#Dream me oh dreamer | The Skeptic

[feedingcnfever]

Tag Dump

[feedingcnfever]

Luis couldn’t help but marvel at just how similar The Gates resident’s were , when it all came down to it. The pack was falling apart at the seams, dead witches were turning up in the bay and they’d all, by some silent agreement, decided to pretend that nothing was wrong.

Of course, he was doing his part to contribute to the effort; had dragged himself and the bartender that had lost the furious rounds of rock-paper-scissors the night before to town square at the crack of dawn (noon) to get the Deadman’s Booth set up. Now, with a lull in the crowd he’d finally found time to scroll through the pictures they’d taken that morning, searching for the perfect balance of good lighting and subjects that didn’t look semi-feral.

So far, he hadn’t succeeded.

“Depends…Is it the kissing booth or the lemonade stand that has you racing for your wallet? You could probably get at least one of those outta me for free if you asked nicely.” Laughing, he was already setting his phone aside to dig through the cooler housing most of their stock, Na’im’s familiar footfalls and the scent of his cologne picked from the crowd seconds before he’d appeared in the flesh. He smirked as he slide a can of cranberry flavored apple cider across the counter, sweeping an assessing gaze over his friend. That he thought the other man was incredibly overdressed went without saying. 

“Didn’t think they allowed you out of that fancy cage of yours this early. Do they know you’ve made a break for it?”

"Why do you look like you've been voluntold for the kissing booth back in high school?" It had been a long time since Na'im had had the evening free to indulge in the festivities of the town, but considering the events of the Bonfire Night, he felt it was somewhat... pressing to at least show his face. The town's lack of crime had felt like something fragile that had been too easy to shatter with a murder practically at their front door. Still, seeing Luis manning what someone clearly designed to be a 'miniature' version of the other's bar was almost comical. It was enough to plant a little smirk across Na'im's features as he leaned on the corner of it, at least, and he planted his palm on the counter. "Or maybe this is a childhood lemonade stand a few decades too late?" Regardless of his idle torment, he was already reaching his free hand back to fetch his wallet from his back pocket. While he hadn't left his office with the intention of drinking, he wouldn't torment his old friend without giving him some business in the wake of this. He wasn't entirely sure if Luis had planned on doing this himself or had somehow failed to get one of his bartenders to cover the booth, after all.

[oliverreedmasterass]

Synopsis: The members of Greta Van Fleet agree to do an interview with the Human Napkin himself, Nardwuar, and find themselves ridiculously unprepared for his interview style.

Words: 2k

Warnings: language, some sexual innuendos (kinda?), mentions of stalking, the void™️

Notes: Shoutout to @skywaydrifter for the amazing fic idea, and sending me down a wild Nardwuar binge-fest

----------------------------------------------

Nardwuar theme plays with the animated intro video. The shot opens to show NARDWUAR standing in front of an impressive display of vinyl records, next to JOSH KISZKA. 

NARDWUAR: How are you?

Nardwuar shoves his microphone into Josh’s face. Josh flinches back a bit, but then leans into the microphone.

JOSH: Absolutely groovy. 

NARDWUAR: Tell me who you are. 

JOSH: That’s a bit of a loaded question. I’m a dreamer, a mere mortal, a man with a dream…

NARDWUAR: Your name. 

JOSH: Oh. Josh Kiszka. Frontman for the group, Greta Van Fleet. 

Josh curtsies to the camera.

NARDWUAR: Welcome to Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada. And right off the bat, I have a gift for ya.   

JOSH puts a hand over his heart and looks at the camera in shock.

JOSH: Now I feel bad, I didn’t bring you anything. 

NARDWUAR (continued): I’ve got this 1966 album, All About Miriam. 

JOSH: (taking the album and cradling it in his arms) Oh my goodness.

NARDWUAR: I heard that you’re a fan. 

JOSH: Miriam Makeba? Oh yeah, she’s one of my favorites. My parents had a few of her albums that they would play all the time when I was younger. She’s got such a rich voice, I can only dream of sounding like that. 

NARDWUAR: But you do have a pretty distinct voice that I’m sure a lot of people are jealous of. How did you find that sound? 

JOSH: I started screaming and then I guess I kind of found my way, eventually. (chuckles) No, but actually, my vocal coach, Ron, I call him “The Master” because he genuinely saved my vocal cords. I wouldn’t be where I am today without him. 

NARDWUAR: How do you do it? Is it special vocal warmups? Some kind of mystery technique? 

JOSH: Well, you see, if I told you, I’d have to kill you. 

NARDWUAR: I’ve got another gift for you here, Josh. 

JOSH: Oh god, now I feel super bad. 

NARDWUAR: Costumes are a big part of your stage presence. Here, I’ve got a piece that might look familiar to you. 

Nardwuar holds out Josh’s infamous golden pants, and Josh reluctantly takes them.

JOSH: Oh boy, I forgot how shiny and see through these were. 

NARDWUAR: You wore these in the sweltering sun on the iHeart Radio festival stage in Las Vegas, Nevada on Saturday, September 22, 2018, didn’t you? 

JOSH: I’m not sure if these are the exact pair…

NARDWUAR: They are. 

JOSH: Huh? Did you dig them out of the dumpster or something? 

NARDWUAR: Now, Josh, can you tell me about Sean Reyes?

Josh looks at Nardwuar with intense skepticism.

JAKE: (offscreen) What the fuck? 

JOSH: Now how do you know about Sean Reyes? 

NARDWUAR: It’s Josh Kiszka trivia!

Josh squints at Nardwuar, uncertain.

JOSH: Sean Reyes was my third grade teacher. 

NARDWUAR: And he was the one who encouraged you to write poetry, right? 

JOSH: Yes…..

NARDWUAR: Like haikus? 

JOSH: Mr. Reyes would play a lot of folk stuff for us, like John Denver, Joni Mitchell, all the classics, and he could tell I really dug it. He pulled me aside after class, showed me some of his favorite lyrics, and explained how it was a form of poetry. I took that to heart and spent a lot of time outside of class writing poems after that.

NARDWUAR: Were they any good? 

JOSH: Well, some lines ended up in our songs, so you tell me. 

NARDWUAR: Well, I heard your twin brother behind the camera just now. Let’s bring him out here. Come here, Jake! 

JAKE joins Josh’s side in front of the camera, looking nervous. He’s wringing his hands, avoiding eye contact with Nardwuar.

NARDWUAR: Hello, Jake. 

JAKE: (short) Hi. 

NARDWUAR: I have a gift for you. 

JAKE: Uh, okay. 

NARDWUAR: It’s a poster from H.O.R.D.E. Festival at Deer Creek Music Center in Noblesville, Indiana featuring big names like Blues Traveler, The Black Crowes, and Taj Mahal from 1995. Something important happened at this festival, right? 

Jake pales.

JAKE: Uh. Uh. 

Josh is staring pretty hard at Nardwuar.

JAKE: (to Josh) There’s no way he knows about that. How could he know about that? 

Nardwuar sneaks the microphone closer into Jake’s mouth. 

NARDWUAR: Well? 

JAKE: Okay, uh, they might kill me for admitting this on camera, but my parents are pretty sure that’s where Josh and I were conceived. 

NARDWUAR: Do you like Taj Mahal? 

Jake struggles to rebound from that 180. 

JAKE: Um (beat) yeah. I’d list him as a big influence. 

NARDWUAR: And another gift for Jake Kiszka! 

JAKE: (whispering to Josh) This guy freaks me out. 

NARDWUAR: Here you go! 

Nardwuar tosses Jake a ziploc bag containing something brown. Jake’s reflexes get the better of him and he grabs the bag out of the air, and then blankly studies what’s in his hands. 

JAKE: What the actual fuck. 

NARDWUAR: Tell me what you’re holding there! 

JAKE: Hair. It’s my hair. 

JOSH: What??

JAKE: I’m not even joking. This is what they chopped off, like, last year before our second leg of the Dreams in Gold Tour. 

JOSH: (growing defensive of his brother) Where did you get that from?

NARDWUAR: What was the reason for the big chop? 

JAKE: I could have sworn my hairdresser said she was going to donate that. 

NARDWUAR: Oh, she did. 

JAKE: I’m sorry, what? 

SAM bounds into the scene in front of the camera, looking energetic. 

SAM: This is fun! Do me now! 

NARDWUAR: Sam Kiszka! Alright, Jake. Thanks and doot doola doot doo…

JAKE: Huh? 

NARDWUAR: (finishing for Jake) Doo doo! (turns to Sam) I have a question for you. 

Sam is hopping from foot to foot and clapping his hands with glee while Jake confusedly wanders off camera.

SAM: Fire away! 

NARDWUAR: Your aunt works at State Farm in Chicago. 

DANNY: (offscreen) That’s not a question. 

JOSH: How could you possibly know that? 

NARDWUAR: Have you ever had to file a claim with her? 

SAM: Well, actually one time…

JOSH: Ssh! Don’t tell him anything. 

NARDWUAR: (entirely unbothered) I have a gift you might like, Sam! 

SAM: Oh my god! You guys aren’t gonna believe this. It’s my birth certificate! 

JOSH: What kind of interviewer are you?? 

NARDWUAR: I’m just a fan, guys, just a fan. I love your music! 

Sam’s phone rings. 

SAM: Whoops, sorry. I know this is unprofessional but, one sec. I gotta take this. 

Instead of going off camera to answer the phone in private like a normal person, Sam answers the phone and puts it on speaker. 

SAM (continued): Y’ello? 

KAREN: (obviously shaken) Sam? 

SAM: Hey Mom, what’s up? 

KAREN: Are you boys alright? 

Josh grabs the phone from Sam. 

JOSH: Mom? What’s going on? 

KAREN: Someone broke into our house while your dad and I were on our trip. We’re worried it might have been a stalker since they took a lot of your possessions and some important documents. 

JOSH: Oh my god, are you okay? 

KAREN: Fine, just a bit shaken up. But, I’m so sorry, they stole Sammy’s birth certificate. 

Sam calls into the phone over Josh’s shoulder.

SAM: Don’t worry about it, Mom! I just got it gifted back to me! 

Josh hands Sam his phone and rushes away. 

JOSH: (screaming offscreen) RICHARD! WE NEED BACKUP!

KAREN: I’m gonna have to call my sister to file a claim. They broke a crazy amount of our windows. Like, way more than they needed to. What a headache.

DANNY: (to Nardwuar) You have a lot of explaining to do. 

NARDWUAR: I’ve got a gift for you, Daniel! 

Nardwuar pulls out a pack of old Beatles cards. 

DANNY: I don’t want it. 

NARDWUAR: It’s a pack of 1964 Beatles collector’s cards, in mint condition! 

DANNY: Wait, I do want it. 

Danny takes the cards from Nardwuar and looks at them with delight. 

NARDWUAR: You’re a big fan of the Beatles, right? 

DANNY: Oh yeah, I always have been.

JAKE: You’re not seriously continuing this interview. 

DANNY: (while opening and flipping through the pack of cards) I mean, this is a pretty cool gift. 

JAKE: (evidently at his wit’s end) This guy 100% broke into my family’s house, and he for sure did the same to your parents. 

NARDWUAR: Would you say there was a specific Beatles album that most inspired you? 

DANNY: Definitely Rubber Soul. I loved hearing them try folk. 

Jake throws up his hands in exasperation. 

DANNY: Norwegian Wood genuinely changed my life. 

NARDWUAR: In what way? 

JAKE: Nope, we’re not doing this anymore. 

Jake thrusts his finger up into Nardwuar’s face. 

JAKE (continued): What else did you take from us, you son of a bitch? 

NARDWUAR: Does it count as “taking” if I give it back to you? 

JAKE: Yes! 

NARDWUAR: I’d beg to differ. 

DANNY: (looking through his cards) Woah! I’ve never seen this photo of Ringo Starr before! 

Josh comes rushing back to the scene with their bodyguard and pal, RICHARD. 

RICHARD: (scanning around on full alert) Where is he? 

JOSH: (shrill, pointing at Nardwuar) There! 

Nardwuar simply grins at Richard. 

NARDWUAR: Can you tell me about Grubbyknot? 

Richard is obviously thrown off, and he lets down his guard. 

RICHARD: Huh? Grubbyknot? That was my metal band in high school. But we only played like two shows. One was in my parent’s garage. 

JOSH: Don’t let him get into your head, Richard! You’re our big guns, we can’t lose you! 

SAM: Do you have another gift for me, Nardwuar? 

Nardwuar stares at Sam, entirely expressionless. 

NARDWUAR: No, I don’t. Doot doola doot doo…

SAM: Doo-doo? 

Upon Sam’s words, he vanishes into thin air. Jake is so terrified, he falls to the ground and cowers on the floor. 

JAKE: Jesus Christ! 

NARDWUAR: I usually like to speak with only 1-2 people at a time on camera. It’s getting a little bit too crowded for me right now. 

Nardwuar looks at Danny, whose attention is finally away from his cards, and is gawking at the empty space where Sam was just standing. 

NARDWUAR: (continued, making eye contact with Danny) Doot doola doot doo…

Danny stares back at Nardwuar in horror, his mouth sealed shut. Nardwuar sings the little tune again, holding his microphone up to Danny to finish it. 

JAKE: (cutting in) Doo doo! (beat) Fuck! 

Jake disappears. 

JOSH: (explaining to Richard and Danny) He has this condition where he can’t handle hearing an unfinished tune. Poor guy has a curse.

NARDWUAR: Just one more to go. 

Nardwuar focuses his attention back to Danny. 

DANNY: Where did you send them? 

NARDWUAR: To another place. 

DANNY: Super helpful, thanks. 

NARDWUAR: Don’t mention it. 

DANNY: Are they still alive? 

NARDWUAR: I can’t see why not. I’m a fan! I wouldn’t hurt you guys. 

Danny sighs. 

DANNY: Okay. Send me away so I can do some damage control. 

RICHARD: No! 

NARDWUAR: Doot doola doot doo…

DANNY: (unenthused, clapping his hands on the beat) Doo doo.

Danny is gone. 

RICHARD: My boss is gonna kill me. 

JOSH: I’m pretty sure I’m your boss. 

Richard widens his eyes and holds his hands up in a defensive position, backing slowly away from Josh. 

JOSH (continued): Oh, come on. I’m not gonna hurt you, Richard. 

RICHARD: You did dump an entire bag of flour over my head that one time. And kicked that giant chocolate bar in my hands. And swung a folding chair at me backstage. 

JOSH: All tiny, insignificant hiccups.

NARDWUAR: Josh, you’re gonna love this next thing that I’ve got for you. 

JOSH: Please, no. 

Nardwuar hands Josh a Scooby Doo plushie. 

NARDWUAR: Tell me what that is. 

Josh studies the stuffed animal, trying to discern how it has any relevance to him. 

JOSH: Scooby Doo? 

NARDUWAR: What was that second word?

JOSH: Doo?

NARDWUAR: Wait. Say it again? (under his breath) Doot doola doot doo…

JOSH: Doo? 

Nardwuar taps on his ear, signaling that he didn’t hear Josh. Josh huffs and rolls his eyes. 

JOSH (continued, enunciating maybe a little bit too much): Doo! 

Josh disappears. 

NARDWUAR: Well, this has been fun. Keep on rockin’ in the free world and doot doola doot doo…

It’s silent around him since there’s no one there to finish his jingle. Nardwuar continues to grin wider and wider until he’s nearing uncomfortably close to uncanny valley. 

The scene shifts to a confusing plane seemingly everywhere and nowhere at once. A pattern reminiscent of Nardwuar’s red and green plaid Tammy cap stretches from the floor to the sky. Josh and Richard appear in the mysterious space, Josh screaming with terror. 

JAKE: Hey. 

DANNY: Nice of you to join us. 

It takes a while for Josh to collect himself but, when he does, he notices Jake and Danny standing in front of him. 

JOSH: Where’s Sammy? 

DANNY: He went to take a piss. 

RICHARD: Hey, wait, I didn’t say the doo doo thing. Why am I here? 

Josh shrugs. 

JOSH: We must be a package deal or something. 

RICHARD: That’s wildly unfair. 

SAM: (off in the distance) Woah, I had a lot more in my bladder than I thought. I wouldn’t come over here if I were you, guys. I can cross “building a manmade lake” off my bucket list.

JAKE: God, I need to get out of here. 

DANNY: And how are we gonna do that, Jake? 

Jake has no clue. He’s frankly dumbfounded. 

The scene jumps back to Nardwuar, still in front of the records. He seems unaware that the camera is still rolling. 

NARDWUAR: (to someone offscreen) Yeah, yeah. They should be gone for good. Yup. The plaid void, where I sent Dave Rowntree. We should be good to steal their identities now. God knows we’ve done enough research. 

Back in the plaid void. 

DANNY: Holy shit, is that Dave Rowntree?

RICHARD: The guy from Blur? 

DAVE ROWNTREE: CURSE YE FOUL BEAST, NARDWUAR! 

Fin.  

Note: The names/facts listed in the interview within this fic are all entirely fictitious. I'm not about to start leaking private and personal information about the guys.

[antihibikase2]

BW IV : The Emperor (Upright)

Hilbert snaps awake not too long after Bianca does, coughing out a dry and sour powder from his throat.

The last thing he remembered before losing his consciousness was making his way into the Dreamyard with Bianca- and witnessing those hooded guys from Accumula kicking a poor Munna.

To his relief, both Bianca and Munna seemed to be okay, being tended to by-

“Oh, you’re awake!”

A lady in a labcoat chirps, taking off her respirator. Her professional attire clashed with the delicate flower resting on her head- a flower that resembled the pattern of the Pokemon that Bianca was tending to.

“Good, good, I came in just in time after all. Too much Dream Mist is quite dangerous, you know! Care to tell me how that little one did all of that all by itself?”

Bianca cradles the Munna in her arms, having soothed it enough and lulled it to a sleep. “Um, those guys up there-”

“The ones with the oven mitts?”

“Er, yes. We saw them kicking this little darling,” She strokes the smooth surface of the pink creature. “Hilbert and I battled them to get them to knock it off, but they kicked it harder to get it to spit out the pink stuff, and a bigger one came in and-”

“A bigger one? A��Musharna out in the wild! Now that’s something!”

Hilbert holds onto his throbbing head, Tepig’s wet snout pressed against the back of his palm. “Sorry, who are you, miss?” 

“Oh, how rude of me!"

She stands to her feet, casting her shadow over the two children; though her face is mad with excitement, she does not exude an air of malice.

"I’m Fennel Dreamer, an acquaintance of your beloved Professor Juniper!” 

Her glasses shine under the little bit of sunlight seeping through the cracks of the ceiling. 

Neither Hilbert or Bianca seem to react to her introduction, besides glancing at one another skeptically.

“Oh, I don’t expect you kids to remember me, but I’ve taken care of you a couple of times! To see you out on your own journey at long last-”

“Um, sorry to interrupt, Miss Dreamer-”

"Oh, just call me Auntie Fennel!"

"Auntie Fennel, um, right," Bianca meekly interjects with a raised palm. “But maybe we should bring this, ah, Munna to a Pokemon Center? It’s probably hurt..”

“Not to mention,” Hilbert thumps against his own chest, letting out coughs on his own. “I’m not sure that Dream Mist stuff is helping our case too,”

To their relief, it doesn't seem to dampen her spirits at all- they would badger Professor Juniper just what kind of people she used to take them to.

“Oh, but of course, but of course! Swoobat is done with her job, I think. For the Dream Mist though, while I am an expert in the stuff,”

She adjusts her glasses. 

“I think it’s best if we have you kids checked out by the league doctor! I’ll give him a call, and he’ll come here in lickety split!”

"The.. league doctor?"

"Right! A normal Pokemon Center might do, but," Her little smile grows wider. "Oh, you kids are just so so special, you know? The league won't mind at all! Plus, he's an expert in a lot of things!"

“We should probably tell Cheren too,” Bianca murmurs to Hilbert as Fennel continues to sing this doctor praises. “He’s probably looking for us.”

At the mention of his name, Hilbert’s worried look melts into a fond smile. “Yeah.” 

...

Cheren arrives at the Pokemon Center- he had intended to challenge for his badge after he was done reading at the trainer's school, but he had been told by Cilan that they were still in the process of cleaning up Hilbert's mess.

Guess Beebee and I aren't the only messy ones, huh?

Though he planned to go to the Dreamyard himself, he was stopped by a little girl in massive glasses- a pair bigger than his, and she had told him a situation had gone down involving "fellas in oven mitts", and that entering the Dreamyard was off-limits.

His mind immediately went to the strange crowd at Accumula, and the capped man that had approached him.

But, before his mind could wander, Bianca had given him a call and summoned him to the Pokemon Center.

When he enters, the first thing he sees are his childhood friends by the table. Two adults in labcoats were tending to their injuries while a newcomer- a Munna, floated by Bianca's side.

Immediately, he flared with worry. "What happened?!"

"Oh, Cheri, you're here!" Bianca chirps. "Hey, so guess what! Hilloo and I went to the Dreamyard to train and-"

"I heard," He crouches slightly- neither of them seemed to be injured physically. "What happened there?!"

"Those weirdos from Accumula were kicking around this little Munna," Hilbert scowls. He squeaks a little when one of the adults- one with blonde hair, inflates the cuff around his arm. "Ow, ow, ow-"

"There don't seem to be any issues with them, Fennel."

"Oh wow, really? Thanks, Nikolai!"

"It's- yes, sure, whatever-"

Cheren snaps his attention to the two adults. For a moment, he forgot they were strangers- never mind that they were probably Pokemon Center staff, they had to be careful.

"I'm sorry, who are you?"

His snippish tone isn't noticed- or if it was, they merely ignored it. The lady with the flower beams at the sight of him, crouching and cooing. "Oh, there you are! I remembered there were three of you! Cheri, right?"

He glances at Hilbert, who gives him a sheepish smile.

Then he glances at Bianca, who mouths the name "Juniper".

An old friend of the professor's then.

"It's Cheren," He corrects. "You are?"

"Auntie Fennel, dear! Oh, I remember you so well, you were the little dear who would hide behind Bianca! Aw, yes, it's all coming back to me now! The three of you would run around in my lab, play with the Pokemon, sneak into the pods-"

"The what-?"

