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blacksapphhicmaddonna · 2 years ago

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I WOULDN’T DREAM OF IT.

Chapter 2 - Roll The Dice

Black!Carol Danvers x Maria Rambeau

Ft. Monica Rambeau

CW: slight mentions of- homophobic slurs(not written out), deciding not to report harassment in the military, one mention of a security/police officer, being drunk/partying, minor cuts/scrapes/bruises, parenting, loss of a parent, childhood trauma, regaining lost memories. also, a big part of this chapter is set in a flashback. nothing too crazy for any of this, but I just want everyone to know that these things are mentioned!

A/N: hey y'all! so, I wrote this like a book. it's long per usual, and this one's a bit angsty but nothing too serious. also sooooo sorry this is so late lmao, life comes at you hard and fast sometimes but we getting it together every day! I'll try to be quicker w/ updates🫡. much love, muahhh. thank you for reading! x ps. this isn't proof read bc I stayed up til 6:30 in the morning to finish writing it LMFAOO.💀 I'll come back at some point and proof read it, but sorry for any typos/grammar/syntax oddities as always.

Word Count: 19,078 (jump scare🫣)

Link to AO3!

title header & mood art by me⋆˙⟡♡ pls don't use/post elsewhere without asking! (lmk if y'all like it though! i'm thinking about doing stuff like this for all/most of my fics maybe)

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@mybonafidefeelings @maysflourish @nanajen8

also go read @mybonafidefeelings's new danbeau/carolxmaria series RIGHT NEOWWWW if you haven't already🥰

and while you're at it, go check out all the fics everyone in the taglist have written! they never disappoint!

here we gooooo, I hope you enjoy part two.💗

Once Monica finished her breakfast, she helped Carol clean up while she told her stories about her friends at school, all the inventions she'd come up with, and any other story her mind mustered up. She wanted to fill in as many blanks as possible for her other mother. Carol listened intently, taking in every moment of her daughter. She wanted to remember everything, even the things that might not seem important to other parents in different circumstances. She wanted to be able to reference these stories, prove that she remembered, that she cared enough to listen. Partly because her own parents never showed an interest, instead always finding the time to show their genuine dislike for her for whatever many reasons they had, or just disregarding her altogether. But also because Monica had always been so welcoming, so ready to receive her back like nothing had happened - or maybe like everything did happen and she still chose to hold on tight to her mother, choosing not to let the time separate them. So Carol held on tight too, wanting to prove she was reliable to the girl. She appreciated how open Monica was to her returning, but she also knew she had been gone for a long time. Longer than she should have been, she often thought. She knew that Monica was young, and might eventually change her mindset on the matter. She had every right to. It would make sense to feel some kind of way, and that scared Carol to her core. So she wanted to at least try and show up in the best way she could. Be present, be a mother - not just someone who literally drops in every now and then. She wanted to give the girl something she could hold onto, something she could trust.

Carol was always so in awe of both of the Rambeaus. Even though Maria always said that she and Monica were so much alike, she loved how much she was just like her mother too. Stubborn, but sure of herself. Interested in everything, always ready to learn and push forward - but soft, in her own way. Gentle, patient and kind. They both would go out of their way, even if it didn’t always seem like they were. She looked like her, too. Her brown eyes, her hair, the way she walked. She was just like Maria in the best ways (not that there was a bad way to be like Maria Rambeau), and also very much just herself. Just Monica, and she was the most amazing child the world had ever managed to produce. Carol was sure of it.

When they had finished in the kitchen, Carol decided to take a shower too. The hot water should be filled up again, and she was starting to feel the leftover sweat from last night mixing with the approaching heat from the day. Monica sat on the couch and turned on some cartoons, feeling fulfilled from breakfast which made Carol feel proud of herself for a lot of reasons. Cooking was something she always struggled with because she never had anybody to teach her. Maria thinks she might just naturally be a clutz in the kitchen too, but regardless, she worked with her for years as they grew up trying to teach her how to cook, giving her the gentle instruction and patience she never had. Usually to no avail, but it was a fond memory for both of them. Carol smiled, thinking that if her success in making pancakes this morning was any indication of the kind of day she would have with her daughter, she was sure it would be a good one. She wandered back upstairs, running her hands along the walls that still had blue and purple marker stains on them in some spots. As she walked through the hallway towards her shared room, she passed Monica’s room and couldn't help but smile. The girl’s room was what anybody would expect if they’d met her. A little messy, super colorful. She had her personality everywhere. A model of the solar system she had made when she was a little younger for a school project hung from the ceiling over her bed. A stuffed animal Carol had won for her at a carnival when she was a toddler, Maria had one to match that she secretly kept hidden in the drawer next to her bed still. She had drawings on blue construction paper all over her walls, mostly of her inventions (she called them her blueprints). The one picture that was on regular white paper had the word “Family” written on it. A crayon picture of Maria and Carol, with Monica in the middle. Carol’s heart skipped a beat seeing it. She was so lucky, she thought again. She passed the door and made her way to the end of the hall with a happy stride. The day had just begun and she was already doing better than she expected.

She stepped into the room and paused, her smile growing inward in an almost shy way. She was greeted with the scent and feel of Maria. She inhaled deeply, feeling a level of comfort roll through her body and pang in her chest. Mmm. Carol whispered to herself, almost embarrassed. But she couldn’t help it. She was everywhere. As much as they had kept Carol present in their lives, making sure she was alive and never erased from her fingerprint on the home, it had still been years since Carol had been gone so it made perfect, almost comforting sense to her that they had made it their own. They had to make it comfortable, they had to fill in the empty space. Just like Monica’s room, Maria’s was a perfect snapshot of her personality. It was well kept, everything had a place to be. If it ever did get messy, Carol was sure it didn’t last long. She looked over the room, noting the books next to the bed where Maria slept, all of them half read with bookmarks Monica had made her in them. She looked at the tray of jewelry sitting on the dresser, full of small dainty necklaces and a few pairs of stud earrings with different shapes, and a few pairs of hoops Maria would only wear if she was going out. She looked at the closet, one side open from this morning. All the clothes are organized by color, with a few boxes sitting on the top shelf. Even the bed they had slept in, it was already made perfectly to military standards with the edges tucked in perfectly - except for the top where Maria had extra pillows, all with light purple pillow cases contrasting the perfect white ones underneath.

She looked at the picture frames sitting on Maria’s perfectly organized desk as she walked over to it. On the left side was a picture of her and Monica at a park that had to be fairly recent, a picture of Maria standing outside the SWORD office smiling huge next to an older man in uniform, and a picture of Maria with her brother which must’ve been years old because Maria looked like she was in middle school maybe, making Carol reminisce about the girl she used to know. On the right side of the desk sat two pictures that didn’t face in all the way like the other two, as if they were put there intentionally but also intentionally not looked at as much. One, in a light purple frame, was Maria’s mother. Carol had never met the woman but had seen her face many times growing up in Maria’s father’s house. It was the same then, almost like the woman must have put the pictures of herself up and they didn’t have the heart to take them down, but they tried their best not to look. Next to that sat a framed picture of Carol and Maria smiling at the local bar they used to go to, their uniforms half undone and Carol’s hair out of regs with her aviators pushed back and a red bandana around her head. She remembers the bar more now, Pancho’s. She had been there with Fury and it jogged a lot of things for her, but she so badly wants to remember that day specifically. She runs her fingers close to it, but doesn’t dare to touch. She tries to remember the song they would sing together, all the lyrics. She can’t but she remembers how it felt to jump around for hours and then walk home, too drunk most times, bumping into each other and letting touches and looks linger a little too long, and then having to get up early the next day. She remembers that they would take turns walking each other to their barracks, sometimes daring to sleep in each other's rooms when they thought they might not get caught, always leaving one of them to sneak out in the morning. Carol laughs, thinking about how Maria was right last night, and how she was always better at leaving quietly than Carol.

When her eyes refocus on the photo, she can’t help but wonder how many times Maria had flipped the frame over, hiding the memory from herself. She wonders, just for a moment, if she would’ve been able to live through the grief she put her through. She would never know just how bad it was for Maria, she would never be able to see from her eyes what the woman went through or how she pulled herself out of bed every day and raised a child by herself, kept working, started SWORD. She wondered if Maria ever went back to that bar, or if she ever listened to the song again. She would never know how the woman truly felt in those years or what she did to keep herself busy, and she didn’t think she’d ever feel right asking. She wanted to think about the past few months, after everything. She wanted to think about how it must be even worse, in a way, knowing that Carol was out there saving other people while Monica grew up and Maria trudged on with no choice. She wanted to think about it but couldn’t, knowing what would happen if she let her mind attach to the thoughts and feelings. She gazed at the photo again and turned away, deciding that maybe she didn’t need to remember everything right now.

She walked over to the box they had pulled out last night for her and started going through some clothes, looking for something to change into. She realized that while she was in space, her suit did all the work for her - she never had to worry about pulling an outfit together. It did the heating, drying, cooling, protecting her from any number of threats - all while containing her powers in a comfortable way for her. So as she sorted through her belongings, she was now also coming to the realization that it also had built in underwear. She only had two pairs of regular underwear to her name and she was wearing one of them. She frantically sifted through the big box to no avail. She questioned why she would only have two pairs of underwear, rather than all of her undergarments or none of them at all. She guessed that the Air Force had something to do with it, remembering that they had packed everything up for Maria to come pick up instead of letting her do it. She cursed them under her breath, mad that once again Maria had something taken from her, deciding that she had no option but to wear the pair of boxer briefs she had found and figure it out later. She grabbed the boxers, an old band tee shirt and a pair of jeans and headed for the bathroom.

When she walks in the bathroom, she can hear Monica’s cartoons from the living room.

“I’m gonna bathe myself, Lt. Trouble! Come get me if you need anything, okay?”

She yells down. She waited to hear Monica’s response and when she didn’t she paused completely, silencing herself and the air around her, cartoons still playing. She could feel her heartbeat pick up its pace.

“Mon? Did you hear me?”

She shouts again, a bit louder, trying not to let on to her anxiety.

“Okay Mom!”

Monica yells back, mind focused on her shows. Carol exhaled deeply, relief flowing through her body. She chuckled at mom, gratitude buzzing through her whole body. She was still a mom to Monica and that meant more to her than she could ever explain. She added “go to therapy” on her mental to do list and started stripping.

Once all the layers were off, she chucked her socks in the pile she had made and stepped into the deep tub, pulling a purple shower cap over her hair and bending down to turn on the shower. She pulled the stop up before balancing out the water and heard the water make its way up the long pipe to the shower head slowly as she pulled the curtain closed around her. She immediately screeched, feeling freezing water run over her body. She had forgotten that Maria took cold showers in the morning to wake her up. She scrambled, trying to avoid as much of the frigid water as possible while she flipped up the hot water handle with her toes, jumping up and down, somehow not slipping. As the water began to warm and steam up, she found herself laughing. Out loud. She couldn’t stop. Captain Marvel was giggling like a child (Once again proving Maria right). She slid down and sat on her butt, pulling her knees into her chest and let the water run over her back. She eased into the warm feeling, still feeling laughter bubble up inside of her. She closed her eyes and remembered the last time she felt the shock of cold water all over her.

It was late, or maybe early. Carol felt herself getting tired, but she wanted to keep dancing. She wanted to keep singing. She wanted to keep seeing Maria, feeling her brush up against her while they danced and twirled in sloppy, drunken harmony, singing poorly to whatever song was playing. She didn’t want to go to work tomorrow just to test planes she would never get to fly outside of base. She didn’t want to sleep in her own bed, unless Maria was in it. She just wanted to keep living in this moment for as long as she could. She looked over at her equally drunk copart, dancing freely with her eyes closed. Maria rarely let loose like this, but when she did it was beautiful. She commanded the room, everyone tuning into her wavelength, feeling her all around them. She made everything beautiful, and when she was carefree, it was like no one on earth had a care in the world either.

Maria opened her eyes to see Carol looking at her and she smiled that toothy grin she had, making the heat from Carol’s chest rise to her face. She smiled back, pushing herself closer to the woman through the people dancing around them. The dark liquor they had both been drinking was coursing through them and burning off with every move, sending sparks through both of their bodies while they watched each other bop to the music. Carol made her way over and laughed, making some comment about how only they could make old white men’s music sound this good. Maria giggled in agreeance, grabbing Carol’s hand and twirling her around. She was tired too, but she was happy to have a break. They had both been working their asses off and both felt the same frustration with the position they were seemingly stuck in. They were making their way up in rank, one then the other, every time. But two facts always remained. They were both Black Women. So the Air Force didn’t give them much reign, despite the fact that they were statistically and literally the two best pilots the Air Force had ever seen and a lot of people knew it. Despite all their talent and gusto, they did their diligence day in and day out. So, when they got the chance to be free from the monotony, they took it, hand in hand, happily.

As Carol spun back into the woman’s arms with a heaving laugh, they both smiled at each other widely. Maria couldn’t look away, she felt stuck as her eyes moved down from her friend’s eyes to her lips. Carol surprised her by grabbing her other arm and spinning her just how she had done, and pulling her in with a dramatic dip. Everyone around them cheered, drunk too. They laughed with their bellies, feeling the song in their chests. Carol pulled Maria up slow, just as the exciting song ended. The next song started and it was slower, and most people around them coupled up, only some seeming annoyed as they made their way off the dance floor and back to the bar and stools. The two women looked around them, then at each other. They both shrugged with a small laugh, and Carol pulled Maria in to dance. She made some joke about being proper while she found her hands at Maria’s lower back, making the woman laugh as she made herself comfortable around Carol’s neck and shoulders. They laid their chins on eachother and swayed, letting the joke of it all dissipate into the air. It was moments like this that they relished in, secretly. Every now and then, they’d allow themselves a second to breathe each other in. Usually when they were drunk and their inhibitions were low. For both of them, it felt like everything melted away. Just like when they were younger and neither had been asked to the school dance, so they took each other. They shared one slow dance that night, making the excuse that it was tradition and neither should miss out on their first slow dance. They had wanted to dance together at prom, but they had both regrettably had dates for once. Maria had been asked by a boy from her science class, he played on the basketball team and told her she was pretty AND smart (wow, how romantic, Carol thought when she heard the story).

Carol hadn’t been asked but when she found out Maria said yes after being pressured by her father and not hearing Carol make a strong argument against it, Carol forced some kid from one of her classes to come with her. All four had danced that night, split into the ‘correct’ gendered pairs. Carol couldn’t keep her eyes off her bestfriend, and the feeling was mutual. During the final slow dance, they were all on the floor swaying in and out of rhythm with the song playing. Carol and Maria locked eyes and didn’t unlock them until the song was over. They had danced again during their first military ball, quietly in the back behind a pillar where no one could see them. It was unspoken but well understood. They didn’t talk about it after, they just went about their business. They always did. And they would again after tonight, carrying on like time didn’t stop when they touched like this. As the music played, Carol’s hand rubbed Maria’s back absent mindedly, while Maria rubbed small circles against Carol’s neck as they swayed, both in and out of daydreaming, both drunk and leaning a little too heavily on eachother. They both fought the urge to look up at each other, so they let their heavy heads rest on each other as they danced, feet in perfect timing with eachothers. This is what friends do, right? They were so comfortable with each other, it wasn’t weird to slow dance. Right? They almost stopped moving entirely, leaving just a small rocking between them as the music played through them, syncing their breaths. You feel so good, they both thought at the same time, almost forgetting that their freedom in this moment was due to the cognac surging through them.

When time started again and the song stopped, an upbeat one replacing it, they both lingered for a moment longer trying to hold onto the comfort they felt, and trying to collect their drunk selves. Over the sound of the music, the bartender announced last call and they looked at each other with a mischievous smirk.

“Last one to the bar pays for the shots!” They said in unison, falling gracefully back into their routine. They ran over, both making it there at the same time, so as always they paid for each other’s shots and continued jamming to the music and letting the ambiance of the bar carry them through the rest of the night. Everyone knew everyone, so they felt safe, which was nice. As they finished their last two shots each, they both felt the drunkenness take its strong hold on them and they decided this would be their last song. They grabbed the karaoke mics that no one else wanted and belted at the top of their lungs, horribly but everyone loved it. They jumped up and down, bursting at the seams with laughter and lyrics, dancing with whoever danced with them. Once the song ended, they grabbed each other’s hands and ran for the coat rack, bounding forward despite their lack of balance.

Pulling on their jackets, they stepped outside into the cooler air and took it in. Carol checked her watch and was astonished to see the time, despite the fact they everyone knew last call at Pancho’s meant it was 2am and the bar would be closing at 2:30. She looked over at Maria who was staring up at the sky.

“What’re you look-”

“Shh! Make a wish! Right now before you miss it!”

Maria rushed Carol, keeping her eyes closed and her hands clasped together like she was praying, maybe even begging. Carol smiled, knowing the shooting star that must’ve passed was already gone, but she chose to believe the energy would linger for Maria and her. She closed her eyes and spent no time trying to figure out what to wish for. She knew exactly what she wanted, what she needed. They both did. Carol kept her eyes closed after she was done, letting her body relax and fully feeling the disorientation of her drunkenness. She felt woozy, almost nauseous. Maria stared at her while her eyes were shut, allowing her body to relax at the sight. She felt her body move for her, without permission. She grabbed Carol’s hand, shocking the woman’s eyes open and started running without any explanation.

“What are you doing Rambeau? Where are we going?”

Carol asked, confused, dizzy and feeling a familiar spike of excitement rise in her. Maria was even more daring and much less prudent when she was intoxicated. She was taking her on an adventure and she was ready to go. She would follow the woman anywhere, drunk or not.

“You’ll see. Don’t you trust me, Danvers?”

Maria called behind her, laughing and out of breath the whole time but never stopping. Carol didn’t need to answer, they both knew the answer. They kept up laughing, thankful for all the PT they’d been forced to do by the United States military. They ran down quiet streets for a few minutes, until they made it to a dirt path with a bunch of trees, leading them off the main road. Maria looked back at Carol with an excited and sly smile. Carol pulled her hand back and made her face her.

“You’re not trying to serial killer me, right? Where are you taking me?”

She laughed, but meant the question.

“C’monnn.” Maria tugged, wanting to live in the moment while she could.

“Don’t you trust me?”

She asked again, looking in Carol’s eyes with a glint, but soft. Penetrating, Carol thought to herself. She knew she couldn’t say no, she never could. So, she smiled and signaled for Maria to keep taking her wherever she was.

“Lead the way.”

This made Maria smile excitedly, adding an extra skip in her step. They weren’t running this time but they were walking fast, Maria jumping around Carol who felt like she was in a movie or a trance, eyes never leaving Maria’s dancing body as they made their way down the dark path, leaving her feet to trust whatever path Maria made for her. Maria saw a clearing in the trees ahead of them and she started running again, creating too much space for Carol’s comfort. She snapped out of her trance and ran after the faster woman, feeling anxiety and frustration rise in her for a moment.

“What the hell, Rambeau? It’s dark out here! You can’t just run o-” Carol started while she wiped the sweat and dust off her face. When she opened her eyes, she saw Maria standing at the edge of a lake surrounded by thick brown sand and trees. Maria waved her over and the frustration fled Carol’s body faster than it arrived. She jogged up to Maria who was already undressing, making Carol choke when she saw glimpses of Maria’s dark skin that she didn’t usually see. I mean, sure, they’d seen eachother in bathing suits and naked before, when they were kids, but it had been a while. A long while. Carol had to force her mouth shut before Maria could see it hanging open.

“Cmon, hurry up! We gotta jump in before my better judgement takes over!”

Maria rushed as she pulled off her socks and yanked her pants the rest of the way down, pulling them over her ankles. Carol was still frozen watching her.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared Danvers? Cmon! It’ll help with the drunkenness and it’ll be a story to tell our kids!”

Maria exclaimed, pulling her shirt over her head. All the was left was her bra and perfect light purple underwear. Carol snapped out of it and laughed.

“HA! What the hell are you doing? Don’t tell me you’re about to-”

“Skinny dip? Yes the hell I am. And so are you. Hurry up!”

Maria finished her sentence as she grabbed her hand, pulling her over and pulling the bandana off her head and tossing it with her own clothes she had made a pile of. She started pulling at Carols shirt sleeves until Carol brushed her away, laughing but really just unable to let Maria help undress her. She was suddenly feeling very shy but as always, Maria was going to get what she wanted from Carol because that’s what Carol wanted. Maria looked at her with that So, are you gonna do it or not? look that Carol was usually giving her and waited for Carol’s face to break into a smile she couldn’t help.

“I can’t believe I’m about to do this with you. Don’t cry to me when you regret it tomorrow and have to blow your hair out in the morning!”

Carol said as she pulled her shirt over her head and exposed her own body, one that Maria wasn’t sure how to fully take in either as she fought back a smile at Carol’s comment. She thought about the last time she’d seen Carol completely naked, or at least as naked as she almost was standing there. They used to get dressed in front of each other all the time and they’d been in matching bathing suits a bunch of times growing up but it had been a while, since they weren’t rooming together in the barracks. She forced her stare away while Carol undid her pants and slid out of them, leaving only her boy shorts, a bra and socks. She kicked her socks off to match as Maria finished pulling the rest of her underwear off, and by the time they both turned around, they were stark naked in the middle of nowhere, right in front of each other.

The silence sat for a moment before they both laughed, the tension easing away like it always did. Maria grabbed Carol’s hand and ran for the water, looking back only to ask You ready? as her feet made their way into the moist sand, inching towards the cold water. Carol shot back As I’ll ever be before making her way in too. They both plunged forward, swimming out a bit but not too far. They both shot under the water and looked at eachother, grabbing hands again before popping back up. The water rolled off of them as they broke through the surface, blinking it from their eyes and feeling their hair. They laughed loudly, finding their bearings in the freezing water.

“Holy shit!” Carol swore, bobbing a bit as she figured out how to float again. Still laughing.

“More like Holy FUUUCK!” Maria shouted out with a laugh in her voice, lifting it into the trees around them. She couldn’t stop laughing, and she couldn’t stop shivering. Carol looked at her as she held her free hand that she was using to balance herself with as she floated out to Maria who happily took it in hopes it would help stabilize her as well.

“You’re a god damn maverick, Rambeau!” Carol laughed as she spun Maria around, swimming in circles trying to keep her blood pumping to warm them both up. Maria swam gracefully, still holding onto Carol’s hand. She was laughing but she was also quieter now. Carol questioned if it was the cold or if it was whatever made her jump into a freezing lake anyway. She pulled her back in and held her hand tight as she pulled her onto her back, pressing her front to her back and taking deep breaths trying to stay warm while still enjoying the fluidity of movement the water provided. They both felt like they were flying, finally.

“What’s going on in your head?” Carol asked as she swam in different directions for a little bit, back and forth as Maria clung to her back, clearly the drunker of the two now. The shock of the water had helped to sober them both up but Carol always had a higher tolerance to alcohol as it was. She was still drunk but not as drunk as her bestfriend, whos head was resting on top of Carol’s wet curls. She knew the humidity and however she planned to get sleep that night wouldn’t help with her process in the morning.

“I just want to fly. I just wanna feel free, you know?” Maria started, not exactly slurring her words but they weren’t as uniform with her natural cadence as they usually were. Carol nodded slightly with a Mhm to assure Maria that she was listening.

“I just… I just wish we could do whatever we wanted to do. I’m so tired of living by the same rules every day. I wish I could just fly into space and stay there, sometimes, you know?” Carol smiled at the thought of Maria being able to fly how she was meant to. High up, above the clouds. Away from everyone and everything that constantly tried to tie her feet to the ground. She did know, she felt the same way about herself.

“You’d leave me here on earth to deal with these bastards?” Carol asked, joking but also not. Maria half laughed, half hiccuped at the thought.

“Wherever I am, you are too. That’s how it’s always going to be, Danver’s. I fly, you fly. You fly, I fly. That’s never gonna change.” Maria said, meaning it. She was always more emotionally open when she was drunk and Carol almost felt bad listening to her, knowing she wouldn’t normally open up like this - especially naked, freezing, clinging to her best friends back with all her might and drunk in a lake they had no business being in. But she couldn’t help but revel in what the woman was saying. She felt the same.

“I know. I know. Come on, lets go home.” Maria wanted to put up a fight but she was shivering and suddenly very sleepy, so she let Carol swim them to shore. When they got out the water, the warm air offered some support in their drunken attempts to pull on their clothing over wet and suddenly sand covered bodies. They weren’t sure if they were putting on the right things but they knew it was covering their important parts and that’s what matters.

“Can we stay at look at the stars for a little bit?” Maria asked, even though she was the one in charge, whether she knew it or not. Carol knew it. She nodded, knowing it wasn’t a good idea but one she couldn’t deny the soft woman in front of her. She spread their jackets out on the beach for them to lay down and they both did just that, scotting their bodies close to each other instinctively. They peered up at the stars above them, seeing them clearly in the huge circle the trees made. It was perfect, they both thought. Some moments went by before Carol asked a question.

“What did you wish for earlier?”

“Shh. I can’t tell or it won't come true. It was something I’ve always wanted, so it has to come true.” She explained, sleep and bourbon clouding her voice.

“Mine too.” Carol whispered, her own eyes growing heavy. They held hands and both thought that the other woman must’ve wished for them to finally be able to do their jobs the right way, to be able to fly for real. Little did they both know they were wishing for the same thing. Each other.

They laid there, staring at the stars until they weren’t. Sleep came easy for them that night, as odd as it was. It got odder when they woke up, facing each other with only a nose length between their faces, feeling the warm sting of the sun in their eyes. They looked at eachother and started laughing until they heard the familiar sound of security keys dangling and a radio in the nearing distance. They knew it had to be the wannabe cops that patrolled the area and they knew it was their time to get the hell out of there. They ran back down the same path and back onto the main road until they made it to Pancho’s. They slowed to a casual pace after that, trying not to draw attention to themselves even though they had sand all over and their hair was nowhere near what it looked like the previous night. They walked, quietly, but happily together back to the barracks and passed out in Maria’s room. She wanted the comfort of her own space to ease through her impending hangover, but she needed the comfort of Carol’s arms too. Carol put up no fight, trying not to be too obvious that she wanted to be there too. Though she’d never tell, Maria positioned herself perfectly to be held and went right to sleep.

Carol stayed up until she fell asleep like she always did, making sure she was on her side in case she threw up or needed water. She watched as Maria slept, looking like she was floating again. She was so beautiful and Carol was so tired. She laid down and held the woman, her arms perfectly fitting into the space that was left, like it was made for her. They slept most of the day away and when Carol woke up, she set medicine next to Maria’s bed and snuck out, quieter than normal. She thought about what Maria had said when she was in the water as she walked back to her room to take care of her own hangover and messed up fro’. She promised herself that day that no matter where she flew, she would make sure Maria would be there too. Behind that promise, she knew that she would follow Maria to the end of the earth, even the end of the universe without a second thought. She tried to shake some self respect back into her own dreams, smiling despite herself and went to sleep. She dreamed of Maria, because Maria was her dream.

Carol’s day dreaming was interrupted by a cold surge through the shower head again, and the sound of the downstairs sink running before being cut off. Her super hearing alerted her to the sound of Monica filling a cup and going to sit back down. She buzzed under the cold water before it eased back into the warmth she had set for herself. She felt more fond of the cold now. She stood back up and washed her body, letting the water run over her face. The soap smelled like both Monica and Maria and she felt comfort knowing she would smell like them now, too. She finished up and got out, drying herself with her powers instead of making more laundry for herself with the towels she had been looking at the night before. She grabbed her clothes and located her underwear and bra from the pile.

