright working through them so far. They both wanted to handle them together, and that was a start. Grant had opened up more to him in the past week than anyone else in the past three years, or longer.

He couldn't help a soft laugh as they switched places, and he settled himself more firmly over him, deciding he liked it here just as well. "I think your bar is a little low," he teased, but it was obvious by the way he bit his lip on a smile that he was touched by the comment. He ran a hand up his side over his shirt and dipped his head to press soft kisses to his neck the way he'd been doing before he was so rudely interrupted.

--

The sound of that laugh made his chest even warmer than it already felt at his wakeup. His arm wrapped firmly around his waist, holding him flush to him as the other stayed in his hair. "No, sweetheart, it's awfully high, you're just that damn beautiful," he pointed out, leaning up to brush a kiss over the corner of his mouth softly before laying back down.

When the kisses continued, he tipped his head for him again to give him all the room he could want. He didn't want him to go on his trip, but he refused to be the clingy boyfriend when Grant was doing what he needed to do for his career. He knew it would be a weekend full of photos, music, text messages, and that he would see him in just a few days. For now, he was going to be greedy and soak up all of the attention he could.

--

Morning or not, there were moments with him where he felt like he was seventeen again. Laughing with him and being a little silly, James being sweet and too charming by half, and Grant feeling tongue-tied by his flirting was definitely one of them. He hummed happily into the kiss, pressing his palm against the warmth of his skin at his side.

"Sweetest man alive," he murmured against his skin. He continued the soft trail of kisses down his neck and then forced himself to pull back before he was tempted to do more. He didn't want to tease him too badly knowing that he didn't have time to follow through on it. He tucked an arm under his chin instead, gazing down at that adored face. "I need to shower, and then breakfast?"

--

Anything he could do to make him happy, to make him feel loved and appreciated, he was going to do. "Why are you talking about yourself?" He said the question teasingly, but he couldn't help but think how Grant was the sweetest person he had ever known. He would admit to bias, but it didn't change anything.

His hand continued its trail through his hair, nails leaving their trail against his scalp as he looked at him. "I'll start breakfast while you shower," he decided on a soft murmur, giving a good soft scritch just behind his ear.

--

He laughed softly and let it go because he wasn't going to win a most charming fight with James Lane. It was also bad manners to keep brushing off compliments, even if he didn't agree with them. There was a time and place for self-deprecation, and it wasn't in bed with his cute boyfriend. Or whatever. They hadn't really clarified past dating, but he liked the sound of it.

He tipped his head into that touch, and then leaned down to kiss the corner of his mouth. "You don't have to do that. Stay and rest. We can do something quick." He knew full well that James was going to do whatever he wanted, and nothing Grant said was going to change that. But it was good to lay the options out anyway. He kissed him again and reluctantly slid off him.

--

He tipped his face up into that soft kiss, a soft smile filling his face. "Uh huh, sure," the words were obviously placating, because there was no way he wanted to stay in bed if Grant wasn't in it with him at this point. He appreciated the out, the blatant expression that he wasn't expected to do anything but be there.

As he slid off him, James pouted slightly and shifted to the edge of the bed. Reaching out, he stood and snagged him, pulling him close with a small smirk. He wrapped his arms carefully before tipping him low and kissing him deep and slow for a moment before righting both of them and giving him another soft quick kiss. "Enjoy your shower," he murmured before stepping away and going to the kitchen.

--

"Uh huh," he echoed, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He recognized the placation, but he didn't argue further. James made his own choices, and it wasn't a surprise he picked the sweet one. Grant didn't make it far before he was pulling him close again, and he went easily back into his arms. That kiss was at odds with the silliness of the gesture, and he didn't know whether to laugh or go weak-kneed when they straightened back up. He ended up somewhere in the middle.

Only the fact that he had to be somewhere on time kept him from tugging him back in again and describing what would really make his shower enjoyable. There wasn't time this morning for everything he wanted to do to him, so he just watched until he vanished through the door and then tried to set himself back on track. He kept the shower quick and dressed before heading out to the kitchen.

--

If he hadn't walked away, he would have been tempted to make Grant very very late, but he never wanted to do that to him. It was better for him to walk away and do what he could to make sure he ate and was taken care of. He was glad he had helped him cook last night, so he had an idea of where most things were to make cooking easier on himself.

It was quick work to get coffee and omelettes working, loaded with vegetables and cheese. When he saw Grant come back out, he smiled easily and went to meet him. "Feel better?" His eyes drifted over his face, pleased to see how well-rested he looked.

--

He went right for James like a magnet, wrapping his arms around him and brushing a soft kiss over his lips. "I feel great." Except for the fact that he had to leave, he felt better than he had in days, and that was mediated by knowing they'd still get to talk. "How are you?" He pulled back enough to study his face, looking for signs that he needed more rest, but his eyes weren't as shadowed as yesterday and he looked happy.

He didn't move out of the circle of his arms, but his gaze flicked to the stove. It smelled amazing, and James cooking in his kitchen made him unreasonably happy. He hadn't just made him breakfast; he'd kind of insisted on it, and Grant knew he was smiling like an idiot. "Anything I can help with?"

--

He went happily into the circle of his arms, wrapping his arms around his waist and tucking himself close as he tipped his face up to meet his kiss. "Good, I'm glad," he smiled with a gentle squeeze of his arms. One good night of rest could do a lot, and he knew he needed more but he was already better than he'd been the day before. "I'm great, baby," he reassured him, brushing a soft kiss along his jaw.

Watching his face, he was indescribably happy at being able to take care of him, to cook for him. He wanted to keep that look on his face as often as he could. "You could pour our coffee," he chuckled, brushing a soft kiss over the corner of that beautiful smile. "Black for me, please."

--

He loved how easily James fit against him, like he was meant to be there, and he let himself relax into that embrace. He was having another brief moment of this can't be my life. It looked so different from this time yesterday that it was like being dropped into a pleasant dream he didn't want to wake up from. "Good," he murmured, tightening his arms around him.

"Okay." He smiled, reaching up to run fingers through his hair. He stole another soft, lingering kiss, because it seemed like a crime to not kiss him whenever possible, before moving away to pour coffee into two mugs. Grant only drank it if there were at least two other things in it making it taste less like coffee, so they were easy to tell apart as he brought them to the table.

--

His head tilted into that sweet touch and didn’t want it to stop, but he knew he had food on the stove and they had to get moving for Grant to be on time. It was natural to meet every kiss he decided to give, hoarding them away to get him through the next few days. Somehow he had stumbled into a whole new life in a week and he didn’t want it to disappear on him.

He wanted this to be their normal, to be able to take care of Grant and be taken care of in return, because he knew he would be. His fingers brushed along him as they separated and he finished their breakfast as he made their coffee. It was quick work to flip the omelettes onto their plates and top them. Grabbing forks, he carried the plates to the table and set them down, leaning to kiss him softly before sitting in his own seat.

--

He took a seat while James finished the cooking and let himself enjoy the sight of him in his kitchen. He moved through it like he'd been there a hundred times. Grant wanted him to belong here, in his apartment, in his life. "Thank you for breakfast." He tipped his head up to meet the kiss and reluctantly let him slide away to sit. He was still behaving himself, but it was getting more difficult all the time.

He picked up his fork and started on his food. He couldn't remember the last time someone had cooked for him, and if he thought for too long about the care James offered so easily, he was going to lose what was left of his heart. "This is amazing." He'd yet to try any of James's cooking that wasn't.

--

“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” he smiled softly, brushing a hand through his hair as he moved away because he couldn’t help himself. He loved being able to do those small things, make him breakfast and pet his hair, all before their day had even properly started. It was all too easy to picture this being their life every day and he wanted it so much it was an ache in his soul, but he could handle that.

James wasn’t able to care for Grant half as much as he wanted to, but all that would come with time, he knew. “Good. It will get you to lunch,” he said firmly in that way that said ‘you’re going to eat lunch for me today’ without actually saying it. He sipped on his coffee and took the simple pleasure of watching Grant for a moment, committing it to memory like a Polaroid.

--

Grant wanted to be able to give him this life, and everything else he wanted. Last week, he would have said he wasn't suited for it, that happy domestic life wasn't in the cards for him anymore. He'd made his peace with that around the time of the divorce. They weren't trying to fix it, there were no second chances, and he wouldn't even fit in that life anymore, not really. He wouldn't have imagined any of this for himself because he hadn't believed it was possible.

He huffed a quiet laugh at the not-quite-command. Unless he wasn't getting out of bed at all, Grant could usually manage two meals in a day. Three was sometimes asking a lot if he was absorbed in his work, but he could try if that made him happy. It wasn't like New York was short on great food options. "And you. Pictures or it didn't happen," he teased, gently nudging his knee beneath the table.

