Word count: 427, for Comforcember @monthlywritingchallenges
He does not really get the approval of the tea. (We've all laughed at his expressions to the Jayce's one form that scene in the show.) Thought if you really like this drink and take his distaste too close to heart, he might just swear that it was purely Jayce's fault and awful tea-making skills and not the drink itself. Maybe after some time, you both discover that he is actually quite fond of some specific sweet blends like the berry teas. But overall, he stayed aloof to the ideas of "leaves in boiling water" type of drinks. "Firelight, c'mon! It's like drinking a medicine" - sad puppy eyes and frowning.
- Through trial and errors after almost giving up on the idea that he can enjoy anything beyond fresh water and some light booze. It is then during more cold months, when you discovered just how much of a sweet-tooth he actually is.
- Makes sense though that being from lover levels of Zaun with no access to any luxury products so popular within Piltover, he never even tried hot cocoa. Besides, in line with his altruist nature and leadership position, he would first of all try providing any kind of foods to the firelights first, not really carrying if there will be anything left afterwards for himself.
- Except, when he was swinging by your place after a frosty walk along the seaside bridge. Truly, not the smartest idea, as the winter winds left you feeling numb in your fingers and eyes all shiny from the harsh wind gusts.
- You quickly filled two cups with the hot beverage and thrusted one of them into Ekko's frostbite hands. Young man made a funny expression but complied as even if all those fancy drinks were awful to his personal taste, they at least made a good job at warming one up from the north wind currents.
You can't help but laugh at the astounded look he gives you after the first sip, the mask of pretense disgust slipping.
You move closer hiding the smile behind the rim of the cup as Ekko tries (and fails) to put on annoyed expression again. He can't though, he is too fond of those happy sparks lighting up your eyes.
"Ok, maybe you pilties have at least two good things after all."
"Two?"
"Yep! Hot cocoa... and you" - Ekko slyly tugs you into his side as you squill and almost spill your own beverage, face rapidly warming up as the firelights leader's boisterous laugh makes you want to hide from embracement
At half-past 23:00, Sephiroth knew there was only one person on the face of the planet who would dare knock on his door so late—let alone muster up the courage to knock on his door at all, to know where his quarters were even located.
He immediately abandoned a whining kettle in the kitchen to answer it.
"Zack..." the man started as he opened the door, “it’s almost midnight; what are you...?" Mako eyes finished the sentence for him, however, the emeralds widening as he fully took in Zack's appearance: his sleepwear was creased, his spikes tussled in an unruly mass, his own sapphire eyes like two tired stars that had been extinguished against the dark...
He looked absolutely exhausted, drained.
Something sharp lanced Sephiroth's chest.
“Hey, pal..." Zack tried to crack a small, unassuming, sleepy smile. "Mind if I...?"
Even if masqueraded, Sephiroth could clearly see the wobble in his words, the slight tilt and shakiness underlying his grinning voice.
The emeralds narrowing now, his gaze flickered with concern.
“What’s wrong?”
Zack’s pseudo-smile faltered at that, likely realizing he wasn't as opaque as he thought, fractured eyes drifting to the wooden coast of the threshold. He didn’t say anything for several beats, opened his mouth as if to form a lie, swallowed thickly to let it die on his tongue.
"I..." he eventually confessed, delicately, "...I couldn't sleep."
Even if Sephiroth had been suspecting as much, that didn't stop his chest from tightening, twisting. The sheer fragility in his friend's voice was all he needed to hear; usually, Zack was rather comfortable in his own skin, confident. For him to be so... "Come." He stepped aside, gently nodding as he welcomed Zack into his apartment. "No need to be standing out in the dark.”
There was another beat, and Zack’s smile stabled a bit on his lips as he gratefully shuffled inside.
“I was just making some tea,” Sephiroth said, clicking the door back into place behind him. “Would you like some?”
Zack had already made his way to the sofa, effortlessly navigating through the gloom. “Yeah… that’d be really nice. Thanks, bud.” Easing himself onto the cushions, he eyed a decorative throw blanket Sephiroth kept draped over the backside, turned over his shoulder to gaze at the man with blue, doelike eyes. “…Can I?”
