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moonlight-prose · 24 days

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FIRST LIGHT

➛ #01. ETERNAL DARKNESS

a/n: this fic has been shoving its way to the front of my brain for months now. so i finally decided to sit down and write the first chapter. tommy miller somehow snuck up on me in 2023, and now there's really no going back with this man. i love him and all his agonies. this is a fic that i'm really connected to and terrified to post actually. it's also a level of angst i've never put out before so i'm handing tissues to y'all now.

summary: tommy miller never thought he would end up alone. not when he had family behind him - a life that wasn't perfect, but good enough. yet there he was, kneeling on the cold forest floor - bloodied and bruised - asking to die. until light streams through the trees, and he sees you.

word count: 2k+

pairing: tommy miller x f!reader

warnings: not explicit, grief, angst so much angst it's actually painful, tommy wants to die, tw suicide mention, blood, death, grief, the horrors of living through an apocalypse, IF YOU DON'T VIBE WITH A TON OF ANGST THIS IS NOT FOR YOU.

NEXT CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST

There was no light in a body split down the middle. A body filled to the brim with splinters and jagged edges. With a hollow emptiness that created an opening—a chasm.

He could feel how the darkness soaked in, filling the spaces where light once belonged—where hope used to be. But nothing could exist if pain—grief—reigned free. A wild ruthless thing, cracking apart whatever remained. Feeding off the shine that once thrived there.

There was no light.

Not anymore.

He ran through the woods, the heaviness of his boots snapping twigs and branches as he went. The cracking echoed through the air, sharp and loud, accompanied by the heaviness of his breaths. Each one, more painful than the last. His fingers clenched around the ripped leather wrapped around the blade’s handle so tight his knuckles went white. At one point it was brand new, perfect. A birthday gift from his brother. He called it special—once.

Now it dripped red.

Wild eyes darted around the surrounding area, his breaths coming in slower—an attempt to slow the erratic beat of his heart. He could still taste it. The pungent sting of copper that built up in the back of his throat like bile. He couldn’t tell the difference at this point. They burned all the same.

Sucking in a breath, he felt his chest tighten, his eyes red with exhaustion. The nights were desolate, sleep no longer a priority when nothing but memories of a past he couldn’t get back to plagued him. What he wouldn’t give to go back. Maybe then he could save himself; end it before it even began.

Birds no longer chirped the same. He noticed that three days into being alone. As if nature had taken her beauty away; an act of punishment for the selfish behavior of humanity. They took her for granted. Used her up until nothing remained; until her grounds ran red with blood. And this was their consequence. An eternity of misery, of reaping what they sowed from her poisoned grounds.

He stopped breathing, stilled every limb of his body, and listened. For the signal of people coming after him. Or something worse. For a blissful numbing moment, he wished for the latter.

At least then he’d have an excuse.

His palm was warm, slicked and sticky with the color of crimson that stained his skin. A red right hand for the man filled with nothing but regret. If he could feel anything, he might have laughed at the sheer irony. Once upon a time he wanted to save the world. Now he was ready to watch it burn.

Silence spilled out of every corner. A deafening echo he yearned to find relief in. His body had other ideas though.

Clambering forward, he pressed himself against the nearest tree. The bark scraped his palm as he clutched it, tight enough to draw blood. But the bile had built and built and he could feel his body beg for something other than pain. Tilting forward he went dizzy as he dry heaved. His stomach was empty—the food he stole burned a hole in his pack.

Would it set him on fire?

Would he turn to ash here in the middle of the woods?

A sickening hope entered his chest. As thick as tar and black as night. Yet for a man who had nothing to cling to—this was enough. This would have to do.

He’d take what he could get. In a world ruined by death, a bitter hope was all he could carry. He would continue to push this boulder of grief up the hill paved with the souls of the past. The ones who could no longer sustain the heavy weight of their own heart. Some days he wondered if he could keep going, yet every morning he still woke up.

A bit more numb than the day before.

But still alive.

He used to feel hopeful at the realization. Now all that remained was bitter disappointment.

He bit down on the inside of his right cheek hard to stave off his pained shout. Copper flooded his mouth, but this was familiar. As if his body recognized a taste it’d grown to know. Clutching his thigh and waist, he stumbled away from the tree. There was nowhere to go, no place to hide, but the drive to keep moving kept him alive. The need to be anywhere but here.

Blood coated his once white t-shirt, his jeans a darker hue of blue as the wound on his thigh continued to drain out. Tommy knew he didn’t have long—spots of darkness peeking into the corners of his vision. The threat of oncoming blackness.

“Fucking shit,” he hissed, squeezing his eyes shut as the burn of pain spread through his veins.

Images of the man flashed behind his eyelids. Blood, so much of it, filled his senses. He could still smell it, the hot flush against his skin as he pressed down on the blade hard enough to sever that link between life and the human body. How ruthless he’d been was sharp in his mind. And for the first time in a long time, Tommy was afraid of himself.

He killed the man with his special knife. The engraving Joel placed there—a reminder that his brother was always with him—glared back. I’m proud of you, coupled with the offset reflection of a man he didn’t recognize. There was no life in his brown eyes, no light. Only a thrill he’d seen before—a darkness he locked away the second it crept to the surface.

A piece of him that wasn’t human.

He bit down harder on his cheek, tearing through the flesh with ease. Would Joel be proud of him now? Would he look at him with the eyes of a big brother? The promise to protect him lingering in the brown Tommy knew better than his own. Or would he leave him alone all over again; claim he was a lost cause. After all, there was no use in saving the soul of a man this far gone.

Tommy’s breaths came in short, quick little gasps as he fought to stay upright. To push his boulder a little further.

But what was the use? What did he have left to offer the world? The man’s blood began to dry to his skin, into the grooves and lines of his palms. His fate line, heartline, and everything in between now coated in the essence of another being. A reminder that what he had done—what he’d taken—would remain with him until the end of his lifeline.

Being alone wasn’t new to him. Not when his only sibling had to grow up faster than he expected, leaving Tommy behind to figure out shit on his own. But this…the aching pit of isolation was something he didn’t know how to handle. He could still see Joel’s face, the lines of disappointment suddenly deeper than when he was younger. Pity in the brown that once used to shine with hope.

They both changed. They had to with the way things shifted so quickly.

Except Tommy never thought the only thing keeping him sane—the only tie he had to his past—would leave him alone.

He felt that overwhelming despair begin to swell in his throat, clawing to his chest like a beast starving for more. There was no one here to see him fail. No one here to save him from the darkness.

There was no one here to watch him die.

“Please,” he breathed, his voice ragged and raw from not needing to use it. As days came and went he remained silent. His words, trapped in the empty cavern of his chest.

There was no reason to speak when no one would hear his agony.

“Please.”

The beg morphed the longer he stood there, repeating it softly. Swaying on his feet. He wasn’t sure who he was speaking to. Who his plea was going out to, but Tommy didn’t care anymore. The pain that he tried to control—keep at bay for as long as he could—finally began to seep into his mind. Cracking the final pieces of his soul off like a bottle shattering on the floor. He begged for the release of this anguish, for time to turn back, for his brother to return to him.

He begged for death on a silver platter.

Unashamed, unabashed, and unafraid.

His knees slammed against the forest floor as he fell, his body sagging forward slightly, hands clutching onto his waist as blood spilled down his leg. If he didn’t patch himself up and chose to remain this way, he’d eventually bleed out. Right here on the dirt. He’d return to the Earth, become one with the moss that would eventually grow over his body.

Even that seemed like the better choice than this.

Fighting to live without end. In a world that would be happy to see him get snuffed out like a candle. Entirely blown away with nature’s breath. Her viciousness finally coming to fruition.

He gasped for a breath. Hot tears spilled over his scraped cheeks, his blood split lip from fighting now burning with the salt. Only this time he didn’t try to stop himself, sober his emotions and gather his surroundings. This time, he sunk into the darkness that ate away at his soul, consuming him bit by bit like a decadent meal it wanted to savor. He was its sustaining life force.

Until there was nothing left of him.

“Please,” he whispered, his voice cracking from the strain of the truth.

Tommy had never known an emotion quite like this. He never knew what welcoming death meant. Although he supposed a man would never know until he was faced with its truth; until something pushed him far enough.

He’d seen Joel go through it. Watched as his brother grappled with the decision to stay alive, and he would have joined Sarah soon enough. If Tommy hadn’t shoved his hand out of the way. Joel claims he flinched, Tommy knew the truth. He didn’t flinch, he stood still as stone with his eyes closed…he never saw Tommy’s hand coming.

But Joel would never know the truth.

A soft grin played on his lips as memories of his brother and niece flashed behind his eyes. Like a movie reel playing in a lonesome theater. He was the only person sitting there, transfixed to the screen. And Tommy would have spent the rest of his life there, watching. At least there he felt joy, hope. Emotions he thought he’d never have again.

“Please,” he sighed, his eyes fluttering open to see the light that filtered through the branches.

It fell on the floor like a spotlight, playing along it like water, and he found himself breathless to its beauty. Nature was extending her hand gently, offering him the last bit of beauty he’d get to witness. Placing a small amount of peace at his feet in retribution for what he’d gone through; what he was giving up. Tommy’s wounds continued to bleed, but for that brief moment…he didn’t feel a thing.

No pain, no hurt.

Just peace.

Something cracked in the distance, a twig breaking under the boot of someone, but he felt no need to react. The blade lay on the ground beside him, still bloody, still tainted with his guilt and regret. But there was no use picking it up now. He was already too far gone. Another helpless soul lost to a world on fire.

He could see it now. The sunlight illuminated behind their body, a soft voice echoing in the distance, and his lips curved into yet another smile. Was this nature? Had she come to lead him? Tommy gasped in another breath, forcing his eyes to focus, and yet all he could see was a blurred sight of this being. They practically glowed as they approached quicker than before.

“Hi,” he murmured, eyes wide yet unseeing.

Soft warm hands cupped his face, tilted his head, and replied something he couldn’t hear. But the light was too bright, too welcoming, and Tommy was so fucking tired. More words came, questions. He heard nothing. Just the softness of their touch, the gentleness of their nature, until it all faded. And nothing remained.

#catch me hiding for a WEEK after posting this #to all the tommy girlies i formally hand in my apology now #joy? i don't know her #tommy miller x reader #tommy miller x you #tommy miller x f!reader #tommy miller #tommy miller fic #the last of us fic #my writing

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ryuichirou · 9 days

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More Tweels/Idia hcs!

Anonymous asked:

I don't know if you'll ever see this but: I LITERALLY LOVE YOUR ART!! The whole reason I got a tumblr account was literally to be kept updated on your posts. your Jade x Idia posts keep me alive genuinely. So of course I'm here to ask for your fav headcanons on Jade x Idia or the Octotrio x Idia in general (bottom idia for the win)

Anonymous asked:

feed us more bottom idia hc's 😃... and possibly jadidi 🤔

Anonymous asked:

AHHHHH I just stumbled upon your tumblr a few days ago and I love your Jade/Floyd x Idia hc's!! MORE please

Anons!! Thank you so much for sending so much love our way, it means so much I can never stress it enough. I am very happy that you like our stuff, both headcanons and drawings <3 whether you’re new here or have been with us for a while, we appreciate you a lot.

Sorry for the late reply! Here are some more Jade/Idia and Floyd/Idia hcs; some neutral ones, some spicy ones, some a bit fucked up ones. I won’t be writing anything about Azul this time because posted a new bunch of Azul/Idia hcs not so long ago, but he is mentioned a couple of times!

Jade makes snacks for Idia sometimes (sometimes sour, sometimes sweet, sometimes salty) and asks Azul to bring them to him whenever he goes to a board game club meeting, which always makes Azul super annoyed because he isn’t Jade’s errand boy + Idia doesn’t want to eat anything anyway. But even though Idia always says that eating stuff that Jade has made sounds like a dangerous game, he got used to munching on whatever Azul brings him. Making sure that Idia-san always remembers him + inconveniencing Azul at the same time? Sounds perfect to Jade <3

If Idia visits the Lounge (which doesn’t happen very often, it’s a pretty rare occasion, to be honest), he always tries to find the tiniest, least noticeable place to sit, but he always gets all the attention, because Floyd sees him, drops whatever he’s been doing and jumps on Idia’s couch to lean on him, chat with him, tease him and even squeeze him a little bit, not caring at all that Azul will absolutely yell at him for that. And even though it’s always a super stressful thing to Idia and he would prefer Floyd not to jump him like that, whenever he visits, his heart starts pounding very loudly, because his body is aware that Floyd will notice him and react very soon. It’s 50% him being scared and 50% of weird anticipation that makes him feel a bit ticklish down there.

Despite the fact that it’s easier to catch Floyd in his eel form, the first twin that Idia saw in his eel form was actually Jade. It was his first time seeing a merman in general, and since it was a dark pool and Idia didn’t realise what he was looking at at first, he got kind of freaked out. But also mesmerised at the same time. Idia ran away the moment Jade noticed him and look at him with his scary glowing yellow eye + avoided him after that point, but he still couldn’t escape the visual of Jade’s huge slippery heavy-looking tail that was constantly on his mind.

But the first Leech to actually touch Idia in his eel form was Floyd. That wasn’t a planned encounter either; Idia pretty much just fell into the pool in the most ecchi anime convenient way possible. But Floyd caught him, grabbed him with his huge hands, left a couple of scratches with his fins and claws, and slid Idia’s entire body on his own tail. Idia ended up not only wet, but covered in the eel slime, cold and weirdly aroused. He just got rid of weird eel-related dreams that Jade caused..!

Compared to Floyd, who touches, kisses and bites in a very overwhelming manner, Jade gives Idia some moments to “breathe” during sex, but this only makes things worse somehow. Because Idia’s brain just shuts off completely when he is with Floyd, but Jade makes sure that Idia is constantly aware of how exactly he is getting fucked, what sounds he makes, how his body reacts and how Jade’s dick creates a bulge inside his stomach. Jade always stops just in time for Idia to catch himself yelping pathetically and twitching, moments away from orgasm. And Jade always smiles like a criminal that is about to betray and shoot him when it happens…

Jade’s and Floyd’s dicks are pretty much the same size-wise, but the way they operate them is different; after having sex with Floyd Idia feels completely ruined. Not in a horrible way, but even if it’s been days, his insides remember how it felt when Floyd was shoving that thing deep inside his body. So it’s not unusual for Idia to spend a couple of days in bed after having sex with Floyd, especially considering the fact that if he moves his legs in the wrong way, he’ll probably trigger a spasm that’ll send a shockwave of pain and pleasure through his whole body.

Idia still isn’t sure why this whole thing keeps happening and why the tweels keep chasing him to have sex with him; he kind of was sure that they would lose all interest in him after a week or two. But even though he acts annoyed and even freaked out by them, somewhere deep inside it feels weirdly good to know that these two think about him so much that they just can’t get enough of him. This is such a cringy thought for Idia… but suddenly realising that Jade or Floyd could fit his entire dick inside his butt without any problem is more cringe; is it really this loose now??

Jade and Floyd are fascinated with the way Idia’s hair colour changes when he is embarrassed and aroused, and they know that it also changes in other situations, so now they have a quest to collect the entire rainbow of Idia’s hair. The winner gets to have fun with Idia while the other watches. Idia loses either way because the idea of being fucked by one of the tweels while the other one is pissed, horned up and cockblocked sounds like a nightmare lol Idia isn’t aware of this little challenge/game of theirs, which is for the best.

Floyd approaches the challenge by making Idia experience different physical sensations. He also loves to freak Idia out, he feels like if he does it enough, he could get a cool new colour. He just couldn’t scare him enough yet… maybe if he combines it with them having sex… Or makes Idia believe that he is about to drown him and keep his head under the water for like a minute until he either cums or passes out…

Jade’s approach is to play mental games with Idia + use potions, mushrooms and other stuff that he could feed him or inject into him. He got pretty interesting results, especially when poor Idia got super delirious and confused as Jade was having sex with him after pretty much frying his brains with the newest mushroom-based potion… but Floyd said that it doesn’t really count because it’s cheating.

#replies #headcanons #jadidi #floidi

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sizzlinbaconpeach · 8 months

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Thank you all so much!