--

James wanted what would work for both of them, what would bring both of them some peace and happiness. It might not be the happy domesticity all the time because it wouldn’t suit them all the time. He liked to think it would though, if given the real chance. He had never even had the chance at it, but he knew that it had been part of Grant’s life and he wasn’t sure if it was wanted again or not.

James didn’t care so much about three meals a day, he more cared that he was taking care of himself and eating when he was hungry. A soft laugh escaped him and he nudged him back softly. “Promise to eat when I’m awake, sweetheart,” he assured him.

--

There was no going back. They both knew that. Whatever they were building together, it was something new that would fit the people they were now. He wasn't sure, yet, what that included, but he knew it was the first time in years he was even thinking about that kind of life. He nodded, accepting that. James was a grown man, and he'd taken care of himself all this time. He didn't need Grant hovering over him.

Breakfast was finished sooner than he would have liked, and he knew he was running out of time to stall. He couldn't be very bitter about it when he'd already stolen a whole extra night of his time, and would likely have more of it. He caught his hand and kissed it as he stood up to take their plates to the sink and start cleaning up.

--

There was no point in trying to draw breakfast out because he knew they were in a timeline. He had been greedy enough when he had agreed to stay last night. But stolen hours weren’t enough, would never be enough when it came to Grant. He knew he would get more soon, but it felt so far away. That was how he knew he was truly sunk.

His breath caught at the soft kiss to his hand and he watched him all the way til he got to the sink before he got up. Walking into the kitchen, he slipped up behind him and wrapped his arm around his waist, plastering himself against his back and pressing a soft kiss to the back of his neck.

--

He didn't want just stolen hours with James. He felt greedy for time with him, as much as he could get without suffocating him or abandoning adult responsibilities or both. They'd already lost fifteen years and seemed to have come to the mutual agreement that they weren't wasting anymore.

He wrapped an arm over his and practically melted against him, a soft shiver running through him at the kiss. He reached back with his free hand, running a hand through his hair. "It's only a day, and I still hate leaving you," he admitted. It was already obvious how attached he was, so Grant didn't think he had anything to lose where that was concerned.

--

When that hand slid through his hair, he absolutely was lost and tightened his hold slightly. His lips brushed softly over the back of his neck, just letting him know he was still there. “I hate you leaving too,” he admitted softly, scraping his teeth lightly.

His arms tightened lightly and he brushed his lips over the soft skin of his neck again. “I’ll be here when you get home, sweetheart,” he assured him. “Let me know when you’re home and when you want me to get here.” He knew he would be waiting for him, ready to be there the moment he was summoned.

--

He tightened his hold on him and bit back a moan at the soft brush of lips and teeth, James's body a solid line of warmth at his back. This was no time to get weak over him, but he'd always been able to strip away his defenses so easily. Not helped by the fact that Grant didn't even want to fight it.

"It'll be late tomorrow. I don't want to wake you." He badly wanted James to be here when he got home--or Grant could always go to him--but sleep was hard enough for him to come by. He wasn't going to selfishly wake him at all hours of the night just because he'd suddenly become codependent.

--

James let out a rumble of discontent, his eyebrows furrowing as he turned Grant in his arms. "Baby," he said, his tone slightly warning but definitely firm, "If you want me to meet you here, then here is where I am going to be." There was nothing that would change his mind on that because he had nowhere he would rather be.

His hand slid up into his hair, nails scratching lightly as he leaned in to kiss him softly. "I always want to be where you need me," he admitted softly. There was no way he would rest peacefully without him or knowledge he was okay anyway,

--

He turned easily, leaning back against the counter and pulling James in close. Grant knew he needed to get more comfortable asking for what he wanted, but it was going to take time to break the habit of trying not to need anything from other people. It was nice when they offered, but for the most part he couldn't count on it. He already trusted James to be there for him; he just wasn't used to asking.

It was the softer follow-up that did him in. He was so sweet it was actually painful sometimes. That someone who had lost as much as James had could still be kind blew his mind a little. He pressed into the kiss, soft and lingering, breaking it only to kiss along his jaw, fingers sliding into his hair. "Then I want you here, or I'll come to you," he murmured. One night without him sounded far more manageable.

--

He didn't mind shifting close to him, pressing himself against the long length of his body with a content hum. He didn't know how to ask for what he wanted, but he knew how to offer what he wanted Grant to have from him. He always wanted to be there for him, to be the person he knew would always be there at the start and end of the day.

His head tipped to let him have access to his jawline with a quiet sound of need. "Then I will be here," he assured him quietly, one hand sliding up his back to tangle into his hair. "Let me know when you're half an hour out, so I can be here." He wanted nothing more than to be here when he got home, to comfort him and help him settle back in.

--

The quiet, hateful voice in his head said he hadn't done anything to deserve someone as good to him as James was. The more logical one said that deserving had nothing to do with it. People didn't get what they deserved. They just did the best they could with what they were given, or they didn't. As long as James wanted to be here, he was keeping him as close as he could.

"I will." Teeth scraped lightly over his jaw before he soothed it with a kiss. He wanted to do a lot more than that, but not minutes before he had to leave. That wasn't fair to either of them, and he was going to have a hard enough time walking out the door. He drifted back to his lips, catching him in another soft kiss.

--

James knew that they both had a lot to work through when it came to what they thought they deserved or needed, and he was determined to prove that he was going to be there regardless. He wanted to be there, at Grant's side and watching his back, knowing he was protected and cared for.

"Good," he groaned out softly, the soft scrape of teeth making him shiver and press closer. He took the soft kiss and slowly backed Grant into the wall before deepening it fiercely. His hands settled themselves into his hair so he could tip his head just right to kiss him in a way he would remember until he came home. Slowly, he let him surface and softened the kiss, brushing his lips along his jaw when he finally broke away. "Go, do awesome things like I know you do... and come home to me," he murmured.

--

His breath caught when his back hit the wall, James's body a solid line of heat trapping him there. He sank into the kiss with a soft moan at the way he knew exactly how to deepen it so that he'd be thinking about him for the rest of the day, his hands making fists in the back of his shirt to draw him close and keep him there.

He was breathless when he pulled away, but nothing hit as hard as those last four words. It had been a very long time since he had someone to come home to, and the fact that it was James felt like grace. He managed to pull himself together enough to move away from the wall because if he didn't leave now, he wasn't sure he could be trusted to do it at all. He paused long enough to dig a key out of the drawer for him, pressing it into his palm as he leaned in to kiss him goodbye. If James beat him here tomorrow, he didn't want him stuck outside waiting. "Send me a playlist? I'll see you tomorrow."

--

James always wanted to be part of what Grant had to come home to, to be part of that softness that welcomed him home to relax and unwind. He barely managed to keep himself from pouting when he shifted away, watching him because he knew it was time. The key being pressed into his hand was a surprise that he couldn't keep his throat from tightening against.

"I'll clean up here," he assured him, his hand closing around the key like it was something precious to him, and it was. He wanted him to keep on with his successful career and continue to drive forward. "I'll have one to you very soon," he promised him, leaning to meet the kiss with a soft nip. "I'll see you before you know it, sweetheart," he reassured him, not liking that he was leaving but understanding why.

#chat: james #morethanabattlescar #delicate

[light-of-judgment]

Zombie AU starter for @oflockhearted

Under the cut because #longlongpost

The fall from grace that accompanied the God of Magic’s defeat at the hands of the Returners was likely sweet relief for the world at large, but it was also relief for the fallen God himself. Defeat meant death and death meant rest. He fell. His tower fell. He was buried underneath the monument to nothingness that had been the symbol of his rage-filled existence and the world was able to breathe.

Residents from the town of Thamasa (descendants of the Magi, who’d built the town 1000 years prior to escape persecution for their magical abilities) partook in a ceremony to seal the tomb of the God, drawing defensive glyphs and performing rites to ensure that he would never awaken again in fear that Kefka truly had become an immortal Divine. Kefka’s defeat signified the disappearance of magic from this world, though the Magi weren’t going to take chances with it. The rest of the people, however, were able to sleep much easier at night knowing he was gone. 

The disappearance of magic may have seemed a good sign to many, especially those that liked to recount the War of the Magic and feared the potential for history to repeat itself. They were loud in their declarations after Kefka’s defeat, as though the existence of a Mad God outweighed the proven good that magic had brought to society. Conveniently, they never spoke of how Kefka had obtained the power in the first place. No one ever did. And overtime, he became a reference parents made to frighten their children or a name uttered to make a scary story that much more threatening. Over generations, he was forgotten, as was the need for magic at all.