Sephiroth nearly smirked as he started back toward the kitchen, disappearing into the powdery white that illuminated the apartment.
"Heh... It’s all yours."
By the time he returned to the den, Zack was completely and utterly cocooned, his porcupine head the only part of him popping out of the yarny mass of blanket.
Sephiroth nearly smiled as he made his way over with two soothing mugs in hand.
"Careful… It’s hot. Drink slowly.”
Glancing up, Zack’s hands emerged from the quilt to accept his drink, thin ribbons of steam dancing upwards and into the apartment—an herbal aroma ballooning into the air and perfuming it with wafting scents of peppermint and ginger, of a recipe long learned and memorized.
Smiling silently in thanks, Zack took a delicate sip.
“…Better?” Sephiroth hoped, gently
The young First nodded as he drew the mug away, a noticeable tension releasing from his leaden shoulders, a flicker of starlight returning to those sapphire eyes. “…Much,” Zack said in a toasty exhale, grinning sleepily. “You always make the best.”
Sephiroth couldn’t help but smile at that.
"Heh…” he returned a vague, warm chuckle, eased himself onto the sofa beside his friend, set his own mug down on the coffee table with a faint clink. “I’m glad you think so.”
They sat in silence for a bit, listened only to the distant whir of cars and trains and the rhythmic hum of the heater overhead.
“…Sorry for coming so late,” Zack said at last, nudging the silence, watching his reflection ripple and swirl in the sweet-scented drink. “...I know it's kinda odd. I really shoulda just—“
Sephiroth stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, a gentle interruption. He knew this was coming.
“There’s no need to apologize…” he assured, hoping to assuage the guilt that had been clearly gnawing at Zack since the moment he arrived. “I was already up"—he glanced at his ajar laptop sitting on the coffee table—"...and doing nothing of grave importance."
Zack thought for another moment, continued to stare listlessly at his tea. "Yeah, but... still."
"Still what?"
Zack weakly shrugged. "I dunno... Feel like I shoulda stayed put, y'know?"
Silence reigned as Sephiroth gazed at his friend for a beat, trying his best to puzzle out what he was saying, to make sense of jagged pieces.
"...But you were having a difficult time sleeping, no? And you're quite an antsy person. It makes sense that you would want to move around and distract yourself."
"Well... yeah." Zack's shoulders sank an inch, swallowing again. "But I mean... the fact that I couldn't just, I dunno, take a walk myself or go get a midnight snack. Maybe even boot up the VR." He let out a gusty sigh, either too fatigued or too sheepish to fully articulate what was plaguing him, then switched gears entirely: "...I mean, it was just a bad dream, and that's it. Really..."
Absorbing this, Sephiroth canted his head, digesting this new information. "A dream?" he repeated, still trying to connect the dots. And why was Zack so desperately downplaying it...?
Zack nodded, swallowed once more. "Yeah... and, I mean, isn't that a little stupid? I have one lil' dream and I can't be in my bed anymore? Like, seriously..."—he narrowed his eyes, clutched the ivory mug just a little tighter, lowered his voice as if to only address himself—"...I lived it, damnit... I lived it... Why should a little action replay of it bother me...?"
And all at once, it clicked for Sephiroth, the shards suddenly snapping together in a belated yet unpleasant realization:
Zack didn't have a dream; he had a nightmare.
And it was about the mission to Modeoheim, most likely.
It was about Him.
"You were..." Sephiroth's hand stiffened on Zack's shoulder, but he refused to withdraw it. "...You were dreaming about Angeal, weren't you?"
There was a beat, and Zack bit his lip, his narrowed eyes sealing into a tight strain.
The silence said it all.
Sephiroth's eyes softened, saddened. "Mmn... No wonder you couldn't sleep."
Zack sucked in his breath at that, almost recoiling. Swallowing. "...I know," was all he could manage to say, and he said it with more shame than Sephiroth had ever heard drench Zack's voice. "I know it's childish."