When she grabbed the pair of boxers, she looked at the inside hem and saw “DANVERS” written in smudged black sharpie on the white tag. She laughed with an edge of old frustration, remembering how she had to do that because people kept stealing her underwear in the laundry room as a prank because her and Maria had ranked up before a few of the other men in their unit. Maria’s clothes never got stolen, but they didn’t refrain from trying to get to her in other ways. None of which she ever humored, but Carol knew it got to her a few times. Some of the guys had called them ‘lesbos’ a few times, and eventually it evolved into the d slur. Both pilots always had different comebacks that consistently left the immature weasels with little to say back. Carol knew both of those words well having heard them most of her life, and she had taught herself not to internalize it.

Maria, on the other hand, let the first one roll off her for the most part - but the second one sometimes picked at scabs she had long covered up. Scabs she wasn’t ready to look at yet. They both decided not to report the harassment because it would probably end up worse if they did, and eventually it died down. They both continued to rise in ranks slowly but surely, and finally Mar-Vell came and they felt some reprieve from the monotony they were used to. Carol shivered at the thought of what came after that, though.

She slid the rest of her clothes on and walked back into the bedroom. She put her dirty clothes in the laundry basket next to the closet for her to do later, and walked back over to the box of her things. She’d seen a bunch of stuff Monica had shown her the first time she came home, but she wanted to know what was in the other boxes Maria had kept. She went through the bottom of the box that had her clothes in it not finding anything she hadn’t already seen, and then pulled open the other one they had left out. She presumed this is one Maria hadn’t shown Monica as it had light dust on it when she opened it.

She sifted through, halfway hoping to find another pair of underwear, but instead she found a bunch of papers and trinkets. Some necklaces and a silver chain bracelet, wristbands from carnivals and bars they had been to together, a pair of dice from a board game they had stolen from a store one time when they were younger and had kept as they grew up. She ran her hands over everything, trying to take in as much of her former self as she could like she always did when she had the chance. She fumbled at the bottom of the box and pulled out a bunch of papers, some folded, some grocery lists with toiletries and snacks crossed off here and there, some half done crossword puzzles that Carol was never good at, and a few opened envelopes. She sat the rest down and looked over each envelope with care.

Some had cards in them, birthday and christmas cards, one from valentines day. All of them had silly characters or jokes on the front. They had made a good habit of buying each other cheesy cards for every holiday they could think of, Carol strained to remember as she read through them. She rubbed her finger over Maria’s perfect signature, wondering if she kept the ones Carol had gotten her, too. She filed through the papers curiously, flipping through piece after piece of paper that held a small snapshot of moments in her life. Mundane, ordinary moments. She cherished them, and she was grateful to both Maria for keeping them and herself for never being organized and keeping all this stuff that most people would’ve eventually thrown away or allowed themselves to misplace over time. Her eyes fixed on a thicker envelope. She grabbed it, reading the red script labeled across the front.

To: Danvers

From: Rambeau ♡

Carol smiled at the little heart Maria had drawn next to her last name. She opened the letter, finding another heart on the back of the envelope where it was once sealed. Carol reads over the letter, feeling emotion and memory rise up in her chest, spreading through her whole body. The letter is dated, of course because Maria is ever punctual. It was from when they had been stationed at two separate bases for the first few months. It was agony for both of them, being in two separate states. Carol had sent Maria a letter when she first arrived, thinking she would be the first one to write. She was shocked, however, to find a letter waiting for her when she arrived at the post office on base. She had opened it the second she got back to her barracks room. It was an envelope inside an envelope, the outer one having had their full names and ranks and official military postage, the second one having the cute little hearts Maria drew perfectly when she wrote. Again, she was softer than most people expected her to be.

The letter expressed pretty much exactly what Carol had in hers, which came to no surprise to either of them when they both read what the other had sent. They were always on the same wavelength. They both had so much more they needed to say, but they were so grateful to hold something physical that the other had taken time to write for the other. Maria asked how Carol was doing, explained what had been going on with her, and complained about the men on base per usual. Just as if they were together in person.

As Carol read through it, she laughed, probably how she had the first time, at a lot of the letter. Towards the end though, she felt a tight ball of heat sitting in her chest restricting her breathing. She almost couldn’t read through what was left of the letter. Was she embarrassed?

“Anyways, I hope you’re still kicking ass. I KNOW you are, that always came easy to you.

I hope we can call soon, hopefully without being interrupted by the other idiots needing to use the phone every single time you do. I can’t believe there's only four on your base and only two that actually work (what happened to ‘The Air Force’s finest?’). You’d think with all the money the military has.. You know. I know it’s hard for both of us to find the time right now but I just really miss you, Carol. I miss shitty karaoke a lot, I can’t do it with these clowns here without you. Friday nights just aren’t the same haha. I miss renting the same movies every weekend and staying up all night eating too much. I even watched Fame the other day without you. I still hate it but it was nice, I just wish you were here to act out all the scenes. And I’ll deny it if you ever tell anybody, but I even miss your shitty cooking (burn this after reading), and not just because it makes it easier for me to be the better cook, but just because it’s you. I never used to hate writing letters but I do now, because it reminds me how far they have to travel to get to you. I hate that we’re not together, we’ve always been together. And as much as I act like I know what I’m doing, sometimes I feel lost without you here. And I know we’ve been pretending everything is the same but it isn’t, at least not for me. I wish we had more time to talk before you left. I wish we had more time in general. Damn the Air Force. Regardless, I just want you to know that I love you. And I’m so proud of you. I always am.

It’ll all be better soon. I believe that, just like you always do. We’ll be up in the air in no time. I’ll meet you up there. I’ll be the one whipping by you. Catch up if you can.

Take good care of yourself, because I’m not there to do it for you.

You’re the best damn pilot in the Air Force (second only to me, of course), and don’t let anyone convince you otherwise! Call me when you get the chance. And hurry up and write back!

Always,

Rambeau.

Ps. Things wont always be this way. Don’t forget that. And don’t forget that round of shots you owe me, either, goofball.”

Carol felt the heat of a blush running to her cheeks. She was thankful for her dark complexion hiding it, although no one was there to see her anyways. Why did she feel so giddy, and also… embarrassed? She felt like she was reading someone’s diary, even though the letter was clearly addressed to her and she had already read it. Years ago. She scanned over the text again, regarding Maria’s perfect handwriting. She felt like she was reading a love letter. Maybe it was, but she was too anxious to entertain the thought too much. She wasn’t exactly sure what that would mean, and she wasn’t sure if this year's old letter still even meant anything other than friendship.

Maria had been tight lipped about a lot of stuff, even though she pretended like she wasn’t. Her and Monica always answered Carol’s questions openly, happily for the most part unless it was about the ‘missing period’. They all tried to avoid that subject now, as time had gone by, but they all also knew that it would come up naturally sometimes and it couldn’t be left unanswered all the time. Aside from that, to the untrained eye, it seemed like Maria was willing to give up any bit of information that would help get them all back to how they used to be or at least help figure out what life looked like moving forward. But Carol knew better, she had a very well trained eye for Maria Rambeau, it was second nature for her - with or without the gaps in her memory. There had been a few moments, just brief enough to almost miss, since Carol came back the first time with Fury and even more recently on some of her visits, when the unshakeable Maria had gotten flustered or nervous, where the heat currently in Carol’s cheeks had been in hers. When her heart threatened to beat so hard it would leap from her chest. Granted, she hid it well but again, Carol could always see through her. She seldom was at a loss for words or made quick, messy cover ups in conversation. Usually the people around them didn’t even notice. Monica didn’t even catch it, or at least didn’t acknowledge it. It happened once or twice when Carol and Maria were alone, too. Carol knew things like that only happened when Maria felt unsure, or when she really didn’t want to talk about something. Anyone who had ever met Maria knew she was as straightforward as they come, so that’s what made Carol pay extra attention when she was avoiding something.

The thoughts of romance danced around Carol’s brain tauntingly, aching for her to pull them forward and examine them. But knowing how Maria was, and knowing that she only got that way when she was purposefully avoiding something, Carol settled on a quiet feeling of rejection instead - against her better judgment. She let it swell through her, enflaming the previous feelings of embarrassment right along with it. She put the letter away, resigning that she should just be thankful to have a friend who cares for her so much and that she wouldn’t allow herself to think anything else. She did this often, rejected herself before other people could to avoid the stinging feeling of embarrassment or disappointment her parents and the people she grew up with often supplied her with.

Maria never made her feel that way, and maybe that's why she would accept this quiet, self imposed feeling now instead of facing it in person with the other woman. She couldn’t risk ruining something she had just gotten back, anyways. Right? Right, she forced herself to agree in her head. She decided to go find Monica and clear her head of the letter. As she walked out, she glanced at the picture of Maria and the child again and sighed softly, letting a small smile of gratitude cover her face. This could be enough for her, if she would let it be.

Monia was sitting on the couch still, no longer paying any mind to the tv playing in the background. She was eagerly reading through the huge phone book they usually had sitting on the coffee table, bracing it against her bended knees as she flipped through the yellow pages quickly.

“What’re you looking for, Lt. Trouble?”

“Someone who sells the parts I need for my next invention! What letter do you think that would be under?”

Carol laughs, deciding to humor the girl.

“Hmm, you know I’m not sure. Have you tried under sales? Or maybe…a junkyard?”

“I could try the junkyard! I didn’t try that yet!”

“Maybe I can get you a hook up from Fury, orrrr maybe your mom knows someone at her job? What’re you even looking for?”

“I already asked her last week! She said she would check but I think she was just saying that. Here’s my list.”

Monica handed Carol a surprisingly long list, with a few things checked off that Carol assumed were already laying around the house. She wondered if Maria knew that these things had been checked off, which gave her a good chuckle. She set the list down and turned to Monica.

“Okay, I think I can get you some of these but the bigger things are definitely gonna need some work. Maybe we can roll down to the junkyard this week?”

“YES! And no take-backsies!”

“Wouldn’t dare. How about you come help me handle the laundry and dishes and then we can head outside?”

“Deal. I think you might need help figuring out the detergent set up Ma’ has anyways. She’s very particular.”

Monica explains, leaping up into action and grabbing Carol’s hand to pull her along.

Monica was right, Maria had a very elaborate and strict laundry system. The two of them likely didn’t get it exactly right but they did their best to pay attention to details neither of them really cared about but knew Maria did, wanting not only to please and respect Maria, but also wanting to avoid what she would have to say about it if they got it wrong or chose to ignore it. Carol tried to use her powered speed and agility to help make the process move quicker, but it only hindered the experience. She noted that the chance to move slowly and be mindful was probably why Maria seemed to enjoy the routine of laundry and such. It probably helped calm her down and help her be present after long days working to protect the whole world, while still having to be a full time mom to a rather rambunctious child, on top of whatever anxiety Carol added throughout her week. She smiled and decided to try and match the attentiveness. Her and Monica spent a while switching between loading and unloading, doing the dishes left over from dinner last night and breakfast - eventually returning to sort and fold the clean clothes and linens. It smelled lovely in the laundry room, reminding both of them of Maria. It comforted them in a way only she could.

Once they finished with the inside chores, they decided to mix and match to-do lists. Monica needed to catch some frogs just as much as Carol needed to mow the lawn, she insisted. Carol agreed to help her catch some frogs if she would agree to help her patch up some of the paint that Maria had been avoiding doing. They shook on it, running off into the field that would be mowed down later in the day. They went at it excitedly, jumping around in the tall grass and dirt, painting not so gracefully and splattering white paint on each other by “accident”.

By the time they finished the side of the house and Monica had caught, released and named at least eight frogs that she swore were all different despite being nearly identical, they had both created more laundry to do and were both definitely in need of a bath but neither minded in the slightest. Even once they were done, they chased each other around tirelessly until Monica was hiccupping and giggling at the same time. Carol marveled at Monica’s intrinsic wonder and love at the world around her. In her Hero heart, watching it solidified her sense of duty to protect the galaxy, making sure nothing and no one could ever bring harm to the world her daughter so loved. But in her Carol heart, it made her giddy too. Almost envious in a way. She missed the days when she could roll around in a yard and only worry about trying not to crush too many bugs. Now she had to worry about whether someone was going to crush a planet or not. She often longed for a childhood she never really had, and sometimes even the one she did have when she could piece it together. She knew it wasn’t a good one, but she had Maria. She just had Maria. And now Monica does too, and god was she glad about it.

Carol picked the younger girl up and flew her to the front porch in a flash, something Maria would swear she didn’t approve of as she fought back her own giggles. Monica shouted with pure glee as her feet landed back on the wood she knew well. They zipped in the house and ran to the kitchen, ready for lunch. Monica decided she would handle making it, promising Carol the best turkey and cheese sandwich she would ever have. Or at least better than she could make herself.

“Mayo or mustard Mama?”

Carol beamed a grin across her face, feeling a familiar hot blush swipe across her at the word mama but she tried to play it cool.

“I want whatever you’re having, Trouble!”

Carol responded happily, only after registering the fact that she hated mustard and hoped that Monica did too. She watched as the girl ran through the kitchen, leaving a small mess across different surfaces. She whipped up the two sandwiches like she did it very often, and sat two plates down in front of Carol with a big toothy smile.

“Wa-La! The Trouble special!”

She exclaimed, nudging the sandwich to Carol and taking a big bite out of her own, leaving a smudge of mayo on the inner side of her finger. Thank god, Carol laughed to herself. Before she could remind the girl to make sure she cleaned up, Monica was already stacking up her ingredients and propping open the fridge with her foot. This made the woman smile, knowing she had probably heard one too many times from Maria about cleaning up after herself.

“Take a bite!” Monica mumbled, chewing down another bite herself and gesturing to Carol with her hands. Carol bit into the sandwich and began mimicking the fancy chefs they would watch on tv together.

“Mmm! Magnificent work yet again, Chef Rambeau!”

Monica smiled before straightening her face and standing up straight before taking a bow, nearly dropping her own sandwich. They both laughed and enjoyed their sandwiches, Carol deciding to sneak Monica a coke in thanks for making the best sandwich she’d ever had, saying "this ones on me” and promising to tell Maria she drank them if she asks. Once they both finished and decided that Monica won the burping contest, they decided to tackle the lawn and climb the tree. Monica ran back outside like she had all the energy in the world, and Carol followed behind at a much slower pace as if she didn’t literally have all the energy in the world.

They took turns pushing the mower up and down the huge yard in different directions, trying to make different drawings with the pattern it created. Carol figured Maria wouldn’t mind much. Once they finished, both sweating under the direct heat of the sun, they were both happy to have some reprieve when they made their way over to the trees. Carol laid down in the grass underneath the biggest tree, grateful for the shade it provided.

She breathed deep, taking in the soft wind that was blowing. It wasn’t as humid as she had expected, another thing she was grateful for. Monica plopped herself next to her, pulling up her tee shirt sleeves to match Carol’s rolled up sleeves. She poked at the tan line appearing where the shirt sat for most of the day. Carol pointed to her own, kind of happy to have a tan to her brown skin again. She spent a lot of time in her suit, so it always felt nice to have regular clothes on. She thought about how the sun on earth felt so different than on other planets, who all had different sources of heat and light. She looked over at Monica, who was now laying down too, watching a lady bug crawl through her hands. She was brighter than the sun, Carol thought, before she pushed her sunglasses up her forehead to tangle in her fro’ again.

“So, you’re gonna conquer the big one today, huh?”

“Absolutely. Mom always gets nervous so she told me to wait until you came home again. The whole super power thing and stuff.”

Monica rolled her eyes and continued looking at the lady bug with curiosity.

“Well, she kinda has a point kiddo. Let’s do it.”

Monica jumped to her feet, pausing only to gently place the lady back in the grass and hopped over to the foot of the tree. She walked around it, looking for the perfect place to start. She found her footing and called Carol over to spot her from behind.

“Alright, pay attention and be careful. Let me know if you get stuck, okay?”

“Gotcha gotcha. If I get stuck, will you fly up to me?”

Monica asked while climbing up the first couple inches, hoisting herself up to find a sturdy hand hold between two branches and bracing her legs against either side.

“We’ll see.”

Carol watched intently, squinting her eyes against the sun and smiling with her teeth, hands ready to catch Monica. The girl climbed up a few feet and held on tight.

“So, this is how far I got last time with Mom. I just have to streeetchhhhh over to the next branch.”

“You got this, just pretend your arms are made of elastic and reach.”

Monica tried a few times to stretch over with no success, before deciding to just leap as far as she could to connect her hands. Carol’s heart nearly jumped out her chest, not even realizing her own feet had ended up off the ground, floating next to the girl who had successfully made the jump. She smiled at her mom, ignoring the small scratches on her forearms that were starting to bleed just a little bit.

“Jesu- Good job, Trouble! Just maybe tell me next time?”

“We’ll see.”

Monica shot back with that same toothy grin her mother has. She made her way up the rest of the tree and sat on the highest branch she felt comfortable with, kicking her feet with pride. Carol decided to climb the tree next, doing it with ease to meet Monica on the branch. She sat on the one next to it, as to not add too much weight.

“Why didn’t you just fly or float or something?”

“That would be cheating! Plus, I wanna be as cool as you are. I wish I had a camera so we could show your mom!”

“I’ll just have to do it again!”

“Sounds like a plan, kiddo.”

Carol laughed, squeezing Monica’s cheek just a bit before letting her climb on her shoulders to fly back down and head to the house to clean up.

After washing up, they decided to play some video games for a bit until it was time to start setting up for dinner. They had about two hours until Maria got home and they both wanted to at least be started on food when she arrived. Monica pulled out all her favorites and told Carol to pick which one to play first. They took turns picking after the first few rounds of operation, shutes and ladders, and jenga - all of which Monica won.

Carol insisted on playing something she had a fighting chance at, so they grabbed the deck of cards from the coffee table and played Go Fish. Carol won the first round, but Monica won the last three. Finally, admitting full defeat, Carol asked if they had anymore games. Monica grabbed two more from where they kept them, splaying them on the table. Carol’s eyes caught something familiar, pulling it to herself without a thought. She stared at the worn box and tried to remember. Monica watched, offering an explanation just as Carol was finding one of her own.

“Mom says she always used to beat you at this. She wouldn’t play it with me for a while but one day she brought it out after dinner and taught me. She beat me too the first two times, but I beat her after that. You wanna play?”

Carol wasn’t sure if she was biting back a smile, a laugh, or tears. She nodded and let Monica set the board up. Monica read the instructions out loud just in case Carol didn’t remember it, which Carol wasn’t sure if she did. She decided to just play and see what sticks. Monica handed her the light blue piece without asking, and Carol saw that it had her initials written on it. She watched as Monica sorted through the colors, passing over the purple one that had M.R written on it. She felt a tug in her heart as she watched Monica choose the red one that had a small, barely legible M.R on it too. She watched as Monica pulled out cards and then a set of white and black dice. Carol stood up abruptly, leaving Monica no time to question it.

“Hang on, there’s two pieces missing. I’ll go grab them.”

Carol ran upstairs almost embarrassingly fast and b-lined for the box she had looked through earlier. She grabbed the two colorful die she had left there earlier and headed back downstairs, feeling a mixture of excitement and belonging, along with a deeper, quieter sense of yearning.

Her and Monica played several rounds, Monica winning the first one until Carol remembered all her strategies from all the times she had beat Maria’s ass at the game. Carol agreed to another game, rolling the dice first since she lost the last round. She rolled doubles, and took her turn. While Monica was doing her lucky roll ritual of blowing on the dice and kissing her small hands, Carol felt herself slipping into a memory she had long displaced. She let herself remember slowly, recalling the reason the dice had even been separated from the game board in the first place.

“You take the board, I’ll take the dice. That way, we both have a piece, neither of us can play, and then no one else gets the chance to whoop your ass. That’s reserved for my talents.”

Carol laughed, but she was being serious. She was desperate to hold onto anything that could be just for them. Something she could carry in her pocket shamelessly, that no one would understand if they saw. They might think she had a gambling addiction or something, no one would suspect she was trying to hold onto any remnants she could of the woman she loved in her everyday life. She watched as Maria chuckled, probably formulating a sarcastic comeback, Carol assumed with a smirk. Maria never just accepted defeat, that's why they had played the game so many times.

“Sounds good to me, Danvers. I wouldn’t let anybody else win, anyway.”

Maria quipped back, knowing she never actually let the other woman win but she couldn’t resist making her think about the possibility. She, too, was happy to keep as many tangible reminders of what they had with her. They both had been fighting with themselves for their friendship to be enough, that having that ripped away from them sent them both reeling. She rubbed her finger over the ripped up pricing sticker on the back of the box waiting for Carol to respond.

“Yeah, OKAY. Like hell you let me win. No one loses that many times, THAT bad and is just letting-”

Maria wrapped her arms around the other woman, letting the box and a few pieces fall out on her bed. She held on tight and fought against sniffling. She wouldn’t let herself let it go. Let her go. She felt Carol choke on the words she didn’t get to finish and relax her body into the embrace. It was almost too relaxed. Neither wanted to admit they were fighting back tears that might never stop flowing if they let them start.

Carol didn’t mind being cut off, she was just finding words to string together anyway. There really wasn’t time for small talk but what else were they supposed to do? Leave it up to Maria to figure it out. To do the thing no one else would. To make the move everyone was afraid to - the one Carol was afraid too. Most people thought Carol was the fearless one just based off her usual demeanor and what people saw her do. Little did they know that she had never been more terrified than in this moment. Not knowing when they’d be able to play the game again. Not knowing when they would be able to touch like this again. Not knowing anything other than that they were afraid and loved each other so deeply.

They sat like that for longer than they both figured they should’ve, but neither felt any regret or shame in the moments as they piled up. They both ignored the awkward angle they were in, they both ignored the sounds outside the barracks room, they both ignored the clock as it ticked cruelly forward. They sank into each other, both laying their chins on the other's shoulder, letting the sides of their faces touch. It was close enough to look over and kiss. Neither dared to let the thought get too loud, choosing to let the contact be enough. It always had to be just enough, between them.

They didn’t say much after that, just small hums and sniffles here and there as they rocked slowly trying to find any sort of comfort they could. They laid down after a while, and before Maria could protest through her tears, Carol promised she would get up early enough to make it back to her room before the bus left the base. They laid there, quietly fighting sleep, wrapped as close together as they could be. Maria kept her face down and her forehead on Carol’s chest, Carol kept her arm under Maria’s neck and pulled her as close as she could with the other. Eventually she reached for Maria’s hand, this time it was her turn to do the thing that they both needed someone to do. Maria eventually cried herself to sleep, and Carol stayed up just rocking her softly until the sun came up.

When she stood up to leave, grabbing her bags and smoothing a hand over her braid, Maria turned over to take her in. She tried to glare at her, but it softened itself against her will into a sad smile.

“Don’t you dare leave without saying goodbye, Danvers.”

They both felt a warm tear or two tear itself across their cheeks. Carol tried her best to match the smile Maria was bravely offering her but it came off even weaker. She walked over and kissed the woman on the forehead before turning to leave, afraid that if she stayed even a minute longer she would never leave. Thoughts of going AWOL floated through her head for the billionth time since she had gotten her orders four days ago. She fought them off with as much strength as she could muster and took another step into the door frame.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

She felt the glare of a rising sun sear into her eyes and she stepped through the threshold, choosing not to look back at the woman on the bed she had just left. Maria wondered if she would’ve looked back either, as she let herself curl into herself and let out the sobs she was fighting back before. She silenced them as best as she could and stayed that way until she had to get up, leaving her no choice but to pull herself together into something that resembled the woman she was just a few days before.

Carol stood outside the door, trying hard not to listen for Maria for a moment before forcing her feet forward. Step after step, more tears fell from her as she grit her teeth to fight back the screams sitting in her chest. She, too, had to be put together in the next few minutes and it seemed the most impossible task. It almost was.

“Ma’? It’s your turn.”

Carol shook her head, only then registering the wetness in her eyes. She picked up the dice and rolled them, trying to refocus on the game infront of her. She shouted when she rolled doubles again, meaning she got to go twice now.

“Looks like I still got it, afterall!”

“Yeah.. sure. Let’s ignore that I beat you all the other times.”

Monica laughed out, observing the change in her mother.

“I was just letting you win!”

Carol laughed, mostly to herself, as she moved the blue piece across the board.

“That’s what mom always says. I don’t believe her and I definitely don’t believe you!”

Monica shot back playfully. This made them both laugh, knowing it was true. Some things don’t change.

They kept playing a few turns until Monica finally decided to ask the question she had been formulating the whole game so far.

“What were you thinking about?”

“What do you mean?”

“Just now, after you took your first turn. It seemed like you weren’t really here for a little bit.”

Monica, just like her mother, ever to the point. Carol hesitated before choosing to just answer truthfully.

“Sometimes, when I’m home with you guys or even when I’m out there in space.. If I touch something, or smell something or someone says a certain somethin’... I remember stuff. Sometimes its just a quick second in my mind, sometimes its like flashbacks. I have a lot of rememberin’ to do, so sometimes I get stuck trying to see it clearly.”

Monica stared at the woman in front of her with understanding eyes. She waited a moment before responding.

“That makes sense, you know. I heard on TV that amnesia can make it take a while to get all your memories back.”

Carol shifted in her seat at the word amnesia, because it was so medical. She never actually did get checked out by a doctor on earth, trying to avoid a conversation about why she was super charged 24/7. She didn’t want to draw attention to her family but she had heard the word being tossed around by Fury and Maria a few times. She nodded at Monica, motioning for the girl to take her turn as they talked. Monica continued.

“Ya’know… I like when you remember stuff. Sometimes I get sad thinking you don’t know all the stuff I do. But then I just remember that it's still in there somewhere. There’s a lot of good stuff waiting for you.”

The girl smiled reassuringly, finishing her turn and deciding to pat Carol’s hand softly just like her mom does to her when she’s upset by something.

“You’re pretty smart, you know that?”

“Of course I know that. I’m actually a genius, but that’s all just semantics.”

“You got me there, kiddo.”

Carol said while rolling the dice again and moving her pieces. She might actually win this round.

“If you ever have any questions about stuff, you can just ask me. Mommy doesn’t always tell you or me everything, but I remember. Sometimes I think I know more than both of you combined.”

Monica smirked, looking over the board calculating precisely how to take Carol out now that she had her where she wanted her. She took her turn calmly, trying not to alert Carol to her master plan. Carol watched mindlessly as the girls piece glided across the board. Maybe she wouldn’t win this round, actually.

“That would be nice, Mon. Thanks. You can ask me stuff too. Also, just spare me and take me out now!”

Carol smirked back, knowing she would have to roll doubles again to beat the red piece.

“It’s no fun if you just give up!”

Carol decided to do Monica’s good luck trick this time, blowing on each die separately and then kissing her hands when she brought them together. She tossed them on the board aimlessly, trying not to focus on the numbers so she didn’t jinx it. They both watched as both die rolled a 3.

“No way!”

“Haha! Maybe your lucky trick does work!”

Carol laughed as she moved her piece past Monica’s and into the goal. Finally, a win. She stood up and did a goofy dance around the table like Monica had done before her when she was winning. They both started the giggles again, deciding it was probably time to start cleaning up and getting everything ready for dinner.

As they sorted through the cabinets together, Monica standing on the counter despite what her mother would say, Monica began telling Carol stories to see if she could help jog her memory since Carol hadn’t asked any questions yet. She ran through her baby years, her toddler years - especially her ‘troublesome two’s’ as Maria calls them, and everything up until when Carol went missing. They both chose not to talk about why there was such a gap in time. Carol listened quietly, laughing here and there when the story almost always resulted in some hilarious mishap on Carol and Monica’s part. Monica felt successful as she could see her mom piecing things together while they attempted to boil noodles and mix together pasta sauce on the stove. They both tried to keep it from getting messy, not wanting to add any stress to Maria’s plate when she got home.

Monica told as many stories as she could while Carol took them in happily, filing some away to focus on later when she could fully process them. They were all happy moments, usually funny. It was nice to know that life was good before the accident. Finally, when they started grating the cheese together, Monica decided she would ask some questions now since she had told so many stories. She had a lot she wanted to know too.