What the disappearance of magic actually meant was that he was healing. All of the magic left in the world concentrated into him and slowly, for the world had been leeched dry in his destruction, grew over time while he rested.

Time passed, as it always does, and the world had healed again. The lands were fertile, the water was pure, the people were happy. Magic flourished, though by now the Magi were long gone and had long since stopped bestowing knowledge about their practices to their family. Why would they when there was no magic? That didn’t save them when the day came that someone was looking for it.

The Shinra Power Company of Midgar, a place no one on Kefka’s world would have heard of, had recently built a device capable to bringing them to other worlds. At the head of this project, a man named Hojo, who’s lust for power through experimentation seemed to have no equal. The purpose (and justification) to building such a thing would give them access to nearly limitless resource and possibility for knowledge and they’d begun sending excavation teams to different lands where the data showed the potential was great. This particular world seemed to be overflowing with energy. Hojo wanted the source. 

The team was able to reach the area with the greatest concentration of energy fairly quickly though one or two members hesitated at the sight of the warning glyphs. No one knew what they’d uncover and so, it was decided that they would retrieve the glyphs as well. With that, they began to dig. When they uncovered the pale man wrapped in the massive wings, the sensors they carried shorted out and they knew he was the source of the energy. He looked damaged but untouched by age. He was warm. It was as though he was simply resting. They carried him back to the lab and delivered him to the scientist, who immediately began to run tests on him to figure out exactly what he was and what he was capable of. His body was washed and examined and his blood was drawn. Samples were taken from his nails, hair, and wings. He was locked in a cage like an animal.

Kefka barely remembered any of that happening but he did have flashes of it. He vaguely recalled the feeling of being dragged out from the earth and being bathed in hot water. He struggled but had flashes of a blond man and a scientist arguing loudly about him but he didn’t know what they were saying. He recalled feeling a needle being pressed into him...no...several needles. What had they put inside of him? He remembered the feeling of laying naked in the small cage. But now, when Kefka finally opened his eyes, he felt the cold steel of a table under his back and the tightness of restraints on his wrists. He was drowsy, but aware and he had no idea where he was.

There were voices outside the room that he could just barely make out and he looked to one side to see the large window. There was that blond man again. There was the scientist. Why were they fighting? He grunted, trying to pull from the restraints, trying to break out. When he realized it wasn’t working, he glanced at the two again and saw them both staring at him with wide eyes. They knew he was awake now. Shit. 

Hojo was more than annoyed with Rufus Shinra at this point. The man was simply too much of a coward to see what kind of opportunity they had here and he wanted all kinds of information, that was frankly none of his business, about the experiment before Hojo could proceed. Hojo had discovered that this man...creature...whatever, was a God and the potential that unlocked in his twisted mind was almost more than he could handle. His blood had the potential to completely override their reliance on Mako. His abilities had the potential for weaponization. Hojo would give Shinra what he wanted but not until he understood more. Though now this thing was awake and he needed to proceed. He picked up his table saw and moved to the subject.

“Don’t try to fight it. You’ve been drugged,” he declares to his new plaything as he moves to observe the other. “I suppose I should be bowing in the presence of divinity, but I’m afraid I’m an atheist. Though I must say that I’m absolutely tickled to have someone as legendary as Kefka Palazzo himself to toy with.” He plugged the saw in.

How did-

Kefka stared at this strange man with utter confusion on his face and it was enough to make the scientist laugh. He certainly did enjoy seeing the powerful helpless.

“There will be time enough for questions later, I assure you, my precious Divine. But for now, I’m behind schedule and so looking forward to mounting one of those big wonderful wings in my office once I’m done draining it.” He flips his protective mask down and turns the saw on, the whine of it cutting through the otherwise silent room as the team of assistants stop to observe him. Then Hojo rushes forward and presses the blade to the stem of one of the wings.

White hot pain rushes through the mage and blood begins to spray everywhere as he begins to scream out in blinding pain and fury. Kefka’s fists clench and his eyes roll back. His feathers harden and sharpen like razors and slice through the restraints. Hojo yells for an assistant to hold him down as the saw screeches when it connects with metal and inevitably begins to overheat and die. The God is panting when the cutting finally stops and he looks to either side of him before giving one giant beat of his wings. The razor feathers fly everywhere, stabbing the men around him, seemingly in an effort to make them all drop.

It wasn’t. 

Hojo is laughing at the incident and looks straight at the God, who has a smirk on his face that he just wants to wipe off.

“You think dropping my assistants and guards will stop this? You must not be as-AAHH!” His statement is interrupted as he’s attacked suddenly by one of his assistants, who seemed to be utterly crazed and trying to tear Hojo’s throat open with his teeth. All of the people in the room that had been hit were acting like this. Kefka looks over toward the window again just in time to see the blond man fleeing in a panic. He focuses on the chaos surrounding him breathes deeply, seemingly melding through the restraints to free himself. The last he ever sees of the crazed scientist as he leaves the room, is the sight of him being torn apart by the people he’d once ordered around. 

With the door opened, the creatures run free through the building, attacking anyone in site. Those that manage to get away don’t understand that a scratch or a bite won’t simply heal. They’ll turn soon enough. Kefka walks calmly through the corridors as the alarms blare around him and the people flee, chased by these creatures. It isn’t long before they’re escaping from the building and out into the streets. It only takes a half hour for the alarms in the city to start going off. By the time night falls, Kefka gazes out the windows of the executive suite of Shinra tower and sees the fires being set in the distance and the flashing of gunfire. He’s dressed himself in familiar silks and robes and he’s drinking a large glass of wine.

Perhaps this world would provide entertainment for some time. 

#oflockhearted #starter #zombie au #most of this was just me narratively wanking so i hope you love it #longlongpost #i'm so happy we had a poop n plot

[raplinesmoon]

Hi Isi! I've been wanting to talk to you for a while now, but I think today I’ve finally mustered up the courage to break out from my bubble of anxiety and test the waters for once. I've read a few of your reviews now, and I'd just like to say that you make it look so easy to just put every thought and emotion you have into turning them into something tangible and real. It's beautiful and admirable, and being able to do it as gracefully as you do is something that I aspire to do one day as well. Thank you for being you. I also just saw your most recent post, and you'll be surprised by the fact that everything you wrote in your tags is how I view you. If I do have a word of advice to give though, it would be that everything happens for a reason.

You’ve heard of the butterfly effect, right? It’s one of the principles of chaos where a single occurrence, no matter how small, can change the course of something forever. And so, when examining this, you realize that everything is based off of pure chance and luck. The reason why I'm here right now is based solely off of the one miniute instance of me looking at my phone while I was in lecture when I should have been paying attention (especially since it's biochem). But Isi, you’re doing what you're doing for a reason. You've met the people that you’ve met and have had experiences that not even one of the 7.9 billion people living on this Earth may ever have for a reason for the sole fact that they are simply not you. So, you’re worried about school, you say? I don’t think that you should be, even though it a reasonable emotion to have. Though, you also have to consider that even though your experiences may not ever parallel with others in your class, you made it to the place you are because you have something that not everyone else has, but is shared between all students like you: faith. So keep going. You have at one person who will be cheering you on to the finish line from the other side of the screen and quite possibly from the other side of the world. I’ll be sending you lots of love and encouragement until then and forevermore afterward💕

Kharli,

Truly, I do not have the words to describe how this ask made me feel. I was in the midst of a hard day where the blustering wind was threatening to knock me over at a single moment’s notice, but your ask calmed the gale into a gentle breeze and helped calm my anxiety down. 

I’m so so touched that you take the time to read any of my reviews at all! Most of the time, they’re just the result of me having too many feelings about everything that I read, and wanting to get those thoughts down somehow. I look back at them and am in awe of how much I’m capable of feeling sometimes, but that’s just a testament to the fact that writing is the breath that gives life to the thoughts that are in our heart, and I enjoy seeing people share a bit of their heart with me in every story I read. 

I love your thoughts about the butterfly effect! Truly, my chosen program of study feels like I’m running around in a void filled with chaos sometimes, just doing things and not knowing why I’m doing them, but just that I have to do something. It was so funny because at the same moment I opened up my phone to look at your ask, I was leaving and the professor who was teaching (one of my favorites), saw that I was anxious and said, “hang in there, I have the utmost faith in you.” And I really needed to hear that, so thank you to you both. I don’t know what prompted you to look at your phone in that exact moment, but I’m grateful for it.