"Fennel," The other one sighs. "Contain your excitement. I'm sure this is something that you could discuss with them in their free time- they are trainers after all."

Someone sensible- and sane, Cheren thought. Finally, an adult beyond their little town of Nuvema that was fairly normal.

"Oh, don't be like that, Nikolai! You met them too, haven't you?"

Three pairs of eyes focused on the other doctor in the room.

With an exasperated sigh, he adjusts the collar of his labcoat. "I suppose. Though I've only met them once, if I recall correctly. Right, introductions are in order then,"

He offers a hand to Cheren.

"My name is Doctor Colress. I'm the league's doctor."

Cheren takes his hand- slightly flinching from how unusually cold it was.

"It's a pleasure to meet you."

[eirenical]

Tagged by @theworldisabrokenbonebutitishome (and no need to sweat tagging me in things! I don’t always have the spoons to respond, but I promise I’m just as big a dork as anyone else on this site. Not cool at ALL, I promise. XD)

Relationship status: single and not looking to change that ^_^  (Aroaces unite!)

Favorite colour: Forest green and burnt orange/sienna

Song stuck in my head: At the moment? Absolutely NOTHING, thank fuck. OTZ

Last song I listened to: Uh... I honestly don’t remember.  XD  Does the Hotel del Luna soundtrack count?�� I just started a rewatch and there was definitely music in there. ^_^

Three favorite foods: bread, pasta, cheeese

Last thing I googled: “The King’s Avatar character names” because I freaking BLANKED on Huang Shaotian’s name.  I’M SORRY. TT^TT

Dream trip: Oh man.  TOO MAN PLACES I WANT TO SEE, TBH.  So how about we go with “a trip around the world to spend at least a week or two with all of my friends that I never get to see.  ^_^

Anything I want: Right now?  I’m working on a REALLY impressive weather headache and I would like it to stop.  I would also really appreciate it if my cat would decide whether he wants to be diabetic or not.  And either way, if we could go back to “I will calmly let you poke my ears to get blood glucose readings” instead of “no mooooooooooom. DON’T TOUCH MY EARS.  I AM GOING TO FIDGET.” then that would be GREAT.  (I REALLY don’t like giving insulin blind.  😭)

Tagging: @fan-man-huaisang, @elenothar, @fixaidea, @enechelon, @laireshi, @doh-rae-me, @dreamer-wisher-liar, @soresus, @skeptical-lynx, @kholran, and as always, @ anyone who’d like to do this, please feel free and tag me when you do.  ^_^

[wendi-bnkywuv]

Thinking outside the normal "scientific" box when it comes to speculative evolution. Anyone else feel the same?

I saw a post about why are alien species to Earth centric. That post primarily focused on the anatomy of organisms on other planets. While I do agree, there's something I've noticed on essentially every post involving alien/speculate evolution.

While it is pretty much inevitable that the creators of said organism (being the ones who dreamed them up) would insert some human, or at least primate traits (we are conjuring them up from a human/primate brain after all), why not go even further than mere appearances? How about their overall biology?

As someone who has grown deeply dissatisfied with evolution on our planet, seeing so many of these documentaries about alien life just seems so...bland. It's science FICTION, so why does it all sound so much like science fact?!?

Watching "Alien Planet" exploring the hypothetical life forms of Darwin IV. it's like...we've heard that one before! OK, OK. I get it. Scientists are expected to follow along the lines of nature on our planet...but there's some part of me that thinks it's kinda more so Earth documentary disguised as an ET docufiction.

But seriously. Some quotes. "Next, Leo and Ike enter the kill zone of a power predator on Darwin IV. An alien hunter that pegs its prey with sonar. A high speed chase begins on Darwin IV, an alien planet where life and death can turn on a dime..." Cliche! SO terribly cliche.

"Like buffalo, the Unths are competitive, possibly fighting for domination of the herd." Where oh where have we heard that one before?

"No creature is safe from the lance of the flying skewer." Oh, no creature is safe! Nature is cruel. Pffff...why does everything have to be so...familiar, and so negative? I mean we're talking about life that evolved on a completely different planet.

How about some "Alien Worlds" available on Netflix.

"Always fearful of predators, they don't spend time finding a mate." This reminds me of how many nature 'documentaries' sound to me. As if life on our planet is always living in fear, always scared of predators. Dude. Maybe animals in a testing facility where they cannot escape living in near constant drugged states and literally under threat of daily torture, but in nature? I really doubt it.

I think many of these concepts make nature in it's natural state look unforgiving and cruel. it almost seems like it's a way to say what we do to animals is somehow less cruel. I already have enough of that because well, if nature hadn't given creatures the ability to feel pain to the degree that we do, maybe we wouldn't be so inhumane towards animals and other humans to cure our own ailments, to make ourselves feel better about our own insecurities, or for our enjoyment?

Call me an idealist, a skeptic, or a dreamer. How about a species that evolved a completely different brain and nervous system that enables them to have much more effective stress killing capabilities, or perhaps a species that can give it's host certain abilities like enhanced night vision? Again something similar already exists on our own planet.

How about an entire planet ecosystem where predator and prey dynamics don't exist? What if death doesn't exist, or at least not in the same way as it does here? What if organisms could become part of another organism that consumed them, like a mind meld to be part of a greater being? What if this meant that being eaten would be a way to gain new adaptations, and then be extracted later on when they were no longer needed?

How about a species that is willingly ingested by others to give the other organism nutrients, and then gets it's own nutrients from the waste it's deposited in?

The feeling I get is that some tend to think the concept of a peaceful, or at least less aggressive and more playful species as somehow being "weak". It's survival of the FITTEST after all. But what if survival doesn't need to be all tooth, claw, blood, and gore on other planets?

How about a world where species are more compassionate instead of this struggle we're told MUST be across the universe? What about planets where life isn't much of a struggle? Beings could live for unfathomably long periods of time, could be incredibly knowledgeable and low stress, possibly leading to things such as creative and highly abstract minds that we could only dream of?

What if they had enhanced senses of pleasure, and enjoyed giving others pleasure and joy?

What if the whole sex thing was different? No males and no females? No competition for sexual partners? Why not a species that uses sex as a way to communicate or some other function, but not reproduction? What about a species where each sex could fill a different niche? How about multiple sexes that could fill certain needs, or had different genetic material to make completely new life?

I really wish more of these docuficctions would get more whimsy and creative, even if it is viewed as a child's wishful fantasy.

[pikapeppa]

oh my dear smut goblin goodness.

okokok. i am asking for smut, obviously. but i feel the need to provide context before begging for asking for this scenario.

my first intro to your writing was via your Eyes Wide Shut fic featuring Nare and the boyband that never was. then i read your Felaris fic. THEN i devoured Inadvisable. i love Nare and Athera, truly. but Tamaris? she’s my girl. if she were flesh and blood i would 1000% want to be her friend and struggle with the massive crush i have on her willingly because she’s a survivor in all senses and curly haired women need each other.

all that said, i am HIGHLY curious to know what a Tamaris-centric foursome or threesome with the men we want but cannot have would be like. like. HIGHLY HIGHLY HIGHLY curious. 👹👹👹👹👹

kloveyoubaiiiiiiiiii ❤️❤️❤️

BABE. MY LOVE. LISTEN. Any excuse to write more Felassan is one that I will happily take.

Forgive me for taking this prompt and turning it into a stupidly long and smutty prequel to The Love That Grows From Violence. I couldn't include Abelas because it would be too OOC for both him and Tamaris, but two ancient elves is moreeeeee than enough to play with, don't you think? 🍆😉

Pikapeppa's Dragon Age Day drabbles prompt fills: Prompt #4

Solas/Tamaris Lavellan/Felassan threesome: Dream A Little Dream Of Me NSFW, <13k words. An excerpt is here; the full fic is on AO3.

*********************

Tamaris wasn’t much of a dreamer.

She meant this both literally and figuratively. In the literal sense, it was unusual for her to dream when she fell asleep. On the rare occasions that she did have a dream, the details usually fled her mind within seconds of her waking up.

In the more figurative sense, Tamaris considered herself to be a pretty grounded sort of girl. She wasn’t the kind of person to indulge in stories about heroic deeds or people swooping in to save the day. She was, after all, a Dalish elf whose brother had been dragged away by the Templars, and then who had been unwittingly forced into becoming the figurehead of an organization that had undeniable ties to the fucking Chantry, whether they admitted it or not. She was a living testament to the ironic injustice of life and the absence of heroism, so of course she was skeptical. Sure, some people might call her cynical; Dorian liked to joke that her success as the Inquisitor was out of sheer spite rather than goodwill, for instance. But either way, it came down to the same thing: Tamaris wasn’t a big dreamer, neither when she was asleep nor when she was awake.

Solas was working on that, though — on the sleeping kind of dreams, at least. He was the only person in the Inquisition who knew that Tamaris was able to see and speak with spirits — aside from Cole, obviously — and he was the only person who had ever been happy to hear that Tamaris had any sort of magical connection to the Fade, feeble though that connection was. He’d been teaching her gradually how to strengthen her ties to the Fade, how to focus her spirit-talking ability and channel it into other sorts of magic, and lucid dreaming was one of the methods that Solas had been trying to teach her.

‘Trying’ being the operative word here. Tamaris was doing her best to follow Solas’s instructions on clearing her mind and focusing on her breathing before they went to bed, but in all blunt honesty, her attempts at lucid dreaming thus far had come to shit.

When she expressed this concern to Solas, however, he merely smiled. “It will take a great deal of practice,” he reminded her. “I told you that it would.”

“It was always easy to talk to spirits, though. I never had to practice that,” she pointed out. “And that’s when I was just a kid.”

“You were truly fortunate to be born with a natural talent for contacting the denizens of the Fade,” he said. “Your ability to channel magic beyond that is going to be a matter of trained skill, however, and that—”

“Takes time, I know.” She sighed and shoved a hand through her unruly curls. “Okay, fine, have it your way. And thanks for the lessons,” she added. “I know I’m a cranky bitch about it, but I’m grateful, honestly.”

“I know, vhenan,” he said softly. “Relax, now. Settle your mind.”

She scoffed as she snuggled into bed. “Are you going to tuck me in next? Bring me a cup of warm milk?”

“If you like,” he said mildly as he slid into the bed with her. “Although warm milk has been known to result in dreams about cheese.”

She snorted. “I’ll take it. A dream about cheese is still a dream.”

Solas chuckled, then extinguished the bedside candles with a gesture of his hand. “Goodnight, Tamaris.”

“‘Night,” she said, and she settled onto her side. Solas sidled up behind her and pulled her back against his chest, then draped his arm snugly around her waist, and Tamaris contentedly curled her fingers into his before closing her eyes.

All right, she thought. Focus on breathing and picture someplace familiar. These were the main points Solas had told her to keep in mind about this lucid dreaming thing: to keep her mind on the in-and-out of her breath, to acknowledge and gently let go of any other thoughts that crossed her mind, and to try and imagine, with as much detail as possible, a place that she found familiar and relaxing.

The place that she chose to imagine was the Planasene Forest. She’d spent much of her childhood there, clambering around in ruins with her clanmates and her brother Marin, and aside from having a decent orientation in the forest as a whole, Tamaris had particularly detailed — and fond — memories of some special places therein. So tonight, just as she did a few nights a week, she followed Solas’s advice and imagined an area of the Planasene Forest.

She inhaled slowly, and she pictured one particular landmark: a redwood tree whose trunk was more than a meter in diameter. The tree was vastly old and huge, and most memorably of all, its trunk bore a few knots toward the base that kind of looked like a face with two big black eyes.

Tamaris exhaled slowly while thinking about that tree. It stood at the edge of a small grassy clearing that was usually dappled with patches of shade even in the height of the day, thanks to the thick canopy overhead. There was a stream some twenty or so paces north of the tree, and another thirty or so paces down the stream, there was a handful of boulders that you could hop across to get to the other side — if you didn’t slip on the moss and fall on your ass in the water, of course.

A childhood memory came to her mind: a time when Marin had bruised his ass so badly from slipping in the river that he had to sit funny for days. Then she remembered that she was supposed to be focusing on the details of the forest, not on bittersweet memories of her brother.

Focus, Tamaris reminded herself. Do what Solas told you. She took another slow breath and thought about the smell of the forest: that lush damp smell, slightly sweet with decay and ripe with impending rain. She exhaled slowly and thought about the rough and comforting texture of the redwood tree’s bark beneath her palms. She inhaled again, a slow deep inhale, and she thought about the feeling of walking through that clearing: the soft cool cushioning of grass beneath her feet and the dappling of shadows on her skin and her clothes as she padded softly across the grassy clearing.

She continued to breathe slowly and evenly as she made her way toward the huge redwood tree. Then, belatedly, she realized there was a man sitting at the base of the tree.

It wasn’t surprising that she didn’t spot him at first; he was mostly obscured by a hooded cloak, and there was something about his posture that somehow made him blend into the forest. But as soon as he pushed back his hood and looked up to meet her eye, she wasn’t sure how she’d failed to notice him before.

He was a Dalish elf with long braided black hair and unusual violet eyes. He smirked at her and gracefully rose to his feet. “On dhea,” he said. “Or should I say ‘on nydha’? It’s hard to have any sense of time here.”

“What do you mean?” she said.

He quirked an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

She gave him a chiding look. “I mean, what do you mean by ‘here’? It’s not that dark. It’s clearly the middle of the day.” She pointed at the leaf-blotted sky.

A slow smile lit his face — a slow and handsome smile, Tamaris noticed. “Where do you think we are right now?” he asked.

She frowned. “The Planasene Forest, obviously.”

His smile widened. He leaned against the redwood tree and folded his arms. “Is it, now? Look again.”

Tamaris eyed him suspiciously. He was acting awfully casually considering that they’d just met.

He raised his eyebrows expectantly, so she sighed bad-temperedly and looked around. Sure enough, it was the fucking Planasene Forest like she’d said. The clearing was there, and there was the redwood tree like usual, and around them was… it was the forest. But… it was the forest, wasn’t it?

“It seems off to you, doesn’t it?” he said.

She turned to find him standing closer to her than before. “Yeah,” she said slowly. “It’s… it’s not how I remember it.”

“Or maybe it’s all you can remember of it,” he suggested.

She thought about this for a second. He was probably right. Solas had told her to imagine the location of her choice in as much detail as possible, and she’d only been focusing on the redwood tree—

She suddenly straightened. She’d just realized where they really were. “We’re in the Fade,” she exclaimed.

“We are, yes,” he said. “Good eye.”

She ignored his teasing tone; she was too pleased with herself to be irritated. “Oh, fuck yes,” she said with relish. “It took long enough. I’ve been trying to find my way here for fucking weeks.” She planted her fists on her hips and looked at the amorphous forest with no small amount of satisfaction. Maybe it wasn’t the most defined dream forest in the world, but she’d purposely gotten here by herself, and that was what mattered.

The strange man laughed: a sound that reminded her somehow of a stream burbling over a bed of stones. “That’s an unusual response for a Dalish woman.”

She glanced at him. “How so?”

“I’m surprised that you’re happy to be here,” he said. “Most Dalish would be concerned about offending the gods or the demons by stepping into their domain.”

Tamaris narrowed her eyes at him. His tone was polite enough, but there was something mocking about his handsome smile that was starting to annoy her. “Aren’t you Dalish?” she asked.

“No, I’m not.”

She eyed him with growing confusion. “But you have vallaslin.”

“I do, don’t I?” he mused. “I suppose the Dalish weren’t the first to come up with facial tattoos. Or anything, really, aside from misguided myths.”

Stung, she turned to face him fully and folded her arms. “I’m sorry, did my being Dalish somehow give you the right to be a fucking asshole?”

He blinked at her, then huffed in amusement and rubbed his chin. “I’ve offended you.”

“It’s kind of hard to get off on the right fucking foot with someone if you make fun of their culture in the first two minutes of meeting them,” she said in a hard voice.

He cocked his head. “Has it only been two minutes? Time really is meaningless here.”

She scoffed and turned away. A second later, he was standing in front of her with his hands raised in surrender. “Wait,” he said. “I am sorry. Truly, I apologize. There’s no need to leave.”

“What are you apologizing for?” she said aggressively. If his apology wasn’t a good one, she was going to smack that smile off of his face.

“For jamming my foot so thoroughly into my mouth that it’s a wonder I’m able to make this apology at all,” he said. “I can practically taste the dirt from my own heels.”

She gaped at him, thrown off by his outrageous reply. Then, totally without intending to, she laughed.

He grinned — gods be damned, he really did have a nice smile. “Does this mean you forgive me?” he asked.

“No,” she retorted, though she was still chuckling. “It means you’re full of shit, but your bullshit is entertaining enough that I’ll let it go for now.”

“Excellent,” he said cheerfully. “In that case, I propose that we start again.” He placed one hand on his chest. “I am known as Felassan. And you are?”

She eyed him for a moment, wondering whether she should indulge his bullshit or tell him to fuck off. Then she shrugged. If this really was a lucid dream of her own making, then he must be here for a reason, and she might as well see where this went.

“I’m Tamaris. Of Clan Lavellan,” she added pointedly, just in case he decided to act like a dick again about her being Dalish.

Felassan bowed his head in a politely formal gesture. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Tamaris of Clan Lavellan,” he said, and he held out his hand to shake.

She reached out and shook his hand. Instead of releasing his hand right away, however, she peered closely at his face. His expression was pleasant and his unusual violet gaze was free of guile, but there was something about him that was poking at the back of her mind in a weird way.

“Do I know you?” she asked.

He didn’t reply right away. Instead, his eyes moved from her face down to her chest, then down the length of her body to her toes. By the time his bold violet eyes finished their slow perusal of her body and returned to her face, her heart was racing, and her blood felt like it was jittering in her veins.

He released her hand. “You don’t,” he said. “But you will.”

She stared wordlessly at him. That was bold as fuck. In fact, everything he’d just done and said in the past five seconds was so shameless that it almost defied belief. Who the fuck did he think he was to look at her in such a heated way? And to say something so fucking provocative? He was lucky she wasn’t punching him in the face right now.

She took a deep breath to calm her thrumming heart, then folded her arms. “Are you a spirit?”

“I can see why you’d ask me that,” he said.

She narrowed her eyes. “That’s not an answer.”

“What sort of answer were you looking for?”

“A simple yes or no would be nice,” she drawled. “You’re in the Fade, and you were here when I got here. So it makes sense that you’d be a spirit, right?”

He shrugged and tucked his hands in his pockets. “Your logic sounds pretty foolproof. Why bother asking me if I’m a spirit, if that’s what you think?”

“I… shit, I don’t know,” she said blankly. “I guess I was being polite.”

Felassan smirked. “It doesn’t seem to me that ‘polite’ is something you’re used to being.”

She laughed again without thinking about it. “Fuck you.”

He grinned. “Are you saying I’m wrong?” “No. Actually, you’re right,” she admitted. “Though if Josephine had it her way, I’d be well-mannered all the fucking time.”

Felassan huffed. “I don’t know this Josephine person, but don’t let her curb you. It would be akin to shaving the thorns off of a felandaris plant. It might be more pleasant to the eye, but removing its teeth makes it less than what it truly is.”

She eyed him in surprise. That was an unexpectedly incisive thing for him to say — and something she’d often thought herself.

She peered carefully at him. “Are you sure I don’t know you? There’s something about you that’s weirdly familiar.”

“I’m flattered that you keep asking me this,” he said. “It makes me wonder if you’re thinking about knowing me better.” His tone was faintly salacious and his eyebrows were quirked in a way that made her tummy squirm, and his dimpled smile was so attractive that it was starting to get annoying.

She purposely took a step away from him and planted her hands on her hips. “Are you always this forward with women you’ve just met?”

“Only the ones who are undressing themselves in front of me,” he replied.

“Excuse me?” she said tartly. “What the fuck are you talking about?” She glanced down at herself, then balked. Instead of the leather leggings and tunic she’d been wearing when she entered this dream, she was now wearing nothing more than a loose cotton shirt with a regrettably wide neckline.

She defensively folded her arms in case her nipples were showing through the thin shirt. And belatedly, very belatedly, she realized that Felassan’s clothing had changed too. Instead of being fully clothed including a hooded cloak, he was now wearing only a tunic and breeches — and the sleeves of the tunic, she noticed, were rolled up to his elbows in a way that somehow seemed purposely provocative.

Felassan smirked at her — an annoyingly knowing smirk — then turned away and wandered back over to the redwood tree. “So, Tamaris of Clan Lavellan. What brings you to this undeniably charming part of the Fade?” He peeled off a small piece of the redwood tree’s bark, then placed it in his mouth and started to slowly chew it.

She wrinkled her nose. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Trying to find a salve for a pain that has no solution,” he said with a smile.

She felt a funny pang in her chest. Felassan’s words were serious despite his smile, and there was a faint tilt to his eyebrows that looked almost sad. And somehow, even though she’d just met him, Tamaris knew that sadness wasn’t an emotion that often touched his face, even if he was feeling it.

She stared wordlessly at him for a second, unnerved by his answer and by her weird sense of awareness of him, and his smile eventually warmed to an expression of genuine amusement. “You haven’t answered my question. What brings you here?”

“I, um…” She gathered herself and stepped a little closer to him. “I’m — uh, trying to work on strengthening my magic.”

He seemed surprised by this. “Are you a mage?”

She shook her head and idly ran her fingers over the tree’s mottled bark. “No. I mean, not — honestly, no. I’ve got a talent for talking to spirits, and my boyfriend’s been teaching me to expand that into using magic in other ways.”

Felassan quirked an eyebrow. “Your boyfriend, you say?”

She gave him a mocking look. “Yes, my boyfriend. Does that disappoint you?”

”Enormously,” he said. “At the same time, it’s inconsequential.”

She gave him a disbelieving look. What the fuck did he mean by that? Before she could pick on him about it, he delicately spat out the piece of bark, then turned back to her with a smile. “And how exactly is this boyfriend of yours teaching you to strengthen your connection to the Fade?”