“Here, you do this one and I’ll do this one. Just be careful with the grater, it can get tricky towards the end.”

Carol motioned to Monica as she walked over to the table with a bowl to put the cheese in when they were done. Carol picked up some cheese and got to work, being mindful herself. Just because cuts healed up quickly for her didn’t mean they didn’t sting when she got them. She knew this well, especially being in a kitchen. Monica started grating too, trying to perfectly time her question. She had been through the boxes upstairs too, always making sure to leave them how she found them so she didn’t tip her mother off. She never understood why she kept them private from her like she didn’t already know about most of the stuff in there.

“So, why don’t you and mom kiss anymore?”

Carol’s hand skidded to a stop, a choke coming up her throat that ended in a cough she could barely get out. She stood there stunned for a moment, unsure if she had heard the girl correctly. She didn’t notice the small cut on the side of her finger from the edge of the grater yet.

“W-what?”

“Why don’t you and mommy kiss anymore? I don’t know why she keeps all that stuff in the boxes upstairs a secret like I didn’t always see you guys. It was normal when you guys acted normal, now it’s weird seeing you two act different. Did you guys get into a fight or something?”

Carol was still too stunned to speak, standing over the more than half grated cheese that was now no good to use since her finger was bleeding a bit more. Monica looked up at her and noticed the blood, then stared at her with those same curious eyes, only now a touch of concern in them. Carol could feel the stare so she forced herself to shake her head again, clearing her throat in the process.

“I, um, I don’t really know what you’re talking about I don’t think.”

“Right. Here, your blood is ruining the cheese.”

Monica handed her a towel. Carol looked down and finally noticed all the blood. It wasn’t a crazy amount but definitely enough to have ruined the cheese. She wrapped the towel around it and walked to the sink, rinsing it off with cool water while she felt like she was in a daze. She started thinking about the letter Maria had sent her again. She read through the words in her head again, over and over while the water stung her finger. She could hear Monica in the back cleaning up her mess and she felt bad. She felt bad for ruining a part of dinner per usual, but also for reacting this way. And for not actually having an answer. She couldn’t have been sure before this but now she could.

Maybe? Maybe Monica meant cheek kissing or forehead kisses. Maybe her child mind was more innocent than Carol’s confused one. She turned the water off and looked in the junk drawer for some bandaids. She pulled out a pink barbie one and wrapped it tight over her new cut. It would probably be gone in a few hours but she wanted the security of the bandaid in the moment. For some reason, she felt shaken up again. Her face felt hot and her chest felt tight. She turned back to Monica who was finishing up her grating now, adding it into the bowl. As Carol walked back over to grab it to put with the rest of the food, she was searching for something to say in response that actually made sense. Before she could get anything out, Monica chimed in again.

“I’m sorry I asked, I wasn’t sure if it would make you feel funny. But please don’t tell mom I was snooping. I just wanted to see as much of you as I could. But she’ll be upset with me if you tell, I think.”

“Don’t worry about it, Trouble. Secrets safe with me.”

Carol said, smiling weakly at the girl. Monica did feel bad, but she also kind of knew this would be the reaction Carol would have. It only confirmed one of her theories, that Carol didn’t remember that her and Maria were in a relationship. She was almost tempted to say something else when they both heard the sound of Maria’s car pull in the long drive way. They looked at each other and nodded quickly. Monica started cleaning off the table while Carol started making plates. Finally, something her super speed could help with. She made all three plates and set them on the table right as Maria opened the front door. Monica ran over to her, hugging her tightly as she hung her bag on the rack near the door. She hugged back, running her hand softly over the girls forehead with a smile.

“Smells good in here. Did Monica cook?” Maria laughed, kicking off her work shoes and slipping on the sandals she wore around the house.

“Haha, very funny!”

Carol shouted from the kitchen where she was borderline having a panic attack, trying to figure out how to act normal enough to get through the rest of the night with Monica’s question looming over her head.

“Nope, I only helped! Mama Carol did most of the work. I made lunch though. Mom said it was the best sandwich she’d ever had anywhere in all the galaxies!”

Monica exclaimed, only half telling the truth, as she nearly dragged Maria to the kitchen table.

“I said something like that, yes.”

Carol laughed, her mouth forming into a smile when her eyes met Maria’s.

Maria smiled back before quickly looking around the kitchen, half expecting to see a new scorch mark somewhere.

“It looks… the same as I left it, in here, minus a few dirty dishes. I’m impressed, Danvers.”

Maria smirked, walking to the sink to wash her hands before sitting down and letting Monica get in her lap. She was certainly growing, she barely fit between the table and Maria anymore but she always made it work.

“How was your day?”

Monica asked her mother, once again kicking her feet excitedly, being back in the presence of Maria. It meant a lot to Maria that she still got excited to see her. She hoped it would last through puberty.

“Ya’know, same ol’ same ol’. Protecting the world from aliens, which oddly enough usually is just a bunch of paperwork no one else reads or signs. So, pretty successful I guess.”

Maria laughed, pulling Monica’s cheek in for a small peck.

“I’m more interested in how YA’LL’S day went. The lawn looks… great, by the way.”

Before Carol could chime in, which she wasn’t going to being that she was staring at Maria’s toned arms the entire time she’d been in the room, Monia answered for them both.

“It was AWESOME! We caught so many frogs, I named one after you, and then I finally climbed up the whole tree!”

Maria chuckled, noting the small scrapes on her daughter but not worrying. It wasn’t a normal day if Monica didn’t get at least one scrape or bruise from her exploring.

“Well, I’m flattered. Did you get any help from a certain superhero, by any chance?”

“Nope, she did it all on her own. Much faster than I did, too.”

Carol answered while shooting her hands up like finger guns, shooting a wink to Monica who delighted at the remark.

Maria looked at the pink Barbie bandaid on the woman’s finger and half laughed half frowned.

“Seems like no one made it out without a few cuts today, huh?”

Carol looked down at her hand, almost embarrassed. She laughed.

“She got that from grating cheese, not climbing the tree!”

Monica answered, once again saving Carol from trying to find words.

“Why am I not surprised? Well anyways, thank you both for doing such a good job with the chores today. Looks like you both really earned that extra tv time tonight.”

Maria winked at them both before letting Monica scoot off her leg and back into her own chair, ready to eat.

“Thank god, I’m so hungry. I forgot to pack lunch last night so all I had today was a bunch of coffee and some nasty as- mm, some gross altoids my secretary had.”

“Sheesh. I hope it actually tastes like food this time then! Oop, I forgot the forks.” Carol said, about to get up and grab them. Monica beat her to it and ran over to the counter, leaving the two women with a moment or two to take each other in. They both held back a sigh, and just smiled at each other. The eye contact felt too much for both of them, for the same and different reasons.

Monica returned and they broke their shared gaze, both feeling a mixture of missing it and thankful that it was over. Monica handed everyone a fork she had picked specifically for them and they all ate, swapping stories of their days back and forth. Maria laughed feeling relieved hearing how well the day went, she was hoping she would still have a house to come back between Monica and Carol. As they were all finishing their meals, Maria noticed the stack of games left out on the coffee table.

“Make sure you put those up, Mon’.” She said softly, taking a sip of some iced tea.

“I will. Also, guess who won the most games tonight? Guess, guess!”

Carol shook her head with a laugh.

“Hmm, if I was gonna take a wild guess… You?!”

Maria smiled widely, pointing at her daughter playfully.

“You betcha’! I whooped Mama Carol’s butt like eighty billion times at all the games. Even the one you taught me that she was supposed to be super good at, even with the new fancy dice! She only won that one three times, and the last one was just pure luck cause’ I almost had it!”

Carol and Monica laughed together, and suddenly Maria’s eyes unfocused. The laughter in the background melted into one sound, and everything else started to go quiet. She thought about the dice. The colors on the dots. Where she had left them sitting, in the box, in her room. She thought about why they were in Carol’s belongings and not her own. Then she thought about everything else that was in the box with them. She only came to when Monica and Carol’s laughing slowed down, reminding her that it would seem weird if she didn’t respond in the next second or two.

“Well, it looks like the mighty do fall sometimes. I used to let her win that game every time we played it.”

Maria half heartedly laughed with a smirk, almost instantly regretting bringing up the past. Carol looked down at her almost empty plate for a moment before fixing her own face to shoot back something well timed and sarcastic enough to play off the shudder that sentence sent through her spine.

“Hmm, crazy cause when it comes to everyone else in the world, meaning you, I’m still the world champion. Monica just had that lucky dice trick.”

Before Maria could even laugh, Monica jumped in.

“Hey! It’s not just the lucky dice, I just also happen to be the smartest person in the whole wide stinkin’ world too!”

“You make a good point.”

Carol and Maria said in unison, both with an adoring laugh. All three looked at each other and broke out laughing, feeling thankful for the lack of awkwardness that probably would’ve left in the air if it wasn’t so funny.

After that, everyone finished and avoided the different subjects on everyone’s minds happily. Carol cleaned up the plates, grazing by Maria’s arm while she walked to the sink. Monica pulled Maria over to the couch with her while Carol washed the dishes, quickly putting away all the games they had left out and positioning herself on the couch while Maria flipped through the channels for her. She had sat right in the middle, leaving just enough space for either woman on both sides of her. She really did live up to that nickname sometimes, both mother’s thought. When Carol made her way over, they were just settling on a show to watch.

“Remember, you get 10 extra minutes.”

“Does that have to count commercials? Can we pause the timer when they come on? Pleeeeeaasssshhhhh.”

Monica pretended to beg to both women who laughed.

“We’ll see what we can do. Time starts now, though.”

Maria answered her. Monica turned towards the tv and leaned back, wanting to take in every minute she had. She normally would get about an episode and a half in during her nighttime tv, maybe two if her mom dozed off in between. She was sure she was going to get at least two this time, since Maria looked sleepy. She didn’t account for Carol’s super powers making her have a longer stamina, but she figured she wouldn’t snitch. She looked up at her as they watched and she shot her down a wink in return, solidifying their silent agreement. As long as it was still summertime, Carol didn’t have an issue with it. Of course, she wouldn’t go against Maria, though, unless of course she fell asleep. Which she usually did.

The three sat through an episode, choosing not to count the commercials in their internal timers, and started the second one. A few minutes in, Monica had positioned herself with her head and back on Carol’s lap, with her legs and feet on Maria’s. She watched the show quietly, not noticing herself dozing off. Once the second episode was over, she was fast asleep, nearly drooling on Carol. Both women laughed quietly at the sight. Maria reaches for the remote to turn off the tv while Carol effortlessly lifts Monica up and begins to walk her to her room. As she walks away, Maria fights the idea of Carol lifting her that way and carrying her to bed. She shakes her head and stands up to go to the fridge.

When Carol makes her way back downstairs after carefully tucking the young girl in, she’s greeted with Maria passing her a beer and a bottle opener.

“Not sure if you still need to use these, but c’mon.”

Carol doesn’t need it but she chooses to use it anyway. She follows Maria without question through the front door and onto the porch. The sun is down now and it’s not quite as warm as it was the night before.

“God, I’ve been waiting for this all day.”

Maria says, taking a long swig from the cold bottle. She sits down on the steps and leans back on her elbows, beer still laced between her fingers. She looks like she’s relaxing but Carol wonders if she is. She stands against one of the posts for a moment, opening her beer, before sitting down next to the woman but not too close. She hopes she’s the only one who can feel the tension in the air. It’s different than last time she was home.

“Long day, I take it?”

“Always.”

Maria sighs with a short laugh, taking another sip.

“But that’s the job. I’m sure you get it.”

Maria finishes, not sure if what she said sounded shady or not. It wasn’t meant to be. Or maybe it was, but it wasn’t coming from the part of her she was trying to show up as it. It was coming from the part she was burying inside of her.

“I do, but I also don’t. You have a lot to handle all the time. I’m happy I… can help, I guess.”

Carol wasn’t sure if that last part was a question or not. They both almost flinched at the word help. Carol was more than just a friend who liked to help. She was a parent and neither wanted her to take that away from herself just because of how long she had been away. Both decided not to say anything in the moment, though. They both just sipped their beers and looked out in front of them, gazing up and out at the world around them. Somehow, it felt bigger now that they were both on it together.

Maria thought about the box again, trying to keep it from her mind to no avail. She also thought about Carol’s skin grazing against hers in the kitchen earlier. She wondered if their contact would be minimal. Despite the late night and early morning they had shared, they hadn’t really touched or even been this close since. The first night never counted, that was their unspoken rule since the second time Carol had been home.

She was exhausted when she arrived, fighting to stay awake long enough to talk to both Rambeaus’ even though she wanted to so badly. It had been a particularly grueling mission and she had flown directly back to Earth after the conflict was over, not taking a break. So, when Maria offered to watch some TV with her on the couch, she sank quickly into the cushions. Before they knew it, they had woken up to the sun coming through the living room windows, curled into each other. Neither thought it was weird then, so why was it weird now?

Carol thought about the box too, rereading the words from the letter in her mind again. Thinking about the pictures on Maria’s desk. Then she thought about the dream she had, with everyone sitting on the porch. She was so deep into replaying it that she almost jumped when a frog hopped by, startling both women from their respective day dreams.

“I think that’s the one Monica named after you.”

Carol laughed, remembering the day she had fondly.

“I’m flattered.”

Maria laughed back, the laugh jumping up her throat. It’s like she needed to laugh, after a long day of dealing with domestic and intergalactic bullshit, along with the mark Carol was burning into her brain.

It started to go quiet again until Carol spoke up, feeling the bubbles from the beer in her brain even if it wasn’t going to get her tipsy.

“You know, I dream about sitting on this porch a lot.” “Yeah?”

Maria asks, not looking at Carol.

“Yeah. With you and Mon. There’s always a shit ton of bubbles everywhere and it’s always a really nice day. I have that dream a lot. Except for when I’m actually here.”

Carol explained, partly relieved to share it with Maria. She leaned back, taking a sip before setting the beer down on the step next to her. She waited to see if Maria would answer, unsure if she wanted her to.

Maria sat with a small smile, unsure if she would be able to keep herself composed through the moment. She dreams about home.

“You know, when you first came back with your powers, I wondered if you still even needed to sleep.”

“Ha, you know I had the same thought when I realized I wasn’t actually half Kree. On the planet, I slept but I never felt tired. I only started to feel regular human things when I came back here. It was nice to feel sleepy again. It made rest feel satisfying, instead of just kind of necessary.”

Maria looked over at Carol, daring to meet eyes if she looked over too. She wanted to run a hand over the woman's thigh, comfort her for all the things she was sure were running through her mind. She wanted to reach out, pull her into her chest, and hold her there like a child. She wanted to rip all the pain of being conditioned and having to fight to undo it from her, stop it out on the ground and set it on fire for her. With a regular match, not fire from her hands even though sometimes she was convinced she could produce some magic power from her own hands too if she let herself feel enough. She hadn’t realized she had been staring and hadn’t responded until Carol finally turned to look at her.

“I’m okay, you know. You don’t have to look at me like I’m gonna burst into flames any second. I’m okay, I feel normal being here.”

Carol smiled reassuringly, almost shyly.

“I know, I just hate those bastards.”

Maria sighed, letting her shoulders fall as she looked down at the space between them.

“I feel you. But, you know, someone once told me hate takes up too much room.”

Maria’s heart skipped a beat. Of course Carol would remember one of her wiser parables now, when all she wanted to do was be angry for her. It was usually the other way around, but despite her usual craziness, Carol always had a way of saying the right thing at the right time, even if she didn’t mean to. A superpowered space warrior was right two times a day, it seemed. She let herself laugh, but it came out rougher than she had expected.

Carol reached over instinctively to grab her hand, squeezing it tight. That’s the second time. Maria thought, wondering if Carol was counting the times they touched too. She felt a dangerous warmth push its way to her chest. She would blame it on the beer like she always did but she couldn’t. Why was she on the verge of tears?

“Hey.” Carol whispered, trying to look at the woman’s face. She tried to smile, squeezing her hand again. This time, Maria squeezed back before pulling it away and picking her empty beer bottle up.

“I think I’m gonna take a shower, long day, you know. If you wanna borrow some pajamas again, feel free to grab some from my dresser.”

Carol sat still for a moment, wondering if she had gone too far. Normally conversations like this would flow with ease and mutual fluidity. They would hang on each other’s every word until the inevitable came when the sun rose. Maria would wake Monica up to say goodbye, they’d share a cup or two of coffee and by the time the sun was almost at it’s peak, Carol would be long in the distance, no longer even in the atmosphere. So now, having more time than normal, she hoped she hadn’t over stepped. As Maria closed in on the door, only half a step before entering, Carol turned around to look at her.

“Where do you want me to sleep?”

Maria paused, not sure what to say. How did she communicate that she would rather pull her own hair out strand by strand than lay in her bed alone, without Carol Danvers, for another night? How did she explain that she didn’t want to sleep, she was tired in a way only Carol’s skin and fingers and mouth could heal her of? How did she communicate that this was her house too, and she could sleep wherever the fuck she wanted - on the roof if she pleased - as long as Maria could be next to her, without saying any of that?

“Wherever you feel comfortable.” She turned and smiled as best as she could before letting the screen door close behind her, trying to keep a normal pace as she made her way to the bathroom.

Carol sat on the steps for a few more minutes, giving Maria time to get her things for her shower ready and giving herself time to ponder what she should do. Should she sleep on the couch? Should she tell Maria that there’s no where in the universe more comfortable to her than next to her? Should she pretend she didn’t read the letter and see the pictures and hear what Monica said earlier? Should she just sleep on the god damn couch? Having not made up her mind yet, she wandered upstairs and pulled out an old teeshirt from one of the boxes she had been in earlier. She shivered when she looked at the box with the letter in it. She forced herself to focus, shuffling through to find anything appropriate to wear and pulled out some old PT shorts. They were certainly going to be shorter on her now than they were then, given she had put on some much needed muscle in certain areas but they’d have to do.

She felt too embarrassed to go through Maria’s drawer, wear her clothes and then awkwardly make her way to the couch downstairs, only to have to face her in the morning when breakfast time came. She didn’t feel right marking Maria’s belongings, even if they were just a bunch of holiday themed pajamas that she didn’t wear that often anyways.

Carol decided to change as quickly as she could, and wait to say goodnight to Maria when she came in. She figured she should probably sleep on the couch, suddenly feeling very much like a guest who didn’t want to overstay their welcome. She switched out of her bottoms and underwear, jumping into the shorts she had found. They were snug but not uncomfortable. She took her shirt off quickly and as she began pulling her sports bra over her head, Maria walked in.

Shit.

They both thought in unison. Thankfully, Carol’s back was to the door, so she pulled on the t shirt she found quickly while scolding herself for not paying attention enough to hear Maria coming down the hall.

“S-sorry! I didn’t know you were in here yet. Didn’t see anything.”

Maria assured, despite the fact that she was still staring at Carol’s once bare back while the woman folded up her clothes in a hurry. To Carol’s surprise, when she turned around, all she saw was Maria’s naked shoulders, moisturized perfectly, with a purple towel wrapped around her. She turned back around almost quicker than Maria could register. It was Carol’s turn to stutter.

“Oh shit, s-sorry! I didn’t see anything either! I didn’t hear you coming!”

Maria accidentally laughed.

“Don’t you have super hearing?”

“Shut up! It only works when you pay attention to it! I thought you were still in the shower. I’m surprised you were so fast, Lt. Trouble told me you use all the hot water.”

Carol quipped back confidently, although she was still turned around and suddenly felt very warm.

“Oh, Trouble indeed. What else did she tell you?”

“A bunch.”

Carol responded with a smirk in her voice. She sounded like a middle schooler, again reminding Maria how alike her and Monica were.

“I’m sure. You can turn around now, if you want.”

Carol turned to see Maria smoothing a big white shirt over her belly button, quickly covering up the top of her thighs that were barely covered by the blue boy shorts she was wearing underneath. Carol stared down at the clothes in her hands trying not to seem as anxious as she was. She bent down to pick up the black pair of underwear and a sock she had dropped when she heard Maria chuckle.

“HA! What the hell are you wearing? Are those PT shorts? And does your underwear say Danvers? You still do that?”

She was practically giggling at this point, a sound that sprung butterflies up in Carol’s stomach. It also taunted her, leaving her no choice but to rebuttal.

“Listen man! I’m working with what I got! And no, I don’t still write my name in my underwear. I got these from the box of my old clothes.”

Carol quipped, but found herself almost giggling too. She would’ve found it funny if Maria had on PT shorts from bootcamp too.

“Whew. That is hilarious, Danvers.”

Maria breathes out, barely recovering from her fit of laughter at Carol’s expense.

“Oh yeah, I’m flattered!”

She rolled her eyes playfully at Maria. They both sat down on the bed trying to collect themselves, both feeling lighter than before by a small margin.

After a few moments, Maria broke the impending silence before it could secure itself between them.

“Seems like you an Mon’ had a good day. Hopefully she didn’t give you too much trouble for one day.”

“Nah, it wasn’t too bad at all. She did whoop my ass in pretty much every game you guys own though.”

Carol smiled to herself. Maria fought hard to avoid bringing up the board game and the dice again. She quickly found a new topic to latch onto.

“You know, I must say, you also really did a great job not burning the place down with all that cooking you were doing. Are the aliens teaching you how to handle a kitchen or have you been practicing?”

She laughs, almost forced but she was actually impressed.

“Mmm. Id say it was pure dumb luck, but I’m gonna try to replicate it tomorrow.”

Carol chuckles, not knowing that the mention of tomorrow was sending Maria’s heart into a frenzy. Silence weasled it’s way back between them for a few moments, although Carol didn’t pick up on it as much this time. It wasn’t until Maria broke it again that she realized it was her turn to figure out how to not let it freeze the warm air between them.

“So, there’s a tomorrow?”

Maria asked timidly, not wanting to latch too tightly onto the idea that Carol might be staying for longer than coffee in the morning.

“Uh, yeah. I’ll be here tomorrow. I wanna try my hand at making waffles this time.”

Carol tries to cut the returned tension she felt.

“I was thinking about working on my old car in the garage too, if that’s okay with you of course.”

“Yeah, of course. You know you don’t have to ask. This is your house, too. And it’s literally your car.”

Your house, too. Carol reached into the pocket of the pants she had on earlier, pulling out two colorful dice. She rolled them around in her hand for a second.

“Yeah?”

She said, turning to finally face the woman sitting once again a bit too far away from her. The feeling of being a guest in her own home no longer sat in her chest. She allowed her eyes to make their way up Maria’s frame before meeting her eyes. Carol felt her hand move towards the woman, who was now looking down at one of the die in her non moving hand. Maria was almost terrified to meet her gaze, breath caught in her throat. Carol felt their hands connect, dropping the other die in her hand before closing her fingers around Maria’s. The woman next to her squeezed tight, almost too tight even for the superhero.

Maria finally met Carol’s eyes with her own, finally releasing her breath, allowing her chest to move.

“Yeah.”

She said softly, almost too soft to hear but just enough for Carol. They both looked like they might burst into tears, both of them having to break eye contact but refusing to release each other from their grip. Third time, Maria counted in her blurring mind. She suddenly felt like all she could hear was her own heartbeat and Carol’s breath. They were close again, it was all she needed. She needed to feel Carol’s skin, know she was real. Know she wouldn’t let go.

Carol struggling against her own breath, finally let the desperation sitting inside of her take control.

“What’re we doing, ‘Ri?”

She asked, in almost a whisper. She heard Maria’s breath get choked in her throat, just like she had earlier in the kitchen with Monica. She was still worried that she might have pushed too far too fast, but she needed something. Anything Maria could give her. An answer, a rejection, anything. She couldn’t sit still in the stifled confusion much longer, she feared she might actually implode. She waited, listening to Maria’s breathing. In and out, in and out. Like she was trying to quietly catch her breath. She heard her heart beat, it matched her own. Like they could beat out of their chests and find the other heart. Like they needed to be pressed together. So, Carol did just that. Finally listening to what her body was telling her. Hoping it wouldn’t be the wrong thing.

Just as Maria tried to whisper I don’t know, she let go of Maria’s hand and pulled her in, chest to chest, nestling her face in Maria’s shoulder. Maria whimpered, almost in shock. It took her almost 10 seconds to return the embrace, finally crushing into Carol the way she needed to. She knelt her face in the warmth of Carol’s neck, creating a tsunami in Carol from the graze of her lips against the side of her neck alone. They made themselves impossibly close, quieting the sounds of the world and honing in on each other’s heart beats. They took in each other’s scent, filling their lungs with the air surrounding each other. They let their hair tickle each other, finding comfort in the familiar feeling of Blackness around them. They rocked into each other to a rhythm that was so natural it almost felt like part of breathing. Finally, Maria let it drop.

A single tear rolled down Carol’s shoulder, sliding down as far as it could carry itself. Maria choked back what was sure to be her own tsunami.

“Mar-”

“I miss you. -- I miss you I m-iss you I miss you.”

She whispered with a drawn out sob. It was so quiet, it felt tragic to them both.

Carol was silent, letting the woman release whatever she was ready to, feeling her chest heave with the impatience to relieve itself from the pent up emotions. She felt the woman in her arms shake softly, trying to fight back anything she convinced herself was a weakness. She had things to do, a person to be, a child to raise. She couldn’t let the grief get her again. But it was always there, maybe even more now in some ways. She hadn’t let this happen in so long, and the weight of pretending had pushed her to the edge of herself. She was the strongest woman in the world, and it was because she was soft.

Carol struggled against her own tears, trying not to let them come so that she wouldn’t center her own pain in the moment. They were both too similar for their own good. She listened to Maria’s body pull the words up her throat and out her mouth, betraying her as they saved her from the pit she kept forcing herself into.

“I miss you ss-so much.” She repeated several times over. Like it was the only language she spoke. Eventually, she stopped, letting her fingers relax from gripping into Carol’s skin as tight as she could. She leaned into Carol more, feeling the weight of her body’s exhaustion mix with that of her mind. Carol let her, holding her firm but gentle. She lifted the woman up just as effortlessly as she did Monica, and carried her to her side of the bed, never moving her face from her shoulder. She laid her and herself down, sliding easily over top of her until she was on her side, careful not to put any weight on Maria’s body. She pulled the cover over them, that being the only time her hand left Maria’s body. She cradled the soft woman, giving her all of herself. She rocked her gently, counting her heart beats.

As Maria’s breath finally got slower and deeper, she knew she would be asleep soon. Maria didn’t want to sleep but she needed it. Carol needed it to. They stuck to each other like glue, once again paying no mind to the heat stuck between them. Carol whispered back, finally.

“I miss you too.”

She felt Maria squeeze her tighter, then release and finally relax her body all the way.

No more sniffles, no more sounds, just the weightless feeling of being together. It was easy again, for the moment. Carol rubbed her thumb lightly over Maria’s back, comforting them both enough to rest. She let the thoughts she had been fighting release from the walls of her mind, daring to look at them. She thought about the night in the lake, laying in the sand. She thought about the night before she left for a new base, with no idea when they’d be together again. She thought about the first time she came home, the gentle uncertainty between them melting away like it always did - no matter how much still needed to be figured out. She wasn’t sure how much progress had been made, but she knew that this is where she needed to be. As she finally let herself drift off to sleep, knowing that Maria was alright enough now, she knew she wouldn’t dream. She released herself to the peace of belonging, only to be startled one more time.

“Don’t you even think about leaving until you finish that car.”

Maria commanded, even in her softest state. Carol smiled, feeling even more in place now.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

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jkseducationconsultant · 4 months ago

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How Education Consultancy Can Change Your Educational Experience:

It is and can be exciting as well as overwhelming undertaking an academic project. In today’s world, there are several opportunities concerning the schools and colleges to attend and the career to choose, so the accurate decision is vital. That is why it is possible to speak about the role of education consultancy in students’ lives. Education consultants are independent professionals who offer individual advice to the students and their parents on the education system. Here’s how an education consultancy can actually reshape your academic experience and help you get on the right track.