Your wonderful comments about the comic are very appreciated and dear to my heart! I'm so glad you all enjoy this little labor of Valenfield love. We all know they have such juicy angst to draw from, so it made my job easier (and references, sooo much reference used) :P

As a bonus, this post includes some of the ideas/pieces for the comic (including some that were cut) and other tasty tidbits.

While I like some of the pages below, it just wasn't coming together the way I wanted. So I took a look at the dream sequence again and determined to elaborate more on the initial embrace.

So below is the work in progress that had me stumped for MONTHS. I kept trying to think about how I wanted to draw it, but ultimately, an inspiration struck for the first hug and I decided to scrap this idea. Though I really like some of the pictures that came out of it.

Also, a page that was cut from the final. We (my sister and I) felt like the ending was better without it. We wanted to leave some ambiguity, whereas with these pages they are definitely leaning in for a kiss.

Reference. Reference. Reference. There was so much reference used for this comic. It made it turn out so much better, too! And finally, the script is included below. (Hopefully this can be helpful to any of the non-English speakers!)

[Chris visits Jill at the lab facility while she is under testing] Chris: ...I still hate seeing you hooked up to that thing. When will they take you off it? Jill: Dr. Garrison said it should only be another week or so. Chris: [slightly irked] Really, another week? Haven’t they put you through enough? Jill: Oh, it’s not so bad... You get used to it. Chris: Well, I certainly haven’t... Jill: Always such a worry-wart, you know that? Chris: Hey, can you blame me? Jill: [playfully shrugs] Nah. Chris and Jill share a chuckle. [Beat] Chris: ... You know, I ... I never had the guts to really say it. To tell you... ... how I really feel... about... everything. Jill: Ha. You tell me everyday, Chris. I know - you hate this hunk of junk I’m hooked up to! I’m surprised you haven’t given it the boulder treatment yet. Chris: [shakes head and smirks] Tch... [quiet pause] ... How about the blood work? Have they found anything new? Jill: No, not since last week, but they’re still drawing blood here and there to be sure. Chris: [sighs, shaking head] Jill: They’re just trying to be thorough, Chris. Chris: ... I know, I know... I just... I don’t like seeing you treated like their test-subject. Jill: Chris, I consented to this. It’s for the greater-good. You of all people should understand that. Chris: [sigh] I know... But... It’s just that... Ah, forget it. Jill: I’m alright, really. Chris: [shakes his head, but smiles at Jill] Somehow I knew you’d say that. The whole world could be falling apart around you with the worst stroke of luck, yet you’d still insist that you’re ‘alright’. Jill: Well, I have been alright... I’m still kicking, aren’t I? Besides, it could always be worse. Chris: Worse? Considering all that you’ve been through, I’m not sure “worse” is possible for you. I don’t even want to think of that... Jill: Oh, it is possible... Chris: Tsh, is that so? Jill: Yeah... for instance, I... [gazing into Chris’ eyes] I could have lost you... Chris: [gazes back] [husky whisper] I’m not going anywhere... Jill: [smiles, whispers back] I know. [quiet as they continue to smile at one another] [Chris glances down, appearing to convince himself to say something] Chris: Jill, I... I don’t -- I hate what’s happened to you... And I hate that I wasn’t able to stop it sooner. Jill: Don’t beat yourself up, Chris. None of this is your fault. Chris: I can’t help but feel responsible though... I wasn’t strong enough to take him down that night... to protect you. Losing you... it was like... living a nightmare I could never wake up from. Jill: Chris... Chris: I miss you... I miss you by my side. I hate what Wesker has taken from you, from me - from us. I don’t ever want to lose you again. I don’t mean to be a downer, I just -- I hate seeing you like this - the reminder of what’s happened, of what he’s done... ... Because... well... [sigh] I... I don’t want to lose anymore than we already have, but I -- how do I put this... I need to tell you... that I... Jill: [holds Chris’ hand] Chris. Chris: ? Jill: [gazes/smiles] I love you, too. Chris: [gazes/smiles back]

#valenfield #fanfiction #comic extras #thank you so much

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persphonesorchid · 1 year

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Backyard Boy - JJK

Summary: Jungkook loves you, he won't tell you now, but maybe someday. Right now, he's just gonna look after you.

Genre: Fluff, a little angst, unrequited (?) love, best friend to if we wait a moment we'll get there au.

Warnings: Just that Jungkook refuses to let anything destroy his precious friendship with you.

Word count: 1.3k

See my other works: Here :)

Notes: Requested by @euphoricfilter thank you so much for requesting Darling!! I'm sorry it took so long, I hope you enjoy it!

Loving you is as easy as breathing.

The easy rise and fall of an automatic motion, cresting like a wave and falling like a sigh.

Childlike, the excitement of stomping in puddles in a downpour not caring if you’ll catch a cold.

A lukewarm cup of tea on a spring morning, basking in the rising sun and the calls of the city.

Jungkook loved you as a friend at first, because he’s cautious, wears his heart on his sleeve but not for anyone to hold. Until you came with your sunshine smile and starlit eyes.

It took a long while to get here, through the random run-ins and the shy hellos. Through late night calls, texts in the same minute and shared friend group gatherings.

Sometimes Jungkook was a little scared, that at some point it’ll all shatter like glass and that glass would become sand and blow away.

Sometimes, he wants more than what you give him. When he says ‘I love you’ at the end of a phone call, a text or in parting, you reply in kind, automatically. Because you’re his best friend and he’s yours. You’re supposed to love each other.

He doesn’t mean it like that, not in the way he knows that you think. He loves you, he just doesn’t think you understand it yet.

He knew when he realized that he’d drop everything and come running even if you were halfway across the world; he’d find a way. He’ll pull the stars from the sky if you wanted, he’d walk on hot coals to reach you – and that sounds extreme, but it’s how he feels and drawing that picture barely measures up.

He chuckles at this now, because he’s standing in a soup shop waiting for your order. A plastic bag hanging from his wrist filled with whatever medication the pharmacist recommended. He even called your boss for you. When he found you nursing a headache with a too high temperature he thought it was for the best.

When he got your food, he walked as quickly as his legs could carry him back to your apartment.

It was as quiet as he left it – you’ve probably crawled back into bed after camping out on your couch all morning.

Jungkook slips out of his shoes and into his designated house slippers, and to your kitchen to get a tray and utensils.

When he gets to your bedroom, you’re wrapped up in the sheets even though he’d told you not to bundle up. He’s not even sure where your head’s at.

“Hey, I got you medicine, and you have to eat before you take any of it.” Jungkook says, feeling as though you’re not really listening, though he supposes it’s because he’s talking to a you shaped lump.

The lump lets out a groan and shifts, sheets rustling with the movement of your hands, and tired eyes peak out from under it.

“Can you sit up? You need to eat this before I give you anything.” He motions at the tray in his hands with the tilt of his chin.

“What’s it?” Your voice is a bit rough and he guesses that your sore throat has gotten worse since he left thirty minutes ago.

“Soup. Got it from the place you like.” He sets the tray down on your nightstand, after shifting around the box of tissues and the unopened bottle of water he gave you to drink. “I told you to drink the water.”

“It hurts my throat.”

“You have to stay hydrated.” Jungkook sighs, helping you sit up, propping a pillow behind your back. Setting the tray on your lap he pops the styrofoam lid off, “Eat as much as you can okay? I’ll be right back.”

He goes off to your bathroom, letting the tub fill up with warm water while he thinks.

He wonders if you know, if somehow you’ve picked up on it. He tries to be careful, tries to not let it show too much. You know him well enough to know that his advances are the way they always were; Jungkook has never acted any different.

He cares a lot and he’s always been caring, even when he and you were just friends he’s been nothing more than he is. When you both became best friends he stayed the same.

His friends think otherwise, they know, he knows, and you don’t seem to. Jungkook thinks he prefers it that way, he’s not too big on changes. Changes are scary, big changes are a nightmare; Jungkook doesn’t want things to change. Telling you anything will change everything.

He’s standing in the middle of a three-way street. The one straight ahead is the road where everything stays the same, you’ll go on none the wiser and he’ll remain just your best friend. The one leading right, he’s not too certain of, and it’s the same on the left.

He can pick any of them, he knows that one of them would probably lead a good way, and you and him can be happy despite the change and he’d realize that nothing really changed at all. Or, the other one, well, that could ruin everything. He can go there and pull his own heart out of his chest in the process.

He likes where he is now, hovering in the uncertain and not sure where to go. At least, if he stands still enough, everything would stay still, too.

Jungkook sighs, shaking his head as though it would clear the thoughts from it and send them out his ears. He shuts the tap off when the water is high enough and turns, startled to find you right behind him.

“Fuc-Y/n.”

You peek around him, pointing at the bathtub, “That’s for me?”

“No, it’s for Jimin.”

“Minnie’s here?” The sarcasm flies completely over your head, you turn a little too quickly and stumble a bit.

“He’s not...has the fever gone to your head?” He chuckles as he steadies you, he turns you back around and checks to be sure. It’s gone down but not completely broken, and Jungkook sits you down on the closed lid of the toilet. “Did you finish eating?”

You shake your head, but it’s not like he expected otherwise. “did you take anything from the bag I bought?”

“Just the cough syrup, and I’m sleepy now.”

“It’ll be best if you sleep, but get in there for now and I’ll get you some clothes, yeah?” He reaches for the cabinet next to the mirror, setting the bath oils on the counter, “Want me to put these in for you?”

“I got it, Kook.” There’s a ghost of a smile on your lips and Jungkook leaves you be.

Going through your closet, Jungkook isn’t shocked to find some of his clothes in there. Though, some of them are sweaters he didn’t even realize he was missing.

He picks the warmest of them out and sweatpants he knows would be big on you – your skin’s easily irritated by materials when you’re sick; he’d rather not have you feeling miserable on top of your cold.

Afterwards, he lugs some light sheets out to the living room and dumps them on the couch. He turns the TV on and waits until you’re done in the bathroom.

When you come out into the living room, wearing his clothes and carrying the bag he brought he makes room for you on the couch.

You curl up with your head against his thigh, pulling the sheet up to your chin. “You’ll get sick too, you know.”

Jungkook shrugs because it doesn’t really matter if he does, he just wants to look after you. “Won’t be the first time.”

You pull his arm underneath the sheet to play with his fingers, where it’s almost too warm, but Jungkook doesn’t mind.

“Thanks for looking after me,” you murmur, and Jungkook could tell you were already halfway asleep. “I love you.”

He doesn’t hesitate, “I love you, too.”

Tagging: @xpeachesncream @eoieopda @madbutgloriouspond @bangtansmauyeondan @taestefully-in-luv @blog-name-idk @nabiolive @luaspersona @dontstoptime @allhobbitstoisengard

#persphonesorchid #Fic: Backyard Boy #jungkook #jeon jeongkook #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n #bts fic #bts fic recs #jungkook fic #jungkook fic recs #best friend au #best friend to lovers #bts x reader #bts fanfiction #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst

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the-bloody-sadist · 6 months

Note

#we don't support peer preasure in this house

Love your hashtag above.

Can I ask how do you deal with hurtful comments on your fanfics from someone you consider a friend? Like I know if some stranger send hurtful comments it felt bad but damn when someone you know said the same thing it felt worse. Early this year I was kicked out and blocked from an animanga lover group when they find out that I wrote mlm fanfics from major shounen series (naruto,bnha, aot, jjk). This what they said :

“I'm convinced you must have never had friends before because all of these relationships are perfect depictions of what PLATONIC friendship is. If you want a gay story support ACTUAL gay couples like in BL & GL manga. Do you know how frustrating it is to see people move mountains for a non canon ship that’ll never happen then ignore actual gay manga’s and anime’s in BL & GL anime/manga...."

What do you think? Even until now, I'm still feeling a bit guilty for liking non canon mlm and wlw ships from shounen series. But when I found your blog and read your posts, I felt way better. Especially that answer of yours to anon who asked is it weird to love mlm& wlw more than wlm. Thanks for sharing your hard work (analysis, fanfics, arts, reviews).

Sorry for my rants and for my weird feelings.....

Ohhhh this is so precious please don't apologize for sending me this ask, I love feelings and hearing about other peoples' experiences with them and how my art/accounts have somehow been relatable because of that.

The peer pressure in fandoms is absolutely insane and convinces me that the social aspect works the same as any high school full of bullies. There WILL be mean girls, there WILL be cliques, and if you're a creator like me, you're going to be a MAGNET for like ten different types of them.

As for how I deal with hurtful comments, I was raised in an environment that constantly shamed me. I was controlled from all sides on what I could draw, write, and consume, so I'm used to being shunned by those who "love" me because of what I'm interested in! Because of this, the hate comments were what I EXPECTED going in and the positive comments were actually the things that threw me for loops. Hurtful comments only had the power to nag at me when I didn't have an audience (or friends) to bounce them off of so they wouldn't keep popping up as a "do I actually do this, though?" "am I actually bad for this?". But now they don't bother me; they give me the chance to either make a troll reply or spice up my friends' group chat for the day.

As far as a FRIEND leaving a hurtful comment??? I have so much sympathy for you. I am SO sorry they treated you that way.

When I make friends, I tell them openly what I do and to what extent. This way, I gather the type of people I want and push away those who don't. If they think it's not okay, they're silly.

Those friends who kicked you out of their little club? SILLY. They think they're so pure and moral for gatekeeping what can and can't be done with creativity and passion. They won't ever know what it feels like to live as freely as you do. In the end, their opinion is an opinion that is largely not shared by the logical, rational public. Any professional in the art/film/writing industry can tell you that much. How else are we supposed to make stories? Have a little IMAGINATION!! DAMN!

I'm saying a lot of this because it's the best thing to tell yourself when you read things that are clearly meant to make you feel shame when you haven't done a single thing wrong. Since this is Tumblr and I can ramble to my heart's content, maybe it'll help you if I also point out the specific tools that have been used in that message they sent you. Sometimes a good breakdown of tactics is all it takes to remind yourself you're not in the wrong.

"I'm convinced you must have never had friends before" AKA "you're so ignorant" - invalidating your experiences to crumble any foundation you might've had to stand on if you wanted to argue back. Starting off with this helps them cut you down so your self-esteem is lowered.

"these relationships are perfect depictions of what PLATONIC friendship is" - their opinion is being stated here as a fact, as if the entire world agrees with them and there's no other way to see it. First of all, this means NOTHING to the shipping world, since it exists largely to turn friendships into romances. Idk what they wanted to do with that one.

"If you want a gay story support ACTUAL gay couples like in BL & GL manga" - I'm not sure what kind of burn that is. SUPPORT ACTUAL GAY COUPLES LIKE THE REST OF US!! Okay snuffledumpkins. Guess nobody taught them how to MULTITASK!!! GUESS WHAT? I CAN SUPPORT ACTUAL GAY COUPLES *AND* NON-CANON GAY COUPLES, FREAK! WHAT NOW, HUH??? Being serious though, this is an attempt to define for YOU what ''''''true gay couples'''''' are (ACCORDING TO THEM), when this is an entirely fluid meaning and can be applied to whomever you'd like in fiction. This is THE PURPOSE OF FANFICTION.

"Do you know how frustrating it is to see people move mountains for a non canon ship that’ll never happen then ignore actual gay manga’s and anime’s in BL & GL anime/manga...." AHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHA! (inhales) AAAAAAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAH imagine being so stupid that you don't know how much better LGBT representation can be in fanfiction and non-canon works than in actual BL/GL works. Imagine thinking that the only way you are allowed to enjoy BL/GL relationships is through canon couples, otherwise you're not helping the cause. Here's the biggest thing to remember: they don't give a fuck about the cause. They are using that language as a way to shame you. Oh you think these friends are in love??? You must not support LGBT people in real life. You must not support ACTUAL stories about ACTUAL gay people.

The logic jump is LAUGHABLE.