“Mindfulness stuff and meditation, mainly,” she said. “How to be more aware of my own ties to the Fade. And this, actually.” She waved vaguely at the forest, then leaned against the redwood tree. “I rarely dream, so he’s been trying to teach me how to dream on purpose. This is the first time I’ve ever been able to do it.”

His eyebrows rose appreciatively. “Congratulations are in order, then. This is a very good lucid dream for a beginner. I can only imagine the dreams you’ll conjure with more time and training.”

“Yes, that’s what—” She broke off suddenly and snapped her fingers. “That’s why you seem familiar! You’ve got the same accent as my boyfriend.”

“Hm,” Felassan said. “Where does his accent hail from?”

“Some little village in the north called…” She frowned. “Shit, I’ve forgotten what the village is called. Or maybe he didn’t tell me? No, that’s stupid, he must have told me. I’ll have to ask him again.”

“Interesting,” Felassan said. “And what is your boyfriend’s name?”

Tamaris gave him a challenging look. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“I would,” he said. “It behooves me to learn the name of the man I’m going to be cuckolding.”

Tamaris scoffed. Cuckolding! He was fucking bold as brass! “You are fucking shameless, you know that?” she scolded. “What makes you think you’ll be doing any cuckolding?”

He took a step closer to her. “You tell me. This is your lucid dream, after all.”

Her belly flipped. Felassan was only a couple of feet away from her now: definitely closer than two strangers should be. Oh shit, and he was stepping even closer — close enough that her heart was jumping now at his proximity.

She forced herself to take a step back from him, but to no avail: her back hit the redwood tree. Then Felassan placed his palm on the tree beside her head.

Tamaris felt a distinct and shamefully familiar leap of excitement between her legs. Then Felassan spoke to her in a low and persuasive voice. “Come now, Tamaris, think about this logically. If this is your lucid dream, then everything that’s happening right now is of your making.”

“And what exactly do you seem to think is happening right now?” she said acidly.

“Well, first of all, you’re undressing me.”

“I am not…!” She wilted slightly; he was right. He was wearing nothing but his breeches now.

He smirked and went on. “Secondly, your body is a screaming provocation. You’re making it very obvious what you want, even if you won’t admit it.”

“Oh, really?” she snapped. “What makes you such an expert on my body?”

His smirk widened. Then, to her dismay and delight, he leaned in and brushed his lips to her ear. “Your nipples are so hard they’re visible through your shirt, and you’re rolling your hips. Am I to understand that that’s all meaningless?”

Tamaris tried to reply. Really, she did. But his voice was low and lilting and smooth, and the sound of it was having a totally unreasonable effect on her. Her tongue was glued to the roof of her mouth and her breath was trapped in her chest, and her heart seemed to have migrated down in her body to thump directly between her legs in an extremely distracting drumbeat of lust.

She forced her tongue to move. “Are you a desire demon?” she breathed.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he murmured in her ear. “You appeared out of the blue when I was on the cusp of going mad with loneliness. That’s usually when spirits of desire make their move.”

This actually distracted her for a moment. If he was a spirit, then why was he lonely? “Do spirits get lonely?” she asked.

“Are spirits so different from corporeal people, in your estimation?”

She let out a breathless laugh. “You really sounded like my boyfriend just then.”

He made a soft growling noise that she felt in her nipples. “Are you trying to make me jealous or to flatter me?”

“Neither,” she retorted. “I’m just stating a fact.”

He huffed, then lifted his other hand and brushed his thumb over her lower lip. “Maybe we should find something else for you to do with that blunt mouth of yours,” he murmured.

She ignored the throbbing pulse in her pussy and gave him a dirty look. “You’re trying to shut me up? That’s really fucking charming.”

He quirked a playful eyebrow at her. “How’s this for charming: kiss me.”

She blurted a laugh at how audacious he was. “No! You fucking rogue.”

A flash of a grin crossed his face. Then he abruptly tilted her chin up. “Kiss me,” he commanded.

Fuck you, she thought instinctively, but the scathing retort didn’t leave her lips. Instead, like a traitor to her own self, she wet her lips invitingly.

His violet eyes flared with heat. Then, with an unexpected degree of tenderness, he cradled her neck in his palm. “Kiss me, Tamaris,” he whispered.

She swallowed hard, then pulled his hand away from her neck. “I… I can’t.”

“Can’t, or shouldn’t?” he asked.

“Both. Either,” she said. “Take your fucking pick.”

Another beautiful smile lit his face. Then he sighed and trailed his knuckles along her jawline. “This torture is exquisite. You don’t know what it is to behold a flame so bright and to be forbidden from partaking of its warmth.”

She gave him a skeptical look. “I think you’ve just never had someone say ‘no’ to you.”

To her surprise, his carnal expression suddenly softened into that slightly melancholy look. “You’re so very wrong about that.”

Her heart twisted, and she gazed silently at him with an odd sort of ache in her throat. Why was she suddenly feeling sorry for him when they’d only just fucking met?

The melancholy in his face quickly faded back into a playful smile. “All right. I have a proposal for you. Invite your boyfriend to join us. It’s your dream, after all.”

She gaped at him. “Invite my — no fucking way! Are you nuts?”

“Why?” Felassan said with a grin. “Are you afraid I might seduce him?”

“Should I be?” Tamaris said archly. “Are you really a desire demon in disguise, then? This ‘bring your boyfriend’ bullshit sounds like the kind of cheap trick a desire demon would try.”

He chuckled. “I’m no desire demon, I promise you that. And I assure you that my only interest is in knowing you. If inviting your boyfriend here to watch is what it takes to enjoy the pleasure of your fiery warmth, then so be it.”

She laughed again at his audacity. “You think he’d just stand here and watch while you fuck me? You don’t know him.”

Felassan grinned. “He doesn’t have to just watch. He’s free to compete with me for your attention if he wants.”

She almost laughed again at how shameless he was. “You’re a fucking piece of work, you know that?” she accused. And honestly, she wasn’t convinced that he wasn’t a desire demon — especially since his proposition was actually starting to percolate in her mind now. The idea of Solas and Felassan competing for her attention, taking turns trying to one-up each other while pleasuring her? Actually, no, not just taking turns: at the same time.

Oh yes, now that was a nice scenario. Imagine if Solas and Felassan were fucking and licking and touching her at the same time, trying to outdo each other in their bids to make her fall apart into a pleasure-stunned mess…

A thump of lust made itself known between her legs, and Felassan smiled. “You like the idea, don’t you? You like the idea of me facing off with your boyfriend in a bid for who can pleasure you the most.”

“No, I don’t,” she lied.

He laughed: that annoying lilting laugh that sounded like a burbling sunlit stream. “Don’t lie to me, Tamaris. I can tell that you like the idea.”

“Fuck you,” she said breathlessly.

His violet eyes flared with heat. Then he stepped even closer to her: close enough that his chest was brushing against her hard and tingling nipples.

He skimmed his lips over her cheekbone, and she stopped breathing. Then Felassan whispered in her ear: “With great pleasure, if you’ll permit it.”

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” Solas said dryly.

****************

HAHAHA A CLIFFHANGER. I'M A DICK. The rest is here on AO3!

[mrwinterr]

Die Happy

Pairing: Ghost!Bucky Barnes AU x Female Reader; tiny hint of Sam Wilson x Female Reader

Summary: You summon a really friendly ghost.

Warnings: Smut 18+ (consensual vibes all around, masturbation, vaginal fingering, oral [female receiving]) and language. Dabbling into the occult (use of a Ouija board).

Disclaimer: I’m a spooky bitch, I like how Ouija boards look like, but I would NEVER mess with them.

Title Inspiration: “Die Happy” by Dreamers  

A/N: I was on Reddit and I stumbled across an erotic audio that inspired this, so I definitely owe it to them. I’ve just been dying to write a ghost AU. I decided to hold back on the smut on this for now and maybe save it for later. This can be turned into a series, but I don’t want to get ahead of myself. Idk. You tell me! Enjoy!

It’s here.

It’s finally here. The package that would help you find the answers you were so desperately looking for was finally here.

Package in hands, there’s a skip to your steps as you happily make your way back into the living room of your somewhat new home. You had moved in almost six months ago, but it still felt so surreal. You, a homeowner. All those years of saving up and house hunting - you finally did one of the most adult things you could do in your life.

The small house had been in the neighborhood for decades and owned by plenty before you, in fact, too plenty, but for a home in Brooklyn, New York it was surprisingly affordable. You’re still patting yourself on the back for how you managed to score this place at such a bargain price.

It was the ideal place, really; surrounded by friendly neighbors and with a great home association. It was at a reasonable distance from your workplace and the city. Furthermore, cosmetically, it was your dream home. You never took a second to ask why someone would quickly put this home back on the market...until recently.

The realtor had assured you that everything in the house was functioning properly before you signed away. There was little to no refurbishing on your end, which was part of the dealbreaker, but now you can’t help to wonder if the realtor was duping you. A young, pretty woman and a first-time homeowner? That was easy bait for them, right? There had to be a catch or information that they were withholding and well, you weren’t about to wait any longer to find out.

Lately, strange things had been happening and while at first you brushed them off as mere coincidences, they were becoming almost too outstanding to ignore.

First, it was the air conditioning unit acting all wonky. You kept the house at a reasonable and comfortable temperature, but you found yourself often sporting hoodies even during the warmer seasons. The technicians couldn’t find a single problem with it and besides whenever you scheduled a visit for inspection, it was magically working just fine. Never mind the breeze that blew past you here and there…

Next, much like the AC unit, the electricity started to have a mind of its own. Before you could flip the light switch or press the button on your remote, it was always one step ahead of you. It was almost like you were living in a smart house, but instead of acting on voice command, it read your mind.

Not to mention, things disappeared and reappeared every now and then. Small things like the morning paper would vanish from the coffee table and if you couldn’t locate where you last left your keys, you never searched too far.

Then the eeriest one of them all was the unexplained smell. There was a distinct yet alluring scent that would waft by when you felt that breeze pass over. You had deduced that it wasn’t any like of your fragrance collection nor was it from the only friend that visited you. It was a pleasant odor and almost calming to you.  

You didn’t want to believe it, but these weren’t just common occurrences - these were tall tale signs of a haunting. The spirit wasn’t vengeful, that much you gathered since it didn’t make attempts to harm you in any way. Sure you could just either ignore these oddities or relist the home, the latter which wasn’t in your favor because it wasn’t that simple. Instead, curiosity won the best of you and you opted to take matters into your own hands.

Literally.

“Whoa!” You hear your close friend Sam Wilson exclaim and watch as he scoots to the other end of the couch as far away as he could when you pull the Ouija board out from the box. “Shit, girl. I knew you liked Halloween, but I didn’t think you were that spooky!” He said, his eyes bugging out in disbelief that you’d ordered such a thing.

You roll your eyes at him and place the board on the coffee table. He immediately gets up from his spot and sets what he deems is a safe distance from it as if the object was cursed. You’re not deterred by the Ouija board at all. It had quite the opposite effect because you were all too fascinated with the supernatural.

“You really shouldn’t mess with that kind of stuff,” Sam warns as you handle the remaining piece, the planchette.

“I don’t know why you’re so scared,” you respond, blowing him off and kicking away the now empty box.

“And you’re not?!” He says incredulously, “trying to speak to the dead is not right!” Well, it certainly wasn’t normal, but so weren’t the things that were happening in your home lately.

“I need to find answers, Sam!” You bite back, the volume of your voice matching his. You didn’t miss the hint his exclamations gave off and it bothered you. “What do you expect me to do? Continue living like this? I’m not in control of my own home.”

Oh, he knew. He was your closest friend and you trusted him enough to share your theories about your home and the experiences in it.

“You really think this place is haunted.” It comes off as more of a statement because he can see you’ve clearly made up your mind on how you’re going to prove the theory.

“Why do you think I can’t have Sarge or any pets over?” You absolutely adored Sam’s dog Sarge, but he made it apparent that he didn’t like something about or in your house.

Before Sam could try and spit out an explanation you’ve already heard, you stopped him, “I’m not going crazy! And I certainly am not going to spend another fee on having a technician tell me there’s nothing wrong with the units again.”

“Look. Why don’t you just come spend the night at my place and we can think of another way to approach this?” He offered and you knew that offer all too well. It had always been on the table. When you decided to move to Brooklyn and were looking for your own place, Sam had offered you a room, but you were hellbent on making it on your own. You were proud and independent...and weren’t sure about taking the next step with him.

Sam was everything your past lovers weren’t and you while you both weren’t official, a couple of dates happened here and there, something was holding you back. You cherished his friendship so much and a part of you feared finding out what it could be that you weren’t willing to jeopardize what you two already had if anything more came out of it and then failed miserably. He made it clear how he felt about you, but you brushed it off casually each time. Sam knew you simply weren’t ready.

“Thanks, but I’ll be okay.” You reply, breaking away from seeing the look of concern on his face and back to the planchette your hands were fidgeting with. You knew he was a skeptic on these kinds of things and only worried for your safety.

The nights he had spent here nothing strange ever happened. It’s like these occurrences were only happening about you. Sam wasn’t sure if he believed in ghosts or not, and he deeply cared for you, but he wasn’t about to stick around and find out. He knew that you could be stubborn, but there was only so much he could do to change your mind from where he stood and he just hoped he hadn’t lost you yet.

The small crack of thunder in the sky indicated a storm was coming and you took that as a sign to convince Sam to leave for the day. You didn’t want to fight with him about this. The few times you did talk about a possible haunting were just humorous conversations to Sam, but you were always being serious. It was evident that you two were not on the same page.

“You should probably start heading home before the rain comes,” you advise, standing up to walk over to the front door, hoping it’d sway him, but he knew what you were doing. Sam wasn’t mad. He was always very patient with you.

He only nods in false agreement before following your lead. “I’m coming back first thing in the morning to check if you’re still alive though,” he jokes, before pulling you in for a hug and giving you a kiss to the side of your head. His words elicit a light chuckle from you, but is mostly muffled against his biceps, then you’re playfully shoving him out the door.

As soon as his car disappears from the end of the street, you jolt and head snaps quickly at a sudden crash from the kitchen. You make your way in that direction to find the mug gifted to you on your last birthday from Sam shattered in pieces all over the kitchen floor.

The last roar of thunder must’ve been a strong one or the elevation of the shelf had been slightly off or maybe the house didn’t like Sam…

You shook your head at that last silly thought from your mind and sighed preparing to clean up the mess. Once that was done, the gloomy weather quickly casted a blanket over the sky and with a remix of fast raindrops against the windows and pavement and the lag in thunder, you didn’t waste time on the mission.

What better time than now? It set the mood. Were you scared? You weren’t sure. You were already convinced you were living with a spirit. You didn’t ponder long enough to think about the aftermath. Was this all just a bunch of hocus pocus or pseudoscience? Would you get possessed by a demon or would he be like Casper?

The use of a Ouija board, especially by someone inexperienced as yourself, was highly not recommended and very much frowned upon during your upbringing. If only your parents could see you now...

The spirit in your home couldn’t be that bad though, right? If they wanted to possess you, they would’ve done so by now; unless they were just waiting for an invitation. Well, there was only one way to find out.

You dimmed the lights and lit a few candles around you. Was this insulting? You did some fair share of research, but most of what you knew about Ouija boards were credited to horror movies.

You take a deep breath and begin to summon your supposed roommate.

Bucky felt bad as he watched you clean up the mess he made in your kitchen. He knew you liked that mug, but he didn’t and he certainly didn’t like how Sam made you feel. Sam made you feel all sorts of things and Bucky knew that, which explained why Sam never experienced anything unusual in the house because Bucky didn’t like seeing you with him.  

He was aware of how silly it was. A ghost jealous of two living humans. He had his turn, but it was tragically cut short. He was so young. He left everything behind to fight a World War. There was a high chance he wouldn’t come back and he was sadly part of that statistic.

But why did his afterlife have to consist of seeing the most angelic living human being just waiting to fall in love with the perfect living man? He didn’t get a chance to live out that part of his life, so was he bitter? Yes. And especially outraged at any distress that was brought upon the current tenant of his old home.

Bucky wasn’t sure why he was able to roam around his old stomping ground over the last couple of decades. He tried his best to communicate with the previous owners but he always ended up scaring them off. When you moved in, if he wasn’t already dead, and you could’ve seen him, he just knew he would’ve been as pale as a well...ghost. He made sure to not send you running for the hills.

He tried to help you with everyday things, trying his best to be subtle. He didn’t even spy on you during private moments like in the shower or on those lonely, needy nights. He proved himself to be a ghostly gentleman.

He even tried to not eavesdrop on your conversations and almost always disappeared when guests were present, but he heard you raise your voice earlier at Sam. He wasn’t sure what you two were arguing about and sure it was petty on his part, but before he could summon enough energy to knock over the mug, Sam was already gone.

Bucky followed you back into the living room and watched as you lit the candles scattered around. He lightly smiled believing you were attempting to relax. If only seeing you in peace was enough to put him to rest - permanently - but when he sees you take a seat back on your couch his expression fell and he swore his heart would stop again if it could.

“Oh no,” he says as he watches you stare at the Ouija board on the table before you. Bucky starts pacing in front of you, his hands over his head. Anyone that set foot and stayed long enough knew this place was haunted, and he knew you weren’t stupid and besides he wasn’t as subtle as he’d like to have been lately.

“Is anyone here?” He hears you ask the first question. He looks over your direction and sees your eyes are closed with both hands on the planchette.

“Oh my God,” he barely whispers and realizes, “she’s really trying to talk to me.” He couldn’t believe you’d be so brave to risk such a thing and importantly willingly reaching out to him.

“Yes! I am! I’m here!” She can’t hear you, idiot. “Fuck, of course she can’t hear me.” Bucky argues with himself on what to do before he remembers how Ouija boards work.

He almost can’t believe it when he does it, but he’s able to delicately move your hands and slide the planchette over to the word ‘YES’.

Your eyes pop open and you gasp when you see that you got an answer. You're frozen and look up in front of you half expecting the spirit to show itself to you, but you don’t see anything.

At least that’s what you think. Unbeknownst to you, you’re staring right at Bucky or rather through him. His expression mirrors yours - complete and utter shock. He was never able to easily move or touch anything solid in years. The incident with the mug earlier, that kind of stuff usually required a lot of concentration and energy on his part. He’s also scared that he’s frightened you with that move, but at the same time excited that he’s successfully communicating with you.

You’re unsure if you should continue. You were half expecting this to be a bust, but it moved. It actually moved! While you were excited that this worked, the tiny voice in the back of your head had you considering that maybe you shouldn’t go any further, but who ever really listened to them? You blink a few times and refocus your attention on the task.

“What are you?” You ask.

“What am I?” Bucky repeats the question, “I’m dead.” Wait. He starts to spell the letters ‘D-E-A-D’ with your hands on the planchette. He compares the sight of the corners of your mouth lifting, amused at that response, of course he was dead, as to what angels must’ve felt like when they earned their wings. If anyone believed in that sort of stuff...either way he felt very blessed.

“You liked that one, didn’t you?” Bucky said more to himself with a big smile on his face. He loved this! It was like he was having a conversation with you. It was something he only ever dreamed of for the last six or so months.

A particular flash of lightning followed by a thunderous sound startles you and you breakaway from the Ouija board. You weren’t going to lie. You were still absolutely spooked out and decided that maybe that was enough contact with the dead for the day.

When your heartbeat finally returned to its normal pace, you got up and turned on the lights, made sure you blew all the candles out and turned in for the night. Before you left, Bucky watched you look around the room and bid goodnight to seemingly nothing, but he knew it was meant for someone - it was meant for him.

The days that followed, you were growing curiouser and curiouser that in your spare time, you started digging into how much can come out of the Ouija board, but first you needed to figure out who you were dealing with.

With as much access as you were granted, you found out about a man, who was around the same age as you, that had died during World War II and the hauntings that would start to occur after the first tenant took residence upon this home.

The house belonged to a man named James Buchanan Barnes, but signed it under the name Bucky. How cute. You thought to yourself over the nickname, then you saw an accompanying photo of who you assumed was living with you. It was in black and white and the quality wasn’t that up to par, but from what you could make out you could determine enough. Cute name for a cute guy.

You read the experiences of others that lived here before you and they all seemed harmless. They were just spooked and you didn’t blame them. They had every right to be scared, but you didn’t scare that easily.

You’re so engrossed with your findings, you barely paid any attention to Sam, even when he’d come in to check on you. He had the spare key in case of emergencies, and you ignoring most of his unreturned phone calls and missed texts, uncharacteristically you, to him was deemed as an emergency.

Sam was only less than thrilled to see your enthusiasm on all this. Normal people didn’t go around poking at the dead. He pointed out you were lucky you didn’t get possessed, not paying any mind or adhering to you claiming he was probably a friendly ghost.

“This isn’t an episode of Casper!” Sam says fed up again. His face falters as he watches your shoulders visibly slump. He hated killing the vibe, especially when you were excited, but you were excited about something all too unreal and that shouldn’t be messed with at all in the first place.

“What if I can help him?” You try reasoning with him, “What if I can help him pass on? Then I can live in peace...and so would he.”

“You’re already lucky that you’re unharmed,” Sam reminds you, “I’m just worried about you.”

“I know you are, but I’ll be fine,” you assure him, hoping you could keep that promise. After all, you couldn’t even confirm you were really communicating with Bucky.

You were relieved that the conversation with Sam didn’t take a turn for the worse like it easily could have. You understood where he was coming from and you were lucky to have someone like him care so much about your wellbeing. The realization never fails to punch you in the gut for not allowing yourself to give in.

So why were you more scared to commit than of willingly reaching out to a ghost?

Take two.

You sat perched up and ready to communicate once more. Bucky, on the other hand, is more than ready and the cool familiar breeze that passes you by lets you know that he’s here.

“Who are you?” There weren’t exactly formalities with contacting the dead and your heartbeat starts to pick up as you’re slowly spelling out ‘B-U-C-K-Y’.

“Bucky,” you whisper. Boy, did Bucky like the sound of his name coming from your lips.

“How did you...die?” you had to swallow in between the last word in that question, hoping it wouldn’t trigger a negative response. Even in the afterlife, death couldn’t be an easy topic.