1. Getting You the Help You Specifically Need

It is important to understand that there are never two students alike. Its components are different in terms of abilities, preferences, and goals. Education consultants work on an individual basis according to one’s profile as the firms are into educational consultancy only. They dedicate the much needed time to know your academic qualifications, professional aspirations, and other personal features that can be of influence in the final decision. Education consulting is a personal approach to coaching, enabling you to receive recommendations and advice that will fit your circumstances, when it comes to choosing a school or university.

2. Perception of Structures and Programs of Establishment

Deciding the many educational systems, be it local or international, can be very daunting a task. Education consultants do have vast information and details about the type of curricula that is followed, how to get admission in a certain institution and other details about an institution. They are useful for gaining an idea of various systems of education, allowing you to know what is expected of you and what you need to do to achieve it. This wise information has the effect of minimizing confusion when making the decisions.

3. Streamlined Application Process

The procedure of application for the school, college, and Universities is often complicated and may take a lot of time. It occurs in various formats, is time-bound and can also entail high-risk elements such as writing of essays and interviews. Education consultants make it easier for you to go through each of these steps in order to arrive at the best decision. They help with filling in the application forms, guide on writing the right and profound essays, besides, they give the best practice for interviews, and overall, they ensure that a candidate presents the best aspects of him or her self, alongside making sure that one has met all the deadlines that are important.

4. Strategic Career Planning

Casting one’s educational path is one of the critical determinants of one’s career prospects in the future. This is due to the fact that education consultants assist students to match up their educational pursuits with reciprocated career paths. They provide information about different fields, career prospects, and opportunities, which assist you in making good decisions on your studies. This way, instead of ending up in a job that you hate or are unsuitable for but due to searching haphazardly you have to take, you will be setting yourself up for a beautiful career that you do well.

5. Hypothesis 1 Delights predicted the following: Encounters with delights decreases stress and increases self-confidence

Education is one of the necessities in life that entails people and their families to undergo immense and sometimes pressuring research when choosing on institutions to apply to. Advisors are always there to encourage and calm the clients during the entire process. This relieves so much pressure as one is assured of getting assistance from people of knowledge and wisdom, enabling one to study and also to be happy. As a result, you may feel much more confident about the process when they are on your side.

6. Privileges which involve being an affiliate to a certain group of people or organization.

Since education consultants are professionals working directly in the field, most of the time they have access to some ‘tools and tricks of the trade’ that are unknown to most people. This consists of information regarding other obscure scholarships, grants and programs which are special. They can also connect you and recommend you to opportunities that lead you to great internships, extra curricular activities, and networking, which complement learning.

7. Information on Scholarship and Loans

The process of financial aid may sound easy but in real life, people have a hard time trying to comprehend and apply for it. Education consultants advise on scholarships, grants and other forms of possible funding policies and procedures. They assist you as you navigate the monetary aspects of your learning in a bid to have affordable and easy schooling. Through their support, you would have exhausted all the available options for funding.

8. Guidance on International Education

So with this, listed below are some guidelines that might come handy for any student who is thinking of and is planning to study international education: These are professionals who have knowledge in the foreign schools and can help you select the appropriate country as well as the appropriate school, explain to you on matters to do with visa and also help you deal with the schooling system in the new country. Its help contributes to an easier and more comfortable transition to further education in other countries.

9. Long-Term Impact on Academic and Career Success

Thus, education consultancy’s positive effects are also not only about short-term academic choices. Qualitative education consulting entails offering individuals a chance to be directed well into the future so that they find themselves in the right positions for the long haul. Besides, their support helps not only improve the educational process and student’s experience, but also become the basis for further successful actions and goals of accomplishment.

In conclusion

The education consultancy service has been shown to play a crucial role in the academic achievement of one’s education goal. Education consultants offer you advice, knowledge, and all-embracing assistance to guide you on the path of education and career in the shortest time with fewer risks and hitches. Education consultancy implies the great promise for the successful future for all patrons and investors. Whether you are selecting a school, or in the process of enrolling in the right college or university, or even looking at the kind of career you choose, jks group of education consultant can be the determining factor of a great education.

#EducationConsultancy #AcademicGuidance #StudentSuccess #college #CareerPlanning #jksgroup

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leyahealth · 7 months ago

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Simplifying Healthcare: How Leya Health Ease the Stress of Finding Comprehensive Coverage

In today's fast-paced world, one of the most pressing concerns for individuals and families alike is access to comprehensive healthcare coverage. With rising healthcare costs, complex insurance policies, and an ever-expanding array of options to navigate, many people find themselves overwhelmed and stressed out when it comes to securing the coverage they need.

Enter Leya Health, a revolutionary platform that is transforming the way people approach healthcare enrollment. By leveraging cutting-edge technology and a commitment to simplifying the process, Leya Health aims to make finding comprehensive health coverage easier, more transparent, and less stressful for everyone involved.

So, what sets Leya Health apart from traditional healthcare enrollment methods? Here are a few key benefits:

1. **Streamlined Enrollment Process**: Say goodbye to endless paperwork and confusing forms. Leya Health offers a streamlined enrollment process that can be completed entirely online, from the comfort of your own home. With intuitive interfaces and user-friendly tools, navigating the enrollment process has never been easier.

2. **Personalized Recommendations**: Rather than sifting through countless insurance plans on your own, Leya Health uses advanced algorithms to analyze your unique needs and preferences, providing personalized recommendations tailored to your specific circumstances. Whether you're looking for basic coverage or comprehensive benefits, Leya Health ensures that you find the plan that's right for you.

3. **Transparent Pricing**: With Leya Health, what you see is what you get. No hidden fees, no surprise charges – just transparent pricing that allows you to make informed decisions about your healthcare coverage. By providing clear and concise information about each plan's costs and benefits, Leya Health empowers you to choose the coverage that fits your budget and lifestyle.

4. **Expert Support**: Need assistance navigating the enrollment process or understanding your coverage options? Leya Health offers expert support every step of the way. Whether you have questions about deductibles, copayments, or network providers, our team of knowledgeable professionals is here to help you make sense of it all.

5. **Comprehensive Coverage Options**: From preventive care to specialist services, Leya Health partners with leading insurance providers to offer a wide range of coverage options to suit your needs. Whether you're in search of individual coverage, family plans, or group benefits for your business, Leya Health has you covered.

In a world where healthcare can often feel like a daunting and overwhelming maze, Leya Health provides a beacon of hope and reassurance. By simplifying the enrollment process, offering personalized recommendations, and providing expert support every step of the way, Leya Health makes it easier than ever to find comprehensive health coverage that gives you peace of mind.

So why stress out over healthcare enrollment when Leya Health can make it easier? Take the first step towards a healthier, happier future – visit Leya Health today and experience the difference for yourself. Your health and well-being deserve nothing less.

Leya Health

Office: 786-418-8336

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#dental insurance #health and wellness #health insurance #vision insurance #health tips #health care #health wealth happiness #dental #insurance

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sandeepsrk007 · 8 months ago

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Navigating Safety: Personal Tracking Devices in the UAE

In today's fast-paced world, safety and security are paramount concerns for individuals and families alike. Whether you're a parent keeping tabs on your child's whereabouts or a traveler exploring the bustling streets of the UAE, personal tracking devices offer peace of mind and reassurance in knowing that help is just a click away. In this blog, we'll explore the importance of personal tracking devices uae, their benefits, and how they can enhance safety in various aspects of life.

Understanding Personal Tracking Devices

Personal tracking devices, also known as GPS trackers or location trackers, are compact devices equipped with GPS technology that allow real-time monitoring of an individual's location. These devices come in various forms, including wearable gadgets, smartphone apps, and vehicle tracking systems, offering versatility and flexibility to cater to different needs and preferences.

Ensuring Safety in the UAE

In a dynamic and vibrant city like the UAE, personal safety is a top priority for residents and visitors alike. Whether you're navigating busy streets, exploring new neighborhoods, or simply going about your daily routine, personal tracking devices provide an added layer of security by enabling quick and accurate location tracking in case of emergencies or unforeseen circumstances.

Benefits of Personal Tracking Devices

1. Real-Time Location Monitoring:

Personal tracking devices offer real-time location tracking, allowing users to pinpoint the exact whereabouts of their loved ones or assets at any given time. Whether it's tracking a child on their way home from school or monitoring the location of a valuable asset, such as a car or a pet, users can stay informed and in control with just a few clicks.

2. SOS Alerts and Emergency Response:

Many personal tracking devices come equipped with SOS buttons or panic alarms that can be activated in case of emergencies. With just the press of a button, users can send distress signals to predefined contacts or emergency response teams, enabling swift assistance and ensuring timely intervention in critical situations.

3. Geofencing and Boundary Alerts:

Geofencing features allow users to set up virtual boundaries or safe zones on a map and receive alerts when the tracked device enters or exits these predefined areas. This functionality is particularly useful for parents monitoring their children's whereabouts or businesses tracking the movement of valuable assets within designated areas.

4. Peace of Mind for Families and Caregivers:

For families with elderly members or individuals with special needs, personal tracking devices offer peace of mind and reassurance in knowing that their loved ones can be located quickly and easily in case they wander off or require assistance. These devices provide an added layer of security, allowing caregivers to monitor their loved ones' safety remotely.

5. Enhanced Security for Travelers:

Travelers exploring the UAE can benefit from personal tracking devices to enhance their security and peace of mind. Whether it's keeping track of luggage during transit, ensuring the safety of valuables in unfamiliar surroundings, or providing an extra layer of security when venturing into remote areas, personal tracking devices offer travelers added confidence and reassurance on their journeys.

Conclusion

In conclusion, personal tracking devices play a crucial role in enhancing safety and security in various aspects of life, including everyday routines, family dynamics, and travel experiences in the UAE. With their real-time location tracking, SOS alerts, geofencing capabilities, and peace of mind for families and caregivers, these devices offer invaluable benefits and peace of mind in today's fast-paced world. Whether you're a parent, a caregiver, a traveler, or simply someone concerned about personal safety, investing in a personal tracking device is a proactive step towards ensuring your well-being and security in the UAE and beyond.

#school bus tracking software dubai #personal tracking devices uae #securepath premium

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zen-garden-gnome · 3 years ago

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Long post about whiteness

I’m seeing a lot of false-start questions based on a narrow understanding of whiteness. Whiteness (and recovery from whiteness) can be tricky to unpack because it has a lot of layers that have been added over the years. So you’ll run into a layer and may be tempted to stop there, but it goes deeper.

1) Racial identity was a vague belief before it was officially named, but it’s not as old as many think it is. Prior to European Expansionism, travelers and merchants and militaries alike have generally referred to people based on their place of origin or their language. The idea of vaguely lumping hundreds of ethnicities together based on a handful of physical attributes started to kick up when Portugal began capturing and enslaving huge numbers of sub-Saharan Africans in the mid-1400s. As slave traders and “explorers” brought shiploads of captured, multi-ethnic Africans to Portuguese auction blocks to be traded all over Europe, what set these enslaved people apart from anyone else there (including other enslaved people) was a) the fact that they were to some degree darker than the Portuguese despite displaying a wide range of skin tones, b) were from Africa at the time, and c) were enslaved. When Christian militant and royal biographer Gomes de Zurara was hired in 1453 to write about the life and “accomplishments” of Portugal’s most famous slave trader, Infante Henrique aka Prince Henry the Navigator, he officiated, in writing, the idea that all these newly enslaved people were their own class of people with no differentiation between them. Here, race is a burgeoning social narrative invented to praise European slave traders, and this racial concept is defined in relation to slavery, African origins, and skin tone. Racial concepts appeared in tandem with racist concepts, because races began to be envisioned in order to excuse the abuse of others. The ideas of whiteness and blackness were birthed simultaneously, specifically around slavery, and they became deeply entrenched beliefs before they were ever officially named.

2. “Negro” became the first major racial term before “white” was widely used, binding the development of racial concepts even more securely with the practice of European slavery. In fact, race and racism became encoded in colonial-American law in 1640, when African servant John Punch ran away from his European buyers along with two European servants. He was eventually recaptured, as were his Dutch and Scottish companions. However, the colonial judicial system sentenced Punch to a lifetime of slavery, while the two Europeans had an extra year added to their initial servitude. This marks the first record of a Euro/American legal precedence for lifetime sentencing of enslavement based openly on race. John Punch’s African lineage and the other servants’ European lineage were the differences between their sentencing. Here, European origin was what freed a person from being of the “negro race” and therefore severely reduced one’s likelihood to enslavement. It was also the requirement for incoming settlers who wanted to be able to buy land. Only white people were allowed to develop inter-generational wealth, at a time when this continent was being carved up by land speculators for massive profits.

3. The concept of whiteness was officially named by Carl Linnaeus in order to rank Europeans as superior among other conceptual categories of people. It involved grouping hundreds of ethnic groups together to form white, yellow, red, and black races in he text “System Naturale" (1735). While primarily an introduction to our current taxonomy system, it included these racial categories. It was highly regarded by Europeans eager to cast themselves as superior because it a) created a popular “scientific” framework for excusing the most obscene (and profitable) crimes against humanity, b) officially outlined/invented the white race and identified it with everything good and the black race as everything bad, and then c) clearly defined Europeans as the basis of whiteness, “Homo sapiens europaeus.” Here, whiteness is coined to describe European ancestry, particularly in relation to “grotesque” non-whites.

4. An individual’s personal ideas of whiteness fluctuates with time and circumstances. As governments, social institutions, literature, etc all work to redefine history and clean up their image, people have different/less information to work with, but the effects are the same. The popular spoken definition of whiteness is often simply a reference to a relatively pale skin tone caused by European ancestry. Obviously there are pale people in other places around the world who aren’t European and weren’t related to the slavery of European Expansionism, so pale skin isn’t enough. The relation to Europe’s capitalistic global expansion is key. But what about European countries who didn’t go expanding this way, or whose involvement is harder to pinpoint? After all, most of the trading of enslaved indigenous peoples from Africa and North & South America were carried out by the Portuguese, Genoese, Dutch, French, British, Spanish, and Americans. Well, the rapid enrichment and development of the rest of Europe for centuries to come was specifically made possible by all the labor, resources, and capital brought in by this period of the European slave trade. European ancestry links every white person to privileges and developments born on the backs of black and indigenous enslaved peoples. Furthermore, simply being white makes one safer from these kinds of exploits, and today it also makes one safer from the effects of generations of racial prejudices and resource extraction on the global scene. Which brings me to...

5. Whiteness tends to involve one’s relative freedom. Freedom of movement, both physical and social, without immediate threat of policing. Freedom to explore one’s ancestral history without being blocked by 500 years of forced removal, renaming, forced childbirth, etc. Freedom to exist without having to actually know or respond to one’s racial identity. This one’s really important. Whiteness involves not having to think about being white, usually in relation to living in a country/region whose laws and norms are defined and enforced almost exclusively by other white people. Since whiteness and blackness arose mutually around the European slave trade, blackness is inherently tied to a lack of rights/freedoms and whiteness is inherently tied to an abundance of them. That doesn’t mean that every white person experiences these equally, and there will always be exceptions to the rule. But the exceptions don’t make the rule, and after centuries of globalized white supremacy, whiteness has become a subconscious signifier of power for people all over the place.

The big take-away is this: whiteness is inherently toxic. There is nothing positive to defend in whiteness. It was born out of ugliness and it is ugly to its core. That’s why it feels so bad. It’s why “white pride” is always ugly. However, the solution is not to disconnect from our ancestry. All that does is leave us trapped here, in an ugly set of circumstances, with no concept of who we are except what we’re living in, now. The real work to be done is to connect with our ancestry before whiteness, with the ancestors who related to the land as a living entity, before the land was limited in social memory to a source of private capital, servitude, and empire-building. This land, this Earth, is the backdrop against which all our relativity is measured. From this place of relative security, understanding, and development of the spirit, we can withstand the reality of our more recent ancestors, and finally heal from the last 1000 to 2000 years of trauma.

I know I’ve said this before, but now that I have this huge post, I’ll repeat it: Dr. Daniel Foor’s Ancestral Medicine is a really helpful book and/or course for this whole process. It’s not the end-all be-all resource, but it’s a great start! I’m also always down to talk about this stuff. Hit me up. I need to be able to talk about it, too.

(I should add, while blackness was created by white people and therefore was born out of the racism of whiteness, blackness was forced on people, while whiteness was claimed by the takers. It’s no white person’s place to have an opinion about "black identity.” White people started race, so white people are responsible for deconstructing our own race--no one else’s. We cannot be “post-racial” while everyone else is still living the violent reality of racism.)

#whiteness #race #ancestry

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tales-and-thoughts · 4 years ago

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How to develop romance in your story?

Original: Shipping: 14 Ways To Develop Romance In Your Story by Katharine Grubb on 10 Minute Novelists

A well-developed romance can make the difference between a good story and an excellent story. This is especially true for writing fanfiction which deals with romantic tropes more often than not. We want our readers to be invested in the main characters and want to root for them before the fictional soon-to-be-couple even roots for themselves.

Keep reading for 14 tips and suggestions on how to develop a romance that keeps your readers interested.

1. Put them together. It's simple: The characters have to be in each other's company to fall in love. The settings can vary from a professional environment to a relaxed date, but they need to spend time together to get to know each other.

2. Go slowly. Love at first sight may be a common trope, but it's not very realistic. What is realistic though is an emotional response to each other. It doesn't have to be a positive one (at first) but that first spark can ignite more during the story.

3. Show that they like being together. Maybe they can't even explain what it is, but they are drawn towards each other and even when they tease each other, they still like to have each other around.

4. Make them need each other for practical things. People, fictional or not, like to feel needed. If person A has a problem, person B will most likely jump to the rescue and offer their help. Be creative! There is nothing wrong with the handsome handyman helping with the house that needs fixing, but there are many many other options out there that can serve as a practical dependency.

5. Demonstrate how confused they are. Falling in love is not easy. Show the readers the struggle of your characters: the sleepless nights, the differences between what they say and what they do, or the deep rooted conflict between heart and reason.

6. Give them an environment. Your characters can't talk to each other about their feelings so naturally they will need someone else for that. A friend, a sister, a coworker. These supporting characters may give warnings, remind the characters of something important or manipulate the circumstances. Make sure to show their motivations as well so they won't appear flat.

7. Create a pursuit. If one character is more interested in the other that may result in a pursuit. Person A will try to get the attention and affection of person B and you, the writer, will have to put as many obstacles in their way as possible. Let them make mistakes that tease the reader so the question of when they will finally end up together keeps them turning the pages.

8. Give them a clarifying moment. This is the moment you've been building up to. The classic "Speak now or stay silent forever". Make sure to show what is at stake: Maybe an ex-partner shows up or person A is about to move far away. One of them has to make a dramatic move followed by the long awaited acknowledgement that they indeed love each other. And leading to the ultimate decision on "what now?".

9. Keep their actions consistent. Or: know your characters. A free-spirited person will probably not overanalyse the other person's actions while an introverted person will most likely hesitate and overthink a lot before making a move.

10. Make them want to “rescue” each other. It's the classic and old fashioned way of chivalry, but give it a modern twist and readers and characters alike will fall for it. Think about innovative ways one can save each others day. Maybe person A gives person B a ride when it's dark and raining or person B lends person A a phone charger so they can call their sick mum.

11. Make them want each others opinion. It is a way to show respect to value the other person's opinion. Asking for an opinion can help one character to make a decision but it can also just be a point of view of person A that person B deeply admires.

12. Make them both want to improve for the other one. This surfaces especially when one person has high standards in something. Person B will notice, that person A's opinion on them suddenly matters. And should it happen that someone else is superior that may evoke an emotional response without person B even realising what they are doing or feeling.

13. Make them willing to be uncomfortable for each others sake. One of the classic signs of true love, often expressed in a very dramatic sacrifice. But it's also the little things. Maybe person A endures this boring tv show person B likes, or person B brings the other one's favourite takeaway even though they are not fond of it. Bonus points, if you have supporting characters noticing these sublte sacrifices.

14. Consider making them both cowards. The fear of rejection is a very real one and very close to heart for a lot of readers. If your characters are afraid of dealing with the relationship, afraid to commit or afraid to fail, readers will identify with them and eventually start cheering for them, wanting them to get their Happy End.

#writing advice wednesday #writing advice #writeblr #writing #romance #writing tricks

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collisiondiscourse · 4 years ago

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on the wonder duo (part 1)

(BNHA Analysis Post Ahead! This isn’t explicitly romantic, but it is an analysis of the relationship between the two most popular characters in BNHA--Katsuki Bakugou and Izuku Midoriya. Split into two posts because I realized that this was gonna be long as HELL)

yall ever think about the fact that the wonder duo is perfectly set up in so that bakugou and deku together are the better version of all might?

bc like. ive been thinking.

everyone knows the win to save and save to win parallel. How they are supposedly two halves of a whole perfect hero (which, previously, was defined as all might)

but ever since bakugou and deku started working as one—growing together to win AND save and continuously reminding each other that they shouldnt try to do things alone, ive realized that its BECAUSE theres two of them that they surpass all might. its not a case of deku and bakugou both being 50% of an ideal hero, but rather i think that they are 100% of what all might SHOULD HAVE BEEN from the very beginning.

as early as the AM v AFO battle in kamino, we see the effects of all mights flawed existence. the fact that he, the greatest and supposedly infallible symbol of peace, was destroyed—society had begun to collapse. there was suddenly no pillar to hold people together and the impacts were so severe that even in the latest chapters of mha it keeps on getting worse. the truth is, all mights biggest mistake was the burden he placed on his own shoulders

with bakugou and deku... its different.

its different for them because down to their attributions, they seem like two halves of a whole person.

i think that the wonder duo are going to surpass all might because of the fact that they work together.

@bakugoukatsuki-rising @svpercraigus @tybee @isaustraliaathing

(batshit crazy and conspiratorial essay under the cut !)

1. Complementary Colors

I’d like to first preface literally everything I say by the fact that I am not an expert analyzer or literary major in any way. I am literally just some random fan on the internet who has wayyy too much time and looks wayyy too deep into things, but here we go!

A common thing we see when we talk about bakugou and deku is the way they are... sort of an inverse of one another.

Down to the design of their features and the way they move, Deku is the obviously softer of the two. There’s an intentional contrast between the two of them, in the way that Deku’s drawn with round shapes and curvy hair and the way Bakugou is literally all spikes and half-mast eyes and rough muscles. Bakugou’s movements too are languid and showy, with the way he leans when he walks and splays his legs and kicks open doors. Katsuki, in a casual sense, is loud and dramatic.

Deku on the other hand s finicky. He jitters when he walks and he’s often fidgeting and mumbling. Comparatively, the aura he radiates is energetic and frenzied, even self-conscious to a point unlike Bakugou’s calm and confident movements.

the point is, there’s a clear difference in how either of them are designed and what exactly they are supposed to represent. They utterly complement each other down to the way they behave and even their main colors (red-orange and blue-green) being literal complementary colors.

Now, moving to my more ungrounded points, this is quite a bit of a stretch so I’ll try as much as possible to make sense of these with hyperlinked sources because. yeah.

Down to their names, I think Deku and Bakugou both symbolize something deeper. I think that the way Hori expresses characters and what they’re meant to do is something that we have to pay close attention to when we talk about the Wonder Duo’s rise to success.

Izuku Midoriya (緑谷出久), as some of us may know, does have an interesting meaning when broken up. According to a lovely fan translation of his name, ‘Izuku’--while not an actual name used commonly in real life--means to ‘Come out’ or ‘Long time’. ‘Midoriya’ on the other hand means (Midori) ‘Green’ and (ya) ‘valley’. The translator further pointed out that his first name ‘Izuku’ could be a reference to him being the first legendary hero to come out of the long-running All Might Era. (or, if you’ve been reading @/bakugoukatsuki-rising’s posts, the first significant anime protag in a long while to come out as queer, ppfft)

but that isn’t my focus right now.

We know that Hori LOVES telling stories with names, and more often than not in the BNHA universe, names alone tell us a lot of things about the characters. When referring to Izuku’s last name, Midoriya, it’s important I think to step back and realize that hey, maybe there’s something more to Green Valley than just the fact that his motif is all green.

After searching for a lil on the specifics of green valley, I’ve found out that across many cultures, the colour green and valleys in general tend to represent life. From dream analysts, to Christianity, and even old Taoist teachings, valleys are seen as areas of fertility and escape. They are seen as safe havens and often escapes for people to come to after running away from bad circumstances.

(Sound familiar?)

Deku, in essence represents life and peace. He represents being the “salvation” that the world in BNHA needed. To me, it sounds like Horikoshi is trying to say that he is the long-awaited hero in the sense. The one that people can feel will create a society that feels safe for everyone after years of All Might just saving people from themselves as a band-aid solution.

On the other hand, we have Katsuki Bakugou (爆豪勝己), who’s name we commonly know means (Katsuki) Winner and (Bakugou) Explosion Master. He is essentially, the champion. The power. His name means success and power and all the things that make up winning.

When putting them side by side, it then becomes increasingly... interesting to me how their names almost perfectly slot into All Might’s save to win and win to save mantra, and how they are both quintessential parts to what made All Might as a hero.

2. Hero Too!

Now, I’m not even gonna really TOUCH much of what happens in canon. If you want me to do a step by step breakdown of their arcs in regards to the plot of manga and anime, feel free to send me a gratuitous ko-fi tip so I can pay for the headache I get after trying to organize my thoughts into word vomit.

What I WILL talk about on the other hand, is the subtle shift both of them slowly have in regards to how they look. Bakugou and Deku, while growing up, seem to have MANY many parallels--but before I elaborate on all of that, I wanna talk about something else.

Detour: Deku’s Red Shoes

We all know the iconic symbol being Deku’s red shoes. For all his life, save for some outfits like his hero one, we see Deku more often than not wearing his signature red sneakers which have become a running joke in fandom.

But the funny thing is, in Japan, red shoes seem to have an interesting connotation.

In 1922, a popular Japanese nursery rhyme was written, called “Red Shoes”. The interesting part to me about this song was the symbolism that, in my tiny pea-sized brain, I could connect to the story of BNHA.

The story goes that there was a little girl with red shoes named ‘Kimi’. She was from Shizuoka prefecture (which, if you didn’t know, is most likely where Musutafu supposedly is) and was raised by a single mother. When she was young, her mother had to entrust her with a foreigner under the impression that they would give her a better life in America. The stranger is a man named Charles Hewitt (who was described to have blue eyes) and supposedly took her away.

The singer of the song (supposedly the mother, but some argue it was written from the perspective of a childhood friend) believes that Kimi is happy and living a better life away from them, when the reality of the situation was much worse. The young girl with red shoes in actuality had Tuberculosis, and thus the foreigner whom she was entrusted to had left her to fend for herself and eventually left her to go to America while she died alone and orphaned.

“When I see red shoes, I think of her.”

A very interesting story with very interesting implications indeed.

Anyway, moving on to the more... “nuanced” and connected parts of this section, I have every reason to believe that Bakugou and Deku were simply MEANT to be working together down to how they dress. Now, I’d like to discuss their hero costumes.

At the start of their series, using these godawful pics for reference, it’s clear to see that neither of them seem alike in any way--reflecting the dissonance in their relationship at that point in canon.

ough. deku why. (yes we know why its because you love your mom you stupid little bunny <3)

Anyway, we see an immediate gap in how the two of them are. Deku’s first costume is one that reflects how he treated his dream of being a hero. He was still in that childlike idolization phase, the one where his dreams and aspirations were hinged on pure feelings and inspiration from All Might. Katsuki on the other hand was a lot more tactical--professional to an extent. The gap between their respective development with their quirks is something that is clearly felt in every fashion decision they’d made.