You’re right, faith and belief in something is truly the reason why we are here, existing on this Earth. Time’s arrow always points forward towards the future, where things may seem scary and unknown, but we have no choice but to keep following. Even when it seems hopeless or desolate, something always pushes us to keep going, keep living on, just for the promise that tomorrow might bring something new and brighter. So thank you for having faith in me, I have a little bit more faith in myself after reading your message. And I’m also rooting for you, always.

With love,

Isi 💖

#kindest kharli #i really needed to hear this today #you are a gift #save for a rainy day #asks #propinqxity

[theslowliferp]

How To Bear Hug A Porcupine

A.K.A…. WORKING THROUGH GRIEF.

This week I’ve been grieving.

Hidden grief, trapped grief, the kind that’s been loitering on the peripheries of my mind for decades and is finally allowed to bubble to the surface grief. It’s a pure grief like a saltwater spring, filtered as it travels towards the light through millennia of limestone rock.

It’s the grief I first experienced when paralysed in a Spanish hospital bed, as the true reality of my situation and what I'd lost hit home.

It’s the grief I feel when I allow myself to step outside survival mode and dive into the deep and terrifying ocean that’s my emotions; and although it’s deep, it's a simple grief.

A grief that’s encountered by every human on this planet.

The overwhelming grief we experience at the loss of a loved one*.

*In this case my self.

If I’d been grieving for someone else, it might’ve been easier for me to understand, process and express my pain.

Alongside all the complex emotions which combine to create “grief”, I also have the additional guilt that accompanies the story of…

"Quit being selfish… You’re lucky… Cheer Up and (wo)man up."  -- Bob Johnson (my Mind Monkey)

—————

We find it difficult to express our grief in public and in private, we hold onto our thoughts, fears and emotions, as we hold back the physical representation of this tangled mess… our tears.

It’s a hard battle to fight without the added torture of our “mind monkey” stories about the shame in grieving for ourselves.

Though, in truth when we grieve isn’t it nearly always for ourselves?

There are multiple, global belief systems that suggest our loved ones are in a much better place; experiencing some version of a heaven, being reborn into a new life or in an eternal slumber where they no longer feel pain or suffering.

So why do we mourn their passing?

Is it because they are no longer able to live their lives? If this is true, why do we grieve for someone who’s lived a long and full life?

We grieve because of the truly empty space in our own lives and hearts that can never be filled once that person has left us. It’s the pain of knowing our lives will never be the same; no more conversations, no more creation of shared memories and no more friendship, love and companionship. In other words…

We grieve for our loss, not theirs.

—————

I know this can be an uncomfortable concept because it creates the same feelings of guilt, that I experience when also grieving for my self. We feel shame because we're being selfish but what can be selfish about feeling pain at the loss of love in our lives?

Some of us on a deeply buried, subconscious level are mourning the loss of the most profound love of all.

I have memories of what was “before” the life I’m living now.

When I’m in a deep meditative state, I can recall the faint traces of an immense, vast and eternal love, a love of such intensity that my tiny human body and mind cannot contain it. I remember being torn away from this love and I experience a deep loss and longing for something I don’t fully comprehend.

The grief I feel in that moment of recollection, is the deepest grief I’ve ever experienced.

The process of grieving is as complex and unique as the person taking that lonely journey.

I don’t believe there is one solution to working through grief and I definitely know there aren’t “STAGES” we ALL go through.

It’s even more complex when a life is cut short before it's truly begun.

We endure great sorrow on behalf of those who’ll never get to experience the full technicolored wonder of a long and beautiful life. In those moments we aren’t only grieving for ourselves but for a life that was never lived.

Collective loss is the most painful to endure.

—————

I didn’t realise until this year, that I’m grieving for the loss of a young life too; a carefree 20 year old that was starting to find her way in the world, a small bird that was spreading her wings to fly free.

I grieve for the life she's lost, the dreams she made that will never come true and her path in life that came to an unexpectedly abrupt and violent end.

I didn’t realise I was grieving for a very long time. It was buried so deep, I didn’t know of its existence until a counsellor stated…

"Your body might not have died but Rachel did. "

I’d refused to acknowledge this fact.

I believed if I gave into my grief, I wouldn’t be able to heal. I believed not surrendering made me strong and I believed I wasn’t a victim by not appearing selfish or weak. I shut the door and refused to look back. Thankfully 20 years later, experience has taught me…

we can’t move forward until we look into our past, to uncover and release our emotional anchors.

These are the ties that bind us, the cords that keep us tethered and we can’t be released until we do the work to set ourselves free.

Trauma Counselling gave me the strength to find my anchors and I was able to take my own steps to set myself free.

I know counselling isn’t for everyone but through my spoken word performances and collective sharing, I’ve had a number of people approach me to talk about trauma and to ask about my journey. These conversations encouraged me to share my thoughts, experiences and insights that you find written here.

Whether you’re grieving or have a loved one who’s experiencing grief, I hope through these words… you’ll know you’re not alone… there’s a way through this and a light at the end of this dark tunnel.

I’m not a counsellor...…

Instead I’ve walked the miles, know the terrain and have blisters on my feet from wearing the shoes.

Please seek professional help if this resonates with you. There are people waiting & wanting to help you.

It would be great to hear from you about the resources, organisations or networks you’ve accessed, if you’ve been on this journey too. Please leave a comment below so we can share our knowledge and experiences.

We don’t know what support is available to us, until we are open to being vulnerable and sharing our collective experiences.

Here’s my 3 main points for processing grief.

1.

If emotions were represented by the elements, joy would be the air, anger would be fire and grief would be water.

Of all the emotions, grief is the most like the waves of the ocean.

It follows a regular pattern (though it feels like there is none) and when it swells up to meet us, we fear we'll drown before it eases and breaks on the shore. In the early stages we barely get chance to recover before we’re hit by yet another wave.

It's incredibly hard to stand waist deep in the ocean, plant your feet in the sand and face down every wave as it batters your chest, your head and your heart.

Growing up by the North Sea, from an early age I was taught the danger comes when we turn our back on the waves, it’s only then that we can be caught off guard, unable to stand firm and risk being swept off our feet.

I know it seems impossible to ride out the waves but whatever your reason for experiencing grief; whether you’re mourning the loss of love in your life, a life cut short or even a metaphorical death and loss of self, we need to turn our faces towards the ocean, look to the blue horizon and let the waves do what nature does best…

flow.

—————

2.

Grief isn’t an experience to be avoided, it’s a physical way of releasing a mind and soul felt trauma.

Your body is a thing of beauty, so many functions happen at once as trillions of cells all intuitively interact with each other. Trust your own intuition and let your body do whatever it needs. It knows instinctively how to release the emotions you need to process.

Holding onto emotions trap them within your body, where they stagnate and eventually psychological pain transforms into physical pain. Trust me I’ve learnt this the hard way, 20 years of emotional suffering has now manifested into chronic, debilitating pain.

Grief can’t be ignored or reasoned with… it can only be felt.

Learning to sit with grief is hard (hard seems such a tiny adjective compared to the enormity of the task). Allowing myself to feel intense emotions as tears flow down my face, snot shoots out my nose and animal-like wailing takes place… being able to sit back and allow this to happen naturally without judgement or shame?

I’m not going to lie… it doesn't come naturally to me.

Facing complex emotions takes bravery but it’s liberating when we allow our bodies to choose the best method for releasing trapped energy.

Don’t ever feel ashamed of your red, tear-burnt eyes and blotchy face or for needing to curl up in a ball under a duvet to hug it out. The precious moments when I’ve completely surrendered to physical release and let the emotions and actions run their course… I’ve found the energy naturally dissipates.

Like a stormy ocean, once we move past all the terrifying chaos on the surface, we find a deep, calm sense of peace resting underneath.

—————

3.

Leaning into grief takes PATIENCE and the only way we practice is in real time.

The more unnerving, unsettling or uncomfortable our emotions, the more patience, compassion and courage we need to fully embrace them.

I’d describe it as trying to bearhug a porcupine… equal amounts disbelief at our stupidity, fear of the pain we’re about to experience and sheer audacity (or optimism) that things will work out just fine.

The more practice we get, the more we become experts but until that time, we need to face the fact that this is a painful learning curve. Other “experts” will help you shorten this curve, which is why it’s good to seek out help. I’ve always taken onboard any advice or techniques my counsellor and other experts gave me but knowing that grief is unique, I combined their guidance with my own intuition to create my own methods. You’ll find you develop your own process for handling those lethal spikes.

Only when you fully embrace the process and your painful emotions can they be released into the wild. You just need to start and that begins with a genuine intention and desire to set your porcupines free.

One final thought.