Ughhhh, what a long rant from me. But your last paragraph absolutely WARMED my heart, minus the part about feeling guilty. Let me just...[shines spotlight down on you][metal screech][picks up megaphone] YOU ARE NOT IN THE WRONG FOR WANTING FICTIONAL FRIENDS TO FICTIONALLY FUCK EACH OTHERS' BRAINS OUT!!! YOUR FEELINGS ABOUT THIS MATTER, HOWEVER, ARE VERY UNDERSTANDABLE AND SHOULD NOT BE INVALIDATED, BECAUSE BULLYING IS A DIFFICULT THING TO DEAL WITH AND CAUSES VERY COMPLICATED FEELINGS REGARDLESS OF WHAT IS RIGHT OR WRONG. YOU ARE A WONDERFUL PERSON AND YOUR FICTIONAL PREFERENCES DO NOT DEFINE YOU. BE FREE, LITTLE BIRDIE! SHIP THE MASSES OF BOYS AND GIRLS IN RELATIONSHIPS THAT ANIME LOVES TO TEASE ON PURPOSE WITHOUT ACTUALLY FOLLOWING THROUGH WITH A ROMANCE SUBPLOT BECAUSE THEY'RE COWARDS!!!! THEY CAN BE ACTUAL GAY COUPLES TOO! BECAUSE YOU SAID SO! AND THAT'S OKAY!!!!

[puts the megaphone down][coughs]

I hope that helps. :D Thank you for the ask, and much love to you! It means a lot that you appreciate my work and my analyses and my opinions enough to ask me about such a painful subject.🖤

You are, in fact, quite normal for your opinion, and my entire audience would agree.

#sadist’s answered asks #THE MASCULINE URGE TO BEAR HUG SOME OF MY ASKERS #a lot of you guys need some better friends #never be afraid to block rinse and hunt #by that I mean like #block people who don't deserve your attention #rinse your mind of their FILTH!#and then hunt for actual cool people #like me! no just kidding I'm so stupid #I AM the doofy who knocks #also stop reading these hashtags

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quaranmine · 27 days

Note

Hi, not sure if you remember me, but i sent an ask a while ago saying how i love the Incadescence of a dying light and that i talk about it with my friend and how we both really liked the story and are juts you know discussing it well update to now. we still do that lol. i cant stop thinking about it, i listen to the firewatch OST on the daily, resonating with each track at a time. I love it. I live it. I am enamored. Everytime Im studying Polish (my native language) and revising each epoch for my upcoming finals i cant help but connect themes and motives to that wonderful story of yours. If i land on a fitting topic in my oral final exam (like pop-culture, creativity and arts, certain themes in modern media) you BET Ill be talking about this fic (with all the credit I can give of course!) cause USARWSETDYRVUHUISC I cant get it out of my head. Its such an amazing example of how the media of fanfiction elevates the story to its maximum potential. How knowing the characters makes it so much easier to connect and resonate, even though Mumbo is absent from the majority of the fic, we still feel hurt after finding out whats happened to him. Like, its such an amazing creative medium I love fanfiction and TERSSXEFJNKVCRXSERARXSXERCDJNGIKKDc :thumbsup: oh gosh The Incadescence of a Dying Light. yeah so fun fact i actually had to look up what it means cause i didnt know the word before and oh. oh. oh its so much worse and more painful. really love it, i do, oh i do! I now have acquired (idk how to spell it lul) the never subsiding lust for nature and outdoors and hiking and being a part of it. I love it, you made me regain my love for it. I loved it before, yes, but i was caught up in my own head and had so much stuff i had to do, but now i love to look out my window even more, i love strolling in my garden. i love it. thank you, thank you, thak youuuuu!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! :thumbsup: So yeah, this fic is one of my faves of all time, i like it a lot, it has inspired me to live more and be alive basically and also. and for the end a fanart of an alternative ending where Mumbo somehow survives and just lives in the forest like a wild animal, living his best life, eating berries (i decided on drawing him eating berries [peace love and plants] instead of chowing down [is chowing a word??] on some rabbit lol) and then grian finds him and its super awkward

HI! Yes, of course I remember you! First of all, had a really wild day yesterday at work, but I read this at soooome point on my phone during the middle of the day and it made me smile :)

This ask is just so??? AAAAAAA???? I almost don't know how to respond, because it's just SO wonderful to hear this about something I created. Like I did that? I made a thing that is sticking deeply with people? I'm just soooo <333333

I like your point about how fanfiction can maximize story potential! I think it'd make a wonderful essay topic honestly. I have thought about this in connection with fanfic a lot--specifically, the divide between original fiction and fanfiction. In original works, you have to make the audience care. You have to introduce me to a character, setting, and story I will be interested in. I've read a lot of negative book reviews that start off with "the author didn't make me care about the characters" (i have also...said this myself about books I ended up not liking.) With fanfic, you skip that step! It lets you jump right in. I don't have to explain Mumbo and Grian's friendship or demonstrate it to you. You just Know. Someone reading it fandom blind would get the implication about how important they are to each other simply by seing the depth of Grian's grief, but for my intended audience, I can do whatever I want because I trust you to already have the background information you need.

The title is from a line I really like in a song (Post Humorous by Gus Dapperton). It just...painted such a nice word picture. Especially for a story about grief death and fire!

I just. Love that this fic helped you regain a desire for nature? That just makes me feel...warm, I guess, to know that I was able to spark that with something I created. I hope it goes well for you, and you get to take many walks. This spring I've been using the trails near my aunt's house (not.....hiking paths. too urban.) much more. I wanted to walk this week but I was too busy lol. I hope you have many wonderful experiences out in the Great Outdoors <3 one of these days, I swear I'll up and move to a place with "better" nature and "real" trails close by.

Also, SKFJSLFJSKFLSJKF your fanart made me laugh so much. I have like. Entertained this idea. Not as an actual or serious part of the story but I was like man wouldn't it just be off-the-wall if he was just vibing Out There 😭😭😭 You've caught the vibe perfectly LOL

this was all around such a special message to hear, thank you SO much!

#fave #save #hc_firewatch_au #quara asks #again <3333333333 #i feel like this response doesnt really adequately express how much this ask means to me i'm just really tired sorry <3 #i lvoe how many people i've induced firewatch brainrot into slfjsklfj

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somebodys-nightmare · 9 months

Text

Cloti Fanfic - Diamonds in the Sky

I'm really getting hyped for FFVII Rebirth, Ever Crisis, and more cloti content. I have some new fics I'm working on, but I thought in the meantime, I'd start sharing some of my old work here since I haven't gotten much use out of this tumblr. You can read them here or at the Ao3 Links that I share.

Today I am sharing one that I had a lot of fun writing a couple of years ago. Enjoy!

Title: Diamonds in the Sky

Rating: E

Pairing: Cloud Strife/Tifa Lockhart

Summary: Under the cover of stars, Tifa shares intimate moments with Cloud throughout their journey, unearthing her deepest feelings for the boy she's loved ever since he committed himself to her atop a water tower, long ago.

Diamonds In The Sky

They never talk about it.

It’s a weight between them, but Tifa doesn’t want to acknowledge it. She can’t, even though every time she wakes up, the words and the questions hover over her tongue, thicker and heavier when she glances over at him and finds his eyes on her face or her body but quickly averting away. Their stares meet briefly, and then they fall apart, and he rises and that is the end of it.

They never speak of it, not throughout the days’ travels and trials, not whenever they catch one another’s glances throughout the day, not when they fall in step beside each other, and not when they find themselves by each other’s side again the very next night.

They’ve been sleeping together.

They never talk about it, but ever since that first night, miles outside of Kalm, it becomes a habit that they both fall into wordlessly and that neither of them can avoid. And it always happens beneath the cover of the sky, never at inns or under the safety of a roof.

Always under the stars.

Tifa knows that something changed between them during that moment in the garden. She felt it in his embrace, in the tightness of his hold on her when he drew her in, in the strength hidden in his arms as he held her. Even though she had been fracturing from the pain of their losses, from the destruction of the only home she had left, and from the deaths of more innocents that she somehow knew she was at least partially responsible for, she had felt it. There was more behind his hug than comfort; there was a yearning and a passion that simmered dangerously beneath the surface of both their skin, hearts thundering and bodies trembling, Tifa crushed to him to the point that her ribs were sore and her lungs constricted.

Ever since that moment, things had been different. She’d seen it in his eyes when he stared back at her on the Shinra Tower’s roof, felt it in the way his hand locked around her wrist when she kept him from falling to his death.

Whatever happened between them when he folded her into his embrace, Tifa knows that it kicked up her own feelings, feelings that she’s held on to since she was a gangly limbed preteen on a water tower under a sea of blue and white glitter.

The first time it happens, it’s outside of Kalm, miles past the marshes and the mines. Tifa still feels the heaviness of their visit to that village on her heart, the weight of Cloud’s shared memories, so many of them mismatching her own. All day she rolls them through her thoughts, trying not to let the distraction impede her abilities on the battlefield and as a productive member of their party. But she can’t dissuade herself from the fact that there is something wrong, that the facts don’t add up, that Cloud is worse off inside than he had been when she found him shaking and shivering in the rain at a train station in Midgar.

All it does is draw her closer to him, a magnetism erupting that keeps them from being apart for too long.

That night, they make camp in a quiet forest, the night still and the air crisp and cool enough to raise bumps on her arms. Their tents go up and their bedrolls unfurl, a campfire brought to life by the flame of Red XIII’s tail.

Cloud hovers at the edge of their camp, arms crossed over the broad firmness of his chest as cool cerulean surveys the line of trees beyond. He’ll keep first watch, he negotiates with Barret. He doesn’t say much beyond that.

Tifa can’t fall asleep and she can’t help the way that her mind races, even as Aerith’s soft snoring at her side reminds her of all of the exhaustion and tired aches in her body. Her mind is consumed by him, wondering why so many pieces of the puzzle he’s presented to them don’t fit with her own memories, why he’s always so surly and detached, why the feel of her chest pressed against his is a memory she can’t let go of and one she craves the sensation of again.

The rest of the group is already fast asleep, and Tifa rises, rolling away from Aerith and brushing off her skirt as she gets to her feet. She affords a final glance behind her before she trudges through the clearing, grass silently crushed beneath the tracks in her boots.

She finds him leaned up against the trunk of a wide tree at the edge of the cluster of maples and oaks, overlooking the expanse of an open field that leads to the roads that head west. Their path to Junon is just beyond, Tifa knows. In the morning, he’ll be leading them in that direction.

“Hey.”

He knows she’s there before she even realizes what she’s doing, stopping a pace away from his side. He’s sitting with his knees open, arms draped atop them, buster sword at his side in the grass with the rusted hilt just within reach.

Gloved fingers twitch, and he slides the sword out of the way, moving it to the other side and making space for her.

She crashes into a sparkling oasis of blue when he looks up at her, his eyes infected by the beacons of light in the sky above. They are placid and calm, and the fusion of green - that verdant glow that has frightened and worried her since she first found him - seeps away little by little as he drinks in her appearance.

“Hey,” Tifa responds timidly.

Cloud lowers his right arm from his leg, gesturing lightly to the open space beside him. “Can’t sleep?” he asks.

Tifa swallows, pulling her eyes from his face to glance down at the patch of grass next to him. Her fingers twitch at her sides. The last time he asked her that question, she ended up in his arms.

“Not really,” she admits.

She isn’t sure how it happens, exactly, but she’s soon crouching down to his side, hugging her knees in front of her. She’s aware of the warmth of his body, the heat emanating from him reminding her of how close they had been to one another just a couple of nights ago. She craves that feeling again, realizing that the yearning for it has only doubled inside of her since the moment she told him he was hurting her and he released her.

Cloud leans back, positioning his arm behind her, against the tree. It opens up his body to her, offering her a little more space to close between them. She eyes it, turning her head slightly towards him, and she catches his eyes on her face.

He says nothing, but Tifa can read every word in those azure depths. There are questions and pleas there, the same fervid desperations and the same emotional need that has been locked away in her own heart these last few days. He blinks, softness rippling across his features, unspoken understanding blooming in the bright sparkle of blue and green between pale yellow lashes.

She leans in.

His arm that’s behind her raises and falls around her shoulders, crushing her to him. Tifa wonders if Cloud is aware of his own strength. His management of it is always so fluid and seamless on the battlefield, his body twisting through every hack and slash with the grace of a ballet dancer. But in moments like this, he is graceless. He is clumsy and awkward and too strong, his arm vicing her against a chest that feels like steel.

Tifa doesn’t complain this time, though. She welcomes the heaviness of his grip, enjoys the way the chills of the night air are chased away by the heat of his body. He becomes a fortress of protection around her, shielding her from the demons and ghosts that have been following them both from their pasts. And even though she’s still worried, even though she still questions his recollections of events, she discards the pain that’s become a stamp on her heart, tosses it to the side, and leaves it to be examined when the stars she loves are gone and the sun returns with truth and reality riding its rays.

He smells good, Tifa realizes. She never thought about it before - the last time she had been this close to him, the only thing she could smell was cinder and ash, the burned, wooden remnants of her home. But this time, she can smell the faint scent of his sweat that’s blended with clean, un-fragranced soap and that crisp, earthy note that comes from the mako in his blood. It wraps around her like a pleasant fog, enveloping her in safety and care, and her head falls to his shoulder, her eyes closing to the world around them and the miseries and concerns that she’s been carrying. He holds her through the night, and Tifa doesn’t know if he ever finds sleep or not.

All she knows is that he’s there.

The next time it happens, they’re above the open sea. Tifa’s stuffed into the tight confines of an infantry uniform, knee pads and shoulder guards uncomfortably restricting, her chest compacted under heavy straps and her waist cinched by leather belts. It makes her feel sorry for all of the poor teenagers she remembers seeing in the slums who were tucked into this same hallmark of tyranny.

Wearing this uniform reminds her of how this all began, of how she found herself crossing the ocean to the other side of the world. She remembers them coming to her village and following her into the mountains, remembers them guarding the reactor, remembers dragging one away from the snarls of a dragon’s claws after he tried to save her life. She remembers them patrolling the slums, remembers the one who she watched bleed out from his throat right in front of her very eyes, a casualty of the war they were embroiled in even though he thought he’d chosen the right side.

She tries to tear it from her mind, but it’s been bothering her ever since she stood between Aerith and Yuffie in the locker room as they pulled on these disguises. The collapse of the Sector Seven plate had only been one shard of her guilt, but she knew that the glass had already been shattered all around her, and every bit of distance they traveled further away from Midgar fills her with the reminder of what their passion for revenge has wrought.

She’s spent most of her time above deck, Aerith at her side, listening as she shared little bits of her life with her. They’ve grown close over the last few days, both of them using their time traveling together to unearth one another’s pasts. It’s small comfort, being able to open up to someone a little bit, even if there are some things that Tifa knows she’ll never divulge.

Now, though, the sun has gone down and they are still hours from the opposite shore, nothing but gentle waves of endless blue surrounding them. They’ve managed to get this far undetected on the Shinra vessel, and Tifa relaxes a little as night falls, some of the tension slipping from her shoulders. Aerith ventures below deck with Yuffie to nap, and Tifa declines to join them, needing air and needing him.

She knows Cloud is still up here, seeing him head past the bridge towards the ship’s stern just a little while ago. She ventures in that direction, keeping her wits about her as she passes a couple of grunts in similar uniforms, the enemy always afoot.

She finds him leaning over the railing, looking out at the sea below as it races away from them, Junon and its canon now fully disappeared from their rearview. She only knows it’s him from his gait and the lean lines of his body, and as her heart pumps a little faster, Tifa realizes that she would know his physique anywhere, no matter what he’s wearing.

Even though she pads in his direction quietly, he turns, already aware of her presence. She slows a pace, stopping a few feet in front of him, and he drops his arms from where they’re crossed over his chest, opening himself up to her. He’s not wearing his helmet, and the breeze is ruffling his hair, leaving it to shine like platinum under the moonlight above. His eyes narrow, watching her carefully, and they scan her from head to toe in an effort to identify her.

Tifa stops, chancing a careful glance around before she reaches up and pulls her own helmet away. She clutches it at her side, and she watches as Cloud’s entire countenance visibly relaxes, the green pulse around his pupils dimming.

“Tifa,” he says, his voice low and light and carrying over the splash of the ocean against the ship’s starboard.

She doesn’t respond - for some reason, every time he calls her name like that, it sets loose a sense of incoherence inside of her. She feels her cheeks warm, and even the sting of the cool ocean breeze can’t dull the excitement that his attention unleashes inside of her.

Slowly, Tifa saunters up to him, finding a place at his side. His eyes follow her the entire way, his body turning to face her until she is right beside him. She can feel the burn of those mako blues on her face and on her body that is cramped into this uncomfortable uniform. It doesn’t help the way that she’s already blushing like mad, and she hopes that he can’t see it with the darkness around them.