(Notice how Deku’s green is a lot brighter and less like the green accents Katsuki has all over his costume.)

As time progressed however... their costumes changed. The colors, the silhouettes, the practical functions, most things.

(Deku’s Gamma Costume and Bakugou’s Winter Costume used respectively)

we begin to notice a few similarities.

As the show goes on and we see more evolutions of their costumes, it almost seems like they begin to look like a matching pair. Deku’s green grows darker and almost teal in nature, while Bakugou’s orange is veering towards red territory. This is important to note because red-orange and blue-green as I said earlier were complementary colors as compared to simply orange and green. The minute shift is something I really wasn’t quite sure was intentional, but something I find interesting to pick up nonetheless as the colors they used to accent their costumes begin to match up.

Secondly, I think and important thing to note is silhouettes. The way that both Bakugou and Deku’s costumes are designed follow a lot of parallels that typically we don’t see with the rest of 1-A. For one, they both have a combination of tight long-sleeved tops with a bulkier set of bottoms. They also share the use of utility belts and metal pieces typically worn around their necks. Deku has his bunny-eared hood that mimics All Might’s hair, while Bakugou has his orange and black explosion ear-pieces that mimic his own quirk.

i don’t think any other people in class 1-A match each other as subtly yet strongly as these two. Uraraka and Deku and Bakugou and Kirishima do come close however.

“But Codi, you fucking knob!” I hear you plea. “This is such a reach and tells us practically NOTHING!” And yes, I’m inclined to agree with you! You’d be sort of right in the idea that this is a reach. Maybe I am looking too much into this, and maybe it really isn’t that deep--but I do think that them subconsciously matching outfits means something quite brilliant.

In the way that their costumes are designed, each aspect of either outfits have a very logical explanation. The changes were strategic and made with their fighting styles vividly in mind, so what that tells me is that BECAUSE these costumes are so complementary or similar in nature (Bakugou’s reinforcing his arms while Deku reinforces his legs), these two are implicitly showing the audience that their combat styles are complementary as well.

The evolution of their design choices and similarities tell us that even unknowingly, their minds line up in strategy on the battlefield--a clear exhibit for why they would be INCREDIBLY POWERFUL as a Hero Duo to begin with.

When I look at their hero costumes side by side, I see a mirror. I see the way that these two are reflections of each other and are strong where the other isn’t. The point I see in BNHA repeatedly is that EVERYONE HAS A WEAKNESS. Nothing is infallible, regardless of how hard you train or how powerful your quirk is. Everyone will always have a weakness, but the significant difference I see when fandom discusses the future of Pro-Hero Society is that the new generation is finally raising itself to be RELIANT on each other.

Observing their fighting styles and the simple use of their quirks, its obvious that they are indeed two parts of a whole hero. Bakugou, who’s quirk emphasized his arms and hands and the power that comes from it, while Deku who’s quirk now emphasizes his legs and lower body and the way he’s always running to save people.

IN CONCLUSION:

As they become heroes, it is easy to assume that if nothing else, Bakugou and Deku will cover each other’s weak spots (especially when you consider the way Deku probably won’t be able to keep using his arms with the way both the anime and manga are going...) (also chapter 285, anyone?)

Part Two: Interactions, OfA

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mooncaps · 4 years ago

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The parallels between Catra and Glimmer keep sticking in my mind. They don't quite mirror each other exactly, visually or thematically, but there's a lot of overlap. They're similar in so many ways, but the inverse of each other in certain ways as well. Their natures are so alike that if their circumstances had been swapped, they'd probably just become each other.

So, I guess I’m picking up my shovel and digging into this. I wanna examine the ways they’re alike, the key ways they differ, what shapes each of them, and why their intersecting journeys are significant. There’s a lot to unpack and this is gonna be a long post, but if the subject matter sounds interesting to you, then read on.

Their parallels are most evident in Season 4, but are also woven throughout the show. I'm thinking back to 1x07 when Adora explains to Bow and Glimmer what being raised by Shadow Weaver was like and Glimmer, without missing a beat, says: "Okay, sure, Mom stuff." Completely nonchalant, with a casual shrug, as if nothing sounded out of place. All of these characters are impacted by being embattled in a militaristic conflict, of course, but Catra and Glimmer are both getting particular parental experiences from their mother-figures, the only parent in either of their lives. Notably, they don't have the same experience. Angella's a much better mother to Glimmer than Shadow Weaver is to Catra. Shadow Weaver is abusive, manipulative, power-hungry, and especially cruel to Catra above all others. Even when Angella is harsh, she's constructive and supportive.

But both of these children end up with a strong desire to prove themselves on the battlefield. Both want their mothers to be proud of them, to recognize them as worthy. Catra spends the early part of her life suppressing the urge to prove herself, pretending not to care about it while secretly being deeply upset when she finds herself overshadowed by Adora. Glimmer, on the other hand, openly thirsts for opportunities to be a great commander and earn recognition for her accomplishments. They both have somewhat of an inferiority complex as well. Catra comes to decide she doesn't want to be the sidekick. Glimmer is insecure about being the princess who has to recharge.

In 1x08, Glimmer's jealousy toward Bow and Perfuma is essentially a microcosm of a key dimension of Catra's arc for the show. But Glimmer is much quicker to learn the lessons and grow. Due to her experiences, Catra's walls are much harder to break down. I'll swing back around to that point later.

As Season 1 draws to its close, Glimmer and Catra both gain a little more independence, though they do it in very different ways. Catra does what Glimmer wanted to do at the beginning of Season 1. She presents valuable tech and a valuable ally to her commanding officer. Glimmer gets closer to her mother and they both start to understand each other better. Catra defeats her mother-figure in combat. Glimmer and Catra both gain favor in their respective armies and get the much-desired chance to prove themselves in the Battle of Bright Moon.

In 2x02, Glimmer and Bow take Catra hostage and the ways in which these two characters differ are really highlighted. Glimmer is tempted more than once to be as ruthless with Catra as Catra would be with her, but Bow talks her down when push comes to shove. "We're not them." Catra doesn't have a person in her life who talks her down. Not anymore. Catra sees the reliance on friendship among the Rebellion as a weakness. "It's why you're never going to win."

With the environment she grew up in, Catra's understanding of concepts like friendship and love are primarily in relation to power and manipulation. She's quick to seize upon the closeness between Glimmer and Bow as a way to force Glimmer to use up her magic. Catra's own love for Adora is, in the early days, selfish. She doesn't want to share Adora, whether with friends in the Horde or friends in the Rebellion. And it's why she believes that Adora doesn't feel the same way. If Adora wouldn’t take things to the same selfish extremes, then she must not feel what Catra’s feeling. This is what Catra believes because her experiences have given her this very specific, and flawed, understanding of love.

Glimmer's relationship to love is different. She comes from a more supportive environment and even in the rare instance when she does trend toward selfish love, she's more able to accept and understand the flaws of it.

But focusing on 2x02: Glimmer and Catra push each other's buttons. Each of them instinctively knows how to hurt the other one, though Catra is more willing to inflict that hurt. They’re both paying attention and learning each other’s vulnerabilities. The one moment where Glimmer touches a nerve with Catra is: "How did Adora take years of this? She didn't run away from the Horde. She ran away from you." And Catra immediately pushes back: "You think she's not going to leave you behind too, Sparkles?"

It's somewhat telling that Catra sees Glimmer as having taken her place in Adora's life. Again, similar, but not the same. The relationship between Adora and Glimmer is different to the relationship between Adora and Catra, but Catra, with her limited and warped understanding of love, can't tell the difference anymore than she could when Adora first befriended Lonnie. Catra sees Glimmer as having the same place in Adora's life that Catra used to have. And as much as Catra wants, at this point, to tell herself she's over Adora, she's still angry.

So we’re kind of flipping between parallels and inversions, but a key factor starts to become clear at this point. What Catra and Glimmer hate in each other is what they fear in themselves. Glimmer hates that Catra took her as a hostage, but she's also frustrated that she can't be just as cruel when she has Catra as a hostage. She wants to be cruel, and yet she hates herself for wanting it. Catra hates seeing Glimmer step into the role of Adora's sidekick and she mocks the Rebellion for "the power of friendship" because she hates how vulnerable she felt after opening her heart to Adora. She wants a loving relationship, and yet she hates herself for wanting it. Catra and Glimmer see their own perceived flaws, weaknesses, and shortcomings in each other, which is why there's so much friction between them. It's really an interesting concept that develops further as the show goes on.

The next minor point of interest is 2x04. Glimmer sees the primary conflict as being between herself and Catra. It’s not much, just a little look into how Glimmer is thinking about things.

Seasons 2 and 3 are paired together in terms of themes in a way that other seasons aren’t. At the end of Season 2, or midway through the story threads, Catra loses her mother-figure. At the end of Season 3, Glimmer loses her mother. Once again, the circumstances differ. Angella is truly gone, but Shadow Weaver has simply switched sides. Glimmer’s arc going forward is very much driven by Angella’s absence, whereas Catra’s arc is driven by Shadow Weaver’s presence...as an enemy combatant.

And Shadow Weaver doesn’t just join the Rebellion, she starts working her way into Glimmer’s life. Her opening pitch that gets Glimmer to free her plays on a familial connection - the fact that she taught Glimmer’s father. They go to the Fright Zone together and of course they run into Catra, who discovers Shadow Weaver quite literally taking Glimmer by the hand.

All of this sets the stage for Season 4, where the Catra and Glimmer parallels are at their strongest. The two of them become much more similar to each other in this season. Glimmer is now receiving guidance and familial connection from the very person who shaped Catra into the person she is.

Both Catra and Glimmer effectively take control of their respective armies. Glimmer literally becomes queen and, in the very same episode, Catra seats herself on Hordak’s throne. Glimmer is reluctant to take the throne, Catra is eager to. At the end of the episode Catra says to Hordak, “I think you and I are going to do great things together.” This line echoes what Shadow Weaver said to young Micah and baby Adora. And of course Glimmer is also stepping into her mother’s role.

From there, the two of them find themselves on similar paths. In 4x02 they both have the same idea to recover Mara’s ship. In 4x04 Glimmer wants to think like Catra and asks Shadow Weaver to teach her. Glimmer ends up in a fight with Catra and Catra marvels at Glimmer’s tactical decision to use Adora as a decoy. Where Glimmer was previously unwilling to be like Catra, now she’s determined to do anything for victory. And of course the idea to use Adora as a distraction came from Shadow Weaver and Catra’s recognizing this change in Glimmer’s tactics without quite realizing why it should feel familiar.

Some things happen at different times for these two, but there’s so much overlap. Glimmer starts the season dealing with boring meetings and itching to be out in the field, jealous of her friends. For Catra, she starts the season in the field, but as her plans advance she finds herself stuck in the Fright Zone while Hordak does the field work.

Both of them are focused on success, no matter the cost. They both become so stubbornly obsessed with winning the war that it fractures their friendships. They reject all counsel and push away the people who care for them. In spite of being hurt by losing the trust of their friends, they both double down on trying to win, expecting total victory to be the thing that brings them peace of mind, the thing that makes everything worth the cost.

There’s a push and pull between the two of them throughout the season. Neither can succeed in their chosen path without destroying the other. And yet they can’t seem to destroy each other without losing themselves. Metaphorically, destroying each other would mean destroying their own shortcomings, and both of them want those weaknesses and doubts erased, but neither of them can manage to strike the final blow.

Catra gains the upper hand in the war by having Double Trouble work the cracks in Glimmer’s friendships. Glimmer gains the upper hand by having Double Trouble drive a decisive wedge between Catra and Hordak. Double Trouble’s duplicitous allegiances and feigning of friendships are key developments on both sides of the battlefield and their services are weaponized by both Catra and Glimmer to target each other. Double Trouble essentially acts as a messenger, sent from both of these two characters to tear the other one down. Catra and Glimmer personify to each other what they fear in themselves and Double Trouble gives voice to the doubts of both characters, acting on behalf of each of them in turn.

Double Trouble gets to Glimmer by suggesting that Adora is undermining the queen’s authority. They work from an understanding of Glimmer’s genuine desire to be a great queen. However, and this is a key point, when Double Trouble confronts Catra, the tactic is completely flipped. “You try so hard to play the big bad villain, but your heart’s never been in it, has it?” They work from the understanding that Catra’s apparent desire to lead the Horde to victory is not genuine. As opposed to Glimmer, whose heart has always been in it; her heart’s so in it that she becomes blind to the risks of her plans.

Part of Double Trouble’s speech to Catra can apply to Glimmer’s insecurities as well. “They didn’t believe in you, didn’t trust you, didn’t need you, left you. But did you ever stop to think, maybe they’re not the problem? It’s you. You drive them away, Wildcat.” Obviously it applies to Catra, but it also describes what Glimmer has just been through with Bow and Adora. Glimmer and Catra have so many overlapping fears and this messenger sent by Glimmer to throw Catra off balance ends up making this statement that labels Glimmer’s recent mistakes just as accurately as it does Catra’s.

The key difference between the two of them comes down to their hearts being in it. For all the similarities between Catra and Glimmer in Season 4, this climactic moment emphasizes that, for Catra, a lot of it is an affectation, a costume.

Which brings me to an element of the visual storytelling. I recently read an interesting post about the thematic significance of Catra’s mask. I also made my own post about the change to her hair in Season 4. The visual storytelling has many facets in this show. This post is about parallels though, so what I’m focusing on now is the fact that Catra and Glimmer both change their costumes in Season 4. The first scene of 4x01 features the reveal of Glimmer’s new look and the last scene of 4x01 features the reveal of Catra’s.

One of the first things I noticed about Catra’s outfit is that her new black sleeve and shoulder armor are covering the area that was damaged in the portal reality. At a guess, I’d say she wants to guard against feeling whatever that felt like again. Again though, my focus is on parallels. Let’s have a look at their outfits side by side.

Glimmer’s is essentially an evolution. She’s growing more into herself. She now has both shoulders covered. Hard to say if these shoulder pads are decorative or could serve a protective function. They kind of look metallic. Her legs are newly covered; her neck and chest are newly exposed. There are a few changes to Glimmer’s outfit, but not a lot that’s truly new to her.

For Catra, there are a few new elements in her outfit. The single sleeve, the fingerless gloves, and at the shoulders she seems to have upgraded from fabric to something that looks more like it could be armor. Her legs are more covered than they were in her previous outfit, but there are still small exposed gaps. Her feet were never covered before, but now there’s a partial covering. And there’s also what fandom has dubbed the “boob window,” though this show isn’t one that gives focus to things like cleavage. The new elements for Catra bring her outfit a little bit closer to Glimmer’s.

I’ll be interpreting exposed skin as representing vulnerabilities. Of particular interest to me is the fact that they both wear single sleeves now, one white, one black, and they cover opposite arms. Glimmer has no mask on her face; Catra has no cape covering her back. Glimmer’s boots seem especially enforced at the heel and toe. Catra’s heels and toes are exposed. You know how I’ve been saying that they see their own shortcomings in each other? Now Catra is visibly vulnerable where Glimmer is guarded and vice-versa. The particular asymmetry of the sleeves brings to mind ideas of imbalance, both internally and between them.

Catra’s sleeve looks durable; Glimmer’s sleeve looks decorative. Glimmer’s sleeve leaves a gap of skin exposed below the shoulder pad; Catra’s sleeve covers the full length of her arm. On Glimmer’s unsleeved arm, the glove barely covers her hand; Catra’s glove covers a portion of her forearm. Remember 1x08, that point I said I’d come back to? Glimmer’s quicker to learn the lessons. Catra’s walls are harder to break down. Now it’s visually represented in their outfits.

I’ll reference the visuals as I go on, but let’s get back to thematic analysis. As the Season 4 finale draws to a close, Catra and Glimmer end up together and both have been brought low. Double Trouble has just seen through all of Catra’s walls and read her for absolute filth. Glimmer has to reckon with the fact that her own hubris nearly got everyone she’s been fighting for destroyed. Both have come closer to total victory and closer to total defeat than they’ve ever been. Coming off a string of mistakes and pushing away the people who care about them, they end up together.

Glimmer has the chance to attack a willingly defenseless Catra, but spares her. Moments later, Glimmer is threatened by Horde Prime, but Catra’s intervention saves her. It’s a layered action from Catra, certainly not altruistic, but it saves Glimmer nonetheless. I think something in each of them feels hesitant to see this person, in whom they see their own flaws reflected back at them, destroyed.

And now they’re stuck with each other, quite literally cut off from everyone else. They’re each wrestling with the weight of their own failures and shortcomings, so of course they’re both trapped with the metaphorical representation of everything they never wanted to face in themselves.

They’re together, and yet they’re separated. A barrier stands between them. Catra is at liberty to move about the ship, but there’s nowhere to go and no escaping the watchful gaze of Horde Prime. She’s frustrated by this illusory liberty: “If I’m a prisoner, you might as well make it official.” Glimmer, on the other hand, is in a cell and she wants out, even though there’s nowhere to go. For a brief moment, the barrier is taken down when Catra and Glimmer are invited to dine with Horde Prime. One very effective way to bring people together is to give them a common enemy. They’re only physically together when they’re united in defending themselves against him.

Horde Prime understands the similarities between the two of them and breaks through both of their walls at the same time with the same tactic. “You Etherians are all alike. Such strong connections to one another. It’s what makes you weak.” It’s the unguarded vulnerabilities in Glimmer that poke holes in Catra’s plan of “parsing out information like a bargaining chip.” Though Catra and Glimmer have a common enemy now, they’re not yet coordinated and working with each other.

So we return now to the scene from 5x03 at the top of this post. Even the way it’s framed is significant. The scene could presumably have been presented from the other side, but seeing it from this angle allows me to infer some things about what’s being communicated.

They start out facing each other and we see their sleeved arms. Neither is quite ready to trust the other, so their walls are up. When they stand face-to-face with what they fear in themselves, they put their guards up. They’re both more-or-less equally guarded and equally vulnerable, but the guarded side is what the show’s creators are showing the audience, as well as what Catra and Glimmer are showing to each other in this moment.

The scenery around the two of them shows a stark contrast. Glimmer’s cell is brightly lit with simple architecture. Much of the space around Catra is dark and complicated.

As they open up to each other emotionally, they turn back-to-back and we’re shown their unsleeved arms. When they look away from what they fear in themselves, they let their guards down. Both of them lay a hand on their unsleeved arms, almost as if they’re subconsciously worried that they might need their walls at any moment to defend these vulnerabilities.

Their body language relaxes, though only fractionally in Catra’s case. Glimmer is a little more at ease, but Catra won’t let herself be quite as open and unguarded. Her fingers remain on that unsleeved arm, alert and ready to defend at a moment’s notice.

I’ve talked a bit about walls and defensiveness, but the way these two came to construct their walls is also important. Glimmer and Catra have both experienced hardships in their lives. Both of them grew up with only one close friend. They both felt pressure and a desire to prove themselves and they’ve both endured great tragedy in their young lives. Glimmer has developed more of the emotional tools to work through her pain and begin to heal. Catra is only at the beginning of the healing process and her pain comes from a very different source.

Glimmer spent the majority of her young life believing her father had been killed and then she lost her mother as well. Catra was either given up or orphaned and then taken in by an abusive family. Both experiences were surely traumatic. Catra’s walls are tougher for a reason though. A few reasons. The primary reason is that the source of her fear and pain was also her mother-figure.

Being traumatized by someone who should be on your side is different than other sources of trauma. And because Shadow Weaver is her parent, Catra also bonds with her and wants her approval. This is emotionally confusing and compounds Catra’s issues. Wanting love from Shadow Weaver is one of the reasons Catra hates herself for wanting love at all.

Not only is Catra traumatized by her parent, she also lacks any other parental guidance to help her process her trauma. Glimmer, even after losing her father, still had her mother. It’s after losing her mother that Glimmer really starts to lose balance emotionally. Though Catra had Adora, that kind of comfort is not the same as having the calming influence of a supportive parent to help a child cope with their trauma and assure the child that things will be okay. Further to that are the wedges that Shadow Weaver (and later Light Hope) employed to ensure that Catra and Adora would doubt each other. Then finally, Adora left the Horde and whatever comfort Catra had received from her turned poisonous. This was the thing that threw Catra’s sense of safety into chaos and unraveled any semblance of emotional balance. For much of the show, wanting love from Adora is one of the reasons Catra hates herself for wanting love at all.

This is all a roundabout way of explaining why Catra’s walls are so much thicker than Glimmer’s and why everything around her is dark and complicated. Glimmer has her own walls and coping mechanisms, but they’re constructed differently. Catra is largely driven by defensive panic responses. Glimmer is reactive and even reckless at times, especially after losing Angella, but she’s generally more able to slow down and sort through her feelings. Glimmer’s walls are constructed in such a way that they don’t impede her ability to grow and heal. Glimmer’s walls don’t keep as many things away, but her capacity to let the right people in is the trait that serves her best. The contrast between these two characters speaks volumes.

Season 5 is where Catra and Glimmer begin to learn from each other. They get past the initial reaction of simply being disgusted by seeing what they fear in themselves. They both make some appeals to each other for information and help. The barrier between them comes down again and Catra enters Glimmer’s space.

The audience is shown both sleeved arms. Walls are up. Catra uses both hands and takes Glimmer by the sleeved arm. The cake is in her unsleeved hand; it was an appeal to her vulnerable side. The full appeal from Catra that acknowledges Glimmer’s walls is the one that actually reaches her and gets Catra the information she wanted. It’s an appeal so strong that it can reach Glimmer through her walls, not just some simple ploy to prey on her softer side.

“You can’t tell him.” Glimmer uses both hands and takes Catra by the unsleeved arm. This is an appeal to Catra’s vulnerable side. And it echoes something that has previously frustrated Catra. “It’s always the same with you, Adora. I have to do this. Oh-oh, we have to do that.” This appeal to her softer side isn’t enough.

“Do one good thing in your life.” Glimmer uses both hands and takes Catra by the sleeved arm. The audience is shown both of their unsleeved arms. They’re both vulnerable here. It’s this appeal, which acknowledges Catra’s walls, that reaches her. Catra still reacts in fear, a response pattern that runs deep with her, but the message reaches her through her walls.

After processing some of her emotions, Catra returns, offering Glimmer her unsleeved arm. This is a vulnerable action from Catra.

Glimmer takes Catra’s hand with her sleeved arm.

This is the turning point. They represent each other’s insecurities, each vulnerable where the other defends. Glimmer has the tools to balance out Catra’s vulnerabilities. Glimmer’s sleeved arm meeting Catra’s unsleeved arm is like saying: “I’ve got your back.” If they’re confrontational to each other, or if they ignore each other, they’re both equally defended and equally vulnerable. But if they stand side by side...

...they can compensate for each other’s vulnerabilities. They embrace and understand the insecurities they were afraid of and together they have the tools to present a balanced front that can protect them both. Neither one of them was going to be able to succeed alone, but together they can accomplish more.

Catra knew where the teleporter was and could have escaped on her own, but that would not be success. As Glimmer pointed out, even if Catra runs away it won’t matter when Horde Prime destroys the universe. As Catra pointed out, Adora would still come to rescue Glimmer. It’s their combined knowledge that leads to the solution.

Getting Glimmer out is the key, but Glimmer is unable to do this alone. Catra has the knowledge of the teleporter, Catra has the knowledge as well as the physical combat skills necessary to overpower the clones, and Catra has to be the one to take down the barrier that divides the two of them. Only Catra is in a position to achieve this. In terms of emotional metaphors, Glimmer is ready to let Catra in, but that fact alone isn’t enough. Catra has to be willing as well.

And the plan succeeds. It’s Catra’s most vulnerable action yet and she stands willing to sacrifice herself. Catra sends Glimmer, this metaphorical representation of her own insecurities, to Adora. This action is the very thing that ultimately saves Catra. She’s stuck with Horde Prime and her defenses are all ripped away, but it’s this show of vulnerability that affords Adora and company the opportunity to come in prepared and save this defenseless cat. Glimmer’s willingness to forgive Catra is significant for a lot of reasons, not the least of which is that Catra is the party most responsible for the conditions that led to Angella’s sacrifice, and Glimmer cites Catra sacrificing herself on Horde Prime’s ship as the reason she’s willing to help Adora go back and save Catra.

And once she’s saved, when Catra next gets the liberty to determine her own outfit, as she treads a path of vulnerability and learning to follow her heart...

...the sleeve and fingerless gloves are gone. The costume she put on when she took her seat on Hordak’s throne has fallen away. That’s not who she wants to be anymore. Now she’s ready to start on the path of growing more into herself.

The push and pull contentious relationship between Catra and Glimmer has reached its conclusion, but there are still a few moments of interest. In 5x08, there are several instances where Catra questions what seem to be tactically unsound decisions from the Rebellion and they shrug off the concerns. Near the end of the episode, it’s Glimmer who questions the tactics and Catra who shrugs it off. This shows that they’re both getting more comfortable with each other and also both getting more comfortable with the parts in themselves that make them similar to each other.

In 5x10, when Catra finds herself in trouble, trapped and confronted with rising water, she calls Glimmer, knowing now that Glimmer is someone she can trust when she comes up against the limits of her own vulnerabilities.

In 5x12, Catra goes to Bow and Glimmer, looking for Adora. Glimmer informs Catra that Adora left them behind. Catra says: “Of course she’s gone. That’s what she does, isn’t it?” Glimmer was caught off guard by this, but Catra has recognized this vulnerability in Glimmer since Season 2. “You think she’s not going to leave you behind too, Sparkles.” This time Catra’s not just here criticize; she’s here to help. She warns Bow and Glimmer about Horde Prime’s plans and volunteers herself to take over helping Adora. Glimmer comes up against the limit of her vulnerabilities, but she can tag in Catra to help her now.

In the literal sense, this shows the value of letting other people in. In the metaphorical sense, it shows the value of accepting oneself. Learning from others, finding the common ground, gives us a fuller understanding than we can achieve on our own. No one can do everything alone, but working with people who are skilled where we come up short, guarded where we are vulnerable, and open where we are closed off is what unlocks the potential to accomplish things that would have otherwise been impossible.

I love that message, but I also love the metaphorical message. Glimmer and Catra have repeatedly seen in each other the things they were afraid of in themselves. Hating each other is tantamount to hating themselves and their acceptance of each other is tantamount to accepting themselves, which makes both of them more well-rounded and helps them to move forward.

And those lessons, to me, are among the most significant things about their intersecting journeys. They accept the differences in each other, they recognize the similarities in each other, and they come together to build each other up. It’s at once a journey of learning to accept others and a journey of learning to accept themselves. They learn that greeting their shortcomings with anger is ultimately self-destructive, ignoring these vulnerabilities is perilous, and it’s only through acceptance that they can begin to understand themselves, compensate for their limitations, and better themselves.

They each look into a mirror, see their own insecurities staring back at them, then decide to give that person a hug and say: “I’ve got your back.”

#SPoP #Catra #Glimmer #long post

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fuckyeahisawthat · 4 years ago

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Still thinking about the near-universal Mediocre Critical Consensus on Trust. Because when I find something I LOVE and someone else just...doesn’t connect with it, I get really curious as to why.

I’m giving the critics who only got to screen the first three episodes a pass, because the show really does not lead with its most compelling material, and also that’s a dumb way to ask critics to provide an honest review of a serialized story and networks should stop doing it.

But there are a number of critics who were writing week-by-week summaries (including the guy who complained about the Calabrian characters speaking too much Calabrese, but not only him) who just seemed to completely miss so much of what made the show interesting. And I can’t help wondering how much of this was due to a disconnect between how they expected the story to be told and how it actually was told.

