#more so implied

[starburr]

They say that you either die the hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain.

A quote not unfounded on its premise. It is not only power that corrupts, but being disillusioned. Finally now seeing the truth that the very problem with fighting for a cause is that you are a tool, the cause would rather sooner dispose of you than to offer you aide. One of many fears that Anne rightfully had even when trying to resume a normal life on Earth. They might have braved cosmic forces beyond their comprehension, aggressive military campaigns, but they didn't quite make it out of Amphibia unscathed. Apart from physically, there were some, other less desirable afflictions in the equation. Anne's mental fortitude despite everything was a lifesaver.

She would have to bear with the worst sometimes, even during relaxing moments like watching the sunbeams through the curtains with Marcy all snuggled up. There would be a flicker as Anne turns her attention away from her sleep-deprived spouse, suddenly seeing just out of the corner of her eye the same shocked expression Marcy wore when just barely making it with her then. The way her head would barely move as her eyes did it for her, down to the flaming sword.

Quite the opposite sight from how she viewed it in Christian mythos. Menacing and unfair, both were powerless in that moment to stop the searing pain rush through her chest; Hollowed from betrayal and having to betray. A holy symbol to smite down what was a dear friend. Sometimes trauma was funny like that, preying on the unexpected as you begin to see patterns so it messes with you more. She would wake to the sound of the crickets chirping, Sasha and Marcy still asleep under the covers next to her. And yet somehow it felt there was one less person in there with them. Well, at least they seemed peaceful, and still alive. She mused, trying to brush off the fact that she could have sworn Marcy's eyes were suddenly wide, swirling darkness in a sea of bright nothing. Pleading almost. The sound of snoring disproved that, but the image was burned into her consciousness long ago.

She would soon find out that even Sasha was plagued by visions of Marcy. It was just during dinner, or at least cleaning up after. Marcy had already taken her leave, upstairs to finish the latest page, citing "Some color adjustments for the scenery" as her focus. They happily told her they'd check up on her in a few, watching her footsteps hurriedly scurry up to her door, hearing it click shut.

Sasha wasted no time in telling Anne, immediately opening up the topic with a "So, I've been having nightmares, hon. Limp and cold steel against her arms, and I'm there! I'm like weighed down by her body and guilt for what I thought I had to do. I had to save her! What if she never woke up then? What if her sword instead met her neck? What then for her if I missed?" Anne didn't need to guess what she was thinking, that had things gone south then, it would be all her fault. It was a little eerie of how calmly she explained all of this to Anne, no, maybe not calm. More just, tiredly did so. She was tired from having to relive the fear and adrenaline and the grief all over again, from when they almost lost her. She could only offer a hug, still in her silly cyan colored apron from two birthdays ago, and felt her right shoulder be doused with drops. Sasha could barely form anymore words, but still cried quietly so as not to alert Marcy.

Anne understood it all too well, her own tears falling with a "I know, sweetie, I know." Her voice wavering in conviction as her fingers tensed around the space that was just between them, pulling her wife closer. The water let them know it had boiled over, a harshly high whistling snapped their attention to the kitchen door.

"I'll just get that Sashy." She stood up, ready to bolt before being stopped by such tender words. "Thank you... Thank you, Anne... I wouldn't ha-" Their faces meet for a moment before Anne takes off, the stomping of her slippers clicking and clacking through to the door.

Sasha's expression gave a mild smile, her cheeks a little warmer now. Then, resuming to stare off at the wall, now with one more kiss under her belt. One of many more no doubt.

[captainenjolras]

Valjean loves Javert

He loves his smile, no matter how much everyone else hates it. He loves the way his teeth become bared and his lips pull back. He loves how happy he looks when it’s genuine, how content he looks.

He loves his laugh. He loves how loud it is and how he snorts over jokes. He doesn’t care if Javert hates it himself, because he thinks it’s adorable. He loves the way his eyes squint when he’s no longer able to hold back his joy.

He loves his eyes. He loves their icy color and how big they are, like a child at an amusement park. He loves how much emotion they can hold. He loves how soft that can be when it’s just the two of them.

He loves his hair. Those long, dark locks fall around Javert’s waist like a waterfall. He loves how soft and shiny it is. He loves running his hands through it when the other is anxious, gently messaging his temples.

He loves his voice, no matter how tired he sounds. It’s always so nice having it be the first thing he hears when he wakes up. He loves hearing the Inspector hum to himself around the house, occasionally catching a few notes of song when the other thinks he’s home alone.

He loves his body. He knows Javert hates it, but he can’t see why. He loves his skin complexion, even if the other was shamed into hating it. He loves every little freckle, every cut and bruise from work. He loves the scars, especially the two big ones on his chest. He loves every part that Javert detests. He loved him when they first met, the man thin and starving; and he loves him now, healthy and fit.

He loves his personality. No matter how different they are, he can’t help but love Javert’s sarcastic comments. He loves the way that he acts cold, but the moment he’s complimented he turns red and stutters. He loves that he’s the type of person to help someone carry their groceries when no one is looking.

Valjean loves Javert. He loves the way he curls up to him in his sleep. He loves the way that he always relaxes under the others touch. He loves the way he goes about his day, unaware of the bounce in his step after receiving good news. He loves the way that he can speak without words; a simple facial expression being enough to convey a story. He loves that no matter what, Javert always sleeps next to him; even after a big fight. He loves the way he taps his fingers for concentration. He loves the way that he absentmindedly tidies up the house, stopping to rearrange the coffee table while on a phone call. He loves the way that Javert fits perfectly in his arms.

Valjean loves Javert, wether or not Javert loves himself.

[starburr]

Still part of my Calamity Gods AU. In their current incarnation, everything still goes smoothly and they save Amphibia from The Core. Years go by as they live out the rest of their lives on Earth, trying to have some sense of normalcy despite the fact they're aware of their true identities as primordial beings from the beginning of time.

Sasha loathes herself. She knows that shes capable of so much more and yet, she struggles with interactions. She doesnt know why shes so standoffish with people who ask dumb questions all the time. She doesn't feel welcome around others, well, there's a few exceptions.

Maybe a flicker of possessiveness on Marcy's part but she notices how Sasha struggles to reintegrate back into society, and how she sometimes has flashbacks of then in Amphibia. Guilt twists in her gut as she realizes that she enjoys the sight. That she likes the idea that she can never relate to humanity, that she is doomed to stay with her and Anne. She should feel sorry, but she revels in the thought of Sasha breaking down crying because of an anxious episode. Anne catches wind of this, but nothing comes of it because she's also guilty of the anticipation. She also likes the idea that Sasha can never feel like herself around other people. Maybe even monopolize the fact.

Little do the other two notice a pair of blue eyes peeking at their dimensional space, a room only any of the three can access.

[ask-a-cool-spaceguy]

Did you know Big Bird was gonna be sent into space in the 1980s?

“He was gonna be on Challenger. It’s a good thing he didn’t go.”