The letters ‘W-A-R’ and the number ‘2’ gives you your answer. It was him! Internally, you’re overjoyed that you’ve figured out your ghostly John Doe, but you try to remain at ease.

“Did you knock down my mug?”

Bucky rolls his eyes at that, but swiftly moves your hands over to ‘YES’.

“Okay. I mean that wasn’t very nice,” you couldn’t just bite your tongue as the sass flowed right out of you.

‘S-O-R-R-Y’.

The apology takes you by surprise, and suddenly you weren’t mad about the mug anymore.

“It’s alright. It was just a mug,” you try to assure him. You’d just have to explain to Sam another time that the ghost broke it. No biggie. Yeah, right. What with the tiny arguments, he’d most likely believe you destroyed it out of anger and frustration at him.

Your arms were getting tired from the position they were in. Several minutes had passed since you last said anything to Bucky and you weren’t sure of what to ask next.

Where does this end? Do you ask him to leave? This is his home. No, it’s not anymore. It’s your home now. But he doesn’t belong here anymore. How do you help him pass on? Did you have that ability? Do you hire a medium? Enlist the help of a priest? Call a ghostbuster? Your mind grew tired all too quickly, you slumped back in your seat, breaking away from the Ouija board.

Bucky watched as you rubbed the muscles of your sore arms. He felt helpless. He wishes he could ease or take away your pain. Instead, all he could do was watch and make sure you were okay until you were ready to start talking again.

With your hands back on the items, you ask, “are you still here?” Bucky responds with ‘YES’. You take a deep breath and close your eyes, mentally preparing yourself, before proceeding with the next question.

“Can you show yourself to me?” There the ultimate question and Bucky can’t help but ask why? Why were you interested in seeing him? He was a lost cause.

“No?” you ask more to yourself, still staring at the word through the eye of the planchette, and frown at his response.

Bucky wanted nothing more than to show himself to you, but he didn’t know how. For decades he was nothing but a gust of air. No matter how hard he tried to show himself to previous owners, he was never successful.

You pull your hands back away and place them in your lap, unsure of where to go from here. Well, you couldn’t force a ghost to do something they didn’t want to do, but you hoped that maybe perhaps seeing him would make it less taxing while communicating.

There’s a sudden iciness that covers the side of your cheek, sending a chill down your spine, causing you to flinch and your hand rising quickly to warm the spot.

Bucky almost disappears at the sudden reaction. He can’t believe it. You felt that. You could feel him. It was different than pushing your hands in different directions because this time, neither of you needed the help of the Ouija board.

You’re not sure where he is as your eyes scan the room, you wanted to feel that again. Sure, the cold was a bit alarming, and as sharp as his icy touch was, so was the surge that flowed through you. It was unexplainable, but soothing.

It sucked for Bucky because he couldn’t keep your eyes trained on just him.

“Are you sure you can’t show yourself?” You ask again, this time convinced you didn’t need the Ouija board anymore.

However, Bucky needed the board to reply. You sigh in defeat as you watch the planchette slide across to the word ‘YES’. You couldn’t allow yourself to get mad. You just couldn’t understand how it was possible for him to do all these other things, but not be able to show himself. Whatever it was, you’d just have to accept that you’d never understand ghost logic.

The sound of the planchette scraping against the board, offers you the word, ‘F-E-E-L’.

Feel? You definitely felt a presence, but now it was confirmed. It was him. He was trying to communicate through touch.

“Yes, I felt you,” you let Bucky know quite eagerly. The planchette remains unmoved after that and instead of what would appear to be awkward silence, the seconds that were passing by could be more appropriately compared to that of a ticking time bomb.

“Touch me,” you request.

Bucky’s stunned. If he were alive and well right now, he’d no doubt be on his knees for you with a command like that. He floats over to you and is only more than eager to touch you again, but he’s not sure of where. Feeling a soft anticipation of a ghostly tingle, he hesitantly places both hands on the underside of your jaw, in a cradle-like fashion, hoping it'll stop your wandering eyes.  

You stand still, frozen in place, now seeing the breath of air that escapes your mouth in a cloud of smoke. He’s definitely here and in front of you.

“More,” you say barely above a whisper.

Fuck. Bucky inwardly swears at himself as you unintentionally egg him on. Testing his limits, what more could he already lose? He was already dead.

He goes all in. He leans in and presses his cold, dead lips to yours in the most gentle and light kiss ever. When he pulls away, he sees that your eyes have closed and he can’t help immediately start to wonder if you actually felt that or not. He sure as hell felt it. He can’t be certain as he tries to gauge at the expression on your face. Shit, why did he do that?

“Do it again,” and this time with a more affirmative tone, Bucky doesn’t question anything anymore and obeys. His lips dig deeper against yours, you let out a small moan and purse your lips to respond. You don’t think about how silly it must look to be making out with practically nothing, not knowing what to do with your hands because there was nothing to hold onto, but despite that it all felt too real. He was real.  

Bucky’s mind is reeling at the sound of pleasure that spews from your mouth, he can’t comprehend how this is even possible. He’d been dying to know what kissing you felt like - what you felt like at all.

When your lips start to get numb and turn blue, you reluctantly pull away. You open your eyes to a dark room and wish you could at least hear him, the sounds of ecstasy played a pivotal role in intimacy.  

Your body temperature returns to normal, blood rushing, mind a haze. You stand up and head towards your bedroom without another word. Would he take the cue to follow you? You can’t be sure. You can’t see or hear him, but your actions say otherwise and make you both feel as if he wasn’t dead at all. It was now a game of cat and mouse.

Bucky or not, you were unabashedly turned on. In moments like these, it was hard to be in control of your own body and the only thing you could do was give in to the desires. In this instance, your body couldn’t make up its mind because as if you weren’t just freezing your ass off while kissing Bucky, you were suddenly hot all over.

Flustered, you pulled down your shorts, tossed them carelessly across the room, perhaps a little too harshly. If he wasn’t going to help you out, then you would do the job yourself. A mad smile on your face, surprised you weren’t the least bit embarrassed if he was going to watch you or not. It only added to the thrill and the excitement.

Trying to regulate your breathing, you lie down on the center of your bed and run your hands over your face down to where you needed them the most. Your fingers experimentally graze along the wet spot of your panties, groaning in acknowledgment of the sudden arousal. There’s no sense in conjuring up a justifiable explanation as to how something so seemingly innocent as the kiss you shared with Bucky got you so crazed. Not wasting any time, you lift your hips up and bend your legs to slip the flimsy garment off.

No longer a thin barrier between, your entire body shivers slightly, a sharp gasp escaping your lips, when your fingers make first contact with your clit and you begin to rub slow slow circles over it. Your stomach sinks in with each relieving exhale, your breathing growing heavy. Your fingers run off course and dip into your folds, past the floodgates, your fingers resurface coated in your own wetness and you use it to an advantage in invigorating your clit.

Eyes closed, you start to think about Bucky. You want to feel guilty or believe this was all wrong. Instead of getting off to someone like Sam or someone real for that matter, you lied there baring yourself to a ghost. You try to picture that baby face of his, and all that you could based on the lone image you found of him on the Internet.

The curve of his full lips that you were fortunate enough to feel on yours moments ago. You already knew they were soft, but what about his other features? Did his eyes sparkle or were they like black holes? What color were they? They had to be of a set that could hypnotize someone. Maybe it was okay that you couldn’t see him because if you had you just knew that you’d be at his mercy.

And that was just on the surface of it all. How was he like in other areas? How would his tongue feel against yours, on your skin, in you...The simulation causes your thighs to clamp up, knees involuntarily knocking into each other; your other hand clutching onto the bed sheets. He made it that easy, but you needed one more good push to dive in the deep end.

A thin layer of sweat coats your skin from the increase in body heat, then an abrupt familiar cold sensation runs through you, his alluring scent filling your nostrils, your legs forcefully separate; all tells you that Bucky was here. You pick up your head, always a small hint of disappointment flashes through your features at the fact you still and won’t be likely to ever see him.

It shoots a wild pang through Bucky’s chest because he doesn’t miss it; never knowing he could read someone so openly. He missed out on a good chunk of his life. He missed out on someone like you. Life was so cruel.

Your thoughts aren’t as far away from his as you start to wonder, why was it all so easy - seamlessly flawless - with him? Running with only first-party information and two silent conversations, you were already willing to go headfirst for halos for Bucky. Was it pathetic? You didn’t care anymore, whatever would ultimately bring you to him, you just knew in the end you’d die happy.

Your head falls back in defeat and you try to keep your emotions at bay, until you feel the hem of your shirt being lifted, exposing your midriff. Your lips cave in and you wince at each uncalculated cold peck Bucky���s lips leave on you. Whereas you felt a minor sting at how cold his touches were, for the first time, Bucky felt like he was on fire at how hot to the touch you were in this moment. This moment with him.

His lips create a path down to your core, and the contrast in temperature feels good. Not knowing what to do with your hands again, your arms lie sprawled on the bed on either side of your body, then you mentally curse at another sad truth that you had no one to hold on to.

A cool breeze brushes past your folds and your heartbeat spikes up again. Bucky never imagined he’d ever be able to make someone feel this way. It was pointless for him, but he dreamt about it countless times. And then he wickedly thinks how he was dumb to not spy on you during those nightly sessions. He was missing out. You were absolutely divine in his eyes.

“Bucky,” his name slips past your lips when his make contact with your swollen clit. It started off so innocently, but when he pulled his lips back and ran his tongue over the wet spot you left on them, giving him a taste of what you had to offer, he wanted more.

The cold, with each bit of contact from Bucky, was no longer a thing as your body quickly acclimated to it. Bucky uses his fingers to spread your pussy lips apart and allows himself to get a better taste. Your head lulls back, sinking in deeper into your pillows.

There’s only so much you could do to communicate with Bucky, you want to feel his hands all over, but instead you pick up on the slack as you grab and squeeze handfuls of your breasts, massaging them and adding onto the sensation. Your groping proves to be successful when you draw out more noises.

Bucky’s eyes never tear away from watching your reaction, the way your body moves from pleasure - pleasure he’s bestowing on you. His mouth doesn't require guidance as his tongue pulls all the right moves, weaving its way through and between your folds. He drags out a long moan from you when he dips his tongue in and then captures your folds between his lips, tugging as he sucked on them.

“I-I need,” you try to voice out your desires, but you’re reveling in so much, especially in being able to feel Bucky’s fingers digging into the sides of your hips; you bite down on one of your fingers, trying not to let out a crazed scream.

Bucky doesn’t want you to hold back though, so he introduces his fingers into the mix as they take turns in you. You wished you could hear him and all the sounds of his onslaught. To hear those pretty boy moans, the filthy pops and slurping noises. Was he a dirty talker? God. Imagine the things he would say.

He gets the message loud and clear. You want to come, and so he quickens his actions until your body goes into overdrive. When you reach your peak, your eyes snap open, pupils blown, and your back arches up in perfect bridge-like fashion. It almost looks like you’re being possessed before you come back down releasing choppy gasps of breaths.

Exhausted, you struggle to stay conscious wanting to communicate with Bucky one last time, but it felt like the orgasm almost sucked the life out of you. The puffs of cool air against your pussy are an indication that Bucky is still present and he wasn’t going to go anywhere just yet. He hasn’t moved from his position and is short of breath, in awe of seeing you coming undone for him and more so the fact that this happened. This wasn’t just another one of his dreams.

For as long as he’d been an apparition, he’d hoped to be able to finally pass on and if this was his actual last day on Earth, then he’d gladly accept it because one night with you was enough. 

Bucky would die happy.

A/N: Yeah, the ending wasn’t strong, but I wanted to leave it open for interpretation. Let me know what you think! A simple like and reblog is enough to help a sis out! Thank you for reading! 

[gummygowon]

dreamers | jung wooyoung

word count: 4.8k

genre: angst, fluff

best friends to lovers!

warnings: sad lmao

third person pov

it was a quiet friday night which was weird for a group of highschoolers. nothing was really going on, in terms of parties and high school games which was rare but it finally felt nice to not feel hungover for a whole weekend.

y/n and wooyoung were chilling on her bed after their friends had left her house. wooyoung lived a couple doors down from y/n's house and didn't feel like leaving just yet.

ever since y/n moved into the neighborhood in third grade, the two had become inseparable. the duo would tell each other everything from stupid crushes to ranting about how their favorite arcade game was rigged. and tonight was another one of those nights were the two could talk until the sun rose.

tonight's topic was about their futures and what they wanted to do since they were now seniors and adulthood was coming closer everyday.

"woo?" y/n asked, fiddling with one of her plushies.

"yes, y/n." wooyoung perked up his head from his phone.

"what are your plans after college?"

wooyoung paused for a moment, forming his answer carefully. "i don't think i'm going to college after high school."

"huh? what are you going to do then?" y/n asked, surprised her best friend wasn't going to some sort of culinary school since he would not stop cooking.

"i know it's kind of dumb but i wanna be an idol." wooyung confessed sheepishly.

"it's not dumb, woo." you argued back. "i mean you are one of hell of a dancer and you can sing. just send it."

his cheeks flushed a little bit at her comments. "are you sure? what if-"

"jung wooyoung. look at me." y/n said as she grabbed his wrists.

the boy looked up at her with doubt and worry washed over his face.

"you got amazing vocals that i'm pretty sure angels are jealous of you and you can literally beat anyone in a dance battle. including me, which is saying a lot." y/n joked as she flipped her hair.

it was true though. y/n was a killer dance and when her and wooyoung danced together, circles would form around them at parties.

"if you want to become an idol. become an idol. i want to brag to everyone that i'm bestfriends with the jung wooyoung."

wooyoung rolled his eyes at her and pulled his hands to hips. "wow, you really just want me for the clout huh?"

"no!" y/n answered and lightly punched him in the shoulder. "but seriously, i'll support you no matter what. hell i'll watch one of your practices if they even allow that."

"i don't think they would allow that y/n."

"whatever, just send me videos of you dancing at least." y/n huffed and crossed her arms.

"of course. i promise to send you weekly videos."

"good, i'll be waiting for those." she smiled at him.

"y/n, what are you going to do afterwards?" wooyoung asked, leaning back on his hands.

"i want to join the navy." her eyes glowed as she talked. "i want to help protect our country and working overseas seems so much fun."

wooyoung watched in amusement as his best friend begin to drabble on about her plans after high school. "how are am i supposed to send you my weekly dance videos then?"

"through a flash drive duh. unless they allow sailors access to computers but i doubt it. just write to me and send a flash drive over."

"you really want me to spend money on flash drives?" wooyoung sarcastically asked.

"yes if you're gonna become an idol, i am going to have to pay for a ticket to your concert aren't I?"

"i mean, i guess. but i can probably get you free ones."

"nah, there's no fun in that." y/n said as she waved her hand, shooing away that idea. "i want to fight over people for barricade tickets."

wooyung laughed at her dumb dream. "okay, do whatever you want y/n."

*

two months later, y/n was helping out wooyung practice for his audition for bighit. the poor kid could not stop stressing out about his audition that was in a few days.

wooyoung had been non stop preparing ever since he found out the audition date. after school, he did his homework right away and then went straight to practicing his vocals and dancing.  

on the weekends and when y/n had light homework loads during the week she would help out as much as she can.

today, wooyoung had probably been dancing for almost two hours in his backyard. he was constantly tweaking and perfecting dances that y/n was sure that his hair was going to turn gray before the audition even came.

"woo." y/n walked over to the speaker and paused the song. "you need to take a break dude. you've been at it for two hours now."

wooyoung inhaled deeply, he was trying his best not to snap at her for just trying to help him out. "give me five more minutes please. i know i can get it down. i just need a little more time."

"wooyung, give your body a break. it wouldn't hurt to take a five minute break." y/n said, her voice a little more sterner.

"y/n just please!" wooyung shouted, instantly regretting raising his voice at her. "just please give me a little longer and i promise, i'll stop."

"fine. i'll be inside." y/n sighed.

she couldn't get mad at him even though it was so tempting to just snap back at him and whack him in the face. but she understood the pressure and stress he was feeling at the moment.

instead, she took out her anger on the watermelon in front of her. cutting the watery fruit, a little more harshly than normal.

after she was done, wooyung had walked back into the house, dripping in sweat.

"finally, you're done. you know, you have to take more care of yourself once you start training." she scolded at him.

"that's if, i get in." wooyoung corrected her, wiping away his sweat with a towel.

"keep thinking negatively and i'll stab you." y/n threatened, half jokingly and half not. it certainly didn't help that her tone came out more serious since she was annoyed at him.

"alright, alright. i'll stop." wooyung put his hands in the air as soon as he saw y/n point the sharp knife at him.

"good. now eat and then we can work on your vocals." y/n pushed a plate full of watermelon and strawberries towards him.

"thank you." wooyung said as he reached for a strawberry.

"for what?" she asked as she washed her hands before snagging a slice of watermelon.

"for helping me with everything." wooyung looked at his best friend wondering how he would survive without her.

y/n looked up and met his gaze and she couldn't help but blush. "it's alright. i wanna see you perform when i get back from the navy."

"speaking of the navy, did you apply yet?" he asked in between chews.

"uhh, not yet. i've been busy." the h/c girl answered sheepishly as she picked up another piece of fruit to distract herself.

wooyung groaned, "it's because you're helping me isn't it?"

he felt even more worse since he snapped at her.

"no, no. it's not that. my parents are trying to talk to me out of it."

the boy looked skeptically at her. "are you sure? i don't want to get in the way of your dreams."

y/n scoffed at him. "are you dumb? you're going to be with me throughout this whole process, whether you like it or not."

wooyung smiled at her brightly. "yes, i will and i will be buying flash drives just for you. so you can watch my dance videos."

"that's right baby. catch me in the front row of all your concerts." y/n dramatically declared.

"with the tickets you'll refuse from me."

"just let me fight your future fans over them please."

"fine, it'll make up for the cost of the flash drives."

"fair enough." she laughed.

*

two weeks later, y/n's letter from the navy arrived in her mailbox after dinner.

once she had saw the mail truck come by she immediately ran to the mailbox with her slippers barely on her feet.

her hands were shaking as she fumbled with the keys and struggled to open it. y/n skimmed over the pile of letters in her arms until she found the one thing she was looking for. she shoved the rest of the letters back inside the mailbox so she could retrieve them later.

with trembling fingers and her heart beating so fast, y/n ripped the envelope opened. she could feel herself start to shake once she read the big fat congratulations on the paper.

y/n screamed out of pure happiness and rushed to wooyoung's house, completely forgetting about the rest of the letters in her family's mailbox.

she knocked on the door so harshly, anyone would of thought that she was the FBI about to barge into their home.

"wooyoung!" y/n exclaimed.

"y/n, what is it?" he asked, confused at her super excited state and then it hit him, "is it the navy?"

she hummed in response, "i got in, i'm leaving on saturday!"

"oh my god, y/n." wooyoung congratulated her before enveloping her in a warm hug. "i'm so happy for you."

"thank you, woo." y/n pulled back, her smile never leaving her face. "how about you did you get in?"

"about that..." he trailed off looking to the side.

y/n's face fell and before she could even say anything, wooyoung interrupted.

"just kidding. i got in." wooyoung's face returned back to his happy self, a cheeky grin spread across his face.

"you fucker." y/n cursed as she slapped him on the arm. "i was going to cry for you. "

"owwww." he whimpered, rubbing his arm.

the girl pulled him into a hug which wooyoung slowly returned.

"look woo, we're achieving our dreams together." y/n smiled into his chest.

wooyoung hugged her even tighter. "i love you."

the two never had outwardly said that phrase, even in a friendly way. which is why it caught y/n off guard by a mile.

it was a definite no brainer that she loved him. at first it was in a best friend way but over time and the many idol practices, y/n always left his house wondering about her feelings for him. it was so cliche of her to fall for her childhood best friend but she couldn't help it.

wooyoung was there for her for everything, ever since she moved here. and of course, y/n was always there for him. feelings were bound to be caught, one way or the other. it was just matter of who would fall first.

"i mean uh," wooyoung pulled away quickly, his cheeks flushed a bright red.

y/n's adrenaline was skyrocketing, "fuck it."

she grabbed her best friend by his shirt and pulled him into a kiss.

wooyoung froze against her lips before kissing back. he didn't really know what was happening but he loved every second of it.

when the two of them pulled back for air, y/n was grinning. "i love you too, woo."

the trainee couldn't help but smile even brighter. but y'n's face fell at the thought of the future. she was leaving for the navy in a couple of days and wouldn't return for months. and wooyoung was starting his training soon. it was an absolutely, terrible idea to start a relationship considering the timing, but she would do it all for him.

he noticed her expression and reached for her cheek, caressing it. "i'll wait for you, y/n."

"really? i won't back for almost two years. i don't want you to-"

"y/n, i would wait an eternity if it i meant i could be with you." he reassured, staring deep into her eyes.

whatever worries y/n had were disappearing. it felt comforting to hear the one person who she loved and cared about, would be waiting for her when she came back.

wooyoung pulled her in for another comforting hug, "i will always love you, no matter how far away you are."

a tear slipped down y/n's cheek as she hugged him even tighter. falling in love with your best friend had never felt so bittersweet.

*

since then, wooyoung and y/n spent as much time as they could together before she left for the navy.

but now, the day they both dreaded had arrived.

y/n's suitcase was packed into her family's car as she said her goodbyes to her siblings and grandparents.

"you look so beautiful." y/n's grandpa cried, as he lifted his hand to touch her cheek.

the sailor was wearing her uniform with her long hair was slicked back into a bun.

"thank you, grandpa." y/n smiled as she pulled away to say goodbye to her other friends.

and of course, wooyoung's family was there. she saved her goodbyes for them last.

y/n went down the line of his family, hugging them and saying thank you for coming to see her go off.

when she reached wooyoung, the breath in her throat hitched as tears threatened to spill out. y/n promised to herself that she wouldn't cry before she left but for wooyoung and her parents, they were the exception.

wooyoung hugged her so tightly which y/n didn't mind at all. if she could, she would spend the rest of her life in his arms.

"i love you, woo." she mumbled into his chest.