Despite the embarrassment that her feelings are sending in a tumble inside of her, Tifa can’t bear to be away from him. They haven’t spoken all day, and the day was long. She’s tired, and she misses him.

Badly.

“The others have gone below deck to sleep,” she says after a beat passes between them and all she can hear is the crash of the sea.

“Most of the crew has already taken it down for the night,” Cloud states observantly. “There’s just a couple on the other side of the bridge who are on night watch.”

Tifa nods, placing the helmet at her feet. For whatever reason, her heart is almost as loud as the sea, and it would be easy for her to say goodnight and find a quiet place to rest.

But she can’t be away from him.

“Everything okay?” he asks when the silence stretches on for too long.

“Yeah,” Tifa responds, turning to face him. In the darkness, his eyes seem to glow, but the mako in them has receded. It’s the blue that she remembers from her most cherished memories that’s piercing her now, and its color draws her near until she’s leaning against him.

Cloud notices her closeness and immediately draws her in with an arm around her shoulders, and Tifa completes the hold with an arm around his waist. Her right breast squishes against his chest, and even with these claustrophobic uniforms that they’re both wearing, the contact sends a spark throughout her body that crashes between her thighs.

Cloud is looking down at her. “Funny,” he comments, a teasing edge in his voice that has her quirking an eyebrow. “You make this shitty uniform look better than anyone.”

She’s blushing again, instantly turning away from his smirk and schooling her gaze on the navy blue depths below. She can’t bite back the smile that stretches her lips, though. Cloud’s propensity to flirt so casually catches her off guard every time. She doesn’t know what’s changed in the years that faded between them, and she wonders what kinds of experiences he’s had while he’s been away. The Cloud she remembers was too shy to even look her in the eye when he asked her to meet him on the water tower, but this Cloud has no problem letting those cobalt beacons pin her to the ground when he compliments her with such effortlessness.

She brushes past his praise, even though it has lit up parts of her body that she’d rather not acknowledge. “Think we’ll be in Costa Del Sol soon?” she asks, hoping to thwart the emergence of her feelings for this boy for a little while longer.

Cloud turns to face her fully now, letting both arms pull her in. She wonders when they crossed the boundary into a space where this closeness happens with such unspoken ease. But she doesn’t fight it, and she leans in, accepting him with her arms around his narrow waist.

“Early morning is my guess,” Cloud answers. “The climate is already starting to shift. You should get some rest. Head down with the others, Tifa. I’ll keep watch here.”

“I want to stay with you,” she blurts.

One of Cloud’s eyebrows quirks, but otherwise, he wears an unreadable mask. Tifa can’t help but stare up at him, feeling the cyclone in her belly escalate until it is in her chest and her heart is racing and loud. She hates it, because she’s pressed right up against him and she knows he can feel it, can probably hear it, too.

He doesn’t say anything as he studies her face for a long moment, and Tifa realizes he’s reading her. He knows her better than anyone, she knows, and he gleans it all from his senses, from his eyes on her face and his hands on her body, from the sound of every breath she releases.

She wishes she could say the same.

He nods, and wordlessly, he begins to crouch, pulling her with him. Tifa falls pliant, dropping to her knees at his side. She’s content to lean against him again the way that she did nights ago, the last time she remembers getting a night of restful sleep.

But he’s pulling on her arms, trying to arrange her into a different position. She doesn’t resist, despite the way that curiosity bubbles up inside of her. He’s pulling her into his lap, she realizes, her cheeks bright and burning like the sun. He spreads his knees and centers her between them, and his arms wrap around the front of her body, holding her tight and holding her close.

Tifa can’t help the shiver that runs like an electrical current through her body, her back flush against the solid wall of his torso. He responds by giving her a little squeeze, but once again, he underestimates his strength. She hears her bones crack, but she doesn’t complain because he’s nuzzling the side of her throat with his nose. Tifa doesn’t care how many boundaries they’ve crossed. All she wants is to feel like this forever.

“You sure you’re okay, Teef?” he asks her, and his breath is so hot against her skin that her pulse quickens. His voice has taken on that gentleness that she never hears unless they are alone, and she knows that it’s only for her. It makes her feel special, and the sound rides a slow vibration across her body, stiffening her nipples and raising the hair on her arms, pulsing between her thighs. His hands have dropped to her wrists, and he’s running them up and down her forearms, inspiring warmth and inspiring her fantasies, ones she’s been forced to face over the course of the last couple of weeks. Tifa folds her legs under her and curls into his hold, wishing away the layers of this stupid uniform that keep them from being skin to skin.

“I’m okay,” is all she can manage, her voice so tiny she can barely hear it over the waves below.

Cloud does something then. He presses his lips to her cheek, leaving her with a kiss that burns. It shocks her, and as he drags the softness of his pretty mouth across her flesh, leaving her with a final peck against her earring where it dangles from her lobe, Tifa feels a wave of pleasure wash over her entire body. She feels herself staining her underwear, and her cheeks are tinged by the sudden blood rush that is hitting her. If he has any idea of what he’s doing to her, he doesn’t let on.

“I’m here,” he whispers in her ear. “Get some sleep, Tifa.”

There’s a lustful possession in the way he says her name, and feeling the stiffness of his crotch behind her, Tifa realizes she’s affecting him the same way he affects her. Kissing her face is the farthest he’ll allow it to go, but Tifa knows doubtlessly that something’s changed.

Irrevocably, she hopes.

She settles and lets herself lean into it. Cloud is hers, in ways she can’t say out loud, but he’s still here, the way he said he would be and the way he promised. The stars sparkle in a sky that’s as purple as it is black, and it spills glitter all across the sea. They are the last things that Tifa sees before she closes her eyes, inhaling the fresh scent of saltwater as she melts into Cloud’s hold.

She sleeps.

After that, they steal moments when they can - she leans against him in front of the flames of the Cosmo Candle, even holds his hand when they pass through the gates of Nibelheim, uncovering a pristine village that they both know should be ash. He meets her atop the water tower where he made his promise to her, and he reaffirms it with his arms around her and his lips on her forehead, letting her weep through the misery of memories that bleed and remind them both of what could have been and what will never be.

But they’ve had the luxury of inns and taverns throughout their journey, and Tifa always rooms with the girls. They don’t share a bed, not daring to arouse the suspicions of their friends any more than they are stirred as it is. They don’t have another opportunity to sleep together until days later, after they’ve passed through Mt. Nibel and they face another hundred miles to hike before they make it to Rocket Town.

Their party has grown by that point, and so they set up a real camp, a full fire blazing in its center. Tifa cooks a meal from the rations they’ve collected, and they share rum from a canteen that Barret passes around while he and Aerith and Yuffie keep the conversation alive. Vincent abandons them by the time the sky is black, and the girls are giggling and tipsy. Tifa wants to join in on their camaraderie, but she’s still wearing the burden of their visit to Nibelheim, still can’t climb through the fog of sadness that has infected her heart.

Cloud sits at her side, quiet the entire time. When their group is finally spent, the girls passing out in their sleeping bags inside their tents, Barret snoring at the farthest edge of their encampment and Red curled up in a ball in front of the fire, he turns to her.

“Ready for bed?”

The softness is in his voice again, and it’s carried by a suggestiveness that makes Tifa press her knees together. She turns to him, her heart starting to pick up speed, and it careens out of beat when their eyes meet. He’s looking at her expectantly, and she nods in response to his query.

Cloud pushes up to his feet, extending a hand to her. She accepts it, and she rises, following him when he leads her towards his tent and leaving hers abandoned where it sits in a cluster with the girls on the opposite side of the fire.

They duck inside, and Tifa can’t slow the pace of her heart, can’t stop the way that her palms begin to sweat. It’s even darker inside the tent, but she can see the bounce of starlight through its fabric. Cloud has already laid out his bedroll, and the blankets are strewn to one side.

He crouches and sits, unzipping his boots. He removes his pauldron and harness, shoving all of it to one side. Tifa sits across from him, and unsure of what else to do, unlaces her boots and dismantles her own armor.

Cloud is pulling away his gloves when their eyes meet in the darkness. His left wrist is wrapped to the elbow in thick white gauze, and having never seen him without his gloves and armor, the sight catches Tifa’s attention. Sliding her compression sleeves off to the side, she folds her legs under her and looks up at him as he rubs his wrist, almost as if in pain.

“Why is your arm bandaged like that?” she can’t help but ask.

Cloud is looking down at the offending arm, and he clenches his hand, flexing the muscles of his entire forearm. Tifa studies his hands, and she realizes that they are beautiful. His fingers are long and his skin looks soft, even though she can see the callouses under his palms.

His eyes narrow, a pinched expression crossing his face. He refuses to meet eyes with her.

“I…” he starts, and Tifa watches his brows furrow further. “Just an injury. I usually let it breathe at night.”

He stops there, and Tifa feels the anxiety of his words unspool, thickening the air in this tiny tent that they are sharing. It’s a little bit suffocating, and Tifa realizes that she’s become as in tune with his feelings as he is with hers.

All she wants to do is make him feel better.

She reaches forward, taking his wrist in her hand. His are so much larger than hers are, and she realizes it truly when she sees them side by side like this, both of them finally gloveless. Tifa scoots closer to him, and in the confines of this tiny tent, she’s nearly on top of him. His breath hitches, but he doesn’t move, and Tifa is instantly comforted by his warmth that she can feel as she draws near.

“Let me help,” she says softly.

Cloud doesn’t protest, just relaxes his arm and lets it fall in her lap. She knows that he’s watching her face when she brings her fingers to the strip of bandaging, knows he’s watching her intently as she unwraps it.

She works slowly, because her hands are trembling and her heart is racing. She’s close to Cloud again in a way she’s been dreaming about since the night on the boat, and there’s something uniquely intimate about this act that she’s performing, stripping away this thin barrier that has shielded a vulnerability of his from her and everyone else. That he’s letting her in this close warms her soul, and Tifa feels the firefight of excitement dance throughout her body, realizing that almost all of the walls that Cloud had erected when they first reunited have melted away.

He’s always there for her, Tifa thinks. Let her be there for him, too.

She unravels the bandaging and drops it off to the side with his gloves. Cloud’s no longer watching her face, instead has dropped his gaze and is looking away. But Tifa is staring at his arm, unable to resist the impulse to reach out and run her fingers gently across his flesh.

The skin there is broken, puckered in places as if he had been stabbed and clawed at, maybe even prodded at with needles. She can see the remnants of a faded blue and yellow bruise beneath the scabs, and Cloud flexes his hand again, bubbling his vein against his skin, his muscles straining.

“What happened?” she asks him.

Cloud shrugs and his eyes lift again to meet hers. There’s a pain living there that stabs at her, and Tifa realizes the hurt is far deeper than the surface of those wounds. It comes from something deep inside of him, connected to his inability to recall certain memories, attached to hopelessness and a sense of loss and darkness he’s been muddled in since she discovered him in the rain.

It breaks Tifa’s heart.

She wants to take that pain away. Without thinking, Tifa bends down, dropping her lips to his forearm. She kisses all along the scars and the damage, every press gentle and soft. She hears Cloud emit a tiny, surprised sound that is almost a sigh, but she doesn’t stop. His skin is impossibly warm under her mouth, and Tifa suddenly wants to devour him.

Moments pass with her adoring him with affection this way before Cloud stops her, his free hand coming to her chin. He pulls her gently, and Tifa sits back up, letting her eyes meet his. Their faces are only inches apart at this point, and she can feel the heat of his breath when his lips part.

“Thank you,” he whispers to her before he kisses her.

Tifa doesn’t realize what’s coming until it happens - he leans in quickly, and then, his lips are on hers. She feels the gentle press of his mouth on hers, and his lips are so impossibly soft that it feels like a dream, as if it isn’t real. They are warm and so is Cloud, his arms falling around her body and pulling her into the heat of his embrace.

It’s Tifa’s first kiss, and it’s with Cloud, the boy she’s wanted to kiss since she was thirteen. This thought flutters through her mind and she wonders idly if it’s his too, if he’s wanted to kiss her as long as she has wanted to share this simple act of affection with him. Her thoughts spin, thousands of possibilities bubbling up her insecurities, but they are scattered when his too-strong arms squeeze and crush her against him, her ribcage feeling the brunt of it.

He doesn’t demand too much, even though Tifa can feel the tightly wound tension in his body that tells her he is eager for more. Cloud is always so gentle with her, and even now, he doesn’t part his mouth too much or invade hers with his tongue, as badly as she wants to feel it. All she feels is the heat of his lips and the hot line of wetness between them, and her core clenches, because she wants more more more.

She’s always wanted more with Cloud, and now their relationship is truly teetering beyond a border where, maybe, just maybe, despite the trauma and the tragedies that they share, she might be able to find it.

They break apart after a moment, and Cloud offers her the slightest hint of a smirk. It’s warm, but Tifa sees the smugness behind it, and she knows he’s feeling a sense of triumph at stealing that first kiss from her. It’s okay, because she feels the same.

His eyes pass over her body where she’s crouched in front of him, and Tifa doesn’t miss how they’ve shadowed into a midnight blue, the fervency of quiet lust embedded within. It sets off the throb between her thighs, and she realizes that her nipples have hardened, and she’s eternally grateful that it’s too dark in here for him to notice such a detail.

She hopes.

“We should try to get some sleep,” he says tacitly, carefully pulling on her arms to guide her to lay down.

They settle next to each other on the bedroll, Tifa’s heart crashing like the hooves of horses against pavement inside her chest. She rolls to her side, facing the flaps of the tent, which are slightly parted and let in a leak of starlight. She curls into herself protectively, her body still alight from Cloud’s lips on hers. She’s trying to tamp down her excitement, but there’s no denying the way that Cloud works her up. She’s wet and pulsing between her thighs, her breasts are aching, and her heart hurts.

She wants him.

Cloud settles behind her, and she feels the firm wall of him and all of the heat he brings with him. It doesn’t help the way that she is throbbing, but it’s worsened when he presses the front of his body to the back of hers and wraps one arm around her. The other falls above her head, caging her against him, and Tifa is flooded by a blend of feelings, of safety and comfort and desire that threads through it all.

“Goodnight, Tifa,” he whispers into her ear, his breath skirting over her skin. She can’t avoid the impulse to sigh in response, and she leans back, wanting to feel all of him.

And all of him is hard.

His chest, his abs, his bicep that is curled around her, his hand splaying over the exposed flesh of her belly - all of it is like a block of iron. But it’s the hardest part of him that has Tifa’s attention, the stiffness of his erection pressing into her bottom and setting her bones on fire. She bites into her bottom lip, feeling dizzy as the implications hit her. She can’t stop herself from rolling her hips a little, feeling it jerk against her. Cloud lets out a groan, dark and low and deep in his throat.

He pulls the covers over them and holds her closer. His lips are suddenly on the back of her neck, trailing their way up and down, adoring her with soft kisses. Tifa melts, squirming against him as she feels her clit throb every time he christens her with another blissful press of affection. She rubs her thighs together, but its no relief. She’s wearing too many layers, and the parts of him that she wants so badly are nowhere near the parts of her she needs him the most.

“Go to sleep, Tifa,” he scolds her gently when she grinds back into him again. He’s hooked his fingers under her tank and bra, and they brush against the underside of one breast as he whispers over her shoulder. The combination of his words and his touch is enough to turn her into putty, and she bites even deeper into her lip to keep a moan from escaping. This is embarrassing enough as it is, and her cheeks are on fire as she realizes that he knows exactly how she is feeling at this moment. Knowing how perceptive Cloud is, she wonders if he knows how deep her desire for him runs, leaving her to ruin another pair of panties as she lays with fire running through her veins.

The only consolation, Tifa thinks, is that she knows he wants her too, every muscle in her belly snapping taut when he idly passes his thumb over her nipple.

But that’s the end of it. He lets his hand rest just below her breast, but he doesn’t continue to touch her anymore suggestively after that. He just holds her tight, his body a firm fortress behind her as he spoons her, his knees bent against hers. He leaves his final kiss against her hair.

Tifa lets out a slow sigh, hoping some of the heated need that he’s wrought out of her will disappear so she can sleep. Cloud is breathing quietly, letting himself fall into a light doze. Tifa glances out of the gap in the tent’s flaps again, her eyes hooking onto the swath of galaxies that burn above.

