i'm actually rather proud of this one


What’s a soulmate?
It’s a… Well, it’s like a best friend but more. It’s the one person in the world that knows you better than anyone else. It’s someone who makes you a better person. Actually, they don’t make you a better person, you do that yourself because they inspire you. A soulmate is someone who you carry with you forever. It’s the one person who knew you, and accepted you, and believed in you before anyone else did or when no one else would. And no matter what happens, you’ll always love them. Nothing can ever change that.

The Colour of your Eyes

Sheith, gen | 1868 words | Pointless fluff, h/c

@j-j-leroy this is for you! You gave me the number 2 and I used it with this list. The prompt was “It reminded me of you.” My first foray back into writing after not having written anything in years :P I banged this out in one sitting, I’m actually rather proud! Un-beta’d

Also on Ao3

Shiro felt like he was wearing a dent into the waiting room’s floor with his pacing, but he couldn’t help it. He needed to be in motion, needed to burn off the jittery energy crawling under his skin. The doctors had assured him Keith would be fine, but watching the ship he was piloting plummet out of the sky seemingly uncontrolled had had an effect Shiro still wasn’t over.

Keep reading

Transit Umbra, Lux Permanet

Enjoltaire | Canon Era | 950 w | Post Mortem Fluff and Comfort | AO3

Heaven was nothing Grantaire had pictured it to be. Actually, heaven wasn’t something Grantaire had pictured at all, or rather, not in a really long time. And not for himself. The Perly Gates had a strange Parisian atmosphere, the same air of effrontery, its scent. At least he wouldn’t be lost. Mastering the City of Light’s geography had taken him long enough for him to be robbed of his knowledge in the afterlife.

Though the hearts were heavy of their defeat, they were thankful to see each other again. Grantaire had held Joly tight in his arms when he had recognised him. To think he hadn’t said goodbye. To think he had left the Earth without a warm embrace from his friends. How selfish of me, he thought. The only thing I could bring them was friendship, and I did not deliver. Bossuet had given him a warm pat on the back and a generous kiss on the forehead. The man had never held grudges when he was alive, why start now? Grantaire had lodge his fist against Bahorel’s shoulder in a brazen greeting. He had been among the first to get here, Grantaire had been told.

“Did the Master of the House give you some inebriant, for your trouble?” he had asked with an amused smile.

“I’m afraid the only spirit I’m gorging on is that of the Revolution, my friend,” Bahorel had replied, hitting his chest with the palm of his hand.

“Thirsty work,” Grantaire had snickered.

He had secretly admired him, in that instant, to still believe even though nothing tied him to his ideals anymore. He supposed it was the very nature of ideals, to be unreachable, yet unshakable. 

Grantaire thought about his own beliefs.
Grantaire thought about Enjolras.

Keep reading