"i love you too, y/n. good luck out there."

y/n pulled away reluctantly, "you too. i will be waiting for your first concert."

wooyoung smiled at her sadly and tugged at her wrist. y/n looked back at him with a confused expression before he pulled her into a passionate kiss. he didn't really care that his parents were there at the moment, he just needed to remember what her lips felt like before he forgot.

"i'll always be there with you." wooyoung whispered, as he pressed something into her hand.

y/n looked down at her hand to see a red rose hanging on a gold chain, "thank you, woo."

he nodded his head as he let you go.

he watched with teary eyes as you drove away but something in him sparked. another drive for him to work hard and achieve his dream.

*

dear wooyoung,

i miss you so much, it's beginning to drive me insane. but, i want to let you know that everything here is going smoothly despite these rocky ass waves. i've adjusted to almost everything around here except for waking up incredibly early. i've made new friends and have become really close with my roomate which is a relief because i don't know if i could deal with a shitty ass roomate. anyways, how's life back at home and how's training at bighit? have you seen taehyung yet? haha. i'm kidding. or not. but besides the point, tell me how life as a trainee. oh and before i forget, i figured out a way to watch your dance practice videos so please send them. i'll pay you back through buying barricade tickets alright? also, tell your parents i say hi please!

with much love,

y/n :)

p.s. i love you

*

dear y/n,

i miss you a lot too. even my parents do haha and they say hello back and hope you're doing well. i'm glad to hear that you're enjoying the navy life but i'm surprised that you're able to wake up so early haha. but don't worry, everything back home is great, just a little chaotic sometimes. trainee life is definitely tiring and hard but it's probably not much compared to what you have to do. i don't wanna know about the million, spirit-breaking things you do but if it makes you happy, i did see taehyung. even though it was for like two seconds because we were just passing in the halls. i hope one day i can see them practice live. maybe i'll see jimin. but anyways, i've made some friends too. we're gonna audition for a survival show called mixnine together. i'm really excited. i think you would like them. they're really funny but not as funny as me though. ok, i got to go now before my mom yells at me for staying up so late. so, i'll see you in my dreams. goodbye!

love,

wooyoung ;0

p.s. enjoy the dance cover i did with yeosang (someone who i met at bighit)

p.s.s. i hope the flash drive gets to you safely, i don't trust the postal services

*

two years later...

dear woo,

i have managed to secure tickets to your first concert in seoul thorough my parents. and yes, my parents had to do some fighting with some of your fans to help me secure a barricade ticket. i am utterly disappointed that i didn't get to do the fighting myself but i guess i'll just have to wait for your next tour. :( but on a more positive note i'm coming home soon! i'm so excited. the first thing we are doing though is getting some good dessert. i'm tired of eating the wack ass "desserts" here. oh! maybe we can go to a garden or something i don't know but i'm tired of looking at the water. some nice, pretty flowers will be much better to look at. speaking of flowers, i still have your rose necklace that you gave me. i wear it all the time except for when we do swimming exercises. i don't trust myself enough to bring it in the water. anyways before i have to go, i want to say how proud i am of you for coming so far in the idol industry. it seems like forever ago that i was helping you out for audition for bighit. i get to brag to people now that i'm dating a kpop idol hehe. say hi to the boys for me! and please send another video of you guys dancing so, me and my roomie can copy it. when i come home we can perform your songs together. oh my god that would be so much fun. ok, ok i really gotta go now but i love you and please take care of yourself! (or ask san too, either one works)

with much love,

y/n!

p.s. i'll be sitting a little bit to the right of the stage.

*

dear y/n,

i'm sad to hear that you couldn't fight my fans for barricade tickets but i am thankful that you are coming to our first show. i'll be on the lookout for you in the audience. and afterwards, find my parents and they'll take you backstage so i can see you again. did i tell you that our lightsticks came in and they're actually so cool. i'll see if i can snag you one and don't even think about having to pay back okay?  you can pay me back by spending as much time as you can with me when you're back home. anyways, i wanna thank you for supporting me ever since i brought up the idea of becoming an idol. you were probably the only person who didn't laugh straight in my face for thinking such childish things but look at where we are now. i get to perform my first show with you in the barricade. and look at you, i got a badass girlfriend in the navy who can probably kick anyone's ass. and she can dance like??? i think win when it comes to having the coolest girlfriend ever. and you bet the first thing we're gonna do together is dance. i'm debating about teaching you the pirate king choreo or the say my name one. i don't know you can pick. also, yeosang, san, hongjoong, seonghwa, mingi, and jongho all say hello back and are very excited to finally meet you. i gotta go now, i have to wake up early for some costume fittings but i'll send some pics over too. i love you!

love,

wooyoung :)

*

it was the day of ateez's first concert and wooyoung didn't even know if y/n was back from the navy yet because they could never really say when they're coming home for obvious reasons. but wooyoung couldn't help but pace around the dressing room.

it was definitely not the perfect timing since he was currently freaking out about twenty million things all at once. it was their first ever concert and everything could terribly wrong in wooyoung's mind. like what if y/n thinks that he performed terribly tonight or even worse what if she leaves in the middle of the concert because they were so bad. but he didn't even know if she was back in south korea since she hadn't called him or anything. not even her parents had called him. maybe they wanted to surprise him? no. that's dumb she already bought tickets so-

"wooyoung." his leader called out to him. ever since they had arrived at the venue, wooyoung had been non stop spacing out and mumbling things to himself. everyone in the group was of course nervous, but none of them were this anxious.

"huh?" the young idol snapped his head to hongjoong. "i mean yes."

"are you seriously okay? you haven't been able to stop mumbling to yourself since we got out of the car." he asked full of concern.

"yes, it's just that y/n is supposed to come and-" wooyoung rambled, fiddling with the collar of his shirt.

hongjoong put his hands on both of his shoulders, "woo, i am going to need you to calm down first. y/n is probably back home safe and is probably getting ready right now with her friends to come see us."

wooyoung slowly nodded to himself to convince himself that everything was okay.

"take a deep breath, ok?" hongjoong instructed, breathing along with him. "relax, she's going to come and she's gonna see how much you've improved since the last time she saw you."

his leader was right. wooyoung had improved in so many ways, from his singing to his confidence in performing. he should be excited to show off how much he improved to her.

"you're right." the young idol nodded his head. his worries about y/n were slowly being lifted away.

hongjoong smiled at him before patting his back.

*

during the concert everything was going smoothly. there was no costume slip ups or them forgetting their lines it was going great. but wooyoung couldn't find y/n amongst the many faces in the crowd. it was worrying him but he decided to not let any negative thoughts cloud his mind mid performance.

until, they were about to perform their last song and his parents ran to their dressing room. tears were streaming down his mother's face.

"what's going on? are you okay mom?" wooyoung asked immediately, he wrapped his mom in a hug.

"it's y/n." his dad started in soft voice.

"what? what happened? is she okay?" he asked, his head snapping to his dad. it was a miracle how he didn't break his neck.

"honey, she couldn't make it. there was an accident and something happened to the ship." his mom cried.

"what do you mean she didn't make it?" wooyoung couldn't believe a word they were saying. there was no way in hell she died. she was too young. wooyoung didn't even get a chance to say i love you again in person.

"her ship went down and there was only a few survivors and-"

"no. you're lying." the shocked idol shouted as he backed away from his parents only to be caught in san's chest.

"sweetheart, they couldn't find her." his mom revealed as she wiped a tear away from her face. "she was supposed to arrive yesterday."

wooyoung didn't say anything but fall to the floor. every ounce of happiness he had was gone. he couldn't believe it. there was no way.

"you guys are going back up now." their manager shouted to them.

"we wanted to tell you later but-"

"that's enough, honey." his dad shushed. he didn't want to make things worse than they already were.

"woo, come on." san said as he helped him up.

he didn't say anything but followed his members out of the dressing room.

wooyoung didn't know how he was supposed to continue singing when he just found out that love of his life died.

"sing for her, alright?" san comforted right before they walked back on stage.

they were performing star 1117. the last song of the night. which was good for wooyoung cause he just wanted this night to be over already.

once mingi started singing, wooyoung lost it. as well as his fellow members but they weren't crying for the same reasons he was.

they were crying because after all the neverending practices and the amount of frustrating times sitting in the sound booth trying to get the perfect sound was all worth it. they were finally doing what they love in front of people who genuinely enjoyed their music and were excited for what's to come from them.

he should be crying for the same reasons they were or maybe he was a little bit. he couldn't tell what he was feeling anymore. he just felt empty.

san watched his friend break down and went over to him for support. he was never much of crier but this performance was close to breaking his wall.

in the eyes of a fan, it looked like san was merely comforting a crying wooyoung. but what they didn't know was why he was crying.

finally the song had ended and almost everyone was crying or at least on the verge of tears. the boys stood in line at the very front of the stage with bittersweet looks as they bowed down to the crowd.

they all waved goodbye with smiling faces and wet eyes.

someone had tossed roses onto the stage which wooyoung of course picked up before heading backstage.

he couldn't even make it to their dressing room before crying again. san had wrapped an arm around his shoulder to keep him balanced as he guided them back to the safety of their dressing room.

wooyoung had sunk into of the couches there and just let everything out. this wasn't how he was supposed to be feeling. he was supposed to be happy and thankful that their first concert was a huge success. he should be happily celebrating with his friends and with y/n but not anymore.

all the members had took turns in comforting him. they never got the chance to meet y/n but they did see lots of photos of her and heard many stories from wooyoung. she sounded like an amazing person to be around and they were heartbroken that they would never get to meet her.

*

all the fans had left the venue by now and wooyoung was sitting on the edge of the stage. his feet was dangling off the edge while he twirled the rose in his hands. he was done crying for now and spoke softly to himself.

"i wish you were here y/n. the concert was a huge success. i'm really thankful that you helped me practiced for my bighit audition. i think i owe you a lot for that. i don't know if i would've stuck with my dream if it wasn't for you." he mumbled. "i miss you like crazy, it's not even funny. but i know you're watching me from up there and you're probably telling me to stop crying" wooyoung chuckled to himself. "but i don't think i'll stop for awhile. i love you, y/n and i'll never stop loving you."

"wooyoung." yeosang called for him. "we're leaving now."

the heartbroken idol smiled softly at his friend before getting up. he kissed the rose and he could've sworn he felt y/n's soft lips on it. maybe he was just dreaming or maybe it was the exhaustion catching up to him. wooyoung crouched down and left the rose a little to the right of the stage.

"for you, my little dreamer."

*

ever since that night, wooyoung had left a little rose sticker on the right side of the stage at every single venue he performed at.

it was his way of remembering y/n. it was so that she could be with him at every concert or award show.

wooyoung was even gifted a similar rose necklace from his group. he couldn't stop crying that night and thanked them repeatedly.

every night before he went to bed he would touch the rose and whisper "i love you, y/n."

sometimes he would dream about her and wake up crying. thankful, he got to see her again in his dreams. because that's what they were.

dreamers.

[ashes-in-a-jar]

Tma relisten Episodes 11-15

So this round already has two other posts out of it about Oliver because he Bae.

These have alot of ideas regarding entities changing around reality, controlling non victims to set the stage, and turning around what people love most to their worst fear. Also insane abilities of the crew to obtain hard to access info and evidence! And some more Jon sass. Enjoy!

11 dreamer

Wow this episode had alot. I made a separate post with a theory about Oliver's statement here and a realization regarding him and Jane Prentiss here. They are alot to unpack

Oliver is so. Freaking. Relatable! Learned economics and hated it. Nearly had a breakdown like him because of it. "going to stay with some of the few friends that had survived my year of stress-fuelled outbursts and constantly cancelled plans." yep. That.

Boyfriend Graham ey? You notebook eating Graham?? Wow that guy is full of surprises.

I love the dream sequences and their descriptions it's a really beautiful thing to try and picture.

Its interesting how he went from passive to desparate to passive again about death. He tries but can't help. I wonder when the dreams started to bother him so much he sought after the silence of point Nemo. Was it when they became so full of red because of the apocalypse coming closer? Hmmm

Another person named John. I guess that makes sense it's a common name. But I forgot how many people are fully named in this podcast. Hundreds of names to come up with! Jonny I'm quite impressed!

He worked with Jane Prentiss in the magic shop! I can't believe I forgot about that! Wow small avatar world indeed.

"It led me to a room, the label of which was still visible, and read “Archive”. I entered to see walls covered with shelves and cabinets stretching off into the distance. These shelves were coated in a sticky black tar, which I knew at that moment was the thickened, pulpy blood that pumped through each and every one of those veins." everything that has to do with the Fears I bet. Full of death and destruction and stolen from the veins to be out on display for the Eye's pleasure.

Yo Jon is scared of this he's seriously considering going to Elias for advice

" I had Tim look into it, as I don’t entirely trust the others not to have written it as a practical joke" wait. He trusts TIM? Not to do a practical joke? How. Why. Eh?

"died in the line of duty" fuck you Jonah.

Now Jon will get every new statement immediately when it's made. Perhaps this was Elias' intention all along. To scare him into making sure he does not miss any paranormal activity recorded by the institute.

12 first aid

I'm not immune to more Gerry badassery, hell yeah

And we get polish Martin which hell yeah! Even if Jon doesn't believe it. I'm sure he's repressing the fact that he's thoroughly impressed.

I think it's really interesting the effect entities have on people who are decidedly not their victims. Everyone leaving no questions so the entity can set the scene for the scare. Like with Gillespie how no one lived in the apartment building he was in etc. Alot of work into a handful of people being genuinely scared.

Gerry's burns stopped at the neck? How did he manage that. Also it's hilarious to imagine that he's like "yes burn all of me but please. not my goth makeup"

Zippo lighter with eye design!! And Jon has web design! They are brothers (joke but still really interesting)

Liquids were boiling around her and she didn't feel the heat. Also an interesting effect just for the scare.

Gerry got eye superpowers like Jon if he can function while injure and filled with painkillers.

“Yes. For you, better beholding than the lightless flame.” Gerry knew she'd be haunted by a Fear from that day on and realised that perhaps being watched would be easier for her specifically to deal with than the Desolation. I guess that's a way of assessing people. Which fear would least bother you.

Jon is already enamoured with Gerry you can tell. He can't wait to hear more from him. Just you wait Jon.

They really can access alot of information huh. CCTV Interviews files. Pretty impressive for a non-research team. They're so good at it they'd rather do that than actual archiving.

13 alone

The sound editing in this episode is not that great it was a bit to get used to.

We get a glimpse at the Lukases which is... Ugh

Jon is actually trying to be nice. Granted it's not working and she is a bit of a standoffish person herself who just went through a bad time but alot of her reactions are not his fault. He was trying to be considerate giving her space to record but he did stay when she asked.

She had already leaned into the Lonely before the incident it's interesting to see how some of these statements start with a person actually liking the aspect that later turns to fear. Same happens in lost johns' cave.

Evan Lukas sounds like an avatar of the exact opposite of the Lonely. At least to her. That's a really interesting effect from someone, especially a Lukas.

But maybe dying wasn't his family killing him but him not feeding his patron which he tried to leave. Really tragic.

She was in Martin's domain eyyy!

It's got a bit of buried aspects to it with the grave stuff and all.

"My fingers dug into the soft cemetery dirt as I looked around desperately for anything I could use to save myself, and my hand closed upon that heavy piece of headstone. It took all my self-control to keep a grip on that anchor, as I slowly dragged myself away from the edge of my lonely grave." The headstone was her anchor? But it said forgotten. I wonder how it helped her pull away. It probably had to go together with Evan's voice. Like the rib and the tape recorders having to work together! I just wonder what meaning the stone had for her.

"I’d be tempted to chalk this one up to a hallucination from stress and trauma, if it wasn’t for the fact... " God he does believe her heavens. He's not a skeptic!

This is when Jon's dreams start which... Good luck Jon.

14 piecemeal

Rentoul is terrifying sonofabitch and I would never want to meet him irl

I remembered them talking about how he was supposed to be a person who cursed alot and they couldn't do it because of sensor and I have to agree this could have been much better for the story. I tried imagining curses in some places.

LOL Jon reading this is funny. Trying to voice act the bad boy. Doesn't sound right on his voice.

With these kinds of statements happening alot where the person does something bad, the institute has to be in touch with police over them. The nda has to include that.

Hello Angela! I really wonder what her deal is. She scared the bid bully so she gotta have creepy vibes to the extreme.

Another lighter! Hmm do I have to start following the lighter motiff in this podcast. This one has a topless woman on it. Flesh lighter?

Salesa's also appearing that's cool! Noriega was probably looking for an artifact to reverse the curse. Didn't work tho since they left with the crate. The buried crate perhaps?

I'm wondering. Was this written? Because the statement sounds like he's talking. If so, Where's the recording?

Oh Jon your attitude towards Martin is so bad. He works so hard and it's not even in what he's good at, sorting and filing like he knows how to do from the library. God.

What's the deal with all the furniture gone? Did he think it'll help not get injured? He's not that smart if he thought that would help him.

15 lost Johns' cave

Ack a bad statement she was not a good person all around

Another example of the entities setting the stage by controlling others not to interfere with the victim's experience.

Also another example of the person liking the subject (cave exploration in this case. And the dark for that matter) only for it to turn against them.

Not much to say about this one other than its one of the scarier ones for sure. And her recording in the end is really the cherry on top. There is alot of discrepancy between what she believed happened and what actually did which shows how much the fear plays with and changes around reality. That's also how she manages to lie in a statement to Beholding. It wasn't a lie. It was her version of reality and she did not remember saying those awful words.

Taught me alot about cave diving and how much I will never do it in my life.

The Dark was mixed into this as well so it wasn't purely Buried.

Btw Where did she get the candles she was found with?

It feels like she made a choice. Didn't want to spend her last moments with her sister and then didn't want to die. She chose her sister to be taken over her. Her sister called for help and the candle coming closer might have been her! But she just shut her eyes.

How did Tim gain access to the recording?? Wow that's some prime evidence.

Martin is claustrophobic amongst other things huh? Live how Jon just dismisses this as an excuse not to work. At least he didn't push it.

[aion-rsa]

Inception: The Movies and Comics Fans Think It Ripped Off

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They say there’s nothing new under the sun and that Hollywood is bereft of fresh ideas. But sometimes truly innovative films are unfairly accused of being derivative just because they put a new twist on an age old concept. Such is the case with Christopher Nolan’s 2010 film Inception, which is receiving fresh scrutiny now that it’s streaming on Netflix for longtime fans as well as those who missed it in theaters the first time around.

Sometimes the chronology of inspiration doesn’t quite line up as neatly as skeptics would like to think. Even though Inception was released in 2010, Nolan had presented a treatment to Warner Bros. about “dream stealers” in 2002 before shelving it to work on other projects. With that in mind, could the following properties have inspired the Academy Award winning film as some have theorized, and if not, how else could the similarities be explained?

Paprika (2006)

Satoshi Kon’s surreal science fiction anime, Paprika, is often brought up as a possible inspiration for Inception. Even allowing for Nolan’s aforementioned development period, the animated film is actually based on a 1993 novel of the same name, so the fact that an earlier story used a type of technology to induce a shared dream state raises some eyebrows. But how much do these two films really have in common?

Two scenes in Paprika draw particular attention from those who think Nolan stole the idea. One is the use of a hotel corridor that appears to defy the laws of physics. In Inception, the fight scene which follows Joseph Gordon-Levitt’s Arthur as he tries to keep his team alive while the falling van in the dream level above him wreaks havoc with gravity is a hallmark of the movie. Detective Konokawa’s recurring dream is also central to the anime, but the warping floor doesn’t really create the same effect. And honestly, hallways are regular fodder for dream sequences.

The other commonality is more subtle, but it involves breaking open a new area of the dream. Elliot Page experiments with the dreamscape in Inception by swinging a giant mirror between a pair of columns and then shattering it, while the titular character in Paprika widens a cracked opening between two different dreams. Perhaps it’s because both characters wear red and tentatively reach out a hand to the opening that people draw a parallel between the films, but the similarities end there. The chaotic nature of Kon’s dream narrative otherwise bears little resemblance to Nolan’s ordered dream architecture.

Read more

Movies

Inception and the Best Fan Theories About Whether Cobb’s Dreaming

By Michael Ahr

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Inception Ending: Why the Spinner Stopped

By David Crow

The Dream of a Lifetime (2002)

It seems silly to even consider a Donald Duck comic as inspiration for a mind-bender like Inception, but it’s hard to deny the coincidental parallels that appear in Uncle Scrooge #329, published in 2004 in America two years after its Danish release, which was also the same year Nolan presented his treatment. “The Dream of a Lifetime” in this comic also uses a machine to invade Scrooge McDuck’s dream for the purposes of stealing his money.

The similarities are more prevalent in this story, which follows the villainous Beagle Boys as they use a stolen psychiatric tool (which was also how Paprika presented its technology) to extract the safe combination from Scrooge in his dream and steal his fortunes. Inception undeniably also uses a safe combination to entrap its subject, Cillian Murphy’s Fischer, who is heir to his father’s company, and the coincidences don’t end there.

“The Dream of a Lifetime” also presents its set of rules for the dream, just as Inception does. Whereas Nolan’s film talks about deep dreamers getting trapped in Limbo, the comic presents the danger of Scrooge waking up first, which would trap the Beagle Boys inside his mind forever, driving the old miser mad. However, dream subjects in Inception protect themselves with subconscious projections, whereas Scrooge is vulnerable to simply confessing the combination in his open dream state. The presence of rules is similar, but the rules themselves are not. Nolan did not rob Scrooge.

Dreamscape (1984)

Putting aside Freddie Krueger and the “dream warriors” of A Nightmare on Elm Street, the ’80s were filled with movies exploring other planes of existence, and Dreamscape shares a few similarities with Inception and the other properties on this list. The film again presents its dream-sharing technology as a medical tool that is then exploited, but it requires the use of psychic ability as well to enter the minds of others.

At this point, it should be clear that using technology to enter a dream is not a new idea, but Inception certainly can’t be accused of doing anything more than putting a twist on an exploitable core concept. Dreamscape presented a rule that dying while asleep would cause you to die in real life, which Nolan’s film circumvented through its use of Limbo, and other than that, the similarities fade quickly upon closer examination.