Sephiroth's response was immediate, almost startled. "...Childish?" he parroted.
Zack vaguely sniffled, fighting to hide the snuffly sound with all his might. "...Yeah," he continued, elaborated. "I mean... I'm seventeen years old, and what...? I'm afraid of a nightmare? A dream? And, and... what kind of SOLDIER is that...?"
Whatever bladed realization struck Sephiroth before was promptly struck again, the fresh and raw wound of discovery showered with salt as he came to yet another conclusion, a deeper one:
Zack was not only hurting because of Angeal's death, no...
He was hurting because of how poorly he felt he was reacting to it.
Sephiroth's hand tightened on his shoulder, squeezing now, another bout of silence stretching as Sephiroth wondered how he could word what he wanted to say, trying to put himself in Zack’s boots. He tried to imagine himself going to an older figure in his life, ducking his head, telling them that he had a nightmare. The response certainly wouldn’t be very forgiving, if not an outright confirmation of Zack’s current qualms: Build your stamina, boy; get STRONGER; do SOLDIERs have nightmares? Do they, boy….?!
Sephiroth's eyes flickered, deepened.
He didn’t want Zack to experience what he had to.
He wanted to give Zack what he never received at his age.
He wanted to give him comfort, clarity...
He wanted to give validation.
"Zack..."
Zack, who had drifted off into silence, glanced up at the sound of his name, blinking wetly.
He looked so vulnerable.
His eyes thawing, Sephiroth tilted his head. "May I ask you something?"
Zack blinked, swatted. "...Yeah. 'Course."
"...At what age did you leave for SOLDIER?"
The teen was taken aback by that. "...Huh?"
"I'm just curious; you've told me before, but... I would like a refresher."
There was another beat, Zack struggling to follow the logic behind the question, but answering nonetheless: "...Thirteen."
Sephiroth nodded approvingly. "And if I'm not mistaken, you came all the way by yourself? To fight and challenge monsters all around the planet...?"
Zack snuffled, suppressing it. "...You trying to make a point, bud?"
Sephiroth had to smirk a little bit at that.
"...You tell me," he hummed. "Am I?"
For a moment, Zack only stared, still not following his logic—if not believing that he was rambling off nonsense now, completely digressing.
Which was alright, in Sephiroth's book: he didn't particularly mind saying it directly.
"Zack..." he started again, kinder, his smirk dissolving into a sincere and earnest expression. "I mean this with no disrespect, but... you do realize that you are still technically a child, correct?"
Zack blinked again at this, took another moment to process it in full. "I mean... well, no? I'm almost eighteen."
"Yes, you are. But that doesn't change the fact that you joined a demanding military organization when you were still a tender age..." He hurried on upon seeing Zack's confusion, gave his shoulder another caring squeeze. "My point is: you have every right to feel young sometimes, because the truth of the matter is that you are young, and you have shouldered and experienced more horrors than the average adult could even fathom..." He leaned down, thin threads of silver brushing against Zack's nose, celestial eyes gazing into the starlit sapphires: "Moreover, there is a stark difference between 'childish' and 'childlike’, and I have never seen you lean toward the former... Never," he added. "And needing solace after a vivid memory does not change that fact..."
This time, when Zack blinked, there were noticeable beads of mist dotting his lashes; a constellation. He deposited his mug on the table to dab at his eyes, wipe away the evidence, then blinked again only to produce more glistening stars. He left them there the second time around; he didn't fight the next snuffle that threatened his nose.
"...Thanks, Seph," he said, smiled. "Really."
And Sephiroth couldn't help but mirror it, relieved to see his point was getting through. "Of course..." he nodded, and his smile retreated for a moment as he ventured, curious, "...Was this something that burdened you often?" To think that each and every time Zack had a more vulnerable moment...
Zack shrugged, the blanket rising with the movement. "I mean... it kinda bothered me the older I got, when I started hanging with some SOLDIERs; I just started feeling, I dunno..." He sighed. "Dumber? Immature?"
