#marblewrites

To actually start of the log itself!!

That above is my second attempt at writing down this story. I got myself a dedicated notebook just for the fic. The main reason being that I started to get lost in my ideas, not remembering some, not remembering where I wrote them down, even if I did! And since I started a therapy to better function with my mental disabilities, I decided that I could try to — along with organizing my life from the beginning — organize this silly project of mine and see how it goes? Maybe something I'll learn here I could implement in my day to day? Or maybe something I learn from my therapy (much more likely) will be included in my new workflow.

So!

I started off with that I'm including in the timeline of my fic, which is the randomness of Transformers G1 cartoon and the fact that all of the characters are alive at the time of the story happening.

Then I proceeded with writing in numbered points the timeline of this fic, because I needed that to finish the ch2 of my fic XD (the boring part of writing everything that already happened with enough detail that I remember what happened later, but not so much that I'm basically writing the whole chapters in point list style).

I don't think it was the smartest decision on Earth, but if that's what keeps me going then I'll do it. I finally feel like I can finish the ch2! Like, it's actually achievable, which I struggled for almost a year (been busy, life shit happened, new traumas got unlocked/hj). But I'm still here, actually moving forward with writing!

Yeah! This is what I'm doing so far and the next part in that notebook is deciding where or how I want to implement the core Lore for this fic as well as improving the style of my notes for setting scenes and storyline for next chapters. So stay tuned as that might appear in the next log!

— Marble 🌱✨

He wished he had listened.

From the get go Aster had found his light gray fur standing on end, shivers of discomfort and horror slinking like a disease through his spine. Eyes stuck fast, searing into the page as every vile action and plead for mercy played out. Sickly black ink teasing against white paper. Pure white. Like Jack-

A high pitched whine found it’s way out of his mouth, thoughts rushing in a whirlwind of possibilities. Hurt Jack, bleeding Jack. His mate prone on the cold hard floor, crying out in agony, sanguine stains marring a pure canvas of whites and blues. Shuttered breath, saline tracks. Tremble, shake, brace for pain. Strike, pierce, rip-

Not being able to get to Jack on time. Even as he calls so desperately. Leaving him alone.

He didn’t even realize he was running till he reached the more shaded part of the Warren, ancient trees keeping the mossy ground cool and dark for plants less apt to survive a sunny day. Jack’s favorite haunt, the place he would usually be found when he was visiting the warren when Aster was busy.

His mate was in his arms in seconds, a startled shout not helping the situation at all as Aster all but tore the boy from the air. Aster’s instincts were on fire, raging in mutiny against any of his better judgments. He needed to protect, protect, protect Jack. The Pooka pressed himself into the cool bark of a gargantuan eucalyptus, curling himself around the wriggling winter sprite in his arms.

He let his paws glide over every inch available. Checking, once, twice, just to be sure, that Jack was okay. Safe and whole and happy. Though maybe not happy, as the boy tried to pry himself from Aster’s grip. Jack was saying something, maybe asking what the Pooka was doing, what was wrong. But Aster couldn’t comprehend any of it. Only hearing the consistent beat of his mate’s heart, the inhale, exhale of his breath.

Alive.

Jack was alive. Jack wasn’t hurt. Everything was fine. Jack wasn’t Alone.

A sharp tug to his ears brought him snarling back to reality, a rumbling growl cutting short as he met Jack’s confused cerulean eyes.

“Aster?”

Even in his more coherent state, Aster didn’t let go, arms still locked tight around Jack’s body. He pressed his face to the chilled skin of Jack’s shoulder, a pitiful cry disturbing the forest’s long standing silence.

“Aster, what’s wrong?” The worry in Jack’s voice made Aster keen higher, claws digging into soft fabric as Jack was pulled tighter, tears forming in the corners of his clenched green eyes. There wasn’t anything wrong with the Pooka. Nothing. But there where so many things that could go wrong with Jack. How he had never thought of it all before-

Another sharp tug to his ears sent him honking in confusion, the twitching appendages perking up as if offended and then falling back, pressed hard against Aster’s skull. Salty tear still held at the corners of his eyes, his gaze wet and pleading. Jack’s hand came to rest on Aster’s cheek, caressing the short satin fur.

“Aster, what’s wrong?”

Flashes, too vivid to be a memory but too plausible to ever write off crossed Aster’s mind, the pooka flinching into Jack’s shoulder. His muffled words barely made it to Jack’s ears as he painstakingly tried to explain himself. His instinctual actions. But he was so incoherent Jack had to ask him to repeat. More than once.