Last Year in Marienbad (1961)

Nolan has wisely ignored all accusations that he stole his idea for Inception from earlier works, but he did admit to watching Last Year in Marienbad, a movie with a dreamlike narrative that skips around in time in a very fluid manner. Aside from using another hotel corridor, the film’s story bears no resemblance to Inception, and even though Nolan watched the movie the year his film was released, he knew people would still question his influences.

“Everyone was accusing me of ripping it off, but I actually never got around to seeing it,” he told a New York Times reporter. “Funnily enough, I saw it and I’m like, ‘Oh, wow. There are bits of Inception that people are going to think I ripped straight out of Last Year at Marienbad.”

Fortunately, Nolan realizes it’s all part of a natural process of film analysis some moviegoers thrive on. “Basically, what it means is I’m ripping off the movies that ripped off Last Year at Marienbad, without having seen the original. It’s that much a source of ideas, really, about the relationships between dream and memory and so forth, which is very much what Inception deals with.”

Nolan got the last laugh in the end, though, adding, “But we have way more explosions.”

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

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[yourdeepestfathoms]

The Crucible (part eight)

[Carrie AU; UK Tour]

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 

Word count: 10,126

TW: None, for once lol

---------------------------

-Dreamer In Disguise-

  “Tell us about the night of May 28th. Of the events leading up to the incident.”

Katherine grit her teeth tightly, then exhaled a sharp breath through her nose, releasing her mounting anger. Her eyes were stinging, like fire ants were infested in the sockets and wouldn’t come out no matter how hard she scratched. Her face was still blotchy and washed out from crying, but she held herself as confidently as always, not willing to give into the crime Mulaney so desperately wanted her to be a part of.

  “It was meant to be a celebration.” Katherine said strongly. Her voice held no evidence that she had been crying just a few minutes ago. “It was supposed to be the biggest night of our high school lives. The ending of one chapter and the beginning of the next. If only--” Her words caught for a moment, but she would not break again. “If only--”

  “If only what?” Mulaney urged.

  “If only I hadn’t told Anna to go to prom with Joan!” Katherine exploded, slamming her palms on the table and making even Madeline jump and Mulaney look at her more warily. It pleased her, and she eased back down, steadying her sharpening breath. “Then maybe nobody would have died. But just because I should have done that, doesn’t mean I regret having her go.”

Mulaney’s eyes glinted and he leaned in, hungry for a confession.

  “Anna sent me a picture.” Katherine said. She took out her phone and slid it over the tabletop. The screen showed an image of Anna and Joan, grinning brightly at the camera with two other kids, George Boleyn, Anne’s younger brother, and his girlfriend, Jane Parker. “Look at how happy she is… I’ve never seen her smile like that before. So carefree and peaceful…”

She put her phone back into her pocket and shook her head. She blew out a sigh from her nose.

  “That’s why I don’t wish I didn’t have Anna ask her.” She said. “She was happy for the first time in her life. Truly happy. And who am I to take that away from her?”

Her eyes began to burn again. She fingered her shredded tissue, a whirlwind of emotions storming inside her skull. She wanted to release it on this skeptical detective before her and show him that she was innocent.

  “I hope it was good for her. That prom. Before things went to hell.”

------

It was like a dream. An actual perfect dream.

The prom glimmered in droplets of amber and gold, sapphire and jade, obsidian and pearl. Fragments of gods and goddesses and mythical creatures prowled across the walls in detailed murals, capturing ancient battles in their canvases forever.

The gym had been morphed into a huge, vaulted space that hummed with activity. Intricately carved Greek pillars and spires and arches dotted the space, and green and silver drapes of silk dipped from the ceiling. White fairy lights were lit up everywhere, casting soft glows across various tapestries and weavings decorating the walls and architecture. Miniature recreations of temples acted as buffets for the hundreds of partygoers, bearing chips and cookies and cakes and other treats. There was even a large bowl-like piece that was shaped like the Great Theater of Epidaurus, holding salad condiments around the wide sides and lettuce in the middle. A chocolate fountain burbled on a nearby table, the most modern-looking piece of decor in there.

The food temples encircled a giant white fake-marble tree that the origins of were unknown to mostly everyone. The trunk was carved with intricate designs that looked like they had taken hours to scratch away, and the lush shrubbery it bore was braided with silver lights, making the entire decoration a beacon of sterling radiance. Transparent ice blue globes hung from the many reaching branches, lit up with fake candles inside of their hallowed out interior. They glowed like captured moons within the party.

The stage was set up to look like the Parthenon, with white pillars along the apron and wings, coiled by ivy and flowers. Golden and iridescent fabric braided the top, glistening in the fairy lights. A hired band was set up at the center, along with the DJ booth, which played most of the music. Behind them were the thrones for prom king and queen, all shiny and poised, ready for their royals.

Music catapulted around the high, canvas-covered walls like thread winding around and around the assembled students. The sound seemed to swallow Joan up, reverberating in her bones. Partygoers whirled together on the dance floor, the colors of their suits and dresses sparkling in bright tornadoes. They stomped and jumped and clapped in time to the beat of the music, a kaleidoscope of rainbow rhythm.

However, the highlight of the ball were the sculptures. There were at least ten different elaborate carvings sparkling importantly in the party space. Twisting spirals, weaving tendrils, and delicate beads mingled with glorious bells and vast shipwrecks, towering trees and clusters of griffon feathers. Joan wanted to run her hands over all of their smooth, bubbly surfaces.

  “Anna.” Joan squeezed Anna’s arm tightly. “Anna, Anna, Anna, Anna--”

  “Yeah?” Anna looked down at her.

  “Look.” Joan pointed to the sculpture garden with her free hand. 

  “Wanna go look at them?”

Joan nodded vigorously. Anna chuckled. They both began to walk over, and Joan nearly dragged Anna when she leapt forward to look at the closest sculpture, a beautiful, branching ice tree with fat orbs of sugary fruit. 

  “It’s so pretty…” Joan murmured, her eyes sparkling. 

  “No wonder it’s so cold in here,” Anna observed. “They have to keep these from melting. Damn, this must have taken forever.”

  “Yeah…” Joan nodded slowly, like she was taking in the secrets of the universe. “Ooh, look at that one!”

The two of them went over to a sculpture of roaring waves with captured pieces of poetry within their depths. Joan ogled at the ice with great interest, taking the time to read every piece of paper inside. Anna patiently let her, smiling at her look of awestruck wonderment. She was glad she was distracted so she didn’t notice all the stares they were getting.

But Joan did. She had picked up on it from the moment they stepped inside. It seemed like everyone in the entire gym was staring at her like she was an alien from outer space. She did her best to ignore all of them, but she could feel their eyes burning holes into her skin.

She’s never felt so exposed before, not even in the showers last Friday.

  “Why, Anna von Cleves!”

A voice cut through the music and talking and laughter rebounding throughout the gym. Joan spun around and saw two people approaching them- a brunette boy with amber eyes, wearing a black tux, a silvery grey undershirt peeking out around the collar, and a blood red rose boutonniere, and a girl she didn’t recognize. She was taller than her date and had curled dirty blonde hair and grey-green eyes. Her dress was long and flowing, ebony black like the boy’s but dappled with silver specks like stars. The straps were thin and the bodice was gathered and fitted snugly against her bust.

  “George!” Anna embraced the boy tightly in one of those “man hugs” men always seem to do, rapping his back so hard it sounded a little painful.

  “You look good enough to eat, honey!” George whistled, looking Anna up and down.

  “Some would say I am delicious.” Anna said.

  “Okay, if you two knew how many people thought you were dating, you wouldn’t be joking about it.” The girl piped up, looking amused.

  “Tell Anna to stop looking so goddamn queer!” George chortled.

  “You know I always gotta look a little lesbo.” Anna said.

Then, George raised his fists and Joan flinched back a little. She flexed her powers, prepared to save Anna, but then Anna raised her fists, too, and began throwing playful jabs and poked at George’s stomach and chest. George did the same, and they began circling each other like two tuxedo-clad cats standing off against each other for a dead mouse. Joan realized that it was a game of sorts.

  “Don’t let it bother you,” The girl said to Joan. “If they kill each other, I’ll dance with you.”

Joan couldn’t smother the smile that came to her lips. She looked down shyly for a moment, then lifted her head again to watch George’s and Anna’s sparring match. Anna tagged George twice, then got jabbed in the waist. They kept grunting and gobbling playful threats to each other.

  “They’re too silly to kill,” Joan observed, tilting her head at them. “Like dinosaurs.”

The girl laughed and smiled, and Joan felt something warm flood through her.

Was this what delight felt like?

  “Joan,” Anna said. She and George had stopped fighting and she now had an arm around his shoulders. “This is my best buddy, George Boleyn! And this is his girlfriend, Jane Parker. She goes to Chamberlain.”

She didn’t go to Kingston. So maybe that’s why she was being so friendly.

Joan liked it.

  “George, Jane, this is Joan.” Anna continued.

  “Joan, hi,” Jane smiled down at the girl.

  “Joan!” George exclaimed. “Oh shit. Hey, can I just personally apologize for all my sister’s bullshit? I wish I could say she isn’t always like that, but…” He trailed off with a dry laugh.

  “Wait…” Joan began to put the pieces together. “George Boleyn… You’re Anne’s brother?”

George laughed. “Yup. The youngest of the bunch. We have an older sister in college named Mary. She turned out pretty okay.”

  “...I’m sorry.”

George burst out into even louder laughter. He shook Anna’s side, wiping a tear from his eyes.

  “Oh, Anna, I love this girl!” He said.

Joan blushed dark red, ducking her head. Anna grinned at her.

  “She’s great, isn’t she?” She said.

There was a light touch on Joan’s shoulder, warm and soft, easy for her to shrug off if she wanted. She turned her head to see that it was Jane’s hand.

  “I love your dress,” Jane said. “Where did you get it?”

  “I made it.” Joan told her.

  “Made it?” Jane gaped, looking the length of the sparkling silk gown up and down. “No shit!”

Joan blinked a few times, then echoed, “No shit.”

Jane laughed. Anna grinned even more. Joan felt like a sinful little rebel.

  “You really made that?” George asked.

  “Oh, now who’s queer?” Anna said, earning her a smack on the arm.

  “I did.” Joan answered George. “I like to sew.”

  “You have got to teach me sometime!” Anna said. “I tried before but it didn’t turn out so well. A sweater somehow became a snake warmer.”

They all laughed. Joan felt glee bubbling up inside of her the longer and longer she talked to Anna and her friends. It was so nice to be a part of conversations and share her talents with other people.

  “Yeah, of course,” Joan said to Anna. 

  “Hey, ladies,” Said a heavily sneering voice. “And Anne’s brother.”

Maggie, Maria, and a boy came gliding over. Maggie was wearing a pure white toga with gold lace to fit the Greek theme, while the boy, tall and tired-looking, was in a maroon tux. Maria wore a bright tangerine orange dress that had no sleeves and was loaded with fake jewels to make her gown sparkle.

  “Hello,” Anna said. There was a sort of warning in her voice, like she was daring the three of them to try something and see what happened.

  “Joan!” Maggie exclaimed in a very forced friendly voice. “Wow. You look so...different!”

Joan struggled not to squirm. She didn’t like the way Maggie was looking at her, like she was being sized up. Jane stood tall beside her, a protector of sorts, narrowing her eyes at Maggie.

  “Thanks,” Joan mumbled. The bedazzled gems encrusted on Maria’s dress caught her attention and she looked at her in wonder. “Wow… You’re so shiny.”

Maggie snorted. “Shiny?” She said. “Joan, what are you talking about?”

  “You made The Human Tide,” Joan went on, ignoring her. She lifted one of Maria’s hands in her own, tracing the lines on her palms. “Passion and lust, envy and yearning, wrath and guilt…” She looked up at her, eyes shining. “Did you put some Sylvia Plath in there?”

  “What?” Maggie said uneasily.

  “I-I did,” Maria stammered in an oddly rapt way. “I didn’t think anyone would have noticed… Nobody ever understands my pieces.”

  “I’m very observant,” Joan stated. “Charles Dickens and Edgar Allen Poe and lines from the Odyssey…”

  “Okay, not you’re literally just saying random names.” Maggie said. She looked at the others. “What is going on?”

  “Shh.” George shushed her, earning him an evil glare that he deftly dodged around Anna.

  “It was very beautiful.” Joan said, releasing Maria’s hand.

  “Thank you,” Maria said, wide-eyed. “That--that means a lot. Thank you.”

Joan smiled at her. She looked at Anna in a sort of glance of approval and Anna grinned back at her.

  “This is so fucking weird,” Maggie hissed under her breath, the swept away into the crowd. Maria and her date lingered around.

  “Oh, hey,” George suddenly said to the boy in the maroon tux. “I know you from...Trigonometry? You’re William, right?”

  “Yeah,” The boy, William, nodded.

  “Where’d you get your dress?” Maria asked Joan at the same time.

  “She made it.” Jane said.

  “I made it.”

Maria looked Joan up and down, sort of like Jane did, then said, “Shut up!”

Joan flinched slightly and bristled. “You shut up!”

Maria laughed. Anna set a hand on Joan’s shoulder to relax her, chuckling slightly.

  “Really, you made that?” Maria asked.

Joan nodded. “It’s a really simple pattern. I also got the fabric really cheap.”

  “Wow.” Maria said. “Give it a twirl!”

  “What?”

  “Twirl your dress!” Maria specified, then demonstrated, spinning in a shimmering circle of orange and silver. “Like that!”

  “Oh--” Joan blinked. “Okay.” She twirled for them.

Maria gasped loudly. “LOOK AT YOUR ASS!!!”

Joan yelped and leapt backwards against Anna, eyes bulging. George burst into laughter. William leaned to the side slightly to get a look and nodded in approval. 

  “Now THAT’S queer!” George chortled.

  “Okay, after seeing your ass, the whole ‘nun in street clothes’ thing is no longer acceptable.” Maria said to Joan.

Joan’s bewildered expression does not lessen. In fact, she looked even more confused and startled after hearing that. Jane leaned down to her and whispered, “It was a compliment.”

  “You’re glowing,” Maria said. “You really do look great, Joan. So different!”

Joan blushed shyly. “Thank you.”

Someone gently took Joan’s arm. “Let’s go find our table.” Jane said, and began guiding Joan through the crowd. “Yikes. Why is everyone acting so weird around you?”

  “I’m not--usually like this.” Joan said. “All nice and pretty and dressed up. I’m kinda weird…”

  “I like weird.” Jane said. “It makes you special.”

Joan ducked her head to hide her bashful expression. Jane chuckled.

  “Here we are!” They stop at an empty table that was coiled with ivy and violets. Three candles flickered on the tabletop. Anna and George caught up to them.

  “They’re really trusting us with real candles?” George said, peering at the small flames. “Not the best decision they could have made.”

  “How are you doing?” Anna asked, sitting down next to Joan. “Feeling alright? Need to go out and get some fresh air? I know parties like this can be a little much. With everyone packed together and whatnot.”

Joan’s heart fluttered in her chest. She’s never had someone be so worried about her before. Anna genuinely cared about how she was feeling.

  “I’m okay,” She answered. “It’s a lot, though. I’ve never been to a place like this before. It’s amazing.”

  “It’s not so bad once you get used to it,” Jane put in. 

Joan nodded. “I hope I’m doing okay. Again, this isn’t really my crowd, you know?”

  “You’re doing great.” Anna told her. “Trust me.”

  “Joan?” A voice called.

George leapt to his feet instantly and dragged Jane with him to go visit with another table, saluting Anna and Joan as he careened away. The remaining duo blinked, then realized what he was fleeing from.

It was Miss Aragon.

The gym coach appeared from the crowd in glistening swathes of gold, like an angel descending from heaven. Her dark brown hair was elegantly curled, framing her makeup-covered face perfectly. The dress she wore was smooth, with no wrinkles or frills, and had short sleeves so her muscles could be revealed to wandering eyes. A black pendant hung around her strong neck, glinting like polished onyx in the light.

  “Oh, Miss Aragon!” A smile came to Joan’s face the moment she saw her favorite teacher. “You look incredible!”

  “Thank you.” Miss Aragon said. “You look beautiful.”

Joan ducked her head humbly. “That’s very nice of you,” She said. “I know it isn’t true, but thank you anyway.”

Miss Aragon and Anna both ruffled slightly at that.

  “Don’t be modest,” Miss Aragon said. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”

Joan blushed. “Thank you… Really, thank you.”

  “Hey, Miss Aragon!” Anna said to the coach.

  “Anna.”

Joan blinked and glanced back and forth between the two of them. Why did Miss Aragon look so threatening? Why did Anna look slightly nervous? Was there something going on that she didn’t know?

  “You guys want some punch?” Anna said briskly, standing up. She smoothed out her tux and straightened her flower crown. “I heard Henry and Francis spiked it.” She snickered.

  “Oh no,” Joan said in a woebegone voice. “Isn’t it dangerous to drink spikes? What if someone chokes?”

  “Really?” Miss Aragon said to Anna at the same time.

Anna laughed, then noticed Miss Aragon’s unamused, deadpan expression. She stopped instantly.

  “Uh-- No.” She said. “I’m joking.”

Miss Aragon’s expression did not change. Anna cleared her throat, then sidled off towards the food temples. Miss Aragon rolled her eyes and sat down next to Joan.

  “So,” Miss Aragon smiled at her. “Is it everything you dreamed?”

  “It’s nice.” Joan said.

Miss Aragon laughed. “Just nice?”

  “It’s like being on Mars,” Joan admitted. “Now that I’m here, I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to do.”

  “I remember my prom,” Miss Aragon mused. Joan tipped her head in interest. “I went with the captain of the basketball team. She was six foot seven inches tall!” They both laughed. “So, I went out and bought a pair of these Stiletto heels so the kiss goodnight would be less awkward. Anyway, we went in her pickup truck, which of course broke down, so we had to walk the last half mile to the prom.”

  “Oh no!” Joan gasped.

  “By the time we finally got there, my feet were so blistered that all I could do was just sit there. I was sure I ruined the night, I couldn’t dance, but you know what? We just sat there and talked for hours. And it turned out to be one of the best nights of my entire life.”

  “Wow,” Joan said. “I’m so happy for you, Miss Aragon! I’m sorry you couldn’t dance, though.”

  “Could have been worse,” Miss Aragon shrugged. “There was this one girl whose boyfriend brought a toy gun so he could pose like James Bond in the picture.”

  “Oh,” Joan giggled, despite not knowing who James Bond was. “He sounds like fun.”

  “Yeah,” Miss Aragon nodded. “He was arrested.”

Joan stopped giggling instantly. Miss Aragon chuckled.

  “But it’s okay.” Miss Aragon said. “It’s just a dance. Not that special.”

Joan nodded. Her gaze began to slide back to the party around them, to the mass of writhing limbs that was the dance floor. Mostly everyone was dancing or talking, but she spotted a few people staring over at her and whispering to each other. Some glanced away when she noticed, pretending they weren’t gossiping about her, while others didn’t even try to make it seem like they weren’t talking behind her back. She turned her head towards them fully, unable to look away, and felt fear and shame bubbling back up inside of her.

(Mama was right Mama was right Mama was right Mama was right)

Miss Aragon smothered those thoughts for her.

  “Are you excited for summer?” Her coach asked. Joan turned her head back to her, successfully pulling her attention away. “Then you’ll be in Year 12. One grade closer until graduation!”

  “I don’t know,” Joan admitted. “Graduation makes me nervous. I don’t even know what I want to study.”

  “That’s understandable,” Miss Aragon said, nodding. “I couldn’t wait to graduate.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh yeah,” Miss Aragon said. “I hated high school.”

  “Oh, god.” Joan leaned in. “I do, too. I know you’re not supposed to say that, but I do. I hate it. I hate it so much.”

  “Preach it to the choir.” Miss Aragon said. “No offense.”

Joan smiled slightly. Miss Aragon took one of her hands and stroked the knuckles with her thumb.

  “Just remember,” She said. “Nothing that has happened will matter after graduation. Nothing. Except, you know, things like good grades and studying. You take what you want and leave the rest behind. You don’t even have to see any of these people again if you don’t want to.”

  “I don’t?”

  “No.” Miss Aragon said. “Oh, but I highly recommend the ten year reunion.”

  “Why?” Joan asked eagerly.

  “Everybody’s different. People will say, ‘Oh my god, so-and-so hasn’t changed a bit,’ but they’re LYING.” Miss Aragon told her, a devilish smirk twitching on her lips. “Everybody changes. And not always for the better.” She scanned the crowd, her smirk curving fully. She leaned into Joan, subtly nodding towards a trio of girls in insanely expensive dresses. “Like, those girls over there? Right now, they’re at their peak. They will never be more pretty or more popular, and in ten years, they’ll be fat.” She snickered. “And the fat girls, some of them will be thin, and the cute boys will be bald. The jocks will have beer bellies-- it’s fantastic!”

Joan dissolved into giggles and had to cover her mouth.

  “And the ones who were miserable?”

Joan stopped giggling. She watched Miss Aragon nervously. Her hand was squeezed comfortingly.

  “They turn out just fine.”

A grin came to Joan’s lips and she didn’t try to stamp it down. 

(i’m okay i’ll be okay)

  “They do,” Miss Aragon said, squeezing Joan’s hand again. “So enjoy yourself, and try not to take it too seriously. Everything is going to be okay.”

Joan vaulted into Miss Aragon’s arms, unable to hold herself back. Miss Aragon chuckled and hugged her back, cupping the back of her head to her chest with one hand and rubbing up and down her spine with the other.

  “Thank you,” Joan whispered.

  “Anything for you, sweetheart.” Miss Aragon told her.

  “Woah,” A voice said. “I better not catch you hugging any other girls like that!”

Joan and Miss Aragon parted as Anna set two cups on the table, grinning.

  “Have a good talk?”

  “Uh huh,” Joan nodded.

  “We did.” Miss Aragon said. “And on that note- Anna. Can I speak with you for a moment?”

  “Sure.” Anna said, sounding slightly guarded.

