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[pacifisting]

You know, because I don't post enough as it is.

Basically just a place for me to comment-dump fic that I won't ever post into the community itself. All sorts of ratings, all sorts of pairings, uuuh. Yes.

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[pacifisting]

There's a stack of unsent letters sitting on the far right side of Euphemia's desk, in her room. She's not sure how many there are, anymore- she stopped counting after eleven and they've just piled up after that. They're letters she'll never send to the people who they belong to, for various reasons. They're all things she wants to say but knows she shouldn't, can't, even.

One to Heine, an apology for everything. One to Starscream, explaining things, apologizing for being less than what he needed. One to Jeremiah, telling him everything he was forgetting, down to the last detail. One for Mihael, disjointed and rambling, in case he ever forgot himself, or her. There's another to Heine, confessing things- love, maybe, or something like it. Apologizing for hurting him, apologizing for his brother and what she did, thanking him for the lessons.

Things that, if she leaves, she doesn't mind them seeing, and maybe it's the coward's way out, but she's never claimed to not be one.

Fingers folding the paper carefully, Euphemia tucks another in with the stack, this one addressed to Mori Ranmaru, and then takes the stack and tucks it into a drawer, along with all the stationary.