Sephiroth nodded in understanding, even empathy. Being the youngest of his friend group (including when he used to work with the P0), it was easy to feel crushed by their older weight, to feel as if he had to keep up or act differently to fit in—even if it was much more of an internal grapple, an invisible burden.
...And yet, where was he now?
Sephiroth allowed his smile to resurface.
"Well," he said, canting his head another ten degrees, "you are certainly the most intelligent person I know."
Zack blinked again, astonished now. "...Yeah?"
"Absolutely."
Another beat, a blink, and Zack's smile curled into a playful smirk. "Wait... is this because you always say everyone who works here is an idiot."
Sephiroth huffed a laugh. "Firstly, you're misquoting: I said it was half the people... And, secondly..." His countenance softened, the jade waters glittering against the blackness, "you truly are the most emotionally intelligent person I have ever met."
Zack's own visage melted to dough. "Aww, bud... Stop..."
"I mean it," Sephiroth smirked, carrying on before Zack could protest, "there is no poker face I could wear that you wouldn't see through... Nor any wall I could build that you wouldn't try to break down, knowing something was there on the other side..." Lips relaxing into a smile again, he added, sincerely, "...You truly do know me better than anyone. And you figured me out rather quickly."
Zack's expression was on the verge of melting right off, burning with pride and warmth. "Seph..." he sniffled, threw himself forward in a mass of blanket and black, pressed his face into his collar. "I'm gonna cry... Stop...!"
Rippling with quiet laughter (and, more importantly, relieved to see Zack's qualms tended to), Sephiroth raised his arms to return the embrace, held the bundled SOLDIER against his swelling heart, held him close against its pulsing rhythm.
"...I'm proud of you, you know."
Zack sank deeper into his arms. "...Really? How come?"
"You've come very far," Sephiroth smiled. "You've grown, you've changed, you've learned... And yet, you never lost your core essence, your spirit..." He rested his cheek on the other's shoulder. "And that, over anything else, is true strength... And a strength I hope you pass onto those who admire you, too."
He heard Zack snuffle, nuzzle even deeper into the embrace, let another swath of warm, cozy silence drape over their shoulders like a quilt.
"...You really are the bestest friend a guy could have, bud... You know that?"
His heart sparking, Sephiroth closed his eyes, felt as if he had to in order to keep his own emotions tamed.
Bestest friend...
A role model; an emulation; a leader; a mascot; a companion... Sephiroth had called them all, but never did he think he would ever be a candidate for such a wonderful title... Never. Not once. Not in this lifetime. And as much as the man's instincts were to protest and counter, he wondered if he really did qualify as one, if he was as supportive of a friend as the one he always wanted and was blessed enough to have...
The man's expression melted, sinking further into the embrace.
"...I'm glad," was all he said, and he meant it, before adding onto the saccharine moment with a smirk, "And if you ever want to spend a night with your archaic best friend... You are always welcome."
Zack let out a laugh, squeezing tighter. "Archaic...? You mean by six years...?"
"Indeed."
"Yeah, right."
"It's true... We used to ride Behemoths to work instead of cars."
"Again, six years, bud."
"Yes. And you missed the Behemoth transportation by six years..."
Their laughter harmonizing into one, they remained enveloped in each other's arms, filling the night with song.
Summary: Aisha and Salim share a tradition with family...
Note: A day late because I was having a bit of trouble thinking of how i wanted to do this one. It's based on the answer I got from a 'trick or treat' post from @iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia (who is always inspiring me in this little fandom as well as in writing in general, thank you friend). I based this tradition on the very real celebration of Diwali, the festival of lights, which has a lot of meanings but one of my favorite's being 'Hope's light in the darkness'. I hope even in these crazy times you all find hope's light even in the darkest night.