All the criticism I read is blending together a bit now, but there was more than one reviewer who seemed...unduly fixated on Fletcher Chase. And, hey, don’t get me wrong here. Brendan Fraser is great in that role. But he’s a secondary character. And while he’s a useful narrator and tone-setter, other than in episode 2, where he incorrectly ascertains that the kidnapping is a hoax, he contributes...almost nothing to moving the plot along, in the sense of making choices that shape the narrative. In many parts of the show his main role is to be a scene partner for Gail, who is the one shaping the narrative a lot of the time she’s on screen.

And the thing is, you can see a more conventionally-told version of the story where Fletcher Chase is the hero. He’s the closest the story gets to a cop character, the traditional POV character of many crime stories. (He’s the character who gets played by Mark Wahlberg in the movie, and I mean that in both a symbolic and literal sense.) A lot of kidnapping/missing person stories place the audience identification and agency with the searchers/rescuers, not the victim, and certainly not the kidnapper. The searchers may be law enforcement or they may be family members, but we’re very used to seeing the story from their perspective.

Trust doesn’t completely flip that POV, but it distributes our attention and the narrative agency (whose decisions make the plot happen) much more evenly between Gail, Little Paul, and Primo. And this means that we end up understanding their perspectives and motivations pretty much equally, even when they’re set against each other.

To be fair, it is a bit of a slow burn to understand exactly what the show is doing. For me, watching it the first time through, it clicked somewhere around episode 4, which has a lot of scenes with Primo pursuing a goal on his own (it may be related to Paul but he’s not sharing a scene with him). This is where you start to understand why Primo is doing what he’s doing, on an emotional/psychological level and not just a financial one, and maybe start to root for him a bit against an uncle who doesn’t seem to have a lot of faith in him. Which is the perfect thing to do before the show completely flips our perspective upside down and makes him the antagonist for all of episode 5. Because we’ve spent time getting to know him a bit, the show can do that without completely breaking our identification with him, even when he is being very scary and a direct threat to our other main character.

Even if it takes you a while to adjust your expectations, the structure of the narrative should be very clear by the end of episode 6, when we have the Meeting of the Two Dons, Salvatore and Old Paul. Because this whole sequence is about showing both how the two families are alike and how the Gettys are just operating on a vastly different scale in terms of power. (It’s a real trick to make an organized crime syndicate look like the underdogs but they manage it.) If you haven’t yet figured out that this is a story about two families and the ways they mirror and echo each other, not just a story about the Gettys, it should be obvious at this point. This is also the sequence where, if you haven’t yet picked up on the fact that this is a show about capitalism and class, you get hit over the head with it in a delightfully unsubtle way.

Then, after pitting Primo against Paul and Gail in episode 5/6, the show realigns them, so that they all have the same hope and fear at the end of episode 7--hoping that the ransom will be delivered, and fearing that it won’t be. Meanwhile we’re watching the other Pauls screw everything up for them. (This might have been, watching the first time through, where I put it together that Primo’s not just...an antagonist who’s appealing to identify with, but not really the antagonist of the series at all. Which is the absolute perfect place to realize this, since episode 8 is all about rooting for him. And which is not something I have seen any mainstream review touch on even though once the whole narrative structure of the series is laid out, it seems incredibly obvious to me.)

Perhaps, like me, you read that review and aside from rolling your eyes at the complaint about having to spend NEARLY AN WHOLE HOUR reading subtitles, you also thought...how in the hell did anyone not find episode 8 unbearably suspenseful?? But the thing is...suspense only works if we care about the characters who are at risk. And the suspense of that episode is entirely driven by worrying about Primo, Leo and Leo’s family. Paul is allllmost incidental to the narrative in episode 8.

Now, y’all know very well by this point that I think the show does a good job of developing the Calabrian characters into three-dimensional human beings who have specificity and vulnerabilities and moments of kindness and interesting relationships to each other, and in allowing us to understand how their world works and why they’re doing what they’re doing. And one of the best things about the show is that it doesn’t just explore the why that gets talked about in a lot of the show’s publicity--why would the richest man in the world not pay a ransom for his grandson?--but it takes on what I think is the much more interesting why. Why did the kidnapping happen at all? What kind of life circumstances make crime and violence an appealing option to someone? And this is where we’re really talking about capitalism and class.

But, if you’re someone who’s not open to or interested in the places the show is leading you to as it unfolds toward its conclusion, then you miss all this. Then episode 8 is boring, because it’s not clear why we need to spend a whole episode with “just” the villains and their problems and their families and their social rituals. Even though episode 8 is an almost perfect mirror of episode 1, when we spend just as much time with the Gettys and their problems and their families and their social rituals. And then you miss why the end of the show is so satisfying, because “he removes kings and he sets up kings” only works if you’re paying attention to both sides of the equation.

#trust fx #Film Criticism #pov #primo nizzuto #this show is about capitalism and class at its root

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countessofbiscuit · 4 years ago

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What are your Bobasoka headcanons? I've already gone through all of the (criminally little) fic on ao3 and I especially loved Smothered and Covered, and I saw the majority of the fics in the tag were gifted to you so I'm assuming you're the OG shipper. Feel free to essay if you like!!

Thanks for the ask and kind words about that fic :3

Oh, Bobasoka … where to begin? It’s a pairing that’s been bumping around in exchange requests for a few years — I figure it’d be easy for anyone invested in Ahsoka’s relationship with the clones to be compelled by the idea. Lledra used to draw Boba and Ahsoka interacting, and it was probably a few panels of their incredible Destinies comic that set my Bobasoka wheels turning. I’m also drawn to them because their journeys traverse so much canon; there’s not just a sandbox to play in, but a whole goddamn stretch of beach, stretching far out into the horizon ... (#AhsokaLives #BobaSurvived :D)

I have to lead with the proviso that almost everything I write/daydream about/headcanon has a groundsheet of Rexsoka. Ahsoka’s interest in Boba, in my head, is intimately tied up with her attraction to and/or relationship with Rex — or, at the bare minimum, her intimate fellowship with the clones. She went through puberty (maybe with heats!) surrounded by a literal army of handsome, roughly college-aged dudes; that must’ve been a heady mix of heaven and hell. If she didn’t quench her thirst before war’s end and her (eventual) separation from Rex, she’d probably be pretty dehydrated when stumbling across Boba. As for Boba’s attraction to Ahsoka, well ... she’s very pretty, she’s potentially useful, she’s not likely to skewer him in his sleep (+2) on account of being a Jedi (-1), and now she’s the one down on her luck; if he falls in bed with anyone, why not this girl who isn’t afraid of him and stares a lot at his lips?

And Boba is like a hot shipping potato — satisfying, hard to fuck up, goes well (read: makes for an intriguing story) with almost everyone. And I think it has everything to do with his liminality, something he shares with Ahsoka and probably recognizes.

Their neither-this-nor-that-ness overlap in such interesting ways, and they each bring their identity issues to the table — Ahsoka as an on-again, off-again Jedi; Boba as a clone who isn’t a Clone™, a Mandalorian by birth and bearing, but not by the book. At different points in their stories, they identify as different things, and that would affect their headspace and color their view of the other. They wrestle with themselves and each other. Force-user and bounty hunter; privileged topsider and orphaned juvenile delinquent fugitive; GAR commander and outcast clone; Jedi and Mandalorian; Disillusioned veteran and disaffected army brat; Rebellion agent and Imperial contractor.

And as much conflict is baked into these dynamics, it also generates a certain magnetism; and I believe they recognize, on some level, their shared trauma and the symmetry in their experiences. Boba and Ahsoka both have happy childhoods with very little to distress or vex them (beyond the art, I do not jive with Age of Republic: Jango Fett, a Disney-canon comic that not only doubles-down on the Jango-wasn’t-Mando nonsense, but shows him being rather cavalier about Boba’s life); Geonosis happens and their adolescent lives are dominated by war (which is how they came to actively threaten each other as space!secondary-schoolers — whaaaaatf!); they are both dubiously (even wrongfully) imprisoned; and they both suffer alienation and incredible personal loss.

Boba was set apart from the clones before he was even pulled him from the jar, othered and elevated from the beginning. He never bonded with brothers, he does not identify as a clone. And while there are examples of clones making overtures to him, canonically his relationship with them is fraught and probably made worse when he gets banged up in Republic Central at the tender age of eleven or twelve — and of course, Ahsoka is an accessory to this, the second chapter in his tragedy at the hands of the Jedi. He needed help (whether he wanted it or not), it was not given by clones or Jedi alike (hamstrung by bureaucracy, sure, but surely some other means of intervention might have been lobbied for?), and Boba becomes a right teenage disaster, well-balanced only in the sense that he has a chip on both shoulders.

(n.b. Putting my RepComm hat on for a second, I can’t help but sniffle-laugh at the idea that the Alphas watched him get thrown in a maximum-security slammer and were like “Ah, there he is, the feral vod’ika. First time, we’ll let the little snot earn his stripes. Second time, we’ll bust him out and send him on a tough love retreat with A’den or Jaing.”)

Ahsoka, meanwhile, is part-and-parcel of the institutions that Boba sets himself against, even after she too has been cast out by circumstances beyond her control. She grows up in a supportive Jedi community and then spends some seriously formative years with a whole slew of brothers — brothers that should have been Boba’s!

Boba, on the other hand, is a great example of the proverb that a child who is not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth. (As he tells Hondo, “Why should I help anybody? I’ve got no one.”)

The resentment that must create! But also, later, the quiet empathy too — maybe when Boba’s having one of his better days and Ahsoka’s obviously not.

And all of the above is interesting enough, without also touching upon the wildcard that is Mandalore.

Boba’s relationship with Mandalore .... well, that’s contested in- and out-of-universe and I won’t allow myself to essay overmuch. I subscribe firmly to a Mandalorian Fetts construction of canon, even though Boba must be someone who struggles mightily with Mandalorian identity. He’s raised by a bona fide Mando, a solicitous, loving father who’d have no reason not to pass on his language and beliefs; but at the same time, it takes that village, and when Boba’s clan of two is shattered, he has no one else. The loss of his dad unmoors him from his only anchor to Mandalorian culture and clan.

If Boba had been close to the Cuy’val Dar, one would think he’d have turned to them rather than fall in with Jango’s criminal acquaintances; or maybe the bounty hunters just scooped him up first, and troubled lil’ Boba was shepherded through bereavement by folks who enabled and encouraged him to externalize his anger in a way that gave him a (false) feeling of agency and strength.

Whatever the reasons, Boba does not repatriate himself to Mandalore (much to Fenn Shysa’s melodramatic dismay). He strikes me as a lapsed Mandalorian; he doesn’t exactly follow the creed besides wearing the armor (scavenged? his dad’s sans helmet? canon is confused on this point, but he doesn’t go Mando until the unfinished arcs at the end of TCW, either for lack of stature, lack of armor, or lack of enthusiasm). I feel like if someone rocked up to Boba in a cantina and had the balls to ask “hey, so you a Mandalorian?” Boba would be like “<ominously slow helmet tilt> who’s asking” and never give you a straight answer.

Meanwhile, Ahsoka gets a crash course on Mandalore from none other than someone who, at one point, belonged to a sect that wanted to expunge Jaster’s legacy from the galaxy — and at the very least, had reason to dislike clones. This isn’t the place to explore my Boba/Bo-Katan feelings, but know that they are fathomless, and I would pay good money to be a fly on the wall of that Kom’rk when Bo-Katan gives Ahsoka Mando History 101 with her own special sauce. Ahsoka is probably more up-to-speed on Mandalore than Boba, and at one point, she may even own more beskar than him! (n.b. After the crash, I think one of the first places Rex and Ahsoka bounce is just inside Mando space, to scope out the Sundari situation and maybe try to scramble a signal to Bo-Katan; she’d have the goodwill to at least get them back on their feet if she can’t help them lay low herself. For a variety of reasons worth maybe ficcing down the line, they aren’t successful.)

I don’t really have a concluding statement except, I just think Bobasoka’s neat :) They hit all my depressed-Millennial buttons.

Headcanon by bullet-point isn’t really my style, but this is tumblr so ... tl;dr:

They recognize a lot in each other, even if they’re slow to admit it, if ever. Boba’s a cagey bastard and Ahsoka doesn’t ever like him enough to be emotionally honest.

They bump into each other during Ahsoka’s walkabout(s) ‘cause Coruscant’s Underworld ain’t big enough for the two of them. Without Slave-1, Boba couchsurfs at Nyx Okami’s garage, but he does his laundry at Rafa’s. He might even borrow the Martez’s new, useful friend for a job or two.

Ahsoka eventually matures enough to be sensitive about her use of the Force on and around clones, and she definitely doesn’t use it around Boba. Definitely not during sex.

Boba is privately weirded out every time Ahsoka uses Mando slang she picked up off the clones or the Nite Owls.

Boba absolutely kills Cad Bane in that shoot-out, keeps the hat, and lets Ahsoka have it. She shoves it out the airlock and uses it for target practice.

So many great smut flavours! Hatesex. Acquaintances with benefits. “You’re traumatized and touch-starved and you look just like him/them, and I know how to be gentle and what to do, so maybe we could … ?” They’re both privately comfortable with their bodies and sexuality, but Boba’s got trust issues a parsec long and Ahsoka’s lost confidence; it’s always an awkward affair, but desperation wins out.

They exchange comm codes every time they run into each other, which is kind of pointless because they both use burners.

Ahsoka hitches a ride on Slave-1 more than once. There really is only one bed, so it’s either sleep upright, sleep in a pokey prisoner hold, or sleep with him.

For a few years, Boba can pass as a last-generation clone — the ones that got sold off in bulk units to slavers before Kamino sunk another three years’ food, board, and training into them. Boba pretends he doesn’t notice, easy to really, since he tells himself his helmet is his face. But occasionally, when Ahsoka can convince him there’s profit in it, he agrees to play sleeper agent and assists in liberating a few here and there.

They don’t talk about Aurra Sing.

When an Imp really crosses him, Boba passes on intel to Ahsoka to ruin their day.

Once, when they’re both super skint, Ahsoka volunteers to get handed in to some relatively minor and out-of-the-way Imperial garrison, so Boba can collect, bust her out, and split the pot with her. It’s the closest she ever comes to telling him “I trust you” — and when he brushes the idea aside, citing something about risk, it’s the closest he ever comes to telling her “I love you.”

Boba sees Inquisitors as muscling in on his game. There are so many lousy Force-users around nowadays, it should be easy pickings, but Inquisitors get privileged information. So he makes sport out of misdirecting them, especially from Ahsoka.

When he pisses her off, Ahsoka fantasizes about Bo-Katan taking Boba down a peg or two while she watches :)))

Boba experienced Ahsoka’s heat once, secondhand through a cabin wall. He thought he was being clever by shooting Rex up with some Nevoota stim pollen, locking him in with Ahsoka, and hijacking their locked ships. Longest three days of his life, limping on broken hyperdrives and shared fuel stores to the nearest waystation to a soundtrack of violent lovemaking : \

Bounty hunters invariably bump into spies and agents because they work in the same areas. The agents pretend to be bounty hunters, eccentric business people, sex workers, or a range of other things. Sometimes each party knows all about the other, but it’s only polite not to mention it. This happens to Ahsoka and Boba A LOT, especially once she becomes Fulcrum; rebel cells and Imperials often want the same people. Occasionally they exchange fire. A couple times Boba gets imprisoned in Ahsoka’s own brig. Once, Boba blows her cover and definitely lives to regret it.

(this essay was originally punctuated with pics, but replies with images won’t show up tumblr tags so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

#bobasoka #boba fett #ahsoka tano #rexsoka #the clone wars

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lifesliced-a · 4 years ago

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i’m going to be talking more about ren and hina with their individual and combined experiences since japan’s laws on prostitution give some leeway to the sex industry as a whole. obviously the below content warnings are due to them being of a sexual nature, so discretion advised.

that being said, i’m aiming to take this from a respectful and technical approach to a character that lives a very different life than some of the other characters on this blog. also this is really, really long. i tried to do my research here as well as tie my character into all that research.

HOST STUFF / REN’S MANAGEMENT OF THE CLUB:

hina and ren have a small age difference of just a year, both having gotten into the industry at a young age ( both 18 ) .

as a host, ren is pretty strict in the day-to-day about hosting. it is exactly as it seems: he hosts and he manages the club.

it’s smoke and mirrors basically, catering to having drinks, flirting with customers, and basically entertaining them. a host can touch the patron, but usually not the other way around. ren is a little less strict to this in his own management of shining!, so long as it falls under the guise of socially appropriate ( returning a gesture from a host for instance, or a hand on the shoulder ) .

hosts are allowed to give their numbers and often take their clients on dates, which in turn leads them back to the host club to make more money. the goal is to keep revenue coming in. shining! is aimed to the ‘classic’ experience, what many would think of in reference to ouran aesthetically speaking ( and not much else ) . as much as i keep ren at a dissonance from that show overall so as to not be confused, the idea of shining! started as a tourist attraction / pop-up. it no doubt drew that crowd in, and quite purposefully given that foreigners and locals alike were apt to visit. it was a pop-up for a few years before having permanent residence in the red-light district. it’s supposed to be a diamond in the rough; a place for affordable class.

ren was part of the original set of boys hosting for the ‘pre-shining!’ days, and is the last out of them to have not moved to another club / part of the industry. he was chosen just before he turned 19, having worked at another smaller club before he was scooped up.

WHO RUNS SHINING! BEHIND THE SCENES?

his name is ishikawa goro ( though ren doubts this to be his real name ), and is a member of the yakuza, utilizing shining! for purposes mostly beneath ren’s nose. he started the pop up, he hired ren, and he got the business off the ground while entrusting ren to manage it. ren was known as umi then. goro was the one that suggested he go by ren, finding it fitting for him.

he has been involved in ren’s life for almost ten years based on where ren’s primary verse picks up, and has basically been a formative figure in ren’s life where one was lacking. there is no sexual element to their relationship, though ren had a slight affection for him at first that was quickly realized to be a more fondness.

goro’s appearance changes often, mostly his hair color. he goes from natural black through shades of brown and blond often, wanting to keep himself from being noticed too often. he acts as a part of the underground.

he comes off pretty cool, collected, and in control. he has all the chips in favor, the deck is stacked, the game is rigged. he tends to give the illusion that power is shared, or that he’s out for everyone’s best interest, but he typically has his own interests at heart. he will do whatever fits agenda. if helping benefits him, he’ll help. if not, he typically won’t intervene. he finds reasons to do things that might not directly benefit him, but those are solely motivated by personal interest. he has a soft spot for children, and tends to be aggressive with offenders that are dangerous to children. this is ren’s best selling point honestly.

WHAT DID REN DO BEFORE THERE WAS A PERMANENT LOCATION / DURING OFF-SEASONS?

when the club wasn’t completely profitable as a full-time position, ren definitely learned early to work around the law. japan’s prostitution laws allow for a lot of loopholes --> read about japan’s laws on prostitution and what sex workers do / where they work to get around these laws.

>>>> “ Prostitution in modern Japan, as defined under Japanese law, is the illegal practice of sexual intercourse with an 'unspecified' (unacquainted) person in exchange for monetary compensation,[1][2][3] which was criminalized in 1965 by the introduction of article 3 of the Anti-Prostitution Law (売春防止法, Baishun Bōshi Hō). ” <<<<

this leaves the door open to other acts that sex workers can engage in outside of ‘sexual intercourse with an unspecified person’. that basically means they can’t engage in traditional sex with strangers for money, but could have paid sex with an acquaintance. this does not mean they cannot perform oral sex and other sex acts that are non-coital are permitted to be paid for by unspecified persons. there is a term for the industry that i’ve come to understand is like an overlaying term for many different places with different business called ‘health’.

in ren’s case, he’s used this as a strong argument for having paid sex with clients as they are ‘in his realm of acquaintances’. he meets his private connections via the locations he’s worked at, primarily shining!.

ren kept a small string of locals that came to the pop-up location in his black book to keep a small revenue coming in from 19-21. shining! is a running business with four walls by the time he’s 22, to which these connections grows, and he becomes busier ‘moonlight’. however, from 18-21, he did work at a few other locations to supplement cashflow. he has also temporarily returned to some of these gigs shortly after kyosuke was born, and during his transition between apartments ( to which he is currently living at 27 ) .

ren’s options, in comparison to hina’s, are a bit more limited in being hired in what one could consider a “legal establishment”. a lot of his work is reliant on his customer base from shining! and other connections. so when he wasn’t working at shining! or meeting with regulars off the clock ( or ‘friends of’ his regulars ) , he acted as a male equivalent of what’s called ‘delivery health’ which is basically a type of call girl. ironically this is what ren transitions to full-time after leaving shining!, having built up a solid customer base as he follows his former #2 host**

** this host, sho, is a major connection in ren’s life. ren hired sho at shining! to be the genki type. despite their initial differences, rne and sho realized quickly their opposing appearances and personalities could make them more money together than apart. they’ll host together or bounce off each other ( “see how mean ren is to me!” or “see how difficult sho makes my job” to play sympathy ) , which quickly moved to them hosting after hours together. individually they do well, but together there is more profit. they also have an affair together on and off. **

SO WHERE DOES HINA FIT INTO THIS? SHE’S A HOSTESS, RIGHT?

she is! hina met ren when the club was a pop-up, coming to be hosted after constantly having to host. ren understands, as he’s done the same. their connection was pretty quick.

before hosting, hina’s first job as a sex worker was as an onakura, and she did that for six months while trying to work a few part-time jobs. finding herself, similarly to ren, unable to rise above her circumstances, she quickly quit that to pursue more money.

for a short period she worked as a call girl, but eventually found hosting to be her saving grace while still remaining in the industry. she was given the opportunity by a friend who was a hostess at the time, and had suggested she apply. cleaning herself up, hina excelled quickly, and is quite good at her job.

where she used to moonlight for $$$, she now gaslights ren for cash due to their connection as mother / father to their son. he always obliges. there is love in that love-hate.

ADDITIONAL DETAILS:

how it all boils down --> both hina and ren are essentially sex workers, though ren is more into the realm of prostitution than hina is. he is the primary caretaker for their son, and his mother, and thus his financial burden is far greater.

a big reason he leaves his manager position is because a) it’s not going anywhere and b) he can’t let sho leave without him. now that he has a clientele that’s more than several individuals, he can work effectively as a “man on call” and get a larger pool from there. his services are more open, more direct, and not under the guise of ‘hosting’ anymore. they still fall into being advertised within the legal confines, but he’s still in the red light district: at the end of the day, ren is ( and has always been ) a prostitute. there’s nothing wrong with that, and in reality he really is the one that has the hardest time coming to terms with the technically terms for his career. he’s only doing what’s been the oldest profession in the book, and he’s filling a niche that’s more saturated by men wanting women and not women wanting men ( or men wanting men ) .

over time, ren has definitely acted outside of the law, but he mostly does what he can to stay within the legalities forced on him. the reason ren got into this wasn’t originally to go full-in, more needing some quick cash after he had to drop out of university and take care of his mom. from there, it sort of just spiraled, and he was in situations he was either too young or naive to understand, or was just making bad decisions. by the time he met hina and got her pregnant, there was no way ren was going to get out.

he traditionally hosts women more than men, though he sleeps with men and women rather equally with men being a slightly larger margin. there is a stigma of gay men living openly, and he provides comfort as a temporary lover. they can pretend he is their own / their boyfriend for a night.

while most of his female and male partners, for their own reasons, seek him for comfort and sex, others have been more violent. it’s no shock or secret that, especially acting independently without shining! to back him, ren has found himself in trouble, or just some extreme sexual situations.

he’s been hit and choked, which is not uncommon, to full on beaten up. he takes it as some clients just like it rough, and he’s there to provide them whatever kink they pay him to indulge. his motto is: i like what you like. a husband has walked in on him, but didn’t seem surprised. he’s been with couples, has been passed around, and basically is keen to do whatever he has to leave the situation still able to go to the work the next day as ren / come home at night as yori ( kyosuke’s father ) .

** at some point during their time together at shining! through their time post-shining! that ren pursues some cam-work with sho. he usually is masked as they do ‘live-streams’ where they perform with / on each other at the discretion of the chat. this is an on again / off again type of deal, though they typically do well, and get a good portion of views from westerners **

#( ⤷ PLAYER ) ◜ REN #( ⤷ ) ◜ HINA #( ⤷ ) ◜ HEADCANONS #so this is more for background #and for me to have reference but #i wanted to kind of do a deep dive on this #and i did a lot of research along the way #but as i warned at the top #there's a lot of talk about sex work beneath the cut

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wheredidhiseyebrowsgo · 5 years ago

Note

hey! thank you for everything that you do! you are awesome. im just wondering if you any fic were Stiles is fae? thank you!

We sure do. - Anastasia

till the moon has taken flight (to the waters and the wild) by WindyRein

(5/10 I 1,426 I Not Rated I Steter)

It's not fair! But he knows already that life isn't fair, doesn't he? He can feel the bitter smile curling his lips.He, if there is such a thing anymore, floats and is torn apart and doesn't exist. (but that would be kind, wouldn't it?)

Bloody Secrets by cywscross

(1/1 I 3,085 I Teen I Steter)

Stiles has silver in his veins.

Peter could’ve done without finding out this way though.

Somewhere to Start by Lissadiane

(1/1 I 3,352 I Teen I Sterek)

Stiles has always known that he isn't quite human - the plant life that tends to sprout around him whenever he gets upset or excited gives it away. He's never really fit in among the regular people in Beacon Hills and is determined to wait it out, go to college, and find somewhere to belong. He's forced to abandon those plans, however, after he desperately agrees to enter into an arranged marriage to save his father's life.

An arranged marriage with an angry, sometimes furry dude with trust issues. It's all very Beauty and the Beast, without the singing candlesticks.

Dance Under the Moonlight by Therapeutic_Steter

(2/2 I 3,440 I Mature I Steter)

Fae!Stiles saving Peter from Pack's stupidity and washing his hands of them. Please?

The Other Side by Green

(1/1 I 3,769 I Explicit I Steter)

Stiles doesn't know anything about his father, only what his mother told him, that he's human. Despite her words, Stiles has had his doubts. So when the queen sends him through the veil, he's nervous and isn't sure what to think.

Seven Years Falling by InfiniteAlexisA

(1/1 I 3,880 I Not Rated I Sterek)

“I don’t mean to!” Derek yelled throwing his hands in the air.“DON’T YELL AT ME!” Stiles screeched, his entire body going up in flames.This is what Derek gets for dating a fire elemental.

we're not so different (you and i) by colferstilinski

(1/1 I 5,621 I Explicit I Sterek)

For many of the fairies that lives here, Utopia is their sanctuary—haven, in other words—and why shouldn't it be? It never rains on this stretch of meadow, the clouds in the skies always pink with interest and it smells like the breaking of spring every dawn and dusk.

Stiles detest it, the least to say.

It’s too much and he hates swinging along with the status quo with the other fairies. Yeah, with their blooming shades of colours and the shimmering, silken tunics they don on and fuck, the limitless sparkles. There’s even a new trend going on with the younger generation where they gather allium blooms to form a flower crown, oh—with added glitter!—and it makes Stiles wants to roll his eyes.

Or the fic in which Stiles is a fairy and wants to escape the horrendous, boring world of fairyland to have an adventure. And by adventure, he means meeting Derek. The plant. Or... not-so plant.

Cold Iron by the_problem_with_stardust

(5/5 I 5,641 I Teen I Sterek)

Derek thought the disaster that ended with Kate Argent almost burning down his family home was a relationship worst-case scenario. So, when Dr. Deaton reveals that his current girlfriend is not what she seems, Derek is ready to swear off romance forever. In an attempt to escape his well-meaning (but insanely overbearing) family, Derek volunteers to take over remodeling the small cottage that was left to the Hale siblings in his grandmother’s will. Connemara is nothing like California, and Derek feels like his luck just might be looking up.

salt and a waltz by The Byger (Byacolate)

(1/1 I 7,433 I Explicit i Sterek)

"Not that lubed-up Q-tips aren’t the sexiest thing in the world, but I kinda want to know what it’s like, you know. To be impaled on your huge dick without actually being impaled.”