From everything I’ve witnessed in my own life and the lives of others, learning to process grief (along with any difficult emotion) is a lifelong practice. It takes true dedication to your own health and mental wellbeing and it’s certainly not easy but often the greatest rewards are hidden behind the biggest challenges.

Every day when I was paralysed in a hospital bed, I felt grief washing over me. Fearful that it would consume me, I looked for the small moments of joy and happiness in my situation. Anything from a kind smile from a stranger passing in the corridor to a conversation with one of the nurses as they changed my bandages.

These silver linings as I called them helped me through a very traumatic situation but I didn’t realise that once I’d healed physically, it was the time to heal emotionally.

Becoming a witness to our own journey is one of the most liberating and powerful gifts we can give to ourselves. Sharing that gift with others is so important, only then can we start to make real changes in this world.

Hopefully one day human beings will be so adept at naturally processing our feelings, we get to experience the true vibrancy of what we presently call good & bad emotions.

I’ve found a lot of beauty in both.

—————

#grief therapy #mindset #personal development #processing trauma #mindfulness

[nicodemusprewett]

❝ I know I shouldn’t do it, I just do it, and what you think’s got nothing to do with it. Before you were born, I was already sinning. It’s not because the light here is brighter and it’s not that I’m evil, I just don’t like to pretend. ❞ NICODEMUS PREWETT looks a lot like that muggle, LORENZO ZURZOLO, right? Only a SEVENTH YEAR student, that GRYFFINDOR student is sided with the WRAITHS. HE identifies as a CIS MAN and is a PUREBLOOD. [ BEE/BEATRICE, SHE/HER, 22, EST ]

hello !!!!!! i’m bee !!!!!!! i LOVE exclamation points, if you couldn’t tell !!!! i’m super duper stoked to be writing nico. he’s kind of the worst !!! i promise i’m a lot nicer than he is !!! and i also have memes !!!!! if you hit me with a like, i’ll come plot with you !!! also pls bear with me on this intro. there’s no rhyme or reason to it.

aesthetic: silk ties. tweed blazers. crystal glasses. lies that flow from lips like honey. a not-yet-crowned king. the glint of white teeth behind a feral smile. naive rage. a powerful glare. pressed shirts. expensive cologne. cigarette smoke clinging to your clothes, your skin. a need for fine things. lush champagne. a flair for the dramatic. a storming temper. unlimited grandiosity. chaos-touched. perfect but rotten. a disregard for consequence. boyish charm.

rambly bits: ( mentions of child abuse )

— godless hubris

how do you know yourself ? all too well. you know you are sure, you know you are just. there is nothing wrong with you — in fact, you are probably as close to perfection as a wizard could get, and you truly believe that. your blood is pure, you are beautiful, you are capable. you have no flaws ( — none that see the light of day, or that others know of ) and that’s remarkable. you are sure you are going to be known in perpetuity. your name will be next to the greatest the wizarding world has seen. where can you go from here ? only up.

— righteous fury

is your fury yours ? or did you learn it ? orion lestrange gave you attention, and to get more, you listened to what he said. you gleaned his anger until it tasted like your own. suddenly, there was no good or evil, wrong or right. it was simple: what the wraiths said went. you are not one to question something that will bring you recognition, something that will bring you power. you will do what needs to be done to ensure the wraiths ( rather, and deep down you know it isn’t and has never been done for the wraiths, but rather for yourself ).

— hapless melancholia

you remember seeing the weasleys in diagon alley once when you were young. you made a careless remark that one of the children looked quite a bit like yourself. your father gripped your chin in his fingers and made for sure certain that you knew you were nothing like them. you thought little of them again until you saw them on the platform to leave to hogwarts. there were joyous shouts and gleeful exclamations. there were multiple kisses and tight hugs — unexpectedly, your heart ached. you thought you would get over it. you thought you would grow up and grow out of these … childish longings. instead, time went on, these feelings grew stronger. you would wake up, your chest heavy, feeling a desperation for something you couldn’t buy — you wanted to be loved. you wanted soft words and softer touches. you deserved those things, didn’t you ? if those ruddy weasleys had it, why couldn’t you ? this grief over lack of affection all too often turns to anger. you shake and you snap so easily — really, it should be no wonder why no one loves you.

— dark souls, ( dark ? ) dreams

nature and nurture are curious things. your nature ensured that you crave love, but your nurturing ( — rather, your lack thereof ) ensured that you were cruel and callous. your father was a nasty man, harsh and severe, and you learned from him how to be the same. after all, your ploys for attention included acting like him the best you could. you copied his mannerisms, his way of speech. it never did catch you his fondness, but it did warp you into someone unkind and severe. despite being dark, your dreams are lighter than you are in the day. there is love and there is warmth, and things are gentle and soft. but when you wake, you scoff. you’re not sure if you are angry that a part of you is so weak, or if you are angry that you don’t have these nice things.

— bitter glory

heavy lies the head that wears a crown. that won’t be the case with you. you will wear it with ease when you are finally king, you will not be stifled. you have one goal: to be king. what will you do to get it ? anything. you will give up your chances of being loved, you will rid yourself of the chains of being loyal to anyone else. if that causes you ache, this loss, so be it. some things are worth more than others.

wraiths:

— there is something so satisfying about being in charge of all the student wraiths. it’s a taste, more like a tease, of the power he could have once he is out of school. it feels so right, so fitting. but part of the draw to the wraiths had been orion. nicodemus had hoped ( had prayed ) that the man would be something more than his parents had been, something more than anyone in his life had been. it didn’t happen, though. orion offered him power, and the taste of it melted into his tongue sweetly, and that’s what is keeping him involved. tl;dr: are the wraiths right ? who is he to say. is he going to keep with them for the time being because he’s a power-hungry baby megalomaniac ? yes, one hundred perfect.

— his code name is viticomus, meaning adorned or crowned with vine-leaves.

— he has a rune because selling your soul at the ripe age of sixteen ( maybe seventeen, tba ?? ) was totally a good idea for him ! one of the best he’s ever had ! it’s for occlumency and it’s on the nape of his neck under his hair.

prophecy:

— the final betrayer. what does that mean ? nicodemus has wondered but he refuses to say anything certain to anyone. there are seemingly countless people he could betray. orion. his prewett relatives. himself. it leaves a strange taste in his mouth, wondering  what it could mean. he doesn’t suppose he wouldn’t betray orion — for all the man had taught him, nicodemus still didn’t have the thing he wanted most — and should circumstances be right, it would be a hard choice. and the prewetts ? it could be argued that he’s already betrayed them, taking the label and beliefs of wraiths. but the last option worries him the most. it would be so easy. give up the things he wants, subject himself to a life that isn’t quite fulfilling.

plot arc:

— nicodemus knows that power is the key to adoration. now at the top of the wraiths, or at the very least, of the students ( maybe some of the adults, or at least in his mind, he is ), the lust for more is nearly palpable. he doesn’t just want it — he needs it. if he isn’t to get it, what has it all been for then ? he cannot wait for the respect, he cannot wait until his name strikes feeling into the heart of those who hear it. only then, will he be satisfied ( —or so he thinks ).

more rambles, less structure:

— can i just say: the duality of man ??? the lust for power, the need for love. these things typically don’t play together. for those who want power, they sacrifice love because the respect and fear they command replace it. sometimes being loving doesn’t command power. nico ( a note: no one calls him nico. it’s too informal, it’s too plebian, but for my sake while writing this intro, i will call him nico ) doesn’t quite understand this. he wants to be on top ( a need for a crown is overwhelming, and he’s only just begun tasting what kinghood is like, glints of power in his hands ) but he also wants to be loved. but does he know what love is ? probably not. he knows it’s in how you care for another person, a feeling that wells up in your chest, but i’m not sure he really knows how to love someone. he knows what it is to want and to lust, but love ? he’s never had it ! he wouldn’t know love if it smacked him in the face ! my poor emotionally-stunted, morally-skewed boy ! ( also i will acknowledge: the wraiths ? bad. nico ? Bad. not good people. not people you should aspire to be ! )

— and let’s talk about the weasleys ! what does he feel when he see them ? anger. jealousy. sadness. he could have been like them, if things were different. he could have known them. he could have been loved by them. and yet, none of those things are true. they’re practically all strangers, but he feels so much around them. for the most part, he hides it, behind snide words and an upturned nose. there is no getting close to them — first, he doesn’t know how to mend years of cruel behavior, but two, what if they turned him away ? for nico, feeling his own hurt and resentment as is is much better than risking getting hurt more.