She doesn’t just have a deep-seated crush on Cloud that started in the throes of girlhood. She doesn’t just find him mind-blowingly attractive, doesn’t just appreciate his pretty face and infectious aquamarine eyes and that lean, chiseled body. She doesn’t just care about him and worry about the way that he has changed.

She is in love with him.

It’s days later when Tifa gets to sleep next to Cloud again.

This time, they are both flushed when they stop running together, bright lights and loud music a cacophony around them. Tifa’s head is swimming, she’s had too many cocktails and her cheeks are bright. She’s giggling, and the sound is so foreign to her, but then, so is the happiness she feels as she squeezes his hand tight.

They’re at the Gold Saucer, and they are on their date. The date that Tifa had shyly tried to set up for them back in Sector Seven that never materialized because Shinra and all of its madness got in their way. But they had a reprieve during their second visit to the Gold Saucer, and while every part of her was brimmed over with diffidence at the prospect, she was burning from the inside out with desire for Cloud.

So she gently brought it up again - shyly asking him if he wanted to spend the night finally celebrating their reunion the way that they had agreed just a few short weeks ago. She hadn’t been prepared for the way that Cloud smiled and nodded eagerly, and without a moment’s hesitation, she was pulling him by the wrist and he was following her with his eyes trained on the back of her body.

They dance and they drink, and they hold hands as they make their way through the squares. They’d both shed their gloves and armor before they went out, and Tifa is comforted by the firm warmth of his hand clasped around hers. They play games at Wonder Square and Cloud is terrible at everything except motorcycling and snowboarding. Tifa laughs when he fouls at basketball, and when it’s her turn, she wins a stuffed chocobo and gives it to him, his face as bright and red as a honeycrisp apple.

It’s late when they finally return to the hotel, and Tifa is so tipsy and full of unbridled joy that she isn’t even perturbed by the ghosts this time. Cloud’s no longer holding her hand but holding her waist, keeping her close to him. She likes the way it feels, subtle notes of possession beneath his gloveless fingertips that dig into the soft curve of flesh under her ribs. People notice them as they walk by together, and Tifa catches their smiles. They must think that they are a couple, and she wishes that they were.

She wonders.

Cloud walks her to her room. She’s sharing with Aerith and Yuffie, and she hesitates by the door. He lowers his hand from her waist and scratches the back of his head, and Tifa realizes that his cheeks are stained pink when he finally looks at her.

“I, uh, had fun tonight,” he manages, the highlights on his cheeks brightening and causing Tifa to flush in tandem.

“Me too,” she blurts, and suddenly, Tifa doesn’t want this night to end. She doesn’t want to go in her room, doesn’t want to deal with Aerith and Yuffie’s line of questions, who both insisted they were going to stay up and wait for her so they could hear all about it. She just wants to stay with him, to feel his lips again and to kiss him the way that they’d kissed a few nights ago outside of Nibelheim, the place where their pasts and futures had burned.

The Cosmo Canyons she’d sipped all night must be getting to her because she can’t stop herself from acting on impulse. She rises up on her toes, clumsily reaching for his shoulders, and she kisses him.

Cloud is surprised - she hears it in the little gasp he makes - but after that, his hands are now both on her waist, holding her and keeping her from tumbling or falling over as she leans into him. This time, their kiss starts as a soft press but quickly deteriorates into something messy and hot and swift as Tifa darts her tongue out. Cloud doesn’t shy away from her advances, and he gaps his lips, letting her in. Their tongues meet, and the instant the tip of his touches hers, Tifa feels the familiar, white-hot spark hit the most sensitive parts of her body - a sizzle and a zap across her tits and along the seam of her pussy. She presses her body against his, aching for him.

They’re embroiled in a wet twist of passion like that for a moment longer, and finally needing air, Tifa breaks away. Cloud’s eyes are hooded when he opens them again, and the swirl of colors in his irises is bright. Tifa blinks, thinking she can see the stars there, like diamonds in the sky.

He glances at the door to her room, then back to her face. Tifa knows what he is thinking, because she’s thinking the same.

She nods.

Cloud lowers his hands from her waist and takes her hand, and he turns away, leading her down the carpeted hall. She ignores the spooky music that drawls from the overhead speakers and the flicker of candlelight from the torches burrowed into the walls. Tifa ignores everything around her, except for the boy in front of her, the boy that she has loved for so, so long, who makes her body sing, who makes her feel alive, and who makes her forget how broken and damaged she is inside.

Cloud takes her to his room at the end of the hall. He hates bunking with the other guys. Barret snores too loudly, Nanaki is always underfoot, Cid fills the air with smoke and Vincent just disappears anyway. So he has his own room, and Tifa is suddenly more grateful for this than anything in recent memory.

He pulls her inside and locks the door behind them. The room is small, but it’s furnished like all the others, blood-red carpets and dim candlelight, the bed outfitted in black iron that matches the grates on the windows. The curtains are thrown open, inviting the multitude of colors that shine in from beyond, the Gold Saucer a place that never sleeps.

It makes her a little sad, because with all the light pollution here, she can’t see the stars.

Cloud seems to know what she’s thinking, because he closes the curtains, shadowing the room and keeping the kaleidoscope of rainbow colors at bay. He turns to face her, and Tifa can see that his lips are still wet from their kiss.

“Tifa…”

His voice is so low, and it reawakens the ache that she felt stirred moments ago in the hallway. He steps closer to her, and her head swims as she tries to remember how many drinks she actually had tonight. She’s not sure if it’s the alcohol or the way that she’s so crazy about this boy that’s making her dizzy, but either way, she doesn’t complain or fight it when his hands come up to her face and he’s kissing her again.

This time, there’s a wildness in their connection. That Cloud initiates this kiss colors the encounter differently, and his possession and dominance contribute to the sudden frenzy they find themselves in. Tifa moans into his mouth, relenting when his tongue finds hers, dancing against it, its firm point sliding against the softest part of hers. She’s getting wet again, and her clit is throbbing and she’s pulsing from the inside out for him, finding herself desperate for relief from a tenseness that’s been building for weeks.

He knows, because he breaks their kiss and picks her up with his hands under her ass and drops her on the center of the bed. She bounces lightly against the mattress, and already she misses the soft heat of his mouth. But he’s crawling over her, his body a cage that shields her from the rest of the world, and all she can see is him, his beautiful porcelain face and ultramarine eyes and soft blond hair.

Her knees fall open.

Cloud isn’t one to rush, even though his breathing has quickened to the point that he’s nearly panting. He pauses as he hovers, the tops of his cheeks pink, and Tifa blushes too as she realizes that his eyes are roving her. He’s drinking her in, appreciating everything she has to offer as she lays so wantonly below him. She feels unmasked by him, as if all her secrets and the sins of her desires have been laid bare.

“You’re beautiful,” he professes in a whisper.

It’s not the first time he’s told her this, but she’s blushing even harder nonetheless. The last time he shared this sentiment with her, he’d been smirking and smug. But this time, he’s sincere and soft, and the look in his eyes betrays something like reverence.

It melts her, only makes the electricity that’s sparking every nerve ending burn harder, because she realizes that he doesn’t only want her, but he needs her.

Maybe he even loves her.

Tifa doesn’t have time to ruminate on that too much, because Cloud is kissing her again. It’s just as desperate as it had been moments ago, but he’s working even more purposefully now. Every curl and twist of his tongue works with the aim to please, and his hand is on her breast, giving it a careful squeeze.

Somehow, Tifa is coming out of her clothes. Her top and bra are discarded, both pulled over her head and tossed aside. She tries to cover herself - she’s never let anyone see her naked before, and she doesn’t want him to see the nasty scar that Sephiroth left her with. But Cloud kisses her again and whispers in her ear.

“Every part of you is beautiful,” he tells her, pulling her arms away and dashing away her insecurities with a kiss to her scar.

He thumbs a nipple while his lips reconnect with hers, and Tifa rolls her hips up towards his, feeling the stiff ridge of his erection trapped at the front of his pants. The movement causes him to groan, and Cloud pinches her nipple, dropping his lips to her neck. Tifa gasps and curves her head to one side, freeing up the expanse of her throat so that he can suck and kiss and nip at the column of it. She arches her back, feeling her clit throb desperately while her panties grow damp.

Cloud moves lower. The tips of his fingers draw circles over both nipples, and his mouth is now at her clavicle. His touch is so listless and soft that it drives Tifa wild, her body writhing in time with every strum of his rough hands against her sensitive peaks. She’s leaking and she wants to feel more, an ache below that she’s familiar with and has only ever tried to satisfy with her own hesitant touch.

But now she has him, the boy who has always inspired these feelings in her, and she needs him to satisfy it. Badly.

He must know because he’s moving further south. His mouth finds her nipples, sucking each one into firm peaks until she’s forced to moan, unable to stop the way fire screams along her limbs from the sensation. Tifa never paid much attention to her breasts before, but being with Cloud these last few weeks made her painfully aware of the way he could make them ache, and his kisses and sucks and nips have her pussy so wet and the pleasure so bright inside her tummy that she wants to cry.

Cloud’s hands find her waist, working at the buckles of her skirt. He’s a little bit clumsy and uncoordinated, but he isn’t discouraged by this fact. In fact, he only grows more demanding any time he meets the resistance of leather or fabric, and by the time he gets to her panties, he’s tearing them.

Tifa shivers when she is fully naked and exposed under him. He hooks his fingers into her stockings, toying with the fabric as he lowers himself between her thighs. He glances up at her, his eyes glowing bright with the viridian blaze of mako, and she feels her cheeks burn when their gazes connect. He smirks and she bites her lips, and then he drops his lines of sight to her spread core.

Tifa isn’t sure how to react. She’s never been like this with anyone before, in fact, she can count the number of times she’s indulged her own impulses on one hand, every time connected with thoughts about him. But she’s let it get to this point - naked and trembling under him - and she realizes that there is no turning back and despite her fear, she wants this, no, she needs it, so, so badly.

“Beautiful,” he praises her for the third time that night.

Tifa can’t handle it. She blushes so brightly that she has to cover her face with her hands, unable to stare down at him and his smirk any longer. Cloud just kisses her hip bone in response, though, and the next thing she knows, he’s touching her.

He starts by petting her folds, his touch gentle and careful as if he’s afraid to hurt her. The tentative awkwardness of his movements tells Tifa that he’s just as inexperienced as she is, and though she finds this difficult to believe, she has to admit that she is comforted by it. She wants to be his one and only, because she already knows he’s the only one she’ll ever have.

Cloud grows a little more curious, experimenting with the touch of his fingers on her. Tifa closes her eyes and waits, hoping desperately that he’ll find her aching button, and soon. He dips a little inside of her, just enough to drag out a thick stream of her wetness so he can roll it up and over her slit.

Just a little higher, she screams in her mind.

Cloud kisses the inside of her thigh, and Tifa can’t help the heavy sigh that falls from her lips. Everything about Cloud is so soft, even his kisses so close to an intimate part of her are handled with a gentleness that makes her dissolve. But when his finger raises and finally finds her clit, she rewards him with a bright moan.

“Cloud,” she calls, lifting her head from the pillow, her nub filled with blood and engorged by now. “Right there, please…”

Tifa’s voice breaks off into a whine, and her body is as tight as a bowstring as she waits. Cloud offers her a hint of a smile, holding her eyes as two firm fingers stroke the side of her clit. He draws circles over it, and Tifa tosses her head back again, closing her eyes and letting out a dark, needy whimper.

Cloud takes great joy in playing with her clit, Tifa realizes, and the more sounds she makes, the bolder he gets. He wets the pads of his fingers inside of her, Tifa arching her back as he presages a taste of the fullness another part of him can provide her. He runs his fingers in a downward line over her sore, aching spot. He swipes his fingers across it in back and forth movements, and Tifa tosses her head from side to side, feeling a puddle of lava surge deep in her belly. He rubs the tip of her clit where it peeks out at him from beneath its hood, and Tifa is whining again, chewing her lip in an attempt to keep from crying out too loudly.

Cloud stops, staring up at her, and Tifa feels her core clench and her clit pulse in anticipation. She opens her eyes again and stares down at him through her lashes, her chest rising and falling with every quick, heavy breath that she takes. Cloud’s eyes meet hers with a sparkle, and he kisses her inner thigh just once before he leans in and presses his lips to her clit.

Tifa rolls her hips and lets out another loud moan, and Cloud shushes her, his breath and the vibrations of his voice attacking her hot, swollen nub. It makes everything worse, and Tifa raises her arm to her face, biting into the flesh above her wrist to stifle her noise. Cloud is only encouraged by her responsive display, because he holds her thighs down and open with both hands before his tongue goes to work on her clit.

It’s impossible for Tifa to silence her sounds. Even muffled by her arm, her keens and whimpers escape, his name floating from her lips in huffed intervals. Cloud is lapping at her clit, massaging it up and down with the flat of his tongue, flicking it back and forth with the firm tip of it. The coil in her belly tightens, and Tifa plunges into the feeling, letting the release she’s wanted to share with him for weeks now build in every muscle. She strains to reach for it as she feels the wires of electricity expand inside of her nerves, tears pooling the corners of her eyes as it draws close. Her whines of his name become unintelligible, and Cloud notices, because he looks up at her and smirks before he begins to suck on her clit.

That is all it takes. The crescendo quickly builds, and Tifa feels herself on the edge of the cliff, ready to fall. The sensation of his lips wrapped so tightly around that tiny, sensitive part of her, working so feverishly to please her, only helps the euphoria peak that much more quickly. She’s wanted this so bad for so long that now that she has it, her mind has whited out with disbelief that blends with the pleasure he spoils her with. Cloud hums against her, and Tifa breaks, crying his name in a burst as her fingers surge into his hair and she holds him there while she rides every wave.

At some point, it ends. Tifa is spent, her breathing ragged and thin. Cloud pulls his lips away from her skin with a small pop, and it leaves her trembling. He crawls up beside her, taking her into his arms as he kisses her forehead and she tries to remember who and where she is.

“You okay?” he asks her, and she realizes these are her two favorite words in the world.

“Mhm,” is all she musters. She leans closer to him, and when their bodies collide, she realizes he is still as hard as a rock against her hip. It brings her back to reality a little bit, and she looks up at him, finding his eyes still wild with desire even though he hasn’t made another move yet.

It’s her turn to smirk. Tifa offers him the most playful look she can garner, her inhibitions blunted by the remnants of alcohol in her blood and the afterglow of her orgasm that has her still trembling. She leans in to kiss him, his lips slick and tasting like her. She crawls over him, forcing him to lie back, her hands dropping to drag his sweater out of his pants so she can pull it over his head. Cloud moves in tandem with her, letting her take control.

Tifa tosses the sweater aside and doesn’t shy away from admiring Cloud’s sculpted torso. Plenty of times she’d been pressed close enough to him to feel every smooth line of muscle here, and she’d be lying if she said she never observed the way his pectorals were defined against the tight fabric of his sweater. But this is her first time seeing the carved perfection of his body- sinew and muscle smooth and almost architectural in its design, beautiful pale skin puckered with scars that make her own pale in comparison. She can’t resist the urge to touch, her fingers following the story that his body tells, tracing the slash above his heart.

Cloud’s breathing has grown heavy by now, and Tifa knows that he is eager for her to please him the way he pleased her. And she intends to, in fact, just the thought of it has her growing warm and wet again despite how sated she is. She wants to please this man so badly, wants to show him just how much she wants and needs him, how he is everything to her, and how she will do anything to make sure he knows it.

She goes to unbuckle his pants, pulling down his zipper. Her nerves kick in then, and Cloud senses her hesitation. His hand comes up to the side of her face, stroking her cheek gently, his fingers catching into the threads of her hair. It calms her, and Tifa exhales, reaching into his boxers and finding his cock.

She blushes as soon as she pulls it out, finding it long and thick and leaking at the tip. It’s strained from lack of stimulation, its head bright red. Cloud groans as soon as she touches him, closing his eyes.

Tifa’s never seen anything like this before, has never come close to doing anything like this. But Cloud’s reactions are enough of a guide for her, and she strokes him with one hand, her heart beating faster and faster the more he moans and lifts his hips from the bed.

It thrills her to know that she is the one to reduce him to a writhing, whining puddle like this.

Wanting to repay his affection, she leans over and takes the head of his cock into her mouth. She licks away the salty liquid, sliding her tongue between his split. Cloud moans, and his fingers tighten in her hair. She lowers her mouth and starts to suck, unsure of what she’s doing but making her best attempt anyway.