The starlight glittered above them in the darkness of the night. Aisha looked up at them, having missed them for the time she and her husband had been trapped in the place beyond. But of course, that wasn’t all that she had missed in that time. She turned her head to look at the bank where all the people gathered. Amongst them was her son, Asra. She had missed it so much. He was no longer the little boy that had been left behind. She watched as he happily chatted amongst his found family who were Aisha’s family as well now. She would be forever thankful to all of them, for giving her son what she could not all these years. She then felt Salim’s hand on her shoulder.
“I think we are ready,” he said.
Aisha nodded. So, she gathered them on the bank, and they lit the little clay candles, reciting a little prayer of hope in the darkness. The little leaf boats carried the candles out into the water, glittering against the dark water.
Asra came to stand beside his parents. Aisha wrapped an arm around his waist while Salim placed one around his shoulders. Asra put an arm around both, as they watched the lights float down the canal.
They looked like stars glittering in the darkness of the night.
Word count: 383, oneshot for Comforcember @monthlywritingchallenges
Notes: "Snowdown" is apparently the equivalent of Christmas/Yule/New Year holidays
The winter frost immediately spasmed your breath as you exited the building. The luck was on your side, as the heavy snowfall stop just before your evening shift finally ended. The day was especially busy and it seemed like the whole city was buzzing with energy. Soon the festival of Snowdown will come and Piltovans were laying on the local shops in desire to get all the final purchases. Such times never carried out without minor incidents.
You dragged in the cold night air, shoulders easing up a bit. The warm yellowish light from the holiday themed lanterns were pleasantly warming up the street with its light, painting the decorated buildings and store fronts in colourful glints. Most of them already closed for the night, all kinds of holiday-special products in windows waiting for the next morning jostle of customers. The owner of the little shop next door hurried past you with a polite nod and a small smile, most likely rushing to get home to a warm dinner.
You closed your eyes. The frost is slightly biting on your cheeks and nose. Not harsh enough to really hurt, but reminding you that you have to hurry home too. To finally have some rest. And to see him.
A swift motion beside you. A warmth of another body. A familiar sent and a warm hand softly brushing agains your reddened fingers. You squinted to the side. His polished to the perfection uniform looks untouched by the recent snowfall and wind. Green skin looking even more radiant under the warm lights, casting golden reflections with each move of his little cheek fins.
"Thought you were supposed to finish earlier then me?" He just casts you a glance and shrugged. So yes, you are right. Your hand intertwined fingers with his. He stiffens a bit before grasping you more firmly. Of course. He had to wait for you.
"Come in the shop if you decide to wait for me again, Steb. Or you want to get a frost bite on your gills?" A soft huff from him. Stubborn fishman. Yours, though.
You clicked your tongue and nudged him in the direction of your shared home. Chest warming at the perspective of soon hot food with holiday spiced tea in the company of your favourite Piltovan.
Word count: 502, for Comforcember @monthlywritingchallenges
Sometimes we all feel kinda lost. And not only in geographical sense. When life does not seem to improve and the existence itself becomes dreading, we sometimes encounter people that become our personal stars of flickering hope in the disconsolate ocean of darkness. And we just might find something new.
Rocket Raccoon
Rocket was always the one to take. Legally or not, did not really matter. He believed it was right, after all the universe already took so much FROM him that there was no chance he will give something away freealingly. Even now with his new family of misfits surprisingly efficient in universe-saving business, he won't do a damn thing without a tempting award.
Yet here he is now.Tinkering away at the middle of the sleep cycle on your gear when you did not even ask. "Well, why would I if you are always protecting me?" you said smiling at him with this stupid little smile and stupid little dimples. The same ones that his raking paw are twitching to soothingly pet when you come face to face with him.
Steb
Cynical approach. Sure he was a medic, an enforcer too of course, but a medic nonetheless. It is possible that in the beginning he was blindly following the colourful sweet dreams of changing the world for the better, making a drastic difference. To heal. But the more time he spend within enforcers ranks, the more he saw the real picture. The unfairness, the cruelty. Sometimes directed at him, most of the times at zaunites. Sometimes it felt like an ice-cold shower of sobriety, others - like a slap leaving a mark somewhere deep inside. Made him tougher, less prone to get hurt but also felt like losing a part of himself.