— onion headlines that give me nicodemus vibes: “ i am the product of a single-nanny household ” “ wealthy teen nearly experiences consequence ” “ somebody should make a movie about my life ” “ i am lost in my own mansion ” “ report: income inequality most apparent during fifth-grade classmate’s birthday party ”

thoughts, few details:

— his parents hate each other and cheated on one another all the time as he grew up. are they a good example of a healthy relationship ? definitely not.

— he’s a scorpio. moody bitch.

— charms his hair brown now that he’s older to look less like a weasley, but can’t be bothered about the maintenance until someone points out he’s looking a little ruddy. the freckles, though ? he charmed them once and he ended up with like a thousand more and he won’t tempt fate again.

— would probably choke if someone liked him. probably ??? would think they’re lying.

— voldemort ? had good methods of control and fear-mongering. could nico be a better leader ? he believes so.

— his parents only had a kid out of obligation and not love. can we imagine the complex that gives a kid ? 

— his parents supported voldemort back in the day. they still believed in pureblooded ideals, though, and nico grew up hearing them. this meant that the wraiths weren’t telling him anything he didn’t know when he was readying to join them. 

— a note on this: orion tempted him with the allure of family. not pureblooded mania, not the scorn for anyone not entirely witch or wizard, but with family. they were both blacks, slight distance between them both, and blood together was a powerful thing. he had hoped this meant affection — he would have been over the moon at the smallest of fondness —  but it seemed ( like voldemort himself —  orion would be enthused at the comparison ) the older man was incapable of such.

— nico’s view of love DOES NOT equal real love. he’s dumb and wouldn’t know love if it hit him in the face.

 — he thinks he should be loved. like, thinks people should be bowing at his feet, kissing his shoes.  he thinks he’s more than deserving of it. how could he not be ?

— his full name is nicodemus vaughn prewett. he’s named after a dead relative. wizards love that.

#/ * about . #rev intros

[abusedapricots]

I JUST finished The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes. WOW

I really enjoyed it, though not sure if I’ll feel the same way in a week when the book high has worn off, we’ll have to see.

*UPDATE: its meh, I dont regret reading it but I wouldn't recommend it to a friend. Honestly this book didnt need to be a thing but its not the worst.

I’ll admit, at first I was skeptical. I thought this would be a cash grab returning to an old world with guaranteed readers. I was worried that Panam would feel phony, after 10 years away from the original trilogy I didn't think it would feel real. I was quickly proven wrong. Coriolanus Snow definitely had his own story. The post-war capitol felt real even district 12 felt real. This book surprised me. Though my expectations were low I’m really happy about TBOSAS.

CORE-E-O-LAN-US or CORE-E-O-LANE-US?

I just quickly typed this up for some unbiased thoughts before I watch/read some reviews. As I'm sure there are lots of typos grammatical errors, and sloppy writing, I'll be back in a week to revise this review once I've let the books simmer.

Spoilers Ahead

I loved Coriolanus’ story. LOVED IT. He was smart, reserved, calculating, only ever giving away what was needed of a situation. Maybe it was the narcissist in me but I loved being in his brain. I liked how this book dealt with the other side of classism. How the once-revered Snows had fallen and Coriolanus need to keep up appearances, refusing to let the snow dynasty die. I like how thought-provoking the three C’s, chaos, control, and contract were. I liked how Coriolanus didn't have hard-set opinions, they changed as he grew. I find that a lot of the times with YA novels characters had a very strict world view of what is good and what is bad. Coriolanus’ view of humanity is never really clear until the end. He teetered on good and bad. Suzanne wrote a great villain, Snow was always able to justify his actions. He says it himself, he’s a capitol boy and he decides to play the game of fame and fortune instead of rising against injustice.

Coriolanus’ Superiority Complex

I think my favorite aspect of the book is how unattached Coriolanus was. Every time Coriolanus had to do anything he always weighed his options. He never rushed to help because it was the right thing to do, he did it to preserve an image. He’s all about his image. In the beginning, when he and Lucy Gray begin their relationship, Coriolanus never felt fully in it. Suzanne Collins writes in a way that obscures his motivations. He would often do and say things that made me believe that Coriolanus was really falling for Lucy Gray but then shortly after Coryo always mentions how he could benefit. He’s ‘love’ for Lucy Gray came from the want of the prize, the full ride to university, to bolster him and his family name, I don't think Coryo ever did anything out of pure intentions. He was never blind with love, he could still clearly see the options in front of him and every move was calculated, always self-serving. This is why him switching up on Lucy Gray wasn't very surprising, he saw a better opportunity and he took it. He never really loved her, he loved what she brought him, fame, attention, a chance at the prize, freedom once he used her up he had no use for her. Sure he was drawn in by her charm but in the end, he never really knew her, he had been too self-involved to ever really get to know people.

I think his lack of attachments was best represented in his unwavering distaste towards Sejanus. While he and Sejanus grew close (even just by proximity) Coryo never failed to look down on him, he never seemed to acknowledge that Senjanus’ worries were valid rather, he brushed them off as Sejanus being a district kid, never worthy of respect. When it came to it he was ruthless in his betrayal. Returning to the capitol and having the Plinths care for him as their own only solidified Snow’s heartlessness. I don’t think Snow was a psychopath, lacking all emotion, I think he definitely could have teetered over to the good side, but his superiority complex kept him from doing so. His classist need to divide and look down upon only grew as he goes on to become president. He has a very us against them mentality, a rich vs poor outlook where if you were born district that's all you'll ever be despite proving otherwise. Call it old fashion or heartless? He even had to convince himself and the capitol that Lucy Gray wasn't ‘truly’ a district kid, much less from district 12. He couldn't bear it, to be into someone from the lowest rung of society. It wasn't he style, not for the exceptional Coriolanus Snow. Funny how during the game when choosing which of the remaining mentors to eat with he thought “cannibal over cutthroat” while he was the most merciless himself.

Thoughts On Lucy Gray

I didn’t think she was anything special. Sure she was that cool, quirky™ girl but I’m not head over heels for her. I wasn't ever super invested in her. This might be because I’m reading in Coriolanus’ head, not seeing her as more than something to be used. I liked that she was nothing like Katniss though.

I liked it when Coryo saw her as a killer. When he had found the guns when his heart decided to kill her then. Lucy Gray knew the future too when she saw the guns, she knew it before Coriolanus knew it. She was smart, maybe reading from Coriolanus’ point of view shrouded her intellect as he refused to see anyone being better than him. He justified killing her by thinking of her as a killer. He altered his thoughts of her arena killings as a must for survival to cold-blooded. He no longer saw her as a ‘Poor Lamb’ but instead the “clever, devious, deadly girl”.

It was a shift for both Coryo and Lucy Gray. This showed that Lucy Gray wasn't without fault, she too could be cunning and ruthless, when need be of course. These few pages of the book were monumental in proving why Coriolanus was a bad person. It allowed the audience to see that everyone had this malice in them yet the majority chose not to listen and do the right thing while Coriolanus lead his life with that voice. He actively chose to do the wrong thing to move up in the world. His behavior was not special to him, his up growing, experience, and hardships didn’t make him an evil person, Coriolanus’ choice to choose evil at every turn to do good made him an evil person. Everyone has this malice in them but the majority chose not to act on it while Coriolanus welcomed it.

For Coriolanus, it showed that in his head, he could justify any action despite how cruel. I think this is where Coryo lost any last bit of humanity. He refused to see the world and its people to be good, to be capable of free thought. He saw the world to be controlled. These few pages were my favorite out of the book, I feel it to be the catalyst of his tyrannical rule. He couldn't trust the girl he “loved”, much less the district people.

Concluding Thoughts

This book made me think about responsibilities to preserve humanity vs our individual need to survive and be successful. If this what it takes to be president then so be it? how can you stop someone's pursuit of success? At what cost is someone's dream. At least we know that Coriolanus knows that the hunger games are wrong, he knows but to him its worth the cost of keeping the district complacent.

I think the cruelty of Dr. Gaul was needed to make Snow seem like a halfway decent person. With the addition of Dr.Gaul, it softened Coryo’s shitty behavior because what Coriolanus thinks and does pale in comparison to what Dr. Gaul thinks and does. Without Dr. Gaul, Coryo would have been the only one with these sick cynical thoughts, amplifying him to be the bad guy. I think it would be interesting to re-read this book while writing off Dr. Gaul’s action just to see just how evil Coriolanus is without the comparison of Dr. Gaul’s cruelties. I wonder if I would still be as understanding towards Coryo and if Dr. Gaul’s character had that large an impact to make Coryo seem not too bad.