With an exhausted sigh Aster pulled back, hands never leaving Jack, the contact being the only thing to ground him at the moment. “’S…I just. Ya know the stories Marb and Stephie write?”

That answer was honestly enough for Jack, knowing all too well what the two females enjoyed in their literature. And if memory served him right, the most recent was a rather horrific gore fest involving himself.

“You read ‘Grin’ didn’t you? Oh Aster, you know we warned you about those stories.”

Aster shook his head, giving Jack an odd look as his arms squeezed around Jack’s waist again. “Wait wait, Yah’ve read that monstrocity?”

Jack shrugged. “Well yeah. I’m always curious about what those two are up to. Someone has got to keep an eye on them."

Aster groaned, burying his face into Jack’s hair. Figured his Snowflake would have read it.

“Doesn’t it botha ya though? You were- It was- Jackie-” Aster’s voice tapered off into a whine, arms flexing, ears twitching. The story had seriously distressed him. Just thinking about Jack harmed in anyway made him itch. And then to be given such a violent description, his mate maimed by all accounts b the tiny print on the page…

To read, to imagine, failing his lover so completely…

“Did you read the end?”

The question caught Aster off guard, pulling him from his reverie as he looked at Jack, wondering if his mate was missing a screw or two. “I could barely make it through the beginning. How could I get to the end?” If there was a crack in his voice he didn’t notice, Aster being too busy keeping his thoughts in check.

Jack moved closer, his pale lips brushing the pooka’s chin. The boy settled down into Aster’s arms, no longer worried over the situation, but all the more ready to comfort his lover. He understood the urge to keep one’s most precious person safe. He’d done it once with his sister, so very long ago. Knowing full well his survival wasn’t something he’d attain at the end. And now he had Aster. Someone he’d gladly give his second life for in an instant.

“The end is happy Aster. Er, well… Sort of. You save me, and I get better. I survive. Because that’s what I do Aster. I survive. No matter what’s been thrown at me, I get through it. Even if it’s by a hair.”

Jack exhaled a long breath, wincing as the arms around his torso constricted once again, claws pricking through the thin fabric of his shirt. He knew that wasn’t what Aster wanted to hear, but he needed to hear it. He needed to understand that, even though he had taken Jack into his care, the Winter sprite was still capable of caring for himself.

“And even if I get hurt, I get better. I fight. Which is easier now because I have you. Because you are the absolute best thing that’s happened to me.” And just because he could take care of himself, didn’t mean he had to do it alone.

Jack snuggled into Aster’s ruff, inhaling the sweet scent of fresh spring flowers and warm molten chocolate. His favorite scent that he’d come to know in the last few years. He smiled.“You made me understand joy. You are the first person in two hundred and thirty years to make me smile. You picked me up and fixed me. Even when you didn’t like me.” Jack chuckled, poking at the pooka’s chest with a chilled hand. “And then you showed me love. Something I would have never known without you.”

Jack held Aster’s face in his hands, forcing the Pooka’s eyes to look into his own. All the sincerity present in his voice sending chills down Aster’s arms. “So trust me okay? If I get into trouble, if you’re not there, I don’t blame you okay? You can’t protect me all the time. Just like I can’t- can’t protect you all the time.” It hurt to say but it was true. He had to be honest right now, and Jack knew he couldn’t be with Aster all the time. Just as Aster couldn’t with him.

“But we’ll survive okay? And come back to each other. Always.”

Jack was surprised that Aster had sat through the whole conversation silently, his usually stubborn mate more likely to pitch a fit than a spoiled child. But he had. And when Jack was done Aster just pulled him closer, small sniffs and the tiniest pin pricks of ice on Jack’s cheek fair enough reason to guess that his love was crying.

The Guardian of Joy cooed into Aster’s ear, whispering comforting words and love as his cold white hands carded through thick fur. Aster was able to let out a few rational sentences. Promises to be there as much as he can. To at least try to keep Jack out of harms way. Because even if Jack said it was implausible, he’d try. He’d reach Jack as fast as he could when he was needed. Or Mim strike him down.

And then the promises of love. Of pure adoration. Promises to never let Jack feel lonely again. Promises Jack was all too familiar with.

They stayed like that for the rest of the day, Aster calming himself down with the others presence. Jack making sure Aster understood that he was okay, they were okay.

And if Jack mentally noted that he was to tell Miss Marble and Steph to hide their stories better, he didn’t tell Aster. He was sure no one wanted another event like this to happen either way.