“It was about to get sexy there, but you shot the mood right in the face.”

In which Stiles is a faerie and Derek is sick and tired of not being able to fuck him.

Don't You Wanna Be My Sky? by WhoNatural

(1/1 I 9,420 I General I Sterek)

Stiles got ratted out by the Realm Guard for sneaking off with Scott a total of seven times before his dad buckled, promising sabbatical once Stiles reached Faehood, and enough Earth culture in the meantime to have him talking like a born-and-bred Californian teenager.

He just didn’t have the tan.

(Or, in which Stiles is a Frost Fae sent to the Earth Realm on the Fae version of Rumspringa and immediately falls head-first into a Coffee Shop AU)

No Love in Idleness by Elpie (Horribibble)

(2/2 I 11,687 I Explicit I Sterek)

Stiles is the sole grandchild of none other than Robin Goodfellow, the most mischievous faerie ever to wreak havoc among the Folk and Man alike. To the people of Beacon Court, he is at best a merry wanderer of the night.

At first, Ser Derek is inclined to agree, but the little bird on his shoulder has quite a bit to say about that.

Trees are always a relief after dealing with people (except when they aren't) by ravelqueen

(1/1 I 15,889 I Mature I Sterek)

Derek Hale decides to become a hermit before he reaches 25. Too bad he picked Beacon Hills as his retirement home.

(Or the one where Stiles is a wood nymph/pixie/human hybrid who falls in love with his new grumpy werewolf neighbour)

Broken People Get Recycled by poemwithnorhyme

(1/1 I 16,389 I General i Sterek)

Nothing is ever just calm in Beacon Hills. No, something always has to go wrong, and this time, it's Stiles' turn in the spotlight. That doesn't mean he has to like it. Post S2 AUFae!Stiles

The Magic's in the Coffee by xxxillusionxxx

(8/8 I 17,596 I Explicit I Sterek)

Ever since the tall, muscled, leather-clad werewolf had begun his daily coffee routine at the Skullery—a horrendous name in Stiles’s opinion, but his boss was a skeleton who thought he was terribly clever—an impromptu competition developed among the baristas.

When Trust is Everything by hellbells

(12/12 I 27,913 I Teen i Sterek)

For a secret to remain true then only one person can know it; if not then it will come out. Beacon Hills is the converging point of several secrets all wrapped up in the supernatural. For Stiles, the unravelling of several will let him find peace, love and safety in the arms of his true mate. The only question is can he trust a Sourwolf and his pack well enough to show his true self.

It just might be the one thing between Beacon Hills and safety!

(Or observe the really awkward distrustful courtship between a Sourwolf and a hidden Fae Mage)

A Little Bit of Sunshine by 100KlicksAway

(21/? I 29,600 I Mature I Sterek)

Stiles woke with a start, dreams of pixies flitting around his head. He’d dreamed… He’d dreamed that he was a wolf? Or…. He wasn’t sure. Something with fangs… His mouth had been dripping blood in his dream, and when he woke, he could still taste the thick copper taste coating his mouth.

Stiles has been working hard for the pack since Scott was bitten. They leave him out more and more frequently, though, until Stiles realizes that he's strictly unnecessary. Then, the pack's activities throw him into danger and he ends up in a shitty situation with no one helping him.

Stiles leaves Beacon Hills. He doesn't care anymore, he just... Needs out.

The Last Chills of Winter by LeeHan

(1/1 I 42,525 I Explicit I Sterek)

“He didn’t magically charm me,” Derek shot back in his defense.“Oh, so he just regular charmed you?” Laura said with a smirk.“What? No,” Derek growled.“Was he hot?”“No! He just—“ He just had a laugh like a sun shower. Fuck.

We Follow Darkness Like a Dream by GreenasCole

(10/10 I 51,106 I Mature I Sterek)

When a mysterious note is left on the Stilinski's door it leads Stiles and his best friend Scott out into the woods on quest for answers about Beacon Hills's most infamous tragedy. After a surprise encounter with a monstrous wolf the two boys are hurled into an ancient and terrifying world, only for Stiles to discover he was secretly a part of it all along. Will he manage to survive the insanity of Fae politics and avoid the enemies that are suddenly crawling out of the woodwork to find a place in this new world? Or will the very revelation of his existence be the catalyst that plunges both worlds into war and chaos? And why can't Scott just stop teasing him every time he catches Stiles looking at their new "friend" Derek too long?

Laughter in the Dark by Starshaker

(13/? I 56,148 I Mature I Sterek)

Stiles is a fae. A trickster spirit with too much curiosity for his own good and a knack for getting into trouble. When he's just trying to help things don't go to plan and coincidences don't seem to end up for the better.Trapped, isolated and aching to get home, though it's better than what Gerard would have had planned for him initially, Stiles learns to deal with his new set of circumstances.

The Fairy's Wolf by kuki

(57/? I 90,602 I Explicit I Sciles)

In a world where non-humans mingle with humans in public schools until they became of age, about high school age, going instead to a specialty finishing school, a young halfling fae fights to stay with his friends. His fear of losing touch with his best friend, a young Alpha werewolf, has the pair pushing their relationship to the edge; and their relationship has the world on the brink of war.

-or-where I apparently ship Skittles hard now, hate myself with this work load on top of my school work, switch up species because f-u that's why, make up mythology, and try to give Derek a nice life.

Where You Still Remember Dreaming by yodasyoyo

(15/15 I 95,612 I Explicit I Sterek)

“What’s your name? I can’t keep calling you Balto.”

“What’s yours?”

“Stiles.”

Derek raises an eyebrow. That isn’t his real name. There’s no way. But now he thinks about it, he has a vague memory of someone, probably Uncle Peter, telling him that with the fae, names have power. “I’m Miguel,” he says.

“Lie.”

“Are you trying to tell me your real name is Stiles?”

Stiles runs his tongue across his teeth and considers Derek carefully. “Fair enough,” he says, “Miguel it is.”

Grabbing his groceries and pocketing the change, Derek turns to leave; he’s nearly at the door when Stiles calls out, “By the way, Miguel, if you’re interested, it’s two for one on bags of kibble at the pet store down the street.”

Derek doesn’t look back, doesn’t hesitate, just raises a hand and flips him off on the way out.

#teen wolf #sterek #sciles #steter #stiles stilinski #peter hale #scott mccall #derek hale #fae!stiles

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svnthxsense · 5 years ago

Text

interstellar

GENRE/RATING: Angst, drama, fluff | PG-13 WARNINGS: Fem reader, cursing, family issues, mentions of divorce, (almost?) motorcycle accident, mentions of blood, slow burn, two (2) make-out scenes SUMMARY: Na Jaemin was no longer the boy you remembered from third grade. He was troubled, rough around the edges. But somehow, with every odd run-in you two shared, you managed to bring out the brighter side in him. You and Jaemin were not star-crossed lovers, but your relationship may just become something interstellar. AUTHOR’S NOTE: Don’t @ me, Jaemin would be a soft ass badboy okayyyy. The ending is a bit rushed imo and this whole thing is definitely not my best but hopefully it’s bearable :/ This is a standalone in my Neo Tech High School Series. Song rec → 💿 WORD COUNT: 10.7k

[third grade]

“Welcome!” Your father beamed towards the next family who entered the quaint studio with their young son. You stood beside him, offering a warm smile to the little boy who seemed vaguely familiar to your young eyes. “I’m Tim, the head leader here. Were you interested in hearing more about our program?”

“Yes, we would love to hear about it.” The lady tugged at her husband’s arm, ushering him towards you and your father. The little boy trailed behind them, wide eyes observing the vast studio around him. Photographs of happy children littered the walls, all within the setting of the camp that your father ran.

It was your first year as a regular cub, being that the younger kids were sorted into the baby cub group. You were excited to say the least, ready to take on more responsibility and show a good example for the other kids.

“For the first time cubs, it’s recommended that they take part in a two-week program where we teach children the importance of teamwork and survival skills. The first week and a half are mostly training here at the studio and then we have a three-day retreat to end it.” The woman nodded back intently, focusing on the details of the itinerary while the man’s eyes wandered the room. He was distracted, zoned out. That seemed to be how he always was these days, especially around his wife.

“However, we do have a longer program that meets the whole summer. We do frequent retreats and community service events.” Tim finally pauses to look down at the little boy, a sweet smile appearing on his face at the sight of such an innocent angel. “What’s your name, buddy?”

“Jaemin!” He exclaimed brightly, making a peace sign with his hand and causing the adults around you two to chuckle. “I’m turning 9 in August.”

“You don’t say! My daughter is the same age as you.” Tim gestured to your small figure standing next to him, and Jaemin looks at you with wide eyes and puffy cheeks. You felt a nudge at your side, and step forward to greet Jaemin.

“I’m Y/N,” You introduced yourself quietly, waving over at him. He smiled at that, waving back with as much enthusiasm as he had when he proudly announced his name. “I hope you join our program!”

Jaemin craned his neck upwards, looking at his parents with a hopeful expression. His mother easily gave in, nodding happily at her son before taking the sign-up forms from your father. You were excited, him being the first sign-up of the day that would be in your cub group.

“I’ll see ya next week, Y/N!” He was walking away, hand-in-hand with his mother but still managed to turn around and give you one last wave as he called your name.

During the first retreat, you had the time of your life. While the sun was up and beaming, your cub group went down to the river for some fishing and canoeing. Having friends around your age enjoy these activities just as much as you did was something unforgettable.

After the sun had set, your father and two assistant leaders had made sure that the bonfire was burning big and bright. You and the other cubs sat in a circle around the fire, enjoying your sandwiches in a timely manner so that you’d have time to make s’mores. Excitement bubbled in the air, the conversations between your fellow cubs roaring loud over the crackling fire.

You sat next to your father, directly across from Jaemin. Once the graham crackers, marshmallow, and chocolate were brought out, every kid seemed to be jumping in their seat. It was your umpteenth time making these treats, being that your father always carried some traditions of camp into your home life.

So when you noticed Jaemin, tears swelling in his eyes, holding a stick with a burnt marshmallow, you immediately found yourself drawn to his side. His eyes were puffy by now, and you could tell he was holding back the actual sobs that he wanted to indulge himself in.

“What’s wrong, Minnie?” You asked with concern, putting your hand on his shoulder. He wiped his eyes with one hand, smiling when he hears your nickname for him. You had never called him that before, but he liked it.

“I keep burning the marshmallow,” He admitted quietly in defeat, showing you the charred piece of fluffy sugar on his stick. You grab another stick from the pile beside you, putting another marshmallow towards the top and gesturing Jaemin to move closer to you.

“Hold it farther away from the fire, like this.” You showed him your positioning, holding the stick a few inches from the flames. He watched you intently, mimicking your stance with nothing in his hands. “This way the marshmallow will be golden, not burnt.”

You pulled the stick away from the fire, and lo and behold the perfectly toasted marshmallow that made Jaemin’s eyes light up. Then, you placed it atop of a single graham cracker and finished it off with a small piece of chocolate followed by the final cracker. Rather than eating it like most kids would’ve done, you simply held it out to Jaemin.

“For me?” He asked, eyes wide and tone shocked. You giggled in response, nodding once and dropping it gently in his open hands. Jaemin happily took a bite, a delightful sigh leaving his lips after he tastes the delicious treat. “Thanks, Y/N.”

During every retreat after that, you and Jaemin would always find yourselves sitting together during the bonfires. S’mores were always your favorite part of it, and it became Jaemin’s too. He got better at roasting the marshmallows every time, but he didn’t dare tell you that. He liked having you around to help him.

[eighth grade]

It was the summer of eighth grade when people started noticing that the change in Na Jaemin’s personality was not a phase. You couldn’t pinpoint a certain point in time where Jaemin’s characteristics had taken a complete 180. Rather, over time, he had become quiet and closed off.

Parents and kids alike blamed it on puberty and went about their day. You weren’t much different, assuming that this was a normal part of growing up and not everyone acts the same way as their 10-year-old self would. Maturity came with change, and that was that.

However, after almost three years of the same icy treatment, the rest of the school community had already accepted who he was becoming. This new Jaemin was one that not many recognized.

His warm, bright smile would infrequently appear in small grins. His kind, caring manner was replaced with a detached, blank look in his eyes. Everything had built up within the last three years, and no one was quite sure as to why.

If the circumstances were different, you might’ve talked to him about it. However, ever since your dad had to shut down the summer camp, you and Jaemin hadn’t spoken much. The most conversation you’d share was a quick ‘Excuse me’ in the hallways. You hated to admit that you missed him because you were certain he didn’t feel the same. If he did, he would make an effort to talk to you, right? And after all, helping him make s’mores was certainly not a big deal.

At least that’s what you told yourself.

[junior year of high school]

"You’re not seriously saying that Lucas is a better player than me, are you?” Hendery asks incredulously, flailing his hands around as you two walk down the many flights of stairs at Neo Tech. You roll your eyes in response, shoving him away with one hand once you reach the second to last landing before pausing to look at the awestruck boy.

“No, I’m not saying that. All I said was,” You continue to walk down the stairs while talking, not even bothering to wait for Hendery to catch up. Some students can’t help but stare because his eyes are damn near bulging right out of his head. If there’s one thing that you didn’t want to hurt, it was his somewhat tender ego. “His handles are unbelievable. I mean, think about it-”

Damn stairs. As soon as your right foot comes down to the last step, it lands weirdly and causes all balance to rush out of the bottoms of your feet. Before you can stop yourself, you already feel the rush of your body jerking forward as it makes its way to the floor. Only it doesn’t.

Your eyes are still screwed shut when you feel two hands wrap securely around your arms, holding you in your spot with a firm grip. Breathing out a sigh of relief, your eyes flutter open to reveal none other than Na Jaemin. Trying not to let your eyes widen is a bit of a struggle, considering he’s literally keeping you from falling to the ground and his infamously emotionless face looks quite beautiful up close.

“Be careful,” He remarks in a hushed tone, sighing before letting you stable yourself on the marble flooring. Your eyes, for some reason, glaze over his pierced ear. Two dangling earrings hang from his cartilage and earlobe, and you curse yourself for finding it so attractive. Meanwhile, Hendery stands frozen in his spot on the stairs, watching this whole predicament unfold because quite frankly, he doesn’t know what else to do.

Jaemin doesn’t say anything else, nor does he give you the proper opportunity to forge some type of response. He’s already making his way up the stairs, not sparing a second glance at any of the students who pass him by. Subconsciously, you smooth your hands over your forearms where Jaemin was just holding you. It stirs up some kind of emotion that you can’t even cognize, but the only emotion visible from your face is complete and utter shock.

“That was some shit straight out of a drama,” Hendery comments, bouncing down each step until he’s level with you. Silence. He had to tap your shoulder a few times before you respond, but you can’t seem to focus on a single thing. “Y/N, you’re scaring me.”

“I’m fine,” You grumble, continuing on your way to class while Hendery watches you walk away. Curiosity laces his mind, but he knows you won’t be able to tell him how you feel. It was obvious that you didn’t even know yourself. And talking to Jaemin was definitely not an option, the kid barely spoke two words to anyone on a good day.

You, on the other hand, cannot seem to concentrate on your in-class research report for World History. The effort is there, but every sentence you jot down seems irrelevant or wrongly-worded. It’s frustrating, and even more so because if it weren’t for your little run-in with Na Jaemin, you’d probably have a much clearer head right now.

Such an insignificant, minuscule moment should not affect you the way it does. His chiseled features and strong grip should not be so addicting, but you find yourself wanting that same sensation again. The way your heart raced at such a simple action was an adrenaline rush you’re struggling to shake. You had a feeling, though, that this run-in would not be the last.

By the time the classes are dismissed, the light rain is now a relentless pouring. To make matters worse, you had forgotten to return a book to one of your teachers so you didn’t have the option of catching a ride with one of your friends. You weighed your options carefully as you walked towards the exit- you could wait for Hendery to finish basketball practice and ride with him, or you could grit your teeth and walk to the bus stop.

For one, your phone is dead so you have no way of asking how long he’ll be or if he even stayed for practice in the first place. Secondly, the desire for the comfort and warmth of home is too tempting, so you continue on your way. You do have an umbrella, but it’s quickly rendered useless when you shove the door open and are met with the insistent downpour of water and the sharp roar of thunder.

As you stand there under the covering of your school’s arch, the other glass door to your right opens swiftly. Oh my god. Yet again, your eyes meet Jaemin’s slender figure clad in an oversized hoodie with a bomber jacket thrown lazily on top. His honey-brown hair peeks out from underneath the hood as he pushes his fringe away from his eyes with one hand.

It must be obvious you’re staring, though he doesn’t turn to look at you. Instead, he eyes his motorcycle sitting a few feet away by the curb. He contemplates a moment, an exasperated sigh falling from his slightly chapped lips.

“What’re you still doing here?” It doesn’t come off as rude, but his tone can’t be mistaken as anything more than curiosity. You gulp down on nothing, and you’re not sure why. He’s the same boy who burnt his marshmallows, the same one who insisted you called him Minnie during your retreats.

Except he wasn’t the same boy, not anymore.

“I forgot to return something to Mr. Park, and everyone knows how talkative he is.” You stop yourself before you overshare, with him nodding in response. As much as you’d like to be brave and stride into the rain with no hesitation, catching a cold was not on your to-do list. “Do you think I could- uh- borrow your phone for a minute? Mine’s dead and I need to call a cab.”

He nods again, digging into the back pocket of his jeans before passing his phone over to you. His lock screen is a simple, preinstalled picture and just what you expected. Your fingers hover over the numbers splayed across the screen, just about to press the circular green button when the loud crack of thunder rips through the air.

Your body reacts before you do, your hands twitching and flailing until the phone goes crashing to the ground. Upon impact, it makes a swift cracking sound and you’re sure that you’ve shattered his screen. Horror dawns upon your face while Jaemin just stares blankly at the phone.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for that to happen!” You rush out, stooping low to the ground to scoop the phone and shattered glass into your hands. The screen is black now, completely lifeless other than one neon green line that surely isn’t supposed to be there. “I’ll pay for the repair. God, I’m so fucking clumsy.”

“It’s okay, Y/N.” It’s the first time he addresses you as your name since you were twelve years old, and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t missed hearing it from him. He gently plucks the phone away from your hands, wiping the tiny pieces of glass away cautiously before slipping it into the pocket of his hoodie.

“Well, if you want, I could give you a ride. You won’t exactly keep dry, but at least you’ll be home quicker.”

And there it is- a glimpse of the considerate boy you once knew. Not the one that rode his motorcycle to school and came late every day, not the boy who’d talk back to anyone who dared to offend him, just Na Jaemin.

“Yeah, that would be great. Thank you,” You mumble, hands smoothing over your light jacket though it wasn’t wrinkled in the first place. He jerks his head in the direction of his motorcycle, silently as a command to follow him. Both of you sprint over to it simultaneously, the rain already starting to seep into your clothing. He passes you a helmet before steadying himself atop the motorcycle.

You’ve never ridden one, and you certainly didn’t expect your first experience on a motorcycle to be with Jaemin. Did you mind though? Strikingly, no. When you finally get the helmet situated snugly on your head, you climb onto the bike and inch yourself closer to Jaemin’s body.

“I- Is it okay if I hold onto you?” You ask, arms still hovering at your side. He simply reaches around to secure both of your hands around his slim waist before revving the engine to a start.

The rain has let up just a bit, though you’re certain if you don’t change into dry clothes soon, ill-health would surely be the outcome. Your house isn’t far from school, though, thankfully. Reciting your address to Jaemin, you ready yourself for the motorcycle to jerk into motion.

When it does, you only let out a quiet gasp of surprise as Jaemin zooms away from the school. He must sense your shock because he slows down the bike once you’re on the street. Wind whips past the both of you regardless, a stinging sensation beginning to pinch at your eyes. Everything around you seems to go past in a blur of grey, even cars.

The grip of your hands around him doesn’t loosen, even at red lights, but he doesn’t seem to mind. It isn’t until he’s pulling into your house’s driveway that you find yourself loosening your grasp with a breath of relief. That same adrenaline rush is back- but whether it’s from the joyride or from being so physically close to him, you’re indecisive.

“Thank you, Jaemin.” You unclasp the helmet and tuck it safely into his hands, the roofing of your house providing some covering over the two of you. His eyes snap up to yours when his name slips past your lips, and he almost wishes you had called him Minnie. This is ridiculous, she probably doesn’t even remember, he thinks to himself.

“No problem,” He returns, the engine of the bike sputtering to life again. Part of you wants to invite him in, but the words don’t dare come out as you watch him back out of the driveway without a second glance. And just like that, he’s gone.

[two days later]

No other interaction between you and Jaemin occurs in the days that follow, besides the sideways glances you’d sneak in the hallways. Hendery pesters you about it insistently, but you can’t bring yourself to say anything. Because, really, what was there to say? You get a certain feeling that feels like some type of drug whenever you’re with him, and you can’t help but want your childhood friend back?

The backstory alone would be too complicated to rehash, especially since the two of you gradually grew apart and you can’t pinpoint the reason why. Deep down- very deep down, your pride was a bit wounded. What made him stop acknowledging people’s presences in the first place? Especially someone he practically grew up with.

You deny yourself the entitlement that comes with the thought because he doesn’t owe you anything. He doesn’t owe it to you to talk about everything that goes on in his head. He didn’t owe it to you to be the same boy he was in third grade. You know this. Yet you can’t help but wish differently.

“Y/N, you’re late! Take a banana and run to the bus, honey.” Your mom passes you the fruit, already clad in her pantsuit and sipping her usual morning coffee before she goes off to work. Frequently, you’re already out the door by the time your mother is just about ready to leave. It seems today that you were running on the same clock. Only running on her clock would result in you missing first period.

“Remember that your father and I will be away until tomorrow!” She calls, but you can’t find it in you to stop and listen.

You take her advice though, shoving the banana into your backpack before haphazardly slinging it over one shoulder. The usual weight of your books is significantly lighter due to the fact that you decided to leave most of them in your locker, and you almost thank the heavens that you did. Running with a 15-pound backpack would be an arduous task that you would like to avoid.

The morning air is crisp as ever, applying the slightest chilling sensation to the apples of your cheeks as you sprint out of your house. Since you’re so late, the buses’ usual route has reverted to its express one- and the stop near your school was always skipped. At this point, you don’t have many options. Cabs are nearly impossible to catch at this time of the morning, so rushing over there seems to be the only choice.

The running doesn’t last for long though; you’re slowing down to a fast-paced walk after the first avenue. By now, you’re using one hand in a clumsy attempt to unzip your bag for the damn banana. The neighborhood is relatively quiet, and you recognize this street for never having much traffic.

You’re still walking hurriedly while rummaging through your backpack, eyes trained on the pens and crumpled papers that clutter the inside of it. Looking both ways, as your mom always said, while walking proves to be an important life lesson.

“Watch out!” You hear someone scream, but before you can look up, a sharp pain shoots through the entirety of your calf. The cement street is hard and jagged when you land on it hands-first. Your palms immediately feel like they’re pulsating, a whine of pain leaving your lips. “Oh my god, Y/N? Are you okay?”

Oh. It’s Jaemin- and he practically ran you over with his motorcycle. He drops his hold on the handles, causing the bike to plop to the ground with a soft clang. He’s at your side as soon as you look up, eyes wide and concerned.

“Your hands are bleeding,” He comments, taking your hands into his own and examining the droplets of crimson that trickle from the scrapes on your skin. There’s a stinging sensation, but the ache you feel in your leg is much worse. You motion to it helplessly, gritting your teeth in an attempt to dwindle the discomfort. “I have to get you to the hospital.”

“N-No! It’s not that serious.” Though your reaction shows otherwise when Jaemin wraps an arm around your waist and hoists you onto your feet. The contact makes you feel that same rush again, but the ache you feel in the muscles of your leg overpowers any other sensation you feel.

“I’m not asking.” It’s a firm, concrete statement that you know he will stay true to. Even an idiot could tell that you need to consult a doctor. You doubt anything is broken, but you’re certain that this pain is not something you can just shake off. “I’m gonna hold you, but try walking a bit and tell me what hurts the most.”

You’re in no position to argue, so you do as he says and tentatively put one foot in front of the other. There’s a pointed ache that runs from your knee all the way to the heel of your foot that makes you wince. Jaemin’s eyes, softer and somehow browner than you’ve ever seen them, watch you carefully.

“My knee and my ankle.” Your voice comes out strained and shaky. Jaemin feels his heart hammering against his rib cage. Holy shit, I just ran her over. His thoughts are incredulous- all those days he sauntered into school not giving a shit about what time it was, his karma comes in the form of hurting you.

"I’ll call the school later and tell them what happened. For right now, we have to go.” With one strong arm still wrapped around you, he walks you over to his motorcycle. Getting you on it and situated is a bit of a hassle, but he doesn’t complain. All you can do is gaze over at him as he throws one leg over the seat and twists one of the handles as the engine emits a soft roar.

The ride to the hospital is quick, both due to its location and Jaemin’s speed. It didn’t make you feel unsafe, even though he was surely driving over the speed limit the entire time. In fact, you’re starting to realize that Jaemin makes you feel safe all the time. When you almost fell down the stairs, when he drove you home in the rain, and now.

“Good morning, Miss L/N. First and foremost, we need to contact a parent or guardian as per protocol. If you could just confirm your emergency contact’s number,” The doctor says as he looks through the papers attached to his clipboard. You recite your mother’s contact information and notify him that both of your parents are on a plane and wouldn’t be back till tomorrow.

“Are you immediate family?” He questions Jaemin, eyeing the boy up and down. A familiar twitch in his brow has you answering the doctor for him, knowing that Jaemin was never one to tolerate bad manners and would combat them with his own. You’d seen it a couple of times- one time when an upperclassman bumped him in the hallway and refused to apologize to create a more masculine image for his friends. Jaemin ended up busting his lip.

“This whole thing was my fault, doctor. I wasn’t looking where I was walking and his motorcycle hit my leg. He insisted he take me to the hospital.” Your eyes flicker to him for a moment, seeing the cold glare he still holds against the middle-aged man. The doctor contemplates for a moment, before nodding and muttering that he could stay if he wanted.

“Well, your injuries aren’t too major. Nothing is fractured, but I believe you may have a patellar contusion. The healing time isn’t so bad, but it’ll probably be swollen and in pain for at least a week.” He flips through the pages on his clipboard again, skimming through your medical records and the X-Ray images. He goes on about prescribing you an anti-inflammatory medication with a higher dosage than over-the-counter meds and warning you about how much to take.

You nod in understanding and try your best to keep up with his rant because all you want to do now is lay down and rest. The nurse had already given you a pain killer, so the sharp pain you once felt has now simmered to an uncomfortable soreness. It doesn’t subside, but you are beginning to grow accustomed to it.

Minutes pass as you and Jaemin sit in silence, the doctor having left after his prognosis. One of the nurses pops in, notifying you that they were able to get in touch with your mom and that she had gotten someone to pick you up. Out of all the people you thought you’d see though, you’re surprised when Jaemin’s mom rushes to the nurses' station and hurriedly tells them your name.

“Mom?” Jaemin calls, slowly walking towards her. She breathes a sigh of relief, scribbling onto the discharge form before making a beeline to where you sat. She still looks the same as you remembered her, a few more wrinkles here and there but generally a familiar face.

“Honey, how’s your leg? I’m sorry this happened.” A hard glare makes Jaemin avert his attention elsewhere, already anticipating the lecture he’ll hear later. His mom never liked him driving a motorcycle, but it was the one thing he and his father bonded over. The one thing they had as father and son before the fighting got worse and worse.