Moments pass with Cloud moaning and grunting, and suddenly, he’s pulling her back by her hair and angling his hips away from her. Confused at first, Tifa leans up and wrinkles her nose, wondering what she’s done wrong. But then she watches as Cloud empties on the mattress, a thick stream spurting out of him as he quietly moans her name. Tifa blushes, but she feels like a queen inside.

Some time passes while he collects himself, and once his breathing has calmed, Cloud reaches for the tissues on the bedside table to clean up his mess. He rights his pants, then immediately slides closer to Tifa, pulling her close to him. She’s still naked except for her thigh-highs, and when her breasts press against the warmth of his chest, all she can do is coo and sigh contently.

“You’re amazing, Tifa,” he whispers into her hair as he pulls the sheets around them.

Tifa laughs happily in response. There are so many things she wants to say, but she’s afraid of every word. The feelings he’s unearthed in her run deeper than anything she could have imagined before he returned to her in Midgar. There was no separating herself from Cloud, and she loves him more purely and desperately than she ever thought possible.

She closes her eyes, inhaling his scent, her brain flooded with endorphins. Now isn’t the time, she thinks. She’ll tell him soon.

It’s the last time she sleeps with him.

The next time Tifa sleeps with Cloud, she’s weeping.

She’s weeping because he doesn’t respond to her. He doesn’t look at her, and when his eyes are open, they are dead, the bright lights behind that crash of blue and green extinguished. He doesn’t smile or smirk, doesn’t quip at her or roll his head to one side or call her name with that gentle softness that sends loose butterflies in her tummy. He doesn’t cross his arms over his chest or tap his foot in frustration. And he doesn’t hold her or kiss or touch her, the way that she had come to rely on and crave.

Things had gone downhill after they ventured to the Temple of the Ancients, and the lingering instability that Tifa had detected in Cloud weeks ago careened out of control. It was followed by a succession of destruction and tragedy, and soon, they lost him.

She’s found him again - in the village of Mideel, locked in a sanitarium. While their friends worry about the world, Tifa makes the decision to worry about him.

He’s the only thing that matters.

She curls up at his side on his gurney, feeling his body tremble beside her. She’s reminded of the way she laid beside him that first night in the slums, after she found him at the train station, his brain as mako-adled as it is now. That night, she’d laid him atop her bed, watching his brow crease as he shook with confusion, and she’d laid beside him, praying he would wake out of it.

Now, she lays beside him, thinking about all of the nights that they spent together - the nights they never spoke of once the sun had come up and the stars faded away. Over the course of that time, Tifa’s feelings bloomed and burst, until she was hopelessly in love with him and wished that she knew how deeply he returned her feelings. But they both stayed silent, sharing their feelings with touch and never with words.

It had been a mistake, she realizes.

Tifa wraps her arms around Cloud, holding him tight in her arms. He moans something nonsensical, and tears run in hot trails down her cheeks. Yet she clutches him even harder, refusing to ever let him go, even if he never speaks to her again.

He’s all that matters, and she holds on to the memories of the intimate moments that they’ve shared, all the times they slept at each other’s sides and held one another tight, when their lips were sealed together and their mutual touch brought fire out of their skin.

She wishes they had talked about it.

(Ao3 Link Below)

Comments welcome!

#cloti #cloud strife #tifa lockhart #ffvii #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #fanfics #smut #romance #friends to lovers #childhood friends

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blackthornv · 8 months

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TWP: my arthurian headcanon pt.1

Ah yes, another ramble of mine. What a treat!

I have this vague memory of cc saying something about the inspiration for TWP a long, long time ago (my memory is also not that great btw). I'm not sure if she'll actually do it anymore but i've been thinking about this since then. So. This is what i would love to see represented in the books with the little knowledge i have of the Matter of Britain.

Warning: i will over simplify the stories. deal with it.

Ash Morgenstern, the heir of the Seelie Court (arguably turned heir of both courts): i would love to see him as a mix of Gawain and Galahad - two knights connected to the Grail, which in this scenario would be the Black Book of the Dead. Galahad is the epitome of perfection - he is blessed with purity, luck and power form the Holy Grail. He defeats his enemies with little to no effort. The "purity" in Ash is (mostly) gone, i think we can all agree on that. He's survived the horrors of the Unseelie Court, of Thule and Sebastian, of Annabelle's instability, and that cost him. But he is the most powerful mortal character cassie has written so far. No. You can argue with the wall on this, the boy can command all living creatures, can inspire fealty with only a look, his strength is antinatural and he has wings. Not just any type of wings, literal fallen angel wings. He might be able to create runes, he has immeasurable power inherited from his mother, he is the strongest character in the shadowhunter universe right now. Period. Anyway, let's continue. Galahad's perfection and unmatched abilities won him a mystical-ethereal-kind-of-holy glow that few have and on that very exclusive list is my boy, Ash. (If you are, indeed, arguing with the wall you are in a worrying state of denial and i hope you get out of it before twp comes out, xo, with love, - v)

Gawain, the nephew of King Arthur (you can already tell who i'll attribute Arthur's story to in the end, right?) who, in his arrogance, stroke a fatal blow in the Grene Knight had a year to prepare himself to receive the same blow from the Grene Knight. Bla bla bla, he had his quest after the year was up, bla bla bla, adventures in the forest, but wait a minute! he hesitated to receive the blow - an action the Grene Knight chastised him for. He survives but comes back to Camelot wearing a green sash as a token of his failure/shame. Okay, so maybe Ash hasn't gone through an arc like Gawain's but come on. He's changed. He went through hell and back with Annabelle, Sebastian, Janus, the Queen, but first and foremost: Arawan (yes, you lovely genius, i'm implying he's the Grene Knight here). A much worse version of the Grene Knight, for sure, but it works in the sense that after suffering the trials (read: tortures) that Arawan inflicted upon him, he returned home (after a long time and more tortures) victorious but somehow defeated. He doesn't trust his mother anymore, feels as though he has lost parts of himself and senses a strain in his relation with Janus. He has been enlightened, knows more of the world and of people, he has gained much - and has lost even more. The innocence is long gone, he has made mistakes and doesn't know how to acknowledge them, how to fix them.

But there is one thing, one last shred of hope glistening in the distance - the girl in the drawing, Drusilla Blackthorn.

#yes i ship ash and dru #if you don't you're wrong #ash morgenstern #the wicked powers #twp #drusilla blackthorn #morgenthorn #blackstern #i prefer blackstern #can we please settle for blackstern?

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ian-loves-fanfiction · 9 months

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Well

I finally finished I See You, Sundrop! by @shirajellyfish

Slight spoily warning!

It is 1:14 in the morning as I write this (editing about a day later) and I have my first day of my senior year of high school tomorrow, but I just had to get all of my thoughts out while they were fresh.

I have never, never hyperfixated on a fanfic so hard. I've never read 400k+ words of a single fic in under a week. Somehow I managed to do that and have time to draw fanart (something I'm pretty sure I've only done once before for a fic, actually) and do my irl life shit.

How, you may ask? By continuously staying up into the wee hours of the morning :D (like 4-6am type shit, don't recommend it even if I think it was personally worth it).

I think I was so hyperfixated on the fic that I honestly didn't absorb the emotions like I should have? I felt things, surprise, excitement, a Sense of Impending Doom (/hj), but I don't think I really felt them.

I was probably a little more dissociated while reading than I usually am lol. I was so absorbed that some things barely registered. I am 100% going to have to re-read everything.

At one point I worried the fic wouldn't have a happy ending. Doesn't have the "angst with a happy ending" tag afaik and it got much worse before it got better. Saw a comment on one of the end notes and was reassured thankfully TvT. I'm very happy everyone is ok.

Love how the after ending note basically boiled down to "everyone is fine and Felix finally got some sleep" lol.

This fic was just. So good. Riley is such a dynamic character, so awesome and so cool. I really want to headcanon them as autistic (some of their behaviors just. They just. It's hard to explain, but if you're autistic too I bet you probably felt it, just a lil. They got the vibes /hj) but I know some authors can be kinda iffy about people headcanoning their OCs (which I get).

It was really cool to see an honest to goodness nonbinary character, a full character and not a self insert or y/n (no shade, I love y/n stories too). It was just cool to see a complete OC, and I love that it was all platonic, even if Sundrop did catch a little bit of feelings.

Honestly I relate so much to that, as someone who gains and loses crushes pretty fast. I'm happy it stayed platonic though and Sunny wasn't hurt or stuck pining or something silly. Plus his absolute embarrassment and mortification at his slip up was pretty funny. Might try to draw it, if I have any left over motivation (the bottom of this post sure is interesting hint hint).

Update as I'm editing this about a day later: I can't stop thinking about this fic. It was just so good! I already want to re-read it but I know I should give it at least a little time so I don't burn myself out. This fic was probably the best story I've ever read. Period. Even better than the published books I've read.

Honestly without spoiling any more than I already have, read it. If you like the DCA, read it. If you like cool nonbinary characters and great platonic relationships, read it. If you like a plot that sneaks up on you before hitting you in the feels like a truck, read. It. Do it. It's sososo worth it, I promise you.

If anyone has some good fics to read (completed preferred but actively updated ones work too) PLEASE FEED ME. Now that I'm done with ISYS I am desperate for more DCA fics. I've read so many and I n e e d m o r e.

Bonus fanart to celebrate my completion I guess(?), embarrassed Sun boy!

I guess I just really like drawing embarrassed boyos. Sorry if it looks weird, I've never drawn a pose like this before :P

Shira if you're reading this, thank you. Your fic was just fantastic. Also thank you for helping me get out of my art block! I had it for the whole month of ArtFight (sadge) but I'm so happy to have some motivation again. Thank you.

#ian's shitty art #art #drawing #fnaf security breach #fnaf dca #fnaf sb #fnaf sun #sun fnaf #fnaf daycare attendant #holy shit shira you really done made the best fic I've ever read huh #you Do Not Understand how much I appreciated ISYS #i really needed that hyperfixation rn #thank you #so much

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guardian5tiger3 · 10 months

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Karma/the consequences of their actions.

Tarot Reading + intuitive/channeled messages.

Pick a group

1 2

3 4

Group one

I wonder if you guys believe in and are heavy on law of three. Either way it is in effect here. It's definitely coming back something like three times the damage they've done. So you l can imagine how rough that's gonna be for this person. If they try to fight it it's gonna get worse. This person got themselves in some sort of trap.they might have or will embarrass themselves in some type of love situation. Then they're gonna have to leave that situation or did , looking like a dumbass.at least to themselves. Nobody else might care, really. Depends on the individual here. Some are going to get ridiculed, others nobody effing cares. Lol. But they feel embarrassed regardless. They care too much about themselves and they have too much pride and ego. They might even do something to try to fix whatever embarrassed them and defend themselves somehow or show off or something like that. So you guys can imagine this is also going to trip them the heck up right? I'm getting the vibe of like someone just fucking shit up and the rest of the room is silent like , why are you having a meltdown right now it wasn't that serious. So, .... Wow....I actually don't see this person getting exposed for some type of negative or even evil way that they've been. Them on the inside, right. Whatever they've maybe done or said or if they keep it to themselves completely. I guess the universe is picking this path because it's going to lead them down the longest line of just complete bullshit sort of similar to what I've been trying to express, them just stuck in cobwebs or mud or something trying to get out but then therefore making it worse. Ok I'm thinking of quick sand. Haha. Yeah this person is gonna have some red in the face moments in the future. They seem like there's some chill people around them possibly. And observant. Someone might catch this person while they're talking and call them out and it just might really put them in the spot embarrass the shit out of them . Ha

Group two

Present or future. The only thing this person seems to know is that they're clueless and everything for them sucks. Someone could literally go blind so that's not even funny. But most of you this person just doesn't seem to know anything about anything. So I can see how that would be intimidating or scary to them. Maybe one or two of you a coma or it's a threat right now if they keep up the bullshit and drama. I don't think it has to end up that serious though. This person is being blinding so that 1. They can't stop their lives from going to shit in all the ways they'll get karma, maybe extreme poverty or something ? 2. So that they can't continue doing other things to other people. I heard harassment. This person is awful. I think they're worse than you realize. I think they put up a front or draw out emotions to manipulate people into thinking they're better than just horrible but they're even more horrible for doing that. It's like this person knew or knows that this can only end badly whatever they've been doing. And yet they decided then therefore to just cause as much havok as they can and still be secretive somehow I feel, about it before this inevitable ending took place. If their old this could be death not gonna lie. Or just getting too old to participate. But if their young take it how it fits. If it's some type of character they put on, they knew it wouldn't last forever. This person is already miserable, and their kinda slimy. I think their karma is worse or some of you got this far I sense that some of you this person you're thinking of is not that bad but I think the few of you I'm talking about you kind of already know that. I see this person falling. I think they have to be forced to fall into their own mind , heart and soul and deal with whatever has made them the negative way they are. Yikes.

Group three

This person seems to almost get away with things. I just know that's frustrating.either they seem to have a growing and positive future or outcome , or you do and they've tried or are trying to attack that. They could be or have tried to steal something in regards to your future. Or they just tried to knock you down so you'd be guaranteed to lose. I think they are or are going to end up seeing who they're dealing with. You guys almost are coming off to me like statues . In a good way! . Like, unfazed. At least deep down you're unharmed. And standing strong in your power. Like maybe you just move on and your cool but to them it's like they have to face you. This could also be them having to face some power, some thing, situation, or even a fucking entity. This person is power hungry and to have to face something or someone that is clearly more powerful than them is seemingly horrifying , to them . I don't even think you guys perceive yourself or realize anybody else could the way they do or are about to. I'm getting a lot of white . Like all four cards about this are pretty much all white. It's kind of like, how are you untainted ,unfazed, but the reason they are the way they are is because something similar destroyed them right. So they just do that to other people. You're clearly stronger than them because you overcame it and are powerful after doing so, like they were not strong enough to do. It's kind of like this person saw a ghost. For some of you this could be a guide of yours doing this to them if not you, or even then being intimidated by a judge or official of some sort . Something. But they are or will be scared. I'm telling you. This could be multiple maybe you and your guide or your guide and a police officer or you and a judge. I don't know. They may try to or have started to go on with their life after doing the same wicked shit they've done but they seem like eventually , they've been walking in a forest right, and they've continuously tripped on things as a warning. Then I see them eventually falling into a bottomless pit. Sooo . Yikessss

Group four

This person either left you hanging somehow, or ended something. Or left you hanging and you had to do something by yourself. Something like this ok. I don't think they helped or are helping as much as they could or did. This could be some heartbreak for you because you might have had a lot of wishful thinking about this person. Maybe you imagined things going or becoming very good and positive with them. Maybe you went through hard times and in that they eventually just left or opted out somehow or didn't do enough to help you right and meanwhile you were thinking how good things will be when they get better or something like that. Maybe this person also led you on somehow. Overall you were let down by this person or people right. Whatever ending or something bad that happened to you is going to either effect them or something very similar will happen to them .looks like currently or in the past they've had people they can turn to. Maybe just friends to help them out. They were or are confident they can do no wrong and they can live their lives however they want with no consequences or regard for how they make other people feel. This person might end up with a kid or maybe they have one or someone they know does or will. Or maybe they left you with a kid.i can't even really pick up on this person's consciousness. Like I'm sort of confused. If they are extremely undeveloped or what. Maybe they dont really experience much as in they don't have much of an inner world. I'm thinking about someone going under amnesia. I don't really fully know what's going on here in all honesty but you live and you learn, I guess. Life is a short trip so take it easy, and do take care of yourself. My best guess is that this person actually sold their souls but that's not for every single person here.

#free tarot readings #pac reading #pick a card reading #pick a picture #pick a pile #tarot reading #pick a card #tarot pac #intuitive messages #free intuitive readings #tarot pick a card #pick a photo #pick a gif

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copper-skulls · 9 months

Text

And lo and behold, as he straightened, he saw a glimpse of something a little odd in the treetops. Someone odd, perhaps.

Wing was nestled on a branch that definitely didn't seem thick enough to support him properly (though the skeleton and physics apparently disagreed), open book forgotten as he stared off towards the town square, gaze distant.

He made his way closer, not raising his voice than he absolutely needed to. "You want to dance."