Though I am left wondering how Tigris was left in the dust by the end of Mockingjay. It seems unlikely that Coryo would have just left Tigris to fend for herself given how fondly he spoke of the sacrifices she made for him and the family name. I wonder how she ended up with a failing fur undergarments business by Mockingjay. Had Coryo betrayed family? Coriolanus is callous but he still had loyalties, his family, Pluribus. It just doesn't seem like his style to leave the few he actually cared about to fend for themselves while he had the means to help. I mean even as peacekeeper Coryo sent most of his money back home. Maybe Tigris was the one that left Coryo as she was made out to be kind and caring, lacking the grandiose nature Coryo possessed. Also given that Tigris is older than Coryo, and him being a pretty old dying man in Mockingjay I can't seem to see Tigris being alive much less as active as she was in helping Katniss (and crew) in killing Coryo. Maybe it was her capitol surgeries that allowed her aging to slow?

I think its interesting that in the end Coriolanus still saw what he had with Lucy Gray as love. Maybe to him what he had was his version of love, being able to use someone and for them to be used so willingly. I wonder if he knows the difference between the two and what real love looks like. I wonder what he thought of Katniss and Peeta, stupidity? what's the point in being with someone if they dont benefit you?

Some stand out quotes:

“Oh, no. You don’t like it?” he exclaimed. “I can try and bring something else. I can-” Pg. 85. When Coryo brings Lucy Gray the bread pudding Tigris made. Coryo’s care of Lucy Gray’s taste preference was sweet. She hadn't had food in a while, having this bread pudding should the highlight of her day. The fact that Coryo cared that she didn’t like it and was quick to offer something else was very sweet of him. Ugh, image the type of gentleman he could have been if he had been genuine and not so rotten.

I like how Suzanne Collins didn’t try to get the audience to love and sympathize with Coriolanus. Instead, she makes it clear that Coryo activity chose to do the self-serving thing at every turn.

I genuinely really enjoyed this book. Maybe my second favorite out of the entire Hunger Games books (bold ranking!!! but it might change once the magic of being nose deep in a book for 3 days has worn off). I think this book works great as a stand-alone, I wouldn't be afraid to recommend it to those who haven't read the trilogy.

UPDATE* woah my post book high is bad. DEFINITELY NOT second favorite??? HUHH?? what was I saying? what was I thinking?? (my deep seeded resentment towards mockingjay is showing) this book in no way supersedes any of the trilogies, yes including mockingjay 😒.

I’m not gonna lie, I did start developing a crush on Coryo in the beginning. Him being so smart and driven, so gentlemanly, caring about the little things like handkerchiefs SWOON. Buuuuut he quickly became an ass.

I said that the title “The Ballad of Songbird and Snakes” was a ripoff of “A Song of Ice and Fire” before reading the book. I thought Miss Collins just wanted a super sick book name but as I have finished the book, I would like to formally apologize and retract my statement. The title does fit this book.

SNOW LANDS ON TOP

#the ballad of songbirds and snakes #hunger games #suzanne collins #coriolanus snow #coryo #snow lands on top #why did I write a 2000 word analysis on this book while I can't bring myself to do my one page of homework?

[justlurkingintheshadows]

@nutsandvoltsweek Sorry if this is bad I'm not a writer as much as I'm not an artist, I at least have some more experience with writing though, I know it's not perfect but oh well. I also know it's technically late for my timezone but it's still gonna be the 10th February somewhere.

This is my attempt at a role reversal Nuts and Volts for day 2

Humanity and Ferality

Word count : 2,150

Content tags : Role-reversal, Scientist!Tyrian, Feral!Watts, blood, implied cannibalism, implied self-mutilation/experimentation 

-----------

It wasn't exactly unheard of, the story of the Atlesian who went mad and lost his mind, in his unhinged rage it's said he brought down an entire lab and then disappeared, presumed dead, but now Tyrian knew the truth. Before him stood a ragged man, truly disgraced, soaked in blood that had previously resided inside the team Tyrian had gone with to an unusual site where people complained of moving shadows and nose curdling smells that kept even the Grimm at bay.

It was clear the heaving form wanted to finish off the last one and drag him too away to wherever he had stowed the other bodies, the only evidence that someone had been there being the blood splattered around after a vicious attack, Tyrian wasn't about to let him but he was curious, he supposed the poor guy had to have survived off something all this time, the thought would have made him shudder had he even cared at all. He simply watched the man carefully, neither daring to move, their foe was unpredictable yet somehow they had each other figured out - as long as they stood there like that no one was going to do anything, it was a stalemate of two men frozen purely to wonder if either was going to move first which they knew wasn't actually going to happen.

"Well, this is certainly something I never expected..." said Tyrian in a careful tone hoping his sudden speech didn't kickstart a sudden death, the figure flinched a bit, not used to his victims having any other vocal capability than a scream of terror. Though vision wasn't clear Tyrian was certain of something, it just made sense to him somehow, "Arthur Watts. The illusive one man catastrophe, thought to be dead, but of course that's only because no living soul has actually had chance to escape and tell anyone." The figure flinched again, it was more of a twitch, and Tyrian almost found it amusing, this man was more feral than a Sabyr, more animal than human, he wasn't even a faunus but simply a man who had nothing to lose. It was an ironic comparison to Tyrian's own self. Doctor Tyrian Callows, the scorpion faunus who managed to hide his feature his whole life and aid Atlas in great science feats becoming one of their most trusted with barely any challenge, he was almost more human now, it was hard not to follow their ideologies even if they involved the theory that Faunus were lesser and only useful for labour tasks which the humans were too good for, at one point Tyrian almost found himself hating his own kind because of how truly the humans believed they were in the right, they always thought they were right, and he had loved to prove them wrong. They could try to take everything from him yet he would still have the knowledge he'd come to accumulate and with that knowledge he'd almost brought their empire crumbling down as easily as a flick of a tail, that's what caught the attention of a certain goddess, she'd known he was perfect for the job and must have realised he actually barely needed her as he'd almost achieved what she intended solo, yet she still offered him a place and picked him up off cold bleak streets to give his terrifying, sly and genius mind a sturdy platform from where he could orchestrate a new wave of armageddon; His goddess had sent him on this mission with a group of, what Tyrian could only describe as, thugs (Tyrian thought very little of them and so their fates weighed insignificant in his mind), but he had to admit the ease at which this husk had dispatched them was impressive and showed really the potential danger he should find himself in.

It was perhaps not an insignificant detail to note that had Tyrian not just so happened to turn around at that exact moment the deranged creature would have been upon him hacking away at his aura with all the brutality and speed of a Beowolf, it was quite surprising that anyone could be so far gone that even the Grimm have no desire to come near, Tyrian himself had witnessed the creatures circling the area intending to prey on the mindless drones of a team Tyrian had with him, at first he'd thought they were responsible for the company gradually dwindling but he never once saw them dare to close the distance, they always stayed out there, away, and one could only wonder why. Now it made sense. One by one his lackeys disappeared and there was barely noise of a struggle, perhaps a new type of Grimm was a thought at first but there was never any evidence to back up the claim, it wasn't obvious to assume there was something or someone else lurking around picking them off one by one, leaving the best for last or perhaps just because Tyrian refused to be slowed down and so was at the lead of the group and it wasn't so easy to grab him, especially since he came most prepared for an encounter of any kind as Tyrian always calculated it was more worth it to over-prepare than to be left in a situation with no ability to get out.

He began to wonder if this new monster could even speak lest his humanity have slipped away altogether, but that was soon answered for him. The demented fellow had been watching this odd stranger in his territory, seemingly frustrated by the fact he'd been seen before it was too late, like an ambush predator once he was spotted he didn't quite know what to do, he'd been spending all these lonely crumbling years attempting to hone his skills to cause as swift an aura break and kill as possible, it hadn't been easy and he'd suffered a lot but he was sure he was better than this and it angered him that this invading doctor had simply turned around and halted his entire strike. He had to at least be thankful that the poor lighting and obscured distance still offered some veil, he was not the 'man' this pest had identified him as any longer, he left that behind long ago.

The voice that came from the sketchy silhouette wasn't clear, but it also didn't completely lack all intelligence, he was aware of that. "I intend to keep myself invisible to anyone who it matters to" came the sound, a bit scratchy and with a little wavering in tone almost to display the insanity, Tyrian had to admit it surprised him to hear sound come from such a thing but he smiled, and, perhaps acting a little too cocky for his own good, made the decision to move towards the crazed mess in an attempt to get a better look, this caused an almost growled "Back off" in response, the tone was chilling but Tyrian couldn't help being thrilled by it, messed up things was what he loved even if it was uncivil of him he couldn't ignore his true natural desire for such.