Miss Aragon smiled at Joan and kissed the top of her head before standing up. She took Anna by the arm and guided her away, far out of earshot from Joan.

  “Having fun?” Miss Aragon asked. Her voice wasn’t nearly as loud as the blasting music, but the biting words still cut smoothly through all the noise.

  “Yeah,” Anna nodded. “Yeah, I am. I think Joan is having fun, too. She’s making a lot of progress!” She looked over her shoulder for a moment, seeing that Joan was pulled over to one of the desert tables by Jane and George. George put some whipped cream on a brownie, then handed it to Joan, who observed the canister seriously for a moment and then promptly sprayed herself in the face. She dropped the can with an alarmed screech and tottered backwards as laughter erupted around her. She was laughing, too.

  “That’s good,” Miss Aragon said, smiling fondly at Joan as she was trying to wipe her face off. “I just thought you should know,” She turned her smile to Anna, “that if you show Joan anything less than the time of her life, I will personally see to it that you are expelled.”

Anna gaped at her, mouth hanging open slightly. All the color drained from her face. Miss Aragon narrowed her eyes dangerously, leaning in.

  “Do you understand the words that just came out of my mouth?”

Anna swallowed hard and nodded. Miss Aragon smiled again.

  “Very good.” The coach said, pleased. “Now go get back to her.” She caught Anna’s arm when she tried to walk away. “Oh, and wait for a slow song to dance with her to. She’ll look stupid dancing to anything fast.”

Anna nodded again and was released. She scampered back over to the table, glancing over her shoulder at the coach as she went.

  “Everything okay?” Joan asked as Anna sat back down.

  “Yeah!” Anna answered. “Yeah, don’t worry.” She looked up as a slower song by Billie Eilish began to play. “You wanna dance?”

  “No.” Joan said instantly.

  “Oh--” Anna blinked. “Alright.”

  “Sorry…” Joan hunched her shoulders in. “Maybe later. But not right now, please? I still wanna get settled in completely.”

  “Yeah, of course,” Anna said. “We can just talk, alright?” 

  “I like that idea.”

  “So…” Anna shifted in her seat slightly. She looked Joan over, then plunged into a question she really hoped wouldn’t upset her date (and make her have to retake Year 13 when Miss Aragon found out), “If I may...how’d you get those scars on your hands?”

  “Ah--” Joan coiled her scarred hands into her cowl, looking embarrassed. “Um-- It’s really stupid…”

  “No, no, no--” Anna caught her before she could tuck herself back into the shell she was just starting to come out of. “Hey, why don’t I tell you one of my dumb scar stories?”

Joan looked up at her in interest.

  “Okay, so--” Anna looked around like she was making sure no one was around, despite there being dozens of people all around them. “I have this little hole in my lower stomach because when I was eight, I put a pencil in my pants and it stabbed me when I went to pee.”

Joan instantly burst out into laughter. It was such a pleasant sound to hear coming out of her, slightly high pitched and adorable.

  “Really?” She sputtered out.

  “I swear to god!” Anna said, laughing with her. “You can’t really see it anymore, but you can feel the indent of where the hole is. I also have this bad boy,” She rolled her left pant leg up enough to reveal a giant, faded burn scar on her inner thigh. Joan ogled it.

  “What happened?” The younger girl gaped.

  “When I was 13, me, my younger sister, and my cousin were riding around in a golf cart. My cousin was driving, and he ended up turning in a cul-de-sac way too fast, flipping the entire golf cart on my side. I hit the asphalt and, since I was sitting next to my cousin in the front, that whole loaf fell onto me, breaking his fall and letting him come out completely unscathed. I, however, got this burn.”

  “Wow…” Joan murmured. “Were you scared?”

  “At the time, oh yeah,” Anna said. “My sister wasn’t moving at all. I thought she was dead. So we got a helicopter air lift to the hospital. That was pretty neat!”

  “You aren’t...ashamed of it?” Joan asked softly. “Your scar?”

  “I used to be,” Anna admitted. “But it’s a part of me, you know? It’ll only look worse if I try to get rid of it. Besides, it looks pretty cool, and it's not like anyone sees it that often anyway. It’s always too cold to wear shorts.”

Joan nodded. She unconsciously traced one of the webs of scar tissue lacing across her left hand. She looked up at Anna with courage in her eyes.

  “I stuck my hands in fire.”

Anna raised her eyebrows. “Really?”

  “Uh huh,” Joan nodded. “I found a picture of my father and my Mama threw it into the fire. I tried to grab it and burned myself pretty badly in the process.” She splayed her hands open, revealing the entire spider web of burns to Anna’s eyes. They were white than her already-porcelain skin, like someone had tried to paint over them. “They used to look really bad. All red and peeling a lot. But they’re gotten better, I think.” She rubbed her rough palms together.

  “Wow.” Anna said. “That’s pretty metal.”

Joan looked at her strangely. “They’re not metal? This is skin.” She looked down at the scars.

Anna laughed.

  “So… Did you know him?”

  “Hm?” Joan looked back up at her.

  “Your father.” Anna clarified. “If I may. Did you know him?”

Joan shook her head. “No. He left when I was just a baby.” She paused for a moment, then added, “I have his eyes.”

  “Oh,” Anna said. “I mean, I’m glad the rumors aren’t true. Not that him leaving is a good thing, it absolutely isn’t, but it’s better than people saying--”

  “My Mama killed him?” Joan finished. She looked up at Anna thoughtfully. “I don’t think she did. But you still never know…” She shook her head and rubbed her palms against her dress. “Can we--go outside?”

  “Need some air?” Anna asked.

  “Yeah,” Beads of sweat were welling up on the crown of Joan’s head. “It’s getting kinda hot in here.”

  “Come on.”

The two of them slipped out of the prom through the door that fed into the rest of the school. It was much cooler in that hallway and much quieter, with only dim storm lights turned on overhead. They walked a few paces down until they got to the entrance hall. They sat down on the huge main staircase.

  “Are you okay?” Anna asked, gently touching Joan’s arm. There was worry in her eyes.

  “Yeah,” Joan answered, nodding. “Trust me. I just need to get away from all that noise for a moment.”

  “Gotcha.” Anna said. “It was getting pretty wild in there.”

Joan nodded again. She was staring forward, looking out the huge windows all along the entrance way of the school. The sky was completely black now, even with the layer of clouds, and sheets of drizzling rain could be seen sparkling in the outside lights.

  “So…” Anna said, hoping to ease back into some small talk. “What do you want to study in college? I know you’re only in Year 11, but I’m curious.”

  “Oh, I dunno,” Joan shrugged. “Is sewing an option?”

Anna laughed slightly. “I’m not sure.”

  “What about you?”

  “Something with agriculture,” Anna told her. “I kinda wanna be a game warden. I like animals. A park ranger would be cool, too. I could get an entire tower all to myself!”

  “That sounds scary.” Joan said. “Being all alone in a tower in the middle of the woods...”

  “Don’t put it like that! You’ll crush my dreams!” Anna teased. “I actually thought about being a singer at one point, too. Can you believe that?” She snorted and shook her head.

  “A singer?” Joan echoed. “Can you sing?”

  “I like to think I can.”

  “Can you show me?”

Anna blinked, slightly shy. “Right now?”

Joan nodded eagerly.

  “What would I sing?”

  “Your poem!” 

  “What?”

  “Your poem, silly.” Joan said again. “It’s basically a song, you know. Just give it a rhythm!”

  “Oh.” Anna blinked. “Right. Okay.” She cleared her throat meaningfully. “Let’s see…

An eagle's just another bird

Until he can spread his wings

A river's just a sheet of ice

Till winter turns to spring,”

Her voice came out husky and smooth, like molten caramel. Each word flicked languidly off of her tongue, dripping easily into open ears. Joan watched her in amazement and great interest and then, shockingly, began to sing the next few stanzas.

  “And though the clouds may block the sun

Don't mean that it's left the sky,”

Joan’s voice was soft and slightly raspy, but higher pitched and easy on the ears. It was light and airy and pronounced each word with silky gentleness. Anna was so startled from hearing it that she faltered for a moment. Joan giggled at her bewildered expression.

  “What?” She asked.

  “You sing beautifully.” Anna blurted.

Joan blushed. “Thank you. I hope you don’t mind. Your poem was just so amazing that I sorta kinda memorized it… Sorry.”

Anna blinked at her in amazement. Nobody had ever been so interested in any of her writing pieces before, not even Katherine.

  “No, no it’s okay!” She said quickly. “That’s so cool. That you like it that much. It means a lot to me.”

Joan smiled. “I’m glad.” She said. “Now, what was the next part?”

  “Umm… Oh!” Anna cleared her throat again, then began singing once more, 

“Just when you think you've seen it all

There's more than meets the eye,”

  “Like, things I dream,”

  “And things I feel,”

  “There’s more to me,”

  “Than I reveal,” The harmony they pulled off together was like nothing Anna had ever heard before. Her deep alto and Joan’s light soprano mixed together beautifully, sounding like liquid sugar in their ears.

  “And cause I shine in quiet ways

I'm someone you don't recognize,” Joan sang, a smile twitching on her lips.

  “I’m a diamond in the rough

A dreamer in disguise…”

They finished in another chilling harmony. Joan beamed at Anna. Anna smiled back at her brightly.

  “That...was incredible.” Anna breathed. 

  “I know!” Joan exclaimed gleefully. “We sounded SO GOOD! I didn’t even know I could sing like that!”

Anna had never seen her so energetic before. Even Joan never felt this way before, so happy and at ease. She must have come out of her shell a lot more than she thought.

  “You’re great, Joan.” Anna said. “We should really hang out more often! Are you free tomorrow by any chance? Katherine, George, Jane, and I were going to have an after party at my house. We have a pool!”

Joan looked absolutely thrilled to be invited. “I would love to go.” She said, eyes glowing. “Do you really mean it, Anna?”

  “Of course!” Anna said. “We were also going to watch a few movies, too. Have you ever seen Star Wars?”

  “No.”

Anna gaped at her in shock. “Really? You’ve never seen a single Star Wars movie before?”

  “We don’t have a TV at my house.” Joan admitted. “What is Star Wars? Is it, like, World War I in outer space?”

Anna burst into laughter. Joan blinked at her in a delighted way.

  “Now I REALLY have to show you!” Anna said, wiping an eye. “It’s a date!”

  “Yeah,” Joan said excitedly.

They hung out on the main staircase for a little bit longer, discussing plans for the next day and Anna giving Joan permission to wear one of her bathing suits (since she didn’t have her own), then ventured back into the prom.

  “I still can’t get over how pretty it is,” Joan said as they walked past a sculpture shaped like temple ruins. “It’s like a dream. A perfect dream.”

The plants were one her favorite parts by far. All around her there were glorious purple exploding star-shaped flowers, delicate pale orange orchids, clusters of petals the color of bananas, odd little orbs in ruby red and sapphire blue. Hanging moss and trailing vines and reaching willow were like curtain doorways to new parts of the prom in all shades of emerald green. And then, there was the tree glowing brightly among all the greenery.

It was so much more beautiful up close. Joan could see all the little details in the pure white trunk, which must have taken forever to get just right. The globes hanging from the branches were the same icy blue as her eyes, she realized, and she blinked at them in wonder. Was the color really that beautiful? 

Looking closer, she noticed something in the hollow of the closest globe. A rolled up piece of paper! In fact, several of the globes had one or more, folded or rolled up to sit inside. There was also a small brown table next to the tree with pens and pieces of paper for anyone who wanted to write something. George was currently doing just that, looking very dutiful as he did so, while Jane waited by his side. She noticed Joan and Anna and perked up.

  “There you guys are!” She said. “I was wondering where you went.”

  “Sorry,” Anna said. “We just went out to get some air. What are you guys doing?”

  “Making wishes,” Jane told her. “That’s what the tree is about. You’re supposed to write a wish or desire on a piece of paper and then put it into one of the fruit things.”

  “So the decoration committee can laugh at you when they read all of them after prom,” George added as he was writing. “So don’t mark your name. And hope your handwriting doesn’t get recognized.”

  “Wanna write one?” Jane asked.

Anna nodded, then nudged Joan questioningly.

  “Sure,” Joan said.

They went over to the table George was hunched over at and each took a pen and piece of paper. Anna thought for just a moment, then began writing something, while Joan hesitated a little bit longer.

She had so many wishes that she thought about all the time. Being adopted into a nicer family, Mama loving her like a normal mother would, having friends, finding her father, getting a kitten… There were so many things to put down, and so little room, so, after a moment of deciding, she wrote, “I wish to always be happy like I am now.”

She rolled her paper up like a scroll and tucked it into an empty globe. Jane did the same, then Anna, and then, finally, George.

  “So, what did you guys wish for?” George asked as they walked back over to their table. “Because I wished for something practical. Money.”

  “I should have known,” Jane chuckled. “I wished for an easy, hopefully painless transition into college after summer is over.”

  “Eternal love,” Anna said.

  “A pet cat,” Joan lied, feeling too sappy to say her actual one.

  “That’s a good wish, that’s a good wish,” George nodded in approval.

The four of them began to chat for several minutes, discussing summer plans and swapping funny stories. Joan didn’t have much to share, seeing as her life wasn’t exactly very easy to bring up in a lighthearted conversation, but Anna, Jane, and George each made sure she was included. She was perfectly happy with just listening quietly, but actually getting to partake in the talk felt like an honor she didn’t deserve.

  “What about you, Joan?” George had been asking. “Got any embarrassing secrets?”

Joan thought for a moment, sifting out several way-too-dark things to share. 

  “I can’t swim,” She finally admitted.

  “Woah, really?” George said. “I thought everyone learned how to swim.”

  “Where? In school?” Anna snorted. She turned her head to Joan, eyebrows furrowed. “I guess that makes tomorrow’s pool party a little unfortunate, huh?”

  “I still wanna come.” Joan said quickly, afraid the opportunity will be taken from her. “I agreed regardless, didn’t I? And I’ll be okay. I just had a bad experience with water one time, that’s all. It’s been years, anyway.”

(the tepid water and her wrinkled fingertips marked the end of her bubble bath. Mama just checked on her, but her patience had doubled since then. she called for Mama to help her out of the tub, but Mama did not respond. she tried twice more but she heard no returning calls. she decided that she did not really need Mama’s help; she was five and a big girl. 

the slippery acrylic tub and her misplaced feet resulted in her arm roughly slicing on the sharp faucet. a metallic and unknown smell engulfed her. all she saw was red, just like candy apples. so much red falling from her arm and coloring the bathwater. unexplainable fear and pain overcame her. she started to cry and within seconds, Mama was standing at the door.

she had always been beautiful, but the flour smeared on her face and the stress lines present on her features did not do much for her. the sheer horror on her expression scared her further and transformed weak cries into wailing screams. Mama appeared white as a sheet as they stared at each other, motionless. the tub water was noticeably darker when she started to feel a painful sensation shooting down her arm. in a flash, Mama was carrying her onto the sink counter, swaddling her in a towel that turned crimson red almost instantly. Mama was wearing her special apron and bore a grim look on her face.

Mama left for just a moment, then returned with something gleaming.

there was no warning given before Mama started putting a needle and thread through her skin. it reminded her of sewing a dress together. she can only feel a light tugging, but it did not quiet her cries. Mama finally cut the thread after what felt like forever. the cuddles she got after that were like angel hugs. she thought she should hurt herself more often.)

  “What happened?” George asked with great interest. Jane lightly whacked his arm.

  “Don’t be pushy.” She chided him, then looked at Joan. “You don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to, hun.”

The pet name sent flickers of pink flames glowing on Joan’s ears. Her heart fluttered wildly inside of her chest, like a butterfly flapping its wings for the first time.

  “Well--”

(the shower. the blood in the water like when she was five. her blood. girls all around her laughing, throwing things, humiliating her.)

  “I was twelve, and I snuck away from home to this Christian summer camp because I wanted to make some friends,” She said. “That, of course, went south, and all the kids participated in a game where they would dunk me in the pool until I started drowning.”

Silence filled the table. Joan instantly felt guilty and lowered her head.

  “Sorry…” She mumbled. “I-I shouldn’t have…”

  “I’m so sorry, Joan.” Jane looked sympathetic and concerned. “That sounds awful.”

  “Those kids are awful.” George corrected her. “I’m sorry, too.”

  “Me too.” Anna nodded. She gently took one of Joan’s hands and squeezed it. “That’ll never happen ever again, I promise.”

Joan smiled at her. “Thank you.” She wanted to dive into Anna’s honey brown eyes and catch the reflected flames in there. She wanted to tell her and George and Jane how much this meant to her.

Suddenly, Anna’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out, but kept her other hand holding Joan’s.

  “Oh, it’s Kat!” She said to the other three. “She’s asking how the night is going.”

  “Amazing!” George declared. “Really amazing! Isn’t this prom the GREATEST?”

Jane tipped her head at him and smiled, and Joan realized that THAT was what it looked like when someone was in love.

  “It is amazing,” Jane agreed.

  “Yeah,” Joan nodded.

  “I’m gonna send a picture to her,” Anna said. “Come on, guys! Everyone get in!”

They all huddled together, even Joan, who got snugly sandwiched between Anna and Jane. Anna snapped a picture and then sent it to Katherine, along with a quick text telling her how things were going. By the time she finished, the music had changed into a slow, soothing song, and couples began to group together on the dance floor, including Jane and George.

  “Oh--” Anna looked up with a smile. “It’s a slow song, Joan.”

Joan froze, her eyes widening. She began shaking her head, but Anna was already standing up and gently taking her hands. She pulled them back quickly.

  “No, Anna, I can't--” Joan stammered nervously. She glanced at all the couples dancing, noting how smoothly they moved, and couldn’t possibly imagine herself swaying among them. She would be much too clumsy. “I’ve never danced before.”

  “That’s okay,” Anna said dismissively.

  “No, no, Anna--” Joan’s fear was mounting. This was where everything went wrong, this was where things got messed up, this was where her perfect night fell apart--

  “Hey.” Anna knelt down in front of her. “It’s going to be okay. It’s just one little dance, and all we do is hold each other and sway. Just like everyone else is doing.”

Joan glanced at the dancers again. It didn’t look too hard…

  “B-but what if--”

  “Shh,” Anna carefully adjusted Joan’s flower crown so it would be straight again. “Everything is alright, Joan. Nothing bad will happen. Remember: if anyone laughs, I kick their ass.”

That got a tiny smile from Joan. Anna smiled back and lifted Joan to her feet, guiding her onto the dance floor.

  “Okay, so you’re going to grab my hand like this. See?” Their right hands clasped together in the air. “And then set the other one on my shoulder.” Joan’s left hand rested on Anna’s shoulder, while Anna’s gently cupped her waist. “And then we sway…” They swayed. “See? It’s easy. You’re a natural!” 

Joan smiled shyly up at Anna. She glanced around them, and realized mainly everyone was too absorbed in their partners to notice she was dancing with them.

  “And...if you wanna get fancy with it…” Anna smirked. “We can do the Dancing With The Stars move.”

Joan had no idea what that was, but it still sent lightning bolts of anxiety shooting through her.

  “N-no, Anna, no, I can’t--”

  “Shh, shh, shh,” Anna hushed her gently. “Just trust me.” And then she stepped back slightly and spun around slowly so her arm would be draped across her torso and Joan would be pressed against her chest. Joan looked up at her with a mix between an amazed and deer-in-headlights look. “See? Easy! Wasn’t that fun?”

Joan nodded wordlessly, lost in her wonder. Her icy blue eyes were sparkling like starlight twinkling on fresh snow. Anna gently uncoiled her and they got back into position.

  “You’re a good learner.” Anna told her partner.

  “Thank you,” Joan whispered, ducking her head. “Can I spin you?”

Anna laughed. “Sure.”

Joan spun Anna, but ended up twisting their arms quite painfully before the full rotation could be complete, so they had to break away and come back together with unknotted muscles. They both laughed.

  “Good first try!” Anna said.

Joan giggled.

A serene silence fell between the two of them as the music went on. They swayed together like a white and pink boat drifting on the quiet waves of the ocean at night. The rhythm they rocked to was conducted by years worth of longing and desire from Joan’s part, and now it was all blooming before her. Everything she’s ever wanted was happening. Friends, a fun night away from home, people who actually give a damn about her… She could feel tears of joy pricking in her eyes and she quickly blinked them back.

  “Do you really have to be home by eleven?” 

Anna’s voice, smooth and caring and not a bit cruel, cut though the singing playing from the large speakers set up. Joan looked up at her. It felt like she had just woken up from a nap, that the music had lulled her into sleep and she slipped away into a blissful dream. But it wasn’t a dream. This was real. The bodies rocking around her and the beautiful decorations and her perfect dress and Anna’s hand in her own--it was all real. 

  “Yes,” Joan said, processing what Anna had asked her. She frowned. “I’m sorry. I promised.”

  “No, that’s okay!” Anna said quickly. “It’s just that after prom, a few of us were going to go to--”

  “OKAY.” Joan said, pulling away and hugging her hands in close. 

Anna blinked. “Um. What?”

  “No, no, if you want to go off with your friends, I understand. I-I-I don’t want to spoil anything.” Joan sputtered out, feeling her heart sink back into the black abyss it had finally climbed out of for the first time in fifteen years.

  “What I was going to say was,” Anna said, taking Joan’s hands again and pulling her back against her. She began to sway again. “If you’d like to, after prom, we could stop at the Blazer for awhile.”

Joan blinked. She suddenly felt embarrassed about how she had jumped to conclusions so easily, that just goes to show how much she truly trusted Anna, but Anna didn’t seem to mind.

  “I’ve never been there.” She said, unsurprisingly. She didn’t go to many places.

  “They have the BEST fries!” Anna stated, grinning.

  “I’d love to.” Joan said.

  “Then it’s decided!”

A smile was starting to come to Joan’s lips, one that felt like it would stay there for the entire night no matter how hard she tried to smother it. After years of vicious bullying and constant teasing and unfriendly looks, she suddenly found herself wrapped in attention and warmth. Anna or Jane or George didn’t hate her or were afraid of her like Mama had said at all. More than that, they seemed to actually like her. They were talking to her and being nice to her and making her laugh, and none of it seemed forced in even the slightest way. They were making her forget, for all these hours, how miserable she had been and how miserable she truly was. The pain was numbed.