“Don’t be! I should’ve looked where I was going,” You offer immediately. You’re sure she wants to say something else, but you quickly grab your bag and try to hoist yourself up.

“Let Jaemin help you. Your mom asked if you could stay with us until your parents get back tomorrow,” She explains, taking your bag from your hands and walking towards the elevator. Jaemin comes to your side, linking his right arm through yours and setting a slow pace as to not cause any discomfort.

As you feel the same rush of adrenaline course through your body due to the proximity of you and the guilty-looking boy, you can’t help but feel happy that you’ll spend more time with him. There’s no time to contemplate why your mom decided to call Mrs. Na, or what would become of today. All you can think about is how safe yet scared you feel around him.

[later that night]

“Are you sure you’re okay with sleeping on the couch?” You ask from your spot on Jaemin’s bed, already feeling weariness settle into your bones. His mother offered you his bed before he had the chance to, though he showed no signs of protest once she had. Only a nod of agreement.

“Yeah,” He replies as he scours through his closet to find a change of clothes. You’re surprised when he tosses you a hoodie and sweat-shorts, looking down at the bunched up clothes that land on your lap. He turns back towards you, having his own set of garments picked out in one hand. “Those clothes don’t look comfortable enough to sleep in.”

Subconsciously, you gaze over your outfit- dark washed jeans and a simple blouse. He’s right, you realize, and you’re too tired to argue. The mattress felt soft and welcoming underneath you, his fluffy duvet being especially tempting to envelope yourself in. The room around you seems very much like Jaemin now, Egyptian blue painted walls and black decor- everything down to the duvet. It’s a dark color scheme, but you can feel how much it matches him.

“I’ll be in the living room if you need me.” He throws a polite smile your way before strolling out of the room and closing the door behind him. The silence settles in around the room, and after you’ve comfortably changed into the clothes he gave you, you’re left with your eyes wandering in latent curiosity.

There’s not much personality to his room, not anything distinct at least. It’s simple and straightforward, much like him. However, your eyes lock on a cardboard box sitting atop his desk. It’s a little worn, the corners dented and softened from years of prior use. You know this is wrong, a complete breach of privacy. However, your hands work before your conscious does, and now the opened box reveals all of Jaemin’s childhood memories.

They’re mostly photographs with some miscellaneous items mixed in- such as a small toy truck, a pair of black-and-white dice, and a beaded bracelet you recall seeing him wear at camp. This much should satisfy your inquiring mind, and you’re about to slide the lid back on when a certain photograph catches your eye.

You immediately recognize the way your hair falls around your face in two french braids and Jaemin’s brightly smiling face next to yours. Both of you have marshmallow smudged over your lips, but the happiness that radiates from the glossy picture has you smiling to yourself. Things were much simpler back then- a burnt marshmallow was the cause for angst rather than the pressure of getting into top universities and having no idea of where your ambitions would lead you.

Lost in thought, you don’t even realize that Jaemin’s mom had stumbled into the room. It’s only when she clears her throat quietly that you clumsily drop the picture back into the box from your red-handed grasp. She smiles your way, mindlessly moving towards you until she sees what you’re looking at. Her eyes water a bit, her forefinger tracing over Jaemin’s smiling face. Though she hasn’t aged much, you can tell by the deep-set lines in her forehead that appear ever so often and the exhaustion hidden behind the brown irises of her eyes that life hasn’t been kind to her lately.

“God, I miss him like this.” She’s talking to herself more than you, but you listen anyway. You want to hear more, want to know how she’s coping with her son’s isolated ways. “He was the happiest little boy. I rarely see him smile like this anymore.”

It feels wrong for you to comment, and you don’t know what to say anyway. So you let her continue, wanting to provide some sort of comfort for the woman who always showed so much kindness to you when you were a child. You hadn’t conversed with her much over the years, but there are multiple memories of her treating you and Jaemin to ice cream after a long day at camp cooped up in the confines of your conscious.

“I’m glad he still has you, though, Y/N. With what his father and I are going through and all. It’s good he has a friend.” When she says this, you feel your heart pulsate. A look of surprise wiggles its way upon your features, but you quickly disguise it as a polite nod. You feel the urge to egg her on further, feeling that all the information you so desperately want to know is at the tip of her tongue. “You were always good for him... Do you know that I catch him making s’mores sometimes? He roasts the marshmallow over the stovetop when he thinks I’m not home.”

For some reason, tears threaten to form in the corners of your eyes at her sudden confession. Are you supposed to know this much now? Probably not. But you do, and there’s no going back now. Her words haunt your thoughts for a few more moments, her gratitude for him ‘still having you’ makes you feel all too guilty.

“Mrs. Na, I can’t possibly lie to you.” Her face contorts in confusion, the lines in her forehead reappearing when her brows knit together. “Being honest, me and Jaemin haven��t talked since dad’s camp closed. Other than polite small talk, of course. I don’t know what’s going on with him, and it might not be my place to know, but I’d like to be there for your son.”

She processes your words for several silent seconds before a bright, all-teeth smile graces her mouth. It reminds you of Jaemin, and how he always smiled just as brightly.

“Oh, Y/N. I shouldn’t have assumed, but a mother knows what’s best for her child. And right now, I know he needs someone,” She begins, and continues until every noteworthy detail has been said. Everything from her separation and ongoing divorce process with his father to the extra hours she picked up at work to the father-son bond that keeps Jaemin hanging onto his motorcycle- everything is new to you. It’s a lot to take in, but it seems like it’s an even heavier weight to unload for her.

“It’s a lot, I know.” By now, you’re laying down in bed comfortably tucked away under the, just as you anticipated, fluffy duvet. His mother sits at the foot of the bed facing you, as she finishes her long recollection. “Thank you, Y/N. I really hope he lets you in.”

Slowly, she stands up from her position on the bed and tiptoes out of the room, closing the door gently behind her. You replay her words over and over in your head until sleep tempts you to close your eyes.

“I hope he does too,” You whisper to yourself.

[next morning]

"Good morning, sunshine.” Jaemin groans in response to his mother’s comment as he trudges towards his beloved espresso machine. He mutters back a ‘good morning’ in a husky, deep tone that makes your mouth open a bit in surprise. Thankfully, neither he nor his mom notice as they continue walking around each other and reaching for their respective breakfasts.

Jaemin takes his coffee black with so many shots of espresso that you don’t bother to count and enough sugar cubes to make your teeth ache. His mom, on the other hand, opts for a simple herbal tea that’s caffeine levels pale in comparison to her son’s. It’s amusing to think about this contrast, but it further feeds into their family dynamic. In comparison to your family, you think the differences make everything more unique and unparalleled.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, sipping his coffee quietly and taking a seat next to you by the kitchen island. The room is illuminated with the natural sunlight that’s typical for Saturday mornings, and his skin looks so smooth that you’re sure photoshop couldn’t make it better. It’s unfair really, how ethereal he looks after just waking up.

“Not gonna lie, it was pretty bad when I woke up, but I took some of the meds the doctor prescribed and it’s not half as bad,” You answer. He nods in response before returning his attention to the coffee cup in front of him. There’s not much else to talk about on his side, but you have much more information than you started with and the temptation to strike up a conversation with him is as strong as his coffee.

You’re still wearing his clothes, finding them much too comfortable to switch to your other outfit. Prior to today, you never quite understood what was so appealing about wearing a guy’s clothing. Sure, it was comfortable and you’d stolen a few shirts from your ex-boyfriend at one point, but it didn’t make you feel giddy like other girls had described. Now, though, you feel warm underneath Jaemin’s lingering stare.

“You look nice it this,” He expresses his approval, fiddling with one end of the drawstring that hangs from the hood. It’s a mindless action, but not one that goes unnoticed on your part. His hand stays frozen once at the end of the drawstring, but it’s only a few moments until he’s pulling away. You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until he does, the quietest sigh filling the air.

“Y/N, honey, your parents should be getting to the airport soon. Do you need any help getting your stuff ready?” His mother singsongs from her position in front of the sink. On your way home from the hospital last night, Jaemin had picked up a toothbrush for you and that was all you had besides your other clothes and schoolbag. You know you can manage, and you wouldn’t want to cause her any more trouble so you politely shake your head.

“That’s okay, I’ll be fine.” As you carefully place both feet on the ground, gauging how much pressure you could put on your leg without it hurting, Jaemin silently watches you trudge back to his room. Although it was only for a night, having you stay with him made the house feel less lonely. Not to be confused, Jaemin adores the company of his mom most of the time, despite him not showing it.

The house just felt a little less empty with you there. He had someone to take care of, a weird responsibility that he never thought he’d enjoy. It could be the variation in his lifestyle that makes it so appealing. His mom, when she was home, was always the one to dote on him. The change in dynamics of someone else needing to be taken care of makes his insides feel warm. He liked nursing your injuries, he realizes.

The feeling kind of scares him, wanting to be around you this much. After all the years it took him to become so detached from everyone else, it’s completely unfair for you to barge into his bubble and churn up his emotions. At least that’s what he tries to convince himself as you appear from the hallway with a fresh morning glow that he didn’t quite notice before.

[a week later]

Today, the empty feeling resounding in Jaemin’s house makes his knee bounce in anxiety. Although he never admits it, being alone gets to his head more often than not. Ironic considering he shuts himself away from others, but his thoughts nonetheless. His mother’s working a particularly long shift at the office, and the silence that beckons his thoughts leaves him frustrated.

So he does what he always did when he missed the feeling of his family being whole- he grabs the keys to his motorcycle and strides outside. Memories of his father always burst into his head as when he rides, and he longs for the days when his father spend time with him. Ever since his parents separated, he became an afterthought to his father with his new girlfriend and all. To say that he’s bitter and emotionally damaged from it is an understatement.

The evening brings the sun closer to the horizon, a beautiful orange color painting over the entire sky. It’s barely past seven, but the exhaustion he feels from being completely alone prompted his first stop: a local cafe.

Normally, Jaemin prefers making his own coffee to avoid the judging stares of people behind him when he recites his order. Now, though, he needs to be away from the seclusion of his bedroom and drinking one of the only forms of sanity he knows of. The drive is quick being that he, again, doesn’t obey the speed limit. The cops never seem to catch him or care enough to pull him over though.

The shop is fairly popular among the people in your neighborhood, a lot of the high school students frequenting here for study sessions and dates. Small chairs and tables line the perimeter of the shop, the outside seating area extremely well-known for its view of the sunset. However, Jaemin knows he’ll probably grab his coffee and go.

You’re at the cafe, too. Though, Jaemin doesn’t notice at first. You’re at the front of the line when he just walks in, but he recognizes your figure all too well. As you recite your order, one out of many boys sitting in the booth nearest to the counter sits up in his seat. Jaemin’s right eye twitches as soon as he recognizes him- Moonbin.

He’s handsome, tall, and charming. It was no surprise when the upperclassman had asked you out and you happily accepted. The two of you made numerous happy memories for quite some time. You remember hearing horror stories from other girls who had their hearts broken by upperclassmen, but you were convinced that Moonbin was different. That is until he broke it off only to pursue the new transfer student, Tzuyu. Heartbreak had been a foreign feeling for you as you’d never developed such strong feelings for someone in your previous relationships, but it was a feeling you grew accustomed to as you moved on.

Jaemin manages to sputter out his order hurriedly, his eyes locked on you as you take a seat at one of the small tables opposite of Moonbin and his friends. He can hear the snickers from the older boys as Moonbin confidently strides over to you with his hands stuffed in his pockets. He doesn’t sit down, but his figure looming over you is enough to make you look up in surprise.

“Y/N, it’s been a while.” His smile is sweet and welcoming, though you now know better than to believe his act. Sure, Moonbin isn’t a complete asshole, but his intentions always ran far deeper than the overly-friendly facade he puts on. “Ah, are you here all alone?”

You gulp in response, eyes locked on your coffee cup as you sit in silence and wish for the humiliation to be over. Moonbin only grins, placing his hand softly on your shoulder to ensure that you’re paying attention to him. It makes Jaemin’s blood boil, though he can’t explain why. As soon as the barista calls out his order, Jaemin grabs his drink haphazardly and makes a beeline to your table.

“What a shame, pretty girl. You know, we could always-”

“Hey, babe. Sorry, the line took forever,” Jaemin interrupts before he can help himself, sliding into the seat opposite you and making Moonbin’s mouth drop slightly in response. You’re just as surprised, eyes wide like a deer stuck in headlights. This isn’t happening right now. Moonbin and Jaemin are somewhat acquainted. His friend, Eunwoo, is the one Jaemin had punched in the mouth. “Moonbin. Nice to see you.”

His tone is deadpan and exactly the opposite of the polite words he speaks, but it’s such a Jaemin type of saying that you allow yourself to grin over at him. By this time, Moonbin’s friends have gathered behind in out of curiosity. Their presence forces Moonbin to finally respond, the same friendly smile wringing his lips tight. It’s forced. Everyone in the cafe can pick up on that, yet no one says a word.

“Right. Well, I’ll see you around, Y/N.” With that, he pivots on his heel and stumbles out of the cafe with his friends trailing behind him. There’s a certain sense of pride that Jaemin feels as they do, like he’s successfully taken care of you again. And maybe, just maybe, Jaemin enjoyed being envied by someone as popular as Moonbin.

You gently push your hand towards his, covering the dorsal side of his hand with your palm. The sudden contact makes the lonely feeling in Jaemin’s heart all the less prominent, instead igniting a hazy, elated feeling deep within his chest. The smile on your face is breathtaking; it makes him feel like the only person in the universe at this moment in time.

“Thank you. I really don’t know why I froze up like that.” You shake your head lightly but the smile still tugs at your lips. You still can’t describe the adrenaline rush you get when you’re with him, just that you want to feel like this a lot more. He makes you feel so much more alive; there are so many things you haven’t explored but his presence makes you feel safe during times of adventure. It’s a peculiar feeling that you hope he’ll be okay with, because, after your night at the Na household, you find yourself wanting to be around him a lot more than before.

“You’re welcome,” He replies back, mirroring your smile with a kilowatt one of his own. It’s the first time you’ve seen him smile this way since you were kids, and you almost want to take a picture because it’s just so beautiful. It makes him look kind and compassionate, contrary to the icy expressions that everyone has grown used to. It reminds you of what his mom said, on the verge of tears when she spoke about how emotionless he’s been lately.

Though it might be a stretch, you begin to think that Jaemin is indeed opening up to you. And you couldn’t be happier.

[three days later]

Following the cafe fiasco and all the weird run-ins you’ve shared with Jaemin, you finally convinced him to let you take his phone in for repair. Though he protested the whole time, you ended up paying just as you promised. With his phone back up and functioning, he began to text you every day. Sure, the conversations often lacked depth, but it was something. It gave you hope.

{21:06pm} Jaemin: Look out your window. The stars are so pretty.

You did as he said, staring in amazement at the constellations and pops of light that contrasted against the deep blue sky. The sky was clearer than usual that night, the rare sight of the little sparkles in the night making you smile to yourself. Each star burned so brightly, and you wonder what kind of righteous act one did to deserve this type of view. It was unbelievably enchanting, the patterns of stars that covered the entire skyline.

{21:09pm} Jaemin: Hope you’re enjoying. They reminded me of you. Goodnight.

[four days later]

The whole world seems to be collapsing in on Jaemin. His breath comes out in short pants as he desperately throws the covers off of his bed and paces around the room. His mother stands in the doorway, tears streaming from her eyes consistently. She tries to offer words of comfort, but everything sounds muffled under the pounding of Jaemin’s heart. It’s all he can hear, and he’s desperate to make it stop.

‘The divorce is finalized.’

Who knew words could send someone into overdrive? The walls he had built up to protect himself, those words managed to break them down. He knew the day would come that his family would never be whole again, but he never mentally prepared himself for how it would actually feel. The immediate response to the situation is rage.

He picks up his beloved box full of memories that sits atop his desk, throwing the lid off and swinging the box until every photograph and trinket is on the floor. They didn’t matter anymore. His mother pleads for him to stop but her begging goes unanswered. Tears are starting to blur his vision, his face scrunched up so that they wouldn’t fall freely. The pounding sound he hears only gets louder and louder, so loud that he can’t take it anymore.

Without a word, he brushes past his mother’s figure and sprints to his motorcycle just as he had whenever he felt lonely. Only this time, he felt suffocated. Not from love and concern, but from the crushing feeling of his hope being lost. He would never get his dad back, not how he used to be at least. His mother trails behind him helplessly, one hand over her heart and the other muffling her sobs.

“Jaemin! Jaemin, please!” She screams over and over as he gets on the bike, revving the engine to a start while haphazardly slipping his helmet on. The comfort from just being on the piece of metal calms some of his emotions, the tears no longer forming or falling. He gazes back at her with an expression that his mother reads as reassurance. He hopes she gets the right message, that he’d come back and he’d be safe. But he couldn’t stay in that house any longer, not right now.

Though she’s still crying, she nods at his silent message and watches her son pull out of the driveway before regretfully trudging back into the house.

Jaemin isn’t quite sure where he’s going, and he stops to contemplate this fact while he’s at a red light. During times like this, what was one supposed to do? He wants to scream and cry all at once, but he couldn’t think of a place to do so. Out in the open is definitely not an option- he’d rather skip the pitiful stares from strangers. Ideas jumble up in his head, making him wince from the overwhelming mix of emotions and thoughts he possesses.

And then suddenly, everything becomes crystal clear. There’s only one thing he can think of that makes the empty feeling subside: you. The traffic light turns green but he decides to pull over at the next corner anyway, fumbling to pull his phone out of his pocket. His fingers move quickly over the keypad, your name floating at the top of his screen.

{18:45pm} Jaemin: Where are you right now? I really need someone.

Your eyebrows furrow when you look down at the screen, a strange feeling that tightens in your chest makes you grab your phone hurriedly to type a reply. In other circumstances, you would’ve waited as to not seem desperate. But Jaemin never talks like this, and you can’t help but be worried that something’s happened.

{18:45pm} Y/N: I’m at home. Did something happen??

Your anxiety only grows as minutes pass and Jaemin hasn’t replied. You subconsciously nibble on your fingernails, staring out the window in your kitchen without a word. The ticking of the grandfather clock against one wall almost drives you insane, but there’s no other sound that could be heard with your parents out to a company dinner.

A wave of relief washes over you when you hear the familiar sputtering of his motorcycle engine from inside. You practically rush out to meet him, the dim lighting of the setting sun making his skin look unreal. Only he doesn’t look like his normal self. His eyes are the slightest bit puffy, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he throws his helmet to the ground.

“Jaemin, what’s wro-” You’re cut off by his hands wrapping around your waist, pulling you toward his body. Jaemin knows his next action will have consequences, but the urge to do it suppresses his sanity. The pounding in his head becomes less and less audible the closer he gets to you, and it stops completely when he presses his lips against yours.

Your eyes are wide while his are shut tightly. The feeling of his lips on yours is better than you could’ve ever imagined, though. So you kiss him back. It’s a desperate, rushed, feverish kiss that still manages to leave you breathless. You didn’t even realize you’d been moving at all until your back meets the wall of your garage, hands tangling themselves in his hair.

But there’s a certain aura that exudes from his body. While you’d love to keep kissing him, you know that something is wrong. Convincing yourself that talking to him will be more helpful than this, you slowly pull away from him to meet his watery eyes.

“Jaemin,” You whisper softly, holding your hand up to caress his jawline. His breathing becomes uneven again, the tears that well in his eyes slowly escaping his grasp. The sight makes your heart ache as he slowly makes his way towards his beloved motorcycle, you trailing behind him. “Jaemin, what’s going on?”

“My parents- they-” Each time he attempts to finish his sentence, it’s cut off by a choked breath. Though the pounding is gone, he’s left with a mess of emotions that he can’t help letting out. Everything he’s bottled up since he was thirteen, it’s all going to come pouring out. “Their divorce is finalized.”

Your eyes grow even soften at this, reaching to place your hand on the small of his back. He’s crying freely now, not caring how vulnerable or pathetic he might look. However, you would never think of him like this- not with everything that’s going on and how long he’s concealed his feelings. You wish he could’ve just let you in, but you ignore the thought and focus on the situation at hand.

“I shouldn’t miss him. Your father was more involved in my life than he ever was. But why does it hurt so much?” His rant begins with this, but the things he says get worse and worse. You can feel the sense of abandonment that must’ve dawned on Jaemin long before. You can feel the betrayal and confusion in his words. “Was I not good enough? Did he ever love me? I’m his son for fuck’s sake!”

His hands hold the motorcycle in an iron-tight grip before he flings it to the ground out of frustration. Kicking it once, twice, until you’re attempting to pull him away from it. You can’t stand the thought of him doing something he’d regret, not if you can help it.

For a moment, he resists. Your strength is no match for his while he takes his anger out on something he held so close to his soul. Determination boils within you as you finally force him back towards you, stumbling back towards the stairs of your porch. He falls into your arms with a defeated cry, his shoulders slumping as he sobs into your chest. You feel your own tears starting to build up seeing him so raw and troubled just begging for comfort.

“I don’t understand, Y/N. What did I do wrong?”

“Nothing, baby. You did nothing wrong,” You quietly assure him, using your thumb to draw circular patterns into his shoulder blade. The small gesture comforts him nonetheless, his loud sobs turning into hiccups. You continue to hold him like this, him sobbing into your chest and you running your hands over his back in some sort of attempt to calm him.

It’s nearly eight o’clock by the time you get him into your house. The utter exhaustion that weighs his whole body down has him slipping into a peaceful slumber soon after he lays himself atop the cushions of your couch. Your parents stroll inside the house not long after, surprised to see that more grown face of the boy they used to know laying tranquilly on the couch.

“What’s Jaemin doing here?” Your dad whispers, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge before turning on his heel to look at you. Thankfully, neither your mother nor your father are making assumptions as to why he ended up here while they were out. Bless their hearts.

“His parents finalized it...” You trail off, a look of realization crossing over both of their faces. Not much needed to be said. The harsh reality is that many families deduced what was going on in the Na household as they saw less and less of Jaemin’s father around the neighborhood, until his appearances eventually didn’t happen at all. The whispers could be heard all around town as Mrs. Na would attempt to carry out her daily tasks at the grocery store or even at the hair salon.

“That poor boy.” A deep frown settles on your mother’s face as she looks over at his sleeping figure, a muffled snoring audible from your spot in the kitchen. The soft look on her face reminds you of the many times you’d come home crying because of a bad grade or when you’d tell her that you didn’t get picked first for kickball.

“This must be so rough on him,” Your father comments with a sympathetic tone. Though it’s not completely obvious, you know your father feels commiseration deep within himself. The boy he practically watched grow up, the one he taught how to make a fire and how to properly row a canoe. The realization of all this hits you all at once, your mind swarming with possible ways to execute your plan.

You were going to remind Jaemin that although his family might never be the same again, you would always be there to attempt making the void feel smaller.

[a week later]

“Seriously, Y/N, where are you taking me?” Jaemin questions from behind you, the makeshift blindfold of a scarf being the only thing keeping him from seeing the scene painted around him. He knows you’ve brought him to some sort of field, that much being obvious from the crunch of branches under his feet and the lingering smell of fresh grass that whisks through the air.

“Just a bit further,” You sing with the hugest smile on your face. It’s the first time Jaemin lets you force him out of the house since that day, and the heated kiss you two shared still hasn’t been up for discussion. However, the thought hadn’t quite crossed your mind in the midst of wanting to pull off this one act of kindness.

An uneasy feeling bubbles within the pit of your stomach as you finally reach the bonfire your dad has set up. He’s sitting silently on one of the three camping chairs laid out, his eyes perking up as he sees you two approach. You hold your index finger to your lips, signaling for him to keep his silence to which he nods at obediently.

“Open,” You whisper next to Jaemin’s ear, untying his blindfold in a painfully slow manner. At first, his face is blank, and it makes your stomach churn in fear that you’ve gone too far. But then it happens- you notice the creases starting to form on the sides of his eyes before the tears start welling up. And then the signature, kilowatt smile that you knew as a child makes a cameo appearance.

“You guys didn’t have to do this,” He grumbles, wiping a stray tear from the soft skin of his cheek. Your father’s belly laughs sound through the air, making you and Jaemin giggle at the very sound. There’s something simple, Jaemin realizes. The comfort of being around you and your father- he couldn’t quite explain it, but he had felt it ever since he was in third grade. He feels it now, at this moment, too.

“Well, it wouldn’t be a family bonfire without some s’mores. I’m gonna run to the main building, they have a convenience store in there,” Your father elucidates before hauling himself to his feet and breaking out into a jog. It leaves the two of you to take the unoccupied seats illuminated by the crackling fire. The warmth radiates onto your skin, and it feels so much like home that you close your eyes and smile to yourself.

“Y/N?” He hums close to your ear, the deep tone of his voice sending shivers down your spine despite the heat from the fire. Your eyes flutter open at the prompt, humming in response before your breath hitches when his face comes into view just inches from yours. “Can I kiss you again?”

There’s a grin on his face that you’d love to punch off, but being that it’s Jaemin you find it hard to act on that inkling. It’s a guilty pleasure relishing in how handsome he is. You nod once, holding the side of his face with one hand and closing the little distance between your faces.

Your first kiss with Jaemin was heavy, rushed. Trying to keep up with his pace was difficult, and you were one step behind for most of it. That’s not to say it was a bad kiss, but you knew the raw emotions behind it were the cause of such rash actions. At the moment, it was what he needed. Your lips clouded his haunting thoughts, and he felt content with that.

This time, though, his kiss is much different. He takes his time drinking in the flavor of your peach flavored lip balm, his bottom lips fitting perfectly between yours. It’s a push and pull between your mouths, his tongue darting out the tiniest bit when you draw his face closer to yours. You respond immediately, lips parting just enough for his muscle to delve deeper.

It seems to last forever, and you don’t mind a bit. The sensation makes it feel like fireworks are exploding within your chest with every second that passes. You feel his jaw muscles tense and move with every single one of his motions as you continue to kiss him until you have absolutely no air left in your lungs.

Begrudgingly, Jaemin pulls away from the heat of your lips and leans towards the heat of the flames. His lips are quirked up in yet another grin, but you don’t mind this one half as much.

“Thank you, for everything.” His head turns towards you momentarily, and you take the opportunity to peck his lips once as a way of saying ‘you’re welcome.’ His thank you doesn’t satisfy him, though, so he continues. “Being here with you and your dad- it just means a lot.”

You can deduce that he’s still struggling with communication, being that he’s locked himself away from it for so many years. But he’s trying, and you’re trying. And that’s all that matters.

“You always have a spot at family bonfires.” He smiles at the declaration, chastely kissing the tip of your nose out of pure affection. He never felt the need to be so touchy until he reconnected with you, and suddenly all he wanted to do was be close to you- physically and emotionally.

“Ready for s’mores?” Your dad calls, pacing over to his chair with a plastic grocery bag in one hand and a bunch of sticks in the other.

You and Jaemin throw a knowing glance at each other, before grabbing the needed components and recreating the happiest moments of your childhood. The stars burn almost as bright as the other night, captivating Jaemin’s attention as soon as he dares to look up. The constellations always fascinated him, and he always admired how a star was beautiful on its own. But its life seemed even more beautiful when burning next to a number of bright stars. He contemplates this over in his head as the night rolls on, with you cuddled into the side of his chest and the warm lighting that emits from the fire illuminates your face in the most breathtaking way.

Life will never be the same as it was, he realizes. Jaemin knows the memories are all he can cling to. But the moments in life he plans on spending with you- those are what he wished upon shooting stars for.

#nct #nct dream #jaemin #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct reactions #nct fluff #jaemin fluff #jaemin scenarios #jaemin imagines #nct oneshot #jaemin oneshot #nct angst #jaemin angst #neo tech high school series #fic: interstellar

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