Nothing.

"Wing." Gosh, he was somewhere else, truly. "Wing. Hey, Wing."

Finally, the skeleton startled in the funny little way he did when woken up, barely moving but visibly skipping a breath or two as his eye lights shone much brighter for a blink. Then they landed on him, and surprise gave way to confusion. "Grillby," he signed sheepishly few awkward moments later.

"Mind coming down. I can barely see you."

Wing facepalmed, knocking the book off his lap in the motion, and then it was a mad scramble of panicked movement at the end of which the skeleton somehow stood safe and unharmed on the ground, book safely stashed away in his unsafe inventory. How he managed things like that, Grillby had no idea.

"You want to dance?" He motioned towards the town square. At that, Wing brightened up, catching on what was wanted of him, before very quickly deflating.

"If I knew how, yes," he ended the sentence with a vague apologetic motion, looking off to the side "I've never danced before."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I… never had had anyone to dance with?" He shrugged. Not even barely convincingly casually.

Maybe he was shy that he didn't have a date? "Not even with a friend?" Oh sh— Grillby regretted that question the moment he finished it. Congratulations! You just made the lonely skeleton feel even worse. "Would you like to?"

Wing stared at the offered hand, jaw slightly ajar. Great save. Totally.

-----

hiii it has been three years since I've posted the first chapter of Two Deaths today and I'm not here lmao. Remember how I wanted to make a bigger drawing for this? Then I proceeded to get all weird abt drawing stuff for myself that took more than an evening for over a month straight and I'm still not quite recovered from that so that fell through. so I tried to get a cute writing wip out. It is now about halfway written and needs editing I don't have the brain for right now. So you get both a rough drawing and a rough bit of writing.

if you poke me around the 20th there's a high chance this is like actually semi-finished and just needs to get re-typed. so uh

god i've been writing td for three years. here's to TD quite possibly seeing me get a title or two before I finish it lmao

#THIS IS SCHEDULED I AM NOT HERE #dates shifted this year and I'm still being besieged by either spiders or slugs and DEFINITELY about a dozen of kids #two deaths related drawings #rough #grillby #gaster #undertale #fanart #traditional art #excuse all awkward english i've been listening to lots of british and one flavour of american english AND re-read hellraising #so my english is. soup. and I do not have the energy to re-read to see if I've done anything weird in this one

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amethystina · 8 months

Note

Oh gosh, sorry to hear you’ve been getting lots of critiques recently. Even when it’s valid and solicited criticism can be rough, and the out of the blue stuff is always worse :/ And I say that as someone who works in the arts for a living.

I wish I had something better to say than that every artist you admire has likely felt the same way at one point or another, as even the best of the best of the best get complaints, but I don’t, so know at least that you’re in good company. (In theatre we actually have a saying that the day you can truly call yourself a professional is the day you get your first really bad review, so I always take comfort in the universality of the experience, even if it super fucking sucks lol)

I know I could also tell you that your writing is phenomenal and for every person who has a complaint there’s a bunch more who are having the BEST time (myself included xD), but I also know that doesn’t fix it when someone’s made you doubt yourself. For the record though, I will say it. Your writing IS phenomenal, and it DOES bring both me and others quite a lot of joy. I get very excited every time I see you’ve updated (either fic that I’m reading xD), and I find it genuinely a bonus that this particular story is so long. Because it means that the experience of reading it for the first time doesn’t have to be over yet.

I’m VERY much rambling now, but try and be kind to yourself is I guess at the heart of what I’m saying. Take care of yourself, take your time, and come back to things when you’re ready. You’re allowed to feel hurt, or doubtful, or whatever, and if time is what you need to take care of yourself, then you should take it <3.

To be honest, I would be genuinely surprised if I was somehow able to avoid getting criticism. It's just a natural part of posting online, it would seem, no matter one's skill level or the fandom.

And, usually, I can handle it pretty well. It just so happens that everything piled up on the same day and that got a little overwhelming. It honestly felt a bit like the universe was ganging up on me for no apparent reason xD

Thank you so much for your kind words, though 💜 It's true that there are no immediate fixes to the kind of doubts that arise from unsolicited criticism, but it certainly helps to know that there are people who enjoy what I do. Because, in the long run, it's not about writing the most perfect, flawless fic, but rather sharing the joy and excitement I feel over the stories that I write. So thank you so much for taking the time to tell me 💜

And yeah, I'm doing my best to rest right now, partly because I did end up getting sick. So I've mostly been drawing highly questionable Strangers From Hell fanart and, earlier today, I hyper-fixated for hours and randomly did a playlist for Who Holds the Devil. Which is VERY unexpected since I don't really connect music to my writing?

I blame @sofapup17 who made a wonderful playlist for my Strangers From Hell fanfic, which I've been looping while drawing the aforementioned fanart xD (and I also stole three songs from it to my own playlist ;D ) And that of course made me wonder if I could do one, too. Turns out that I can! It's hella long but, uh, that's both on-brand and appropriate considering the fanfic, I guess? I honestly didn't expect to find as much music as I did.

So yeah. While I'm not writing on Who Holds the Devil right now, I'm keeping busy with other creative projects. There never seems to be a shortage of those, somehow x'D

Thank you again for your kind words. The fact that so many people are willing to take time out of their day to cheer me up is so incredibly humbling. Thank you 💜

#Amethystina Replies #wolfandrain #I'm honestly a bit all over the place #I should be editing the next chapter of my Strangers From Hell fic #But it contains a sex scene #And they are the bane of my existence #Editing is a chore in itself #But editing sex scenes is the literal worst x'D #So I'm procrastinating #By drawing and making pointless playlists instead #So yeah #That's where I'm at right now

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siphonophive · 3 months

Text

I've been desperate for a space to write more freely, so apologies in advance if I go a little nuts. Don't feel obligated to read any of my mess; it's really more for me to write things out.

I think part of the reason I have felt so weird, disconnected, and anxious the past several years (besides you know... everything) is that being on twitter only for social interaction really does not serve me well. I'm too wordy; I miss writing long blog posts about my feelings and thoughts and I miss getting to know people in that way (in the absence of being able to meet organically irl). I have this fear meeting people on twitter that they make assumptions about me, my life, and experiences, because it only enables a view of such a thin slice of who I am as a person, and doesn't convey the way I talk and am in real life. I fear that when people DO actually get to know me better, they find out that I am boring. More reserved. More internal. Not worldly. Not exciting. Not well-versed in art history or culture. I know the way I express myself isn't as outspoken or succinct, and without back and forth of spoken conversation, I feel I come off flat. If I'm not observed and interacted with, do I exist? I dunno. I'll get back to you on that.

I'm going to jump around a bit.

It's tempting to say that my anxiety around sharing art and being seen as an Artist online is a more recent thing, because when I fall apart now it's seen by so many more people than before, but it's not new at all. I think it's definitely more pronounced though. The expectation and passive pressure to be Professional and a Brand and constantly hustling is something I know every artist has been feeling lately. It's absurd that I feel it even though I've made barely any money doing art (maybe like $1k over my entire lifetime?). I want to share my art and connect with people, but it feels increasingly harder to do so the more eyes that are on me. I even used to do this with fandom accounts back in the day: once enough people started following me that I felt like people were interacting with my art as products, I deleted. It's gotten to the point where I can't make art without gauging my worth on it–and frankly I haven't been making much good art recently. So. Been feeling pretty useless.

And this doesn't even factor in the whole "hand being fucked up since I was 18 years old" thing, which is... very hard. It's very hard. It's made making art feel like a privilege, and like a precious thing I need to take seriously because I can physically only draw so much. Every minute drawing has to count. It's crushing to get excited about a project every so often, only to quickly realize it's way more work than I can handle (despite being something entirely doable for most people), and end it crying and in pain. Over and over.

And art's been my life despite this. It's how I think, how I communicate, how I want to spend my time. I spend the majority of most days thinking about art I want to make or stressing about how I can't make it. That is legitimately how I spend most of my time. Sitting in my room alone thinking about how I can't do the thing I want to do. I want to get past this somehow. To make the worst fucking art I can that even my friends think is terrible and not worry that it is a reflection of me, or worse, the only value I have. I guess circling back to the beginning- I worry that people approach me because they connect through my art, then get to know me as a person, and find me lacking. Or find that my spring is usually dry. The art is inside my head, and in my body, but I can only speak with it on occasion. And sometimes–probably more often lately–all the art I can bear to make is so self-serving and really just for myself. I worry friends and peers see this and think it must be a reflection of my shallowness. Maybe it is. I don't think so, but I'm also the only one aware of all the art unrealized that is inside of me.

I think of the snarky posts that go around every couple years like "if you call yourself a writer but you don't write, you're not a writer." I get what that's aimed at. But I do think to myself sometimes: you call yourself an artist, but you barely make art.

Boy, I didn't even hit on how mental illness plays into and affects all of this, but it's really all intertwined and a self-perpetuating cycle once that comes into it. Or about how drawing is the only real skill I have and since I am unsure I could actually hold down a day job again, I feel like I should try to make art a job. But every time I try this I fall apart. And the state of the world, and hyper-capitalist interests above all else, even above keeping the Earth livable for our species, and of living as a disabled and trans person in the US makes me feel...

Hmm.

It's weird, none of this is new, but each wave of it crests and crashes at different points in my life, and this one is happening at a time when I feel like I'm old enough I don't have a lot of my youthful hope, but being past the point of caring does offer some freedom of its own. I know this is a total downer to read probably (or fun and relatable), but it helps me to think about it and verbalize it instead of keeping it in my head. I never really know how to talk about this stuff casually with friends, but I want to. And I want to make something work, cause that's the only real option besides giving up, and I hope I'm not quite there yet.

#this is the way my brain works and it is insane that I have been keeping to fucking 280 characters for years

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bafflement · 8 months

Note

If you're still looking for prompts 👀

"What would I do without you?"

Any fandom or characters 🤗

Ozqrow it is, then. Very slight trigger warning to this one, Zac. It's a very brief, very old memory and I swear to you this prompt has a happy ending.

The reports of Grimm activity were getting worse and worse with each passing day. It seemed that no matter how many hunters were sent to deal with the problem, they couldn't eradicate the flood. They thinned it, yes, but even when they returned, saying that everything was fine, all was over, there were always more where those came from.

Why would Salem concentrate so many resources there, of all places, though? It was a windswept plain, in the middle of nowhere and of no real interest to anybody. Well, if it hadn't been for the fact that so many Grimm appeared to congregate in the area. How though? Grimm were drawn by emotions, yet as far as anyone knew, the place was empty.

No, there had to be something the reports were missing. Something everybody was missing. Ozpin's fingers tightened on the handle of his cane. There was vague feeling, a vague memory there, but it was fleeting, too tenuous to grasp properly. That was unusual, with the memories Ozma had given him, it was usually easy enough to recall them. Was there some trauma, there? Something that, somehow, whichever version of the Wizard had seen something similar needed to hide? He raised one hand to his forehead, biting his lip at the headache forming behind his eyes. Ah, so, whatever it was, they would rather he didn't pry.

Dammit, though, this was important! If it was a situation that had happened before, something that had been seen... he needed to know, needed to know how to stop this, how to fix things. Yes, the Grimm were safe enough where they were, but they almost certainly wouldn't stay there. It was so much more than a mere pocket, after all.

What could he do, though? The council wouldn't see this as important, not really. Despite the number of teams that had gone, the hundreds of Grimm they had killed, it was still just a backwater. It wasn't even in Vale, or not properly. The outskirts were lawless enough, but the likelihood that people would die to whatever was causing this was too great a threat to ignore. Whatever Salem was up to, if there was even a plan there, would need to be countered. It wasn't a relic, at least, he knew where those were, but... he sighed deeply. If only there was an easy option.

There was a thump and a panicked squawk from outside the window and his head shot up, the pain forgotten momentarily. Qrow? But he hadn't expected him back, yet. He'd volunteered to scout in his other form, as he was far too swift for most Grimm to catch... and far too small for any of them to bother with. The fact he was back so quickly only really gave two options, though. Either he had found no traces of Grimm at all... or he had located a possible cause. If the former, then on the surface at least, the problem would have vanished. If the latter, it couldn't be good news. That he had returned alone... whatever it was, he would need backup. Qrow never really used a team anymore, but under the circumstances...

He opened the window, moving out of the way as his long term boyfriend flew rather gingerly through, transforming into the figure he loved. There was a wild look on Qrow's face, though and real panic in his eyes. The latter option, then. Ozpin rather feared just what the other man might tell him and felt another twinge as the headache reaffirmed itself. It didn't matter, though. Whatever that memory was, it looked like he might be about to live through the sequel. He'd know soon enough.

"Oz? Oz, it's bad." Were Qrow's first words, laying heavy on the air. "Ya were right, something is drawing them, but damned if I can see what! There's an area in the center of all this, they're bein' drawn there, but it's empty! Just more windswept... nothingness. You're sure none of your memories can help, here? Only I'm drawing a blank."

Ozpin sighed. "There appears to be... something. I experience headaches whenever I try to recall it, so it may have been something rather traumatic to whichever incarnation experienced it first hand. I do not know what, but... something about a hole? Something..." He broke off, wincing. Enough was enough, this was getting ridiculous. "Excuse me a second, my dearest." Hs face went blank as he focused inwards, coming to the meeting place in his mind and glancing around in hopes that someone might tell him what was going on.

The manifestation, when they emerged, seemed rather reluctant and he blinked at them, surprised. He only vaguely recognised this version of the Wizard, which rather argued that their partnership hadn't been particularly long. He remembered being them, of course, but the entire experience seemed fuzzier than usual. His eyes hardened slightly, out in the real world. Whoever this was... Maroz, he believed? Was definitely hiding something big if he'd been suppressed that deeply within their collective soul.

"I... I... it's happening again?" The voice was an echo, as most of the older ones were, but it seemed weaker, harder to hear. Ozpin just inclined his head, waiting for the other to expand on their words. It took a few minutes, or it felt like that long, before they spoke again. "It is... a child. Or a prisoner. It... was a child, for me, but then everybody felt like a child to me... it's part of the merge, but you know that by now. I failed to rescue them. I... was not strong enough. Will you be?"

"There's somebody trapped under there?" Ozpin hissed, horrified. Maroz merely nodded. He closed his eyes briefly, pained, and when he opened them again, the figure had vanished. The memories though, had not. Flashes of a room, a cell. Packed earth walls and a body. The body didn't appear to be a child, though, which was rather odd considering what he had been informed of. They were young, certainly, but if they had been a Beacon student then they may perhaps have been in their final year. More than old enough to defend themselves and far better than he had feared. The sense of failure, self hatred. But Oz was very used to the latter. He nodded, suppressing the sudden urge to cry. The memories didn't show what connection Maroz had to them, but he knew. Oh, he knew. Only one thing could cause that kind of guilt.

But that was impossible, surely? If they had been an incarnation's child then that would explain the state they had been found in, but he had no children of his own. He couldn't have, he'd know if he had a child somewhere... he'd only ever even had one partner, and Qrow would have told him.

So... not a child, or at least not a child of his. But someone in need of rescuing anyway. He blinked, coming back to himself, the look on his face already more than enough to make Qrow start swearing.

"Where. Can you indicate it on a map, Qrow? It's important, there's a life at risk here." His voice shook slightly to his own ears, though he knew that Qrow was the only person on Remnant likely to realise just how horrified he really was. That was good, because the knowledge of that might just push them both to greater feats. He would have to go with Qrow, the quickest way being to fly, though he was rather out of practice with his own avian form. The form didn't carry over, from life to life, though the ability itself was never truly lost. Each life, he was a different bird, each new soul giving them a different shape even though it was fundamentally the same magic. He shuddered slightly, remembering that one rather disastrous lifetime where he, or rather that version, had been a penguin. It had been utterly useless, of course. Much like that incarnation, actually. At least that bought the briefest ghost of a smile to his lips, even though something in him cried out a denial that any incarnation had ever been truly useless. Ah well, different views.

"It's empty, Oz. There's nobody there." Qrow sounded defensive, after all he'd swept the area several times. Except for the Grimm, there had been absolutely no signs of life.

"Not on the surface. They're under it." Oz's voice was flat, his eyes very hard. "As such, I'll need you to do what you can to distract the Grimm while I mount a rescue mission. I rather fear we won't have time to muster a fresh team, is there anyone still nearby the area, to your knowledge?"