But with you and those big dreams that you shared only with him! Your desire and inability to give up! You believe that the world is big enough for all of you! It became something that he cherishes and carries with him in the heart pocket of the tight uniform, giving him strength to fight for what is actually right and not betray himself in the process.
Stoker
He was fighting for as long as he could remember. And it felt like a personal torture - to loose people around him and not being able to get even a jot closer to winning. Like those dirty swines in power will never see further than their pockets filled with bloodied plutarkians money. He is burning out.
But as his gaze lands on your face over the campfire, so used to the same hardships yet still extending the gentle touch to any who asks or needs it, he is determined to finish what the resistance started, to see it to the very end, to fight tooth and nail to bring freedom to Mars, to you. And maybe, if he is lucky, the fate will let him do it side by side with you.
For Comforcember Prompt #7: Holding hands (@monthlywritingchallenges)
Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3 (BG3)
Pairing: Gale/Finley (Bard/Hafling/Tav)
Rating: PG
Warning: Suggestion of drinking and terrible family members (sending all hope to all you who have to deal with some this holiday season).
Word count: 625
Summary: Gale worries about his partner at the Dekarios family Holiday party...
(For some context, when Gale and Finley first announced their marriage there was a subsect of Gale’s family who were not pleased with Gale marrying a ‘no name’ Halfling, with no money and no prospects. Of course, this was somewhat put to bed when Finley proved to have some powerful adoptive family (including a very rich dwarven godfather) but are still some who view the marriage as a problem for the ‘Dekarios’ family name. Gale’s mother is not in that group of course, she is a wonderful woman who kicks butt all the time. Love you Morena!)
“Finley, darling, there you are,” Gale sighed with relief as he rushed out onto the balcony overlooking the gardens of the Dekarios family home. He shut the glass door behind him, leaving behind the noise and business of the room behind him. Outside there was only the sound of the nearby ocean and the silence of the night, as Gale settled in beside his partner, frowning with worry. “Are you alright? Did someone say something to you?”
Finley smiled a little. “No, I just need a bit of air. Never ceases to amaze me how many family members you actually have.”
“Indeed, and luckily we only have to see some of them once a year,” Gale groaned as he rolled his eyes. He took Finley’s hand in his, pressing it gently to warm it. “Tell me the truth darling, has anyone said anything to upset you? If they have, I will go back in there and- “
“Gale,” Finley said firmly, placing a hand on his cheek, “I know you’re worried about me but really, it’s okay. I know there are gonna be people in your family who don’t like me because I’m not some pretty elf or a goddess- “
“Which is insane because my dear you are far more beautiful and, in my eyes, far more wonderful,” Gale interjected, squeezing their small hand, “and some people in there can’t see it then to the nine hells with them!”
“And I feel the same way, darlin’,” Finley chuckled. “I mean I worried about it before, but really there are only a few opinions now that matter to me. At top of that list is the amazin’ wizard that I married, the man who from what I can like me, just a little.”
Gale’s face fell as he brought Finley’s hand to his lips. “If you think that I only like you a little my dear Finley, then I have not done my job properly as your husband,” he said softly, “because I swear to you that you are everything to me. You are the warmth I come home to each night and the song that plays in my heart. I love you Finley, and no matter what my some of my family might think I would have no one else by my side.”
Finley smiled softly. “I love you too Gale,” they whispered as they kissed him tenderly.
As the kiss broke Gale leaned his forehead against Finley’s, smiling lovingly. “I swear darling, give me the word and we can be home with the hour, in our warm bed without any of them.”
“Tempin’,” Finley chuckled, “but we should probably stay at least for your poor mother, who also has to deal with all these people.”
Gale sighed in defeat. “Fine, for my mother, but I’m going to need another mug of brandy* if I’m going to deal with these people.”
“Gale, darlin’, how many have you had exactly?” Finley asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Not enough, my love, not enough.”
*A call back to that one Cameo video from Tim Downie, where he acted out drunk Gale at a holiday party. One of my favorite videos ever.