"You don't have to live like this anymore you know, I have a way to help you if you would accept it. Figures from your past don't even have to be aware of it, unless of course you wanted them to be" offered Tyrian, still keeping his tone careful, he would like to have this mission end well and not with any significant death, he wanted to please his Goddess. He was regarded by cold green eyes that clearly wished to inflict the most painful of harm on him.

"You dare to offer me anything, I have nothing valuable to you, how dare you come here and expect me to comply simply because you asked!" The voice was still broken from disuse, it still brought amusement and intrigue to the curious doctor,

"I didn't expect anything, until a few moments ago I was completely unaware of your existence-"

"And I would like to go back to that" interrupted the corrupt tone, Tyrian ignored him,

"Yet while I find it most fascinating at your sheer ability to eradicate your immediate enemy I find it hard to believe you wouldn't want to exact revenge on the very society that cast you out, what's a few 'immoral' experiments when you're clearly capable of more right? They didn't want you so you tried to destroy them, but you didn't succeed completely. You probably are aware that I think you might be-"

"Helpful to you? Easy to use? Manipulate? Control?!" This was more than a growl, this was a snarl, it caught Tyrian off guard and actually made him jump, it was becoming increasingly obvious that talking simply wasn't going to be enough,

"What would it take for you to find some way to trust me?" Asked the curious scorp almost softly, itching with anticipation of an answer. It took a while for his opponent to respond, it wasn't clear if it was because of outrage or simply no idea of how to react.

"I… to trust you?" Came an unsure sound, "Why would I want to trust you? Why would you want me to trust you? Trust requires closeness and closeness ultimately ends in parting."

Tyrian smiled again, "You're something else, something unique, if even the Grimm fear you just imagine what chaos you could cause with the proper footing to launch yourself from, we're not all that different you and I, while at the same time we're complete opposites. I know of somewhere there'd be a place for you, you'd have to leave this behind of course but you'd be rewarded in time with the exact opportunity your seething twisted soul desires" he could see this was perhaps sounding worthwhile. The reply didn't take long.

"I am not the man I was, I'm not sure if I'm much of a man at all… but you seem to believe I'm useful to you… how so?" The question was unsure almost cautious, it made Tyrian think there wasn't as little humanity left as they both thought, but he was all too happy to answer;

"I'm glad you asked, you see I work for a force this world will never be able to defeat and she only grows stronger with the aid of people like me, and perhaps even more so with you." He was always ready to jump at the chance to mention his Goddess, but took the opportunity to mention his own story, his own achievements, most particularly the ones under Salem's guidance, he exclaimed much glee at recalling events, he especially made sure to add in a little bit of how perhaps the addition of someone like the distorted disgraced ex-doctor Arthur Watts could possibly have influenced the outcome and made it so much easier, he mentioned the research he'd done on him and how he'd lamented at the belief the once great man was now apart from this world in attempt to play right into how he once thought of himself as an esteemed innovator. It seemed to work like a charm, not surprising, if Tyrian Callows knew anything it was how to use a person's own self against them for better or for worse. Eventually the newly revitalised man that was once a husk seemed to smile and said with as much attempt at contentment as his shattered voice could offer,

"Perhaps you are right" and that answer made Tyrian grin, but he continued "however I still feel like I am better off staying lost in the shadows of ruins, I would recommend you just leave" he seemed downheartned at having to say it and Tyrian simply had to ask,

"I cannot allow you to simply stay here, perhaps you could do me a favour" he had a glint in his eye which was observed by Arthur, who seemed perhaps a little uncomfortable and didn't want to ask what favour deciding it be best not to know. That didn't stop Tyrian from asking anyway. "Please step into light, so I may see you properly"

Arthur scoffed "So you can see what's become of me?"

Tyrian simply answered, gently, with a "Yes"

It appeared this was not the expected response. However unable to provide much more of an argument Arthur reluctantly, slowly, carefully, and in every way cautiously, moved closer. As soon as his body was bathed in light Tyrian caught himself being captivated, in awe.

The oddly shaped outline he'd been looking at this whole time was much more distinguished now. He was able to make out all the foreign non-human devices. The recognizable form of a man who in his own despair attempted to make himself into something else. He wasn't just less human in nature, but also in appearance. And Tyrian found it beautiful.

#The quality of being feral #rwby #arthur watts #tyrian callows #Nuts and Volts week #My trashy fanfic? #Role-reversal #Scientist!Tyrian #Feral!Watts #blood #implied cannibalism #implied self-mutilation/experimentation #If I didn't tag a trigger I'm sorry #I was high on sugar when i started to write this #It gets worse as you read on #I made an attempt #Yes its called humanity and ferality #Not 100% sure ferality is a word but I'm rolling with it #Wiktionary says it is #It's the only was I can describe this version of Watts #He feral #i don't know what this is

[wexhappyxfew]

shannon!! hii lovely 😊🌸🌸. 34-39 for the fanfiction writer asks?

KRYSTA GIRL THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU my supportive lil bean :) i hope you are doing well and that the prologue is treating you right, i know it’s a lil sad at the moment AHHH but im so so hype for you, but you know that AHH <3

34. How much of yourself and your life experiences do you put into your writing? What do you think your readers’ image of you is?

i put different parts of myself into my characters most of the time. for example:

charlotte - kindness (everyone deserves a chance)

hazel - innocence (innocent through hardship)

catherine - leadership (leading as a strong female)

lizzie - stubborness (making your mark and working for it)

and those are just a few of the basics, without even deeper context!! i always try to give good and ‘i’m working on it’ parts of myself to the characters to make them human, relatable and real to people in anyway i possibly can! bc that’s what makes a character truly for me. and my readers’ image of me? i guess sorta soft, maybe a lil innocent, too kind sometimes, a lil chaotic, and shy i guess, thats just how i perceived in the real world too, i’ll never know i guess LOL

35. How much has writing fic changed your life?

so i answered this for julianne, but fanfic has truly changed my entire life. i feel like i finally found my thing, my little place in this world where i can express my self in ways i want to express myself. i can show the world that maybe it’s not all darkness and sadness, but it can be creative, happy and positive and you can always find joy in the little things, especially like writing. writing has made me grow into the person i am today. my characters have showed me how to be a strong person in my own way, to accept my flaws, accept sadness, or happiness, or grief or fear. i’ve really seen a growth in myself, truly :0

36. Are there any fics or fandoms you’re embarrassed to have written or been part of?

no actually! if you can believe it! everything i’ve written or made an attempt it, i’ve always liked it or went along with it bc for everyone it’s just an idea, a little spark that might set off a flame! and every piece of writing is always something that can be amazing, bc some people in the world cant fathom writing. anything written for fandoms i feel can be amazing and worth it :)

37. Give an update on your current WIP - if you don’t have one, give a sneak peek to a title or idea that you have and would like to write.

OOOH YES MAAM!! ie, lizzie showing up a surgeon after chuck gets shot, ie her being a queen!!

" Hey," the surgeon said and Lizzie narrowed her eyes.

" Where were you? We've been waiting." she snapped, eyes cold. The surgeon sent her a look.

" You caught me in a smoke break." he said and Lizzie's gaze turned icy. Reaching up, she pulled the smoke straight from his lips and stomped it into the ground. Speirs, Tab and Gene watched the woman, her gaze like an ice queen's staring down the surgeon who stood cowering up at her.

" You could take some time to actually do your job," she hissed.

so basically don’t mess with lizzie or her friends LOL, this part is gold :) 

38. What does your writing process look like? How chaotic is it on a scale of 1 (very tame) to 10 (you can’t handle this kind of chaos)?

10 10 10 10 10 can i say 1000? 10000? pure utter chaos, but hey it comes out good on the other side and im still here right LOL, but it works best for me that way HAHA :) but we all know this LOL

39. What’s something about your writing that you pride yourself on?

i think my ability to right emotion and description. i’ve really grown through my writing in making emotions seem so so real, where people can feel things and descriptions that can really hit the reader, ive seen some comments from readers say that before so i feel thats where i really pride myself. ANDDD, love, emotion, grief and sadness in war and how it is V A L I D to feel all those emotions in war and how it should be normalized and okay to feel those things. i feel people have been told if you feel emotions you are weak, but in reality i feel you are even stronger to even let that side of you come out, to love someone in their darkest times, or to feel such pain for someone you care about more than yourself, i feel i’ve really tried to make that a point in my fics, that those concepts are extremely valid!! <3

thank you so much for these asks krysta, i truly loved them so much, AHHH thank you! thank you! thank you! honestly some of my favorites! stay lovely <3

#writer fanfic asks! #ask about my writing!