"Team RUGE, maybe? They haven't reported back yet, at least." Oz nodded, then blurred into his own bird form, winking at Qrow. Qrow sighed at the larger form, blurring into his own and following Oz out through the still open window. An Owl during the day, though... Oz was going to have to be careful, though most wouldn't understand the significance.

The team, when they found them, looked haggard and exhausted, but none of them appeared to be wounded. Under the circumstances that would have to do. They glanced at each other, not needing words to communicate and flew on to somewhere private to transform back. They'd need to find an alternate return journey, of course, but that was always on the cards.

"Professor Ozpin? What are you doing here? Oh... hey, Qrow..." Umber seemed rather less enthused to see Qrow than he had been Ozpin, but Qrow just flashed him a wry grin. They weren't exactly friends, but there was a healthy competition between them. Umber wanted to be the best Huntsman in Remnant, of course, a lot of people did. He might just get slightly closer than most, not that he was on Oz's level. But then nobody was or ever really could be, due to the whole... well... Oz thing.

"We have reason to believe a life is at risk." Ozpin stated, voice level. "As such, there needs to be someone around to distract the Grimm while I and Qrow mount a rescue mission. As you are all of you fine Huntsmen, are you up to taking the risk? I will not order you to do this, of course, but I could truly use the help." He spread his hands as team RUGE glanced at each other.

"We'll do it, Professor." Umber said, after a moment. He wasn't the leader of their team on paper, but he'd always seemed to act as the spokesman for them. Unfortunately it had been fractionally before Ozpin became headmaster that the team had entered Beacon for the first time. He might have made a very fine leader in fact, as well as in actions, though there was no way to know, now.

Ozpin sighed, relieved even as he felt rather guilty. This team was old, after all. A few years older than Qrow, the fact they'd stayed together this long had all but guaranteed them a place in the history books. Hopefully that wasn't about to come to a bad end. But then, they all swore to rescue the innocent, and whoever this was was certainly not deserving of being trapped where they were. They needed rescuing, they needed out. Hopefully once they were, the Grimm would thin out and two problems would be solved at once.

All six of them drew their weapons as they drew closer, splitting up into two parts. Team RUGE went to attack the Grimm, Oz and Qrow attempted to work their way towards the center. They did encounter several Grimm along the way, but they were easily enough dealt with. There didn't seem to be many truly dangerous ones around, it was mere numbers that had so worried everybody. After all, it didn't matter how dangerous one was when they appeared to hunt in packs as massive as this. Ozpin closed his eyes, concentrating as Qrow covered him with Harbinger. On the other side of the fight, the team froze briefly, staring at him. That almost, but only almost, cost them dearly.

Dodging a swipe by the skin of their teeth, Rory roared back at them, making quick work of it with his axe. That had been far too close, though... he couldn't believe the sight of Beacon's Headmaster doing... whatever it was he was doing, had distracted him from a fight. Maybe people were right, maybe they really were getting too old for this.

Oz's feet glowed as he sank down into the packed earth, trusting that the pocket he could sense would be big enough for him to breathe in there. If he had to, he could always expend more magic, whoever this was was fast running out of time. He took a deep breath as he sank, hoping it would be a quick enough rescue. There were too many very bad memories centered around being buried alive, after all. There were about a great many things, though. This was far more important than a vague, Ozma caused phobia.

He emerged in a small room, if it could be called that. It should have been pitch black, but the slight glowing his skin emitted was enough to illuminate the packed earth walls and the scared child cowering in the corner. They couldn't be more than ten, but they seemed to react positively to his presence, edging towards him, a desperate hope in their eyes.

Oh dear, the child had hair just as silver as his own, their eyes almost but not qute Qrow's shade of maroon. Had someone seen this child, with their admittedly rather startling coloring, and made rather the wrong guess regarding their paternity? He knew, there had never been a child. But maybe, if whoever this was had lost as much as he rather feared that they had, there could be now?

After all, the last time this had happened, it had been Salem. there were far too many similarities to do anything but assume such was the case again and, if it was, then this child would be on her radar now. There was nowhere they'd ever truly be safe, except, maybe at Beacon or on Patch. Somewhere they could be watched over by those that could protect them until they could protect themselves.

Ozpin waited, patiently. He stowed his cane and spread his hands, trying to look as non-threatening as possible. Salem though it had to be, this didn't appear to be a trap, or not at first glance. He could sense nothing, though. If Salem had trapped this place with some sort of magic, he would have felt it by now, but beyond the small room with its single occupant, the place seemed deserted. Something must have shown on his face because the child let out a cry, flinging themselves at him. He couldn't quite understand why, he'd never met them before, but perhaps they could sense that he meant no harm? That or, more likely, they had mistaken him for someone that they had known. He shook his head slightly, it was highly unlikely that any family they had had would have survived the kidnapping.

He held the child gently, murmuring sheer nonsense onto their hair in an attempt at comfort. It seemed to be working, for all that he had not had children in several lifetimes, it appeared some knacks stayed. He wrapped them both in his shield and ascended, trying his best to conceal the nature of their exit from the child in his arms. It didn't entirely work, but soon enough they were back above ground. The Grimm were thinning but not yet gone, however without the child calling to them, he knew they would be before too long.

He glanced down at them, seeing them in daylight for the first time. He was right, their eyes weren't quite Qrow's maroon, though their hair was very nearly a match to his own, there was maybe a shade or two difference between them. The child went still, staring up at him, looking terrified again and he let himself sigh.

Qrow came over, staring at the child in Ozpin's arms in something approaching awe for a few seconds before a sick sort of horror crept into his eyes. So, despite his best efforts, Qrow had already worked out just what this child's presence had to mean, then. It wasn't the first time Salem had gotten something drastically wrong after all, but he did so wish that it wouldn't come with so many ruined lives as often as it did.

"I'm Professor Ozpin, child." Oz stated, softly. The child blinked, obviously recognising the name. Vale, then? Though he had to admit he was rather more famous in this lifetime than he had initially planned, so... maybe not.

"You... you saved me. Mama, do you know where my mama is?" They sounded terrified and rightly so, surrounded as they were by Huntsmen and dying Grimm. And Qrow, of course, Harbinger still out and ready in case any more tried to attack them.

"I am rather afraid that I do not," Oz answered, keeping his voice as soft as possible. There'd been a slight Mistrali accent to the child's words, so at least that was one mystery solved. One of many, though. Their clothing hung off their dusky skin as though it had been made for a larger individual. Play clothes, maybe? He hoped so, at least, though the child was very light in his arms. He swallowed as certain other possibilities reared their head. The Grimm menace had been a problem for almost a month and a half, how had they survived this long, out on their own? They had to have been being fed but... he dismissed the thought, it didn't matter right now. They were safe, they'd be fed soon. Their family would be found, though he dreaded to think what state they may be in. He didn't even know the child's name yet!

"Hey, kid. I'm Qrow, who might you be?" Qrow's voice was welcome, as was the comfort he too seemed to exude towards the child. To the maybe orphan, though that was still rather up in the air. But then, Qrow had nieces, was used enough to comforting them, though they must be younger than this mite, surely? But no, it had been a full eight years since Summer had disappeared. Had vanished, had died? Whatever had happened to her. After all, it was something neither of them would ever forget.

"I'm Brooke. Please, please, will you help find my mama?" Qrow and Oz exchanged glances, knowing the best bet was probably Atlas' computers, since they'd digitised the records for all four kingdoms in pursuit of streamlining things. Well, they were probably out to control people, but then in this case it might prove very useful. Besides, Atlas had the best hospitals and the girl definitely needed to be checked over.

"We will need to take you somewhere safe, to start with, young Brooke. Will you permit us to? It may be rather scary, but I truly believe it is the best chance at finding your mother." Ozpin felt a twinge of regret, though, Atlas was rather intimidating the first time it was viewed by non-natives, after all. Or at least he'd always been told such, though he rather suspected it was always going to be rather different in his case.

The girl just nodded, seemingly having talked enough. She didn’t seem to want to be put down just yet, though, which Ozpin found rather odd. They were strangers after all, why would his appearance comfort her this much? Bu then, anything that did was a good sign under the circumstances. He motioned to Qrow with his head and Qrow took Oz’s scroll, grinning wryly and sending off a quick message to Glynda. She wasn’t going to be at all happy with either one of them, but then they had just managed to save a life, she couldn’t be too annoyed, right? Then again, this was Glynda, of course she could.

Sending off a second message ordering a bullhead to Atlas, they settled down. The fight was winding up, there didn't seem to be any more Grimm, at least. Everybody was exhausted, though that didn't really stop team RUGE from gaping at the child in Ozpin's arms. Rory's eyes flickered from the girl to Qrow, to Oz and back, a clear question in his eyes, though the quick shaking of Oz's head seemed to deter any questions. Brothers, though, how this must look... Qrow and himself swooping [literally] in to rescue this child that looked so very much like what a child of theirs might have looked like. If they had ever dared risk it, that was. Laughable, now, they had been so careful and yet an innocent had still got roped into this. Damn Salem, truly. Maybe the girl's mother was still alive, though. That would be something positive out of this mess, at least?

After a quick discussion with the Huntsman team, a second bullhead was requested to take them back to Vale proper. Though usually they might have made the trip, after the amount of fighting they had done Ozpin deemed it rather unwise. Qrow approved a rather hefty bonus for them, again using his scroll and with his blessings. They were definitely one of the better teams, he would be rather sad to see the day they retired. If he ever did, of course, which considering recent events... well. Best not to think about that.

When the bullhead came, Brooke let herself be carried into it without complaint, sighing as she settled into the relative comfort of the chair Ozpin placed her in.

"Professor? Do you think you'll really find my mama?" She asked, sounding serious and more adult than he had been expecting. Oz sighed.

"We'll do our best, Brooke. I'm afraid it might not be the answer you are hoping for, however."

She bit her lip but nodded. "I know, People die, I just... mama."

"I know, I've lost enough people to know it's hard. We don't know what we'll find though and I would urge you not to give up hope."

"Okay. Professor? What happens to me, if..." she'd started to cry slightly and Ozpin hovered, looking vaguely awkward. It had been awhile since he'd had a child this young in his charge, after all.

"We will do our best. I need to make a few calls, but I'll be right here if you need me, as will Qrow." Qrow nodded, moving closer to the girl. Wonder of wonders, he hadn't taken a single pull from his flask since they'd gone on this mission. It was probably temporary, but Oz couldn't help but be impressed nonetheless.

The trip to Atlas was quick, thankfully. With Qrow distracting her, she didn’t even seem to notice the looming flying city drawing ever closer to their ship, though the courtesy notice he’d sent to James appeared not to have been read yet. Maybe this way he’d stay out of things, though, since he was very aware that he and Qrow did not exactly get on very well. The last thing anyone needed was a fight in front of what had to be a very traumatised child. He wasn’t entirely certain what, if anything, Qrow had managed to get out of her in regards to her past, but he was certain that, whatever it was, he would tell him in due time if it was important. Thankfully, Salem rarely repeated plots, so this was unlikely to happen again, or not for several more millennia. He just hoped that the war they were waging between them wouldn’t last that long. It couldn’t, surely there had to be some way of ending it?

They pulled up in front of one of the best hospitals in Atlas. Being Atlas, it was military but under the circumstances they would take what they would get. He just hoped that they wouldn't prove too overwhelming to young Brooke, but then they were professionals. He'd been here before, once, they were good at their jobs. He scowled at the speed in which they seemed to rush to greet him specifically, ignoring Qrow entirely. They seemed to be ignoring Brooke, too, so he coughed rather pointedly. Gesturing towards the young girl, he explained why they were there. Oh good, that seemed to have gotten through to them. He was glad something did, at least.

Qrow scowled next to him, the similarity of their expressions seeming to drive those that greeted them... well, Ozpin really, to move faster. There was a ping from Oz's scroll somewhere in the mix though, oh damn had someone actually told Jimmy where they were?

Brooke was quickly settled into a small room, the doctor summoned to examine her. He at least had the sense to allow one of them to stay with her, the last thing anyone needed was to make her feel abandoned on her own in Atlas of all places. They even got her something to eat, although she had seemed to actually enjoy the ration bars Qrow had given her for the journey. Just what must she have been eating to willingly stomach those?

The doctor hummed and ran her DNA at the same time. The face he turned to Qrow’s own was grave and he felt something sink. So, she really was an orphan then. Of everything they had been expecting, this somehow hit the worse. He’d been where she was once. Though he’d had a twin, he’d also ended up in the Branwen bandit camp so… yeah, that was far less than an ideal outcome, either.

Maybe she had extended family? It was up to him to tell her, but he could tell by the look on her face that she’d already figured it out.

“I’m sorry, kid… I’m so, so damn sorry.” There was a choking note in his voice, and Brooke’s face fell. At least she was letting herself cry. He held his arms out but she didn’t seem to want a hug. He couldn’t blame her, really.

Outside the door, he could see Oz’s shoulders slump. So he knew, now, too. It was always so hard watching something like this, but in this case it was so very much worse than normal. In this case, what had happened to this child was at least partially his fault. The coloring could not be coincidence, not that close to a mixture between Oz and himself. He knew Oz knew it too. But maybe there might still be some way of at least attempting to protect this girl? The barest germ of an idea was slowly making its way through his head. They'd see, though. It might well not be possible in the end.

Of course, Jimmy took that moment to show up with half the Ace Operatives. Of course he did since technically they were in his territory. He'd no idea who had tipped Jimmy off as to which hospital they were in but, ah well. What was done was already done and couldn't be taken back now.

"My apologies, James, but I did inform you that I would be in Atlas briefly alongside Qrow. Your computer records were needed in order to ascertain whether the child we rescued had living family. She mentioned a mother, however, well..." Oz trailed off, meaningfully. James, to his credit, looked briefly chagrined. He started talking about orphanages but Oz raised a hand to stop the flow of words.

“No James. Salem took her as far as I can determine because someone believed that she was ours. Mine and Qrow’s. I fear no orphanage would be safe for her under circumstances such as this. I think I’m going to need adoption papers, but that is not fully my decision. Either way, we cannot leave her defenseless, not after this.”

“You’re certain it was her, then? James’ voice wass hushed, though there was nobody near enough to overhear their conversation. That was one of the better things about the more military organisations on Atlas, they rarely dared to interfere with those they felt outranked them. And as for Ironwood and Ozpin? Well, they were just about as safe as they could be.

“I am. Those papers?” Oz’s voice was terse, the stress of the last few hours finally making itself known and James blinked.

“Of course, I’ll get them to you as soon as possible.”

Oz nodded and moved into the doorway of the room that still held Brooke and Qrow. His face was as serene as always, but his eyes were very much not. Qrow looked up as he entered, looking just as worried as Oz felt. But it didn't matter what they wanted, it was up to Brooke now.

"We did inform you that what would happen should the worst occur was up to you, Brooke." Ozpin said, gently. She blinked up at him innocently, looking vaguely confused.

"Would you take me? You're safe." The request was brief but heartfelt and Oz and Qrow exchanged startled looks.

"Well, yes, if you would truly wish us to. However the person who took you has not been eliminated, you may still be in danger whatever happens."

"That's okay. You're Huntsmen! They'll never get past you!" Oh, the simple faith of a child.

"Well, Oz? Guess we gotta live up to that now." Qrow's smile was soft, as were his eyes and Oz couldn't help brush a kiss over his lips. Brooke snorted in the background, though they both knew her mother's death would hit her later. At least, maybe this way she could have some sort of a childhood.

"What would I ever do without you?" Oz murmured, smiling too. Well, then that was that. They hadn't gone looking for a family out of this mess but if it saved a little girl from Salem's machinations, then that was always the best outcome. Besides, she really did look rather like them.

Oh no, Tai would be insufferable over this news. Neither one of them could really bring themselves to care, though. Yang and Ruby would adore their new cousin so that was a positive at least.

Of course this meant that Salem had technically been correct, if only after the fact. Maybe the sheer amusement might even stay her hand long enough to let Brooke grow up?

Larger miracles had happened.

In the years that followed, both Qrow and Oz couldn't help but think back to this day. They always marvelled at how quickly their family had formed out of what had originally promised to be great tragedy. They never forgot how lucky they were to still be alive, to have each other. What would any of the three truly do, without each other, after all?

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