For once in her life, for the first time in fifteen years, she truly felt happy.

  “Thank you.” Joan whispered, breaking another few peaceful seconds of silence between them.

  “What for?” Anna asked, tilting her head slightly.

  “For everything.” Joan clarified. “For taking me to prom. For the limo. For being so nice to me.” The tears were coming back, but she wasn’t sure she was going to be able to blink them back this time. “I know you don’t like me like that, and I know it’s only one night, but…” She looked up at Anna, her eyes sparkling. “I’m glad I got to be your date tonight.”

  “Me too.” Anna said, taking Joan by surprise.

  “R-really?”

For a moment, Anna frowned at her disbelief, but then she shook her head and chuckled slightly. 

  “Of course,” She said. “I’m having the best time with you.”

  “B-but what about Katherine--” Joan stammered, her voice catching in her throat.

  “Katherine isn’t here right now,” Anna said, wiping away the tear that rolled down Joan’s left cheek. “Tonight, you’re all that matters to me. I’m going to make sure this is the best night of your life. And the nights and days and everything else after that. You aren’t alone anymore, Joan.”

That’s what broke Joan.

The girl whimpered, bottom lip quivering, and a cascade of sparkling silver tears began pouring down her face. Anna cupped the back of her head and brought it to press into the crook of her neck for security. Joan cried steadily, thanking her over and over again through squeaking sobs.

  “How about this?” Anna said when Joan began to quiet down and was able to pull her head back. Her makeup was slightly smeared, but Anna still thought she looked amazing. “We dance for a little longer, see what poor fools get elected as prom king and queen, and then head to the Blazers for a bite to eat. And I’ll have you home by eleven.” She smiled warmly. “How does that sound to you?”

Joan nodded.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” Joan squeaked. “Maybe eleven-thirty…”

  “Whatever you want.”

  “Eleven-thirty.”

Anna smiled even more. “Wonderful.”

They fell into blissful silence as the song began to wrap up. Joan’s eyes were starting to sting, but she didn’t care. She tucked her head underneath Anna’s chin and rested her head on her chest, relaxing. Anna swayed them both gently, acting as a protective barrier that Joan never wanted to be away from.

The song soon ended and the two of them parted. George and Jane bounded over to them, with George grinning his head off and tapping his feet energetically. Jane rolled her eyes at him fondly, then smiled at Joan and Anna.

  “I saw you guys dancing,” She said. “You were really good for your first time! This one,” She jerked her head at George, “tripped on MY FEET and dragged me to the ground when he fell the first time we danced together.”

Anna and Joan laughed. George was not fazed by his girlfriend spilling embarrassing things about him. In fact, he seemed a little proud.

  “It’s going to be funny to tell our kids one day!” He said.

  “Oh, you,” Jane rolled her eyes again and poked his nose. “Oh, Joan. Your makeup smeared.”

Joan blinked and lifted a hand to her face. “Oh dear,” She murmured in dismay.

  “Not to worry!” Jane waved a hand. “I have some makeup in my car. I can help you fix it.”

  “Really?” Joan said. “Thank you.”

  “No problem, lovely!” Jane said. She gently took Joan by the arm. “Anna, I’m going to borrow your girl for a moment. George, don’t do anything dumb.”

  “Yes sir!” George beamed. When Jane and Joan whisked through the crowd and out into the parking lot, he sighed lovingly, “I love her so much…”

Anna laughed and patted his back. “I can tell!”

Meanwhile, in Jane Parker’s blue Hummer, Jane was dutifully applying fresh makeup onto Joan’s youthful face and thinking back to some of the things she overheard Anne Boleyn saying about her when she was over at the Boleyn residence to hang out with George. The young girl before her didn’t look ugly at all, despite what Anne had said, nor did she look like a freak. Her eyes may be a strange color, but they were the most beautiful shade of blue Jane had ever seen before.

Jane suspected that, deep down, Joan actually enjoyed the kind of pampering she was giving her in the car, despite the distrust in her eyes as Jane drew near with a mascara wand. Not that she needed anything more, but still. Little Miss Five Minute Skincare had obviously missed out on a lot of the girly stuff that had saturated Jane’s existence since birth.

It made sense, though. From the rumors she heard and from everything Anne griped about, she didn’t have a normal upbringing like most people should have. Something much darker lurked beneath those silly stories.

Something terrible has happened to this girl.

And, judging by the “hideous” hand-made flannels Joan apparently wore quite often to school, her mother hadn't been much of a fashion mentor either.

Once Jane had achieved the smoky eye effect she wanted, she applied some gloss to Joan’s lips. The girl had quite an amazing tone to her mouth. Pity it was drooped in a sullen pout at that moment.

Jane leaned back to admire her handwork.

  “Well?” She adjusted the rear view mirror down so Joan could see her reflection. “How does it look?”

  “Pretty…” Joan murmured. “But it feels like I have dirt on my face.” She pouted adorably again.

Jane laughed. “Makeup has that effect, unfortunately.” She said. “But you look lovely. Now, come on, let’s get back inside.”

They journeyed back into the prom, chatting idly as they went. Joan was smiling again, but her hands kept twitching like she wanted to rub her eyes. This was probably the first time she’s ever worn mascara, Jane realized.

  “Wow,” Anna murmured breathlessly when Jane and Joan got back to their table. Even George looked a little starstruck at the newer, better makeup applied to Joan’s face.

  “Do I look alright?” Joan asked shyly.

  “Better than alright!” George said.

  “You look beautiful.” Anna added. “Gorgeous.”

Joan blushed bright red. “I’m glad.” She said. “Because this black stuff is making my eyes sticky. And itchy.”

  “That’s mascara, sweetheart.” Jane corrected her.

  “It’s AWFUL.” Joan said. “Do girls wearing makeup always have to feel this? How do they do that? I’d rather pluck all my eyelashes out!”

Jane, Anna, and George laugh. After a moment, Joan joined them, giggling.

  “I’m going to go grab a drink,” Anna said, parting from the group and going over to the bufett temples.

  “Excuse me?”

Anna spun around and found herself facing a young woman, maybe a Year 12 or Year 13, with tassels of red hair and striking smoky grey eyes. Her dress was scarlet, accenting her hair perfectly.

  “Sorry,” She said, smiling slightly, “I just had to ask before I made a fool of myself. Are you two a couple?” She nodded in Joan’s direction.

  “What? No!” Anna barked. The laugh came out more harshly-sounding than she meant, making her instantly guilty. But she was right- she wouldn’t date Joan. She was too young for one, and for another, she was already with Katherine.

The redhead was devouring Joan as the girl giggled over something George was saying, effortlessly adorable.

  “No, we’re not a couple,” Anna found herself repeating as the redhead purred her appreciation. “But Joan” Anna couldn't resist. She really wanted Joan to open up to new people. “…Joan’s a total stud.”

God, that felt a lot weirder to say than she expected. She did NOT like that.

  “Really?” The redhead’s gaze shot to Anna’s face and then back to her object of attraction. “Joan?” She teased the name with her tongue. “God, she's cute. Do you think I have a chance?”

Anna shrugged and sipped her drink to stifle a giggle. To be honest, she didn’t actually know. She had never ever seen Joan with anyone romantically before, making her believe she was a raging asexual or mother-superior-in-training.

The reality was that Joan was left tongue-tied by male and female nudity alike. Two years into high school gym, and Anne would say she STILL averted her eyes when changing out with other girls in the locker room. She was just hopelessly shy when it came to all matters sex-related.

  “She may play hard-to-get.” Anna finally said.

  “Ah,” The redhead nodded slowly. She chuckled. “Thank you.” Then, like that, she glided back off into the mass of writhing limbs that was the prom. Anna respectfully waited ten seconds after she left to snort her laughter.

  “You’ve got some fans, Jo,” She said, walking back over her friends.

  “What?” Joan blinked up at her innocently.

  “I think someone has a crush on you.”

Joan’s face flamed red instantly. She stammered on a reply, but all her words came out squeaking.

  “O-oh.” She choked. “Nice?”

Anna chuckled and patted her head. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure it was nothing. And you can always say no.”

Joan nodded. A second later, the music switched to an upbeat Lady Gaga song. George began to bound excitedly.

  “Oh, I LOVE this song!!” He yelled. “Let’s dance!”

Anna glanced at Joan, who appeared to be a little more confident at dancing. They all moved to an emptier spot on the dance floor and began to dance.

  “Come on, Joan!” Jane encouraged, noticing that Joan was just bobbing her head to the beat of the song. “Shake that bony white ass!”

Joan was flabbergasted at that, but was motivated to get a little more into the song. Anna, Jane, and George all clapped and cheered for her as she did so.

Unbeknownst to them, Maggie watched on with Bessie at her side. Bessie’s amethyst purple dress went with her bleached white hair surprisingly well, but Maggie wasn’t sure if that was intentional or not, seeing as Bessie’s head was filled with quite a few moths. Anthony was somewhere in the crowd near the food temples, lost in the cluster of black tuxedos so much like his own, fetching drinks like Maggie had asked.

  “God, just look at them.” Maggie sneered in disgust, watching Joan dance like an idiot and Anna, Anne’s younger brother, and Anne’s younger brother’s girlfriend actually make it seem like they liked her. “Couldn’t you just vomit?”

  “I can’t believe Anne is missing this.” Bessie said, wide-eyed. Maggie definitely saw flickers of longing and jealousy in her dark brown eyes; she wasn’t exactly very subtle with her big gay crush on Anna von Cleves.

  “Trust me, doll,” Maggie said dismissively. She shot a smirk at the stage. “She isn’t missing a thing.”

[jaxson-v]

AO3 - come with me and take the ride (to the other side)

“Alright, what’s this grand offer you have?”

“I’m looking for an investor. For my circus.”

Or, Kara is looking for someone to invest in her circus. She has just the person in mind.

Or, The Greatest Showman AU

-----------

The sun is already starting to set when Kara walks into the bar. She needs an investor to help out with the circus, and there is one person in particular that she has in mind. 

 She spots the woman she’s been looking for, sitting alone at the bar and nursing a whiskey. Lena Luthor. She’s the youngest heiress of the Luthors, one of the biggest corporate Wall Street families in New York. If Kara can get her on board with the show, they’re set.

 Kara approaches the bar next to her and orders two shots. Lena looks at her out of the corner of her eye.

 “Miss Luthor.” Kara takes off her hat and sets on the bartop. She sticks her hand out for a handshake with a grin. “You’re not an easy woman to track down.”

 The woman turns to Kara. She humors her and shakes her hand, an amused smile dancing across her lips.

 “That’s by design.”

 Kara ignores her and pushes on. She needs Lena’s help if she wants to make this work.

 “I have a proposition for you.”

 The shots slide in front of them. Lena sighs, throws it back, and gestures for the bartender to order another round.

 Kara takes it as a go ahead. She’ll have any time with Lena she can get. She drinks her shot and steels herself. She’s going to need the courage.

  “Alright, what’s this grand offer you have?” 

 “I’m looking for an investor. For my circus.”

  Lena snorts and turns back towards the bar. 

 “Miss Danvers, while I’m very aware of your local circus act, let’s just say I feel much more comfortable admiring it from afar.”

 Kara rolls her eyes. “Ah, comfort. The enemy of progress.”

 Lena shoots her a humorous glance. “I can’t very well go off and join the circus.”

 “Why not? Sounds thrilling.”

 The bartender arrives with their next round. Lena downs this one just as quickly.

“You realize that just getting caught within 10 feet of you could cost me my inheritance, right?”

 Kara slides her own shot to Lena.

 “Oh, you’ll be risking much more than that. You’d be risking everything,” She stands up, preparing for her pitch. “But on the other hand...”

 Lena pauses, her hand stilling on the glass. Although skeptical, her eyes follow Kara curiously.

 “You wanted a grand offer? Here it is. I’ve seen your work. Your family focuses on the stock market, and big business. Calculated bets that will turn the best outcome. But you,” Kara pulls out a chair and sits backwards on it, leaning her arms on the back. “You’re much more philanthropic. You care about people. I can cut you free of the drudgery and the walls that your family keeps in. So here’s your bet.”

 The humored look on Lena’s face is gone. Now, she’s listening intently to Kara’s speech. When Kara pauses, she raises her eyebrow, so she shoots her shot.

 “Take the risk. Give up the conventionality and the typical for something meaningful. You are too good, and too kind to sit by and live sensibly. Choose your own path.”

 Lena’s face is unreadable. She picks up the shot glass, throws it back, and stands up.

 Shit, she went too far, didn’t she?

Except, instead of leaving, she stalks forward. She stands close close close, and tilts Kara’s head up to meet her gaze. There’s something swimming behind her eyes, a fire brimming just beneath the surface.

Kara’s having just a little trouble breathing with Lena is standing over her, smirking, and- Rao.

 “Okay, I get it. You want to cut me in to keep your little circus afloat, so you come here and try to lure me in with your American dreamer speech.” She turns away from Kara, back to the bar. “But no thanks, I think I’m good. Believe it or not, I’m quite content with this life you seem to think I’m trapped in.” She picks up Kara’s abandoned hat, tosses it at her chest, and retakes her place sitting at the bar, clearly wanting to be left the way she was found.

Kara orders another round.

Lena sighs. “Look, I really do admire you. While I don’t completely understand the... theatrics,” Lena gestures at Kara’s ringmaster shirt and vest, her eyes raking up and down her body. Her gaze feels like fire, and Kara is suddenly very glad she traded the ostentatious bright red jacket for a winter coat before coming. “I really do think you’re doing something good. But you were right about one thing. I live among a different class. Luthors can’t go around picking up peanut shells. So, I’ll just have to leave that job to you.”

 Lena takes her third shot, and Kara is starting to worry if she’ll be making a deal with a drunk woman at the end of the night.

 Lena seems to be having some sort of monologue with herself through the haze of the alcohol.

 “I’m okay with the uptown, corporate role I get to play. I’ve been given everything I need in life.” She doesn’t look at Kara while she says it, staring straight ahead like she’s reminding herself as much as she is Kara. “Who am I to just throw all of that away? I’m doing fine. I don’t need your silly little band of misfits to make me feel like I need more.”

 And oh, Kara softens. She moves closer to her, trying to catch her eyes.

 “Is this really how you want to spend your life? Whiskey, plays, performative donations, fancy galas? So disconnected from people that you don’t know who you could be if you gave yourself the chance?”

 Lena snaps her head toward her, her eyes suddenly rimmed with tears. She’s desperate now. “If I were mixed up with you, my career would be over. To my family, I’d just be another one of the clowns.”

 Lena immediately reels back, apologetic. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that-“

 Kara takes her hands, and knows this is her last chance. “Lena. You could live your life with no judgement from your family. When was the last time you had fun? When was the last time you busted out laughing, no inhibitions? The last time you hugged someone, had the freedom to dream, kissed someone!” Lena’s eyes drop to Kara’s lips with that before looking away, and her brain stutters along, trying to recover. She clears her throat. “I-I’m just saying. That seems like a deal worth taking.”

 Lena sinks back into her seat. She firmly keeps her eyes locked on the bartop, and rests on her arms, taking the last shot left, excessively casual.

 “I’ll have another whiskey.” She says lowly to the bartender.

Karas heart sinks. It seems she didn’t win Lena over like she had hoped. She grabs her hat and slides a couple of crumpled bills towards the bartender.

 “She’ll have a water, too.” She doesn’t look back at Lena as she opens the door to the bar and steps out.

  It’s dark outside, and the cold seeps into her bones. It seems her whole body shivers, accompanied by the realization that she’s going to have trouble finding another investor in this town. Lena was her Hail Mary.

She makes it about a hundred feet down the block when a voice calls out.

 “To take this offer would cost me incredibly. So, Miss Danvers, what percentage of the show would I be taking?”

  She whips around, to find Lena standing in the light of the bar, her suit rumpled and her cheeks pink from the drinks. 

 Kara grins so wide she feels like her face might’ve cracked. She masks her grin into playful serious consideration. 

 “Fair enough, of course you’d want a piece of the action. I’ll give you seven percent, and we’ll have a deal.”

 Lena scoffs, and takes a step closer. “I wasn’t born yesterday. Eighteen will be just fine.”

 She chuckles, and walks closer to Lena in return. “Why not just go ahead and ask for half? Since you’re throwing out unreasonably high numbers.”

 “Fifteen.” Lena amends. Another step.

 “How about eight?” Another step.

 “Twelve.” Step.

 “Maybe nine.” Kara takes the last step, and they’re only a few inches apart. The air fogs as she breathes out, meeting Lena’s eyes. She’s sure that her faux attitude isn’t nearly as effective when she can feel the happiness radiating off of her. 

They both seem to think the same thing.

 “Ten.” They say in unison.

 Lena grins, her eyes scrunching up with her smile. She sticks her hand out for a handshake in imitation of Kara at the beginning of the night. Kara never thought she would ever describe Lena Luthor with the word adorable, but lo and behold.

 Kara shakes her hand, and when she moves to pull away, Lena doesn’t let go.

  Their eyes meet, and Kara can see the multitude of ways the night can turn out.

 Lena pulls her in slow slow slow, until their noses are almost touching. She can’t seem to draw her eyes away from Lena’s lips.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Kara.” She whispers into the space between them.

 And then she’s gone, cold air rushing back into Kara’s space. She can’t move, just stands there and watches heels clicking down the sidewalk confidently as if Lena didn’t just consume a copious amount of alcohol and then shake apart every fiber of Kara’s being.

 Oh Rao.

[the--blackdahlia]

You’re All That I Need Chapter 14 (Tommy x Nikki)

Title: You’re All That I Need Chapter 14

Summary: It’s the early 80’s and Nikki Sixx is in need of a band. There’s one condition: no other alphas. That should be fine, since he found three betas to fill up the lineup to become Motley Crue. Or, at least he thinks they’re all betas. A collab between myself and @callme-kaz2y5-baby​​​​!

Series Warnings: M/M smut (18+ only please), alpha/beta/omega dynamics, mpreg, language, slight drug use, protective Nikki, extremely funky timeline (might add more as we go)

"Ok, I'm dying to know what did you name her?" Athena finally asked hours later. They were all gushing over the little baby in the room.

“You can have the honors,” Tommy smiled proudly and looked at Nikki.

"Everyone we'd like to introduce Gaia Nona Sixx," Nikki said proudly. “I think we might call her G for short.”

“I love her so much!” Tommy’s mom cooed over the baby, looking at the little bundle laying in Tommy’s arms. “She’s so beautiful! She reminds me of my sweet Thomas as a baby.”

“Mom, stop,” Tommy laughed, kissing his little girl's forehead. Nikki could tell by the laugh that something was wrong with Tommy, and one look at him told him that Tommy was exhausted.

"I think it's about time for Tommy to get some rest. We're hoping they discharge him tomorrow." Nikki hinted that everyone should leave. The doctor had warned that Tommy should take it easy for the next few weeks, because his symptoms could stick around for a bit after birth and could be dangerous.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” His mom said, kissing his cheek. Athena played with his hair a bit before looking at Vince and Mick, winking at them, and walking out.

“Do Mick and Vince have to leave too?” Tommy yawned. He looked so tired it wasn’t even funny.

"If you sleep, no they don't have too." Nikki smiled smoothing Tommy's hair.

"Get some sleep T-bone, we're gonna find food then we'll be back" Mick assured, poking Vince and pointing at the door.

“Okay,” Tommy yawned and not even two seconds after they headed to the door, Tommy was asleep and Nikki was holding his daughter.

"Dude, what was that, shoving me out of the room?" Vince grumbled.

"Tommy needed his sleep and you know it would have taken him forever if we were in there, and I heard your stomach growl...." Mick grumpily replied.

"Fine" Vince huffed. They were headed down to the cafeteria to see if there was anything decent to eat. Vince scanned the menu. "Should we take some food back with us?"

"Probably a good idea. Get a burger for Nikki. What should we get for Tommy?" Mick answered.

"Uh, they have a chicken wrap, that shouldn't be too heavy? He said he was still a bit nauseous earlier. And what has Athena been hinting about?" Vince casually dropped on Mick.

“What do you mean?” Mick asked, trying to look anywhere but at the frontman. “Oh, that salad thing looks decent.”

"All the winks and nosey questions? Did I miss something" Vince explained before giving the girl behind the counter their order.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mick got some drinks from the cooler while Vince waited on their food. Vince looked at Mick skeptically.

"Okay, you're not that dense. She's up to something and I'm going to figure out what."

“I bet you won’t,” Mick gave him a bit of a smirk. “Maybe she wants to take you for a ride.” He got the food. “Come on, let’s go.”

"Funny, Mick. And I'm really sure she doesn't. Let me carry something," Vince grabbed the bags with the food. Brow furrowed, he was going to work out what was going on. They were heading down the hallway, and Vince was in his own head so he didn’t notice the med cart that pulled out in front of them. And he would’ve kept walking too if Mick wouldn’t have pulled a soccer mom stop and stopped him in his tracks.

“You gotta pay attention,” Mick all but growled. Vince stared at him. “What?”

“What was that?” Vince asked.

“What was what?” Mick asked in return.

“How you just acted. I’ve never seen you like that before,” Mick shook his head. “What?” Vince asked.

“Seems like you’re not seeing a lot of things,” He sighed. “Maybe you need to lay off the hair dye for awhile. It’s starting to go to your head.” He started walking back to Tommy’s room.

“Hey! I have a brand to maintain!” Vince called after him, before following him.

********

About a month or so later, after adjusting to having a new baby home, Nikki couldn't hold off the record exec's and they had to get back into the studio to record some new music.

“I don’t want to leave her,” Tommy said, holding little Gaia in his arms. “Can I take her with us?”

“Tommy, what’s the point of hiring your sister to watch over her if you’re not going to use her?” Mick asked. Nikki called Vince and Mick to the living room to get some back up. Tommy was having a hard time leaving, and Vince and Mick decided to help Nikki out some. They figured that them, along with Nikki, would be able to help light a fire under Tommy.

“I just...she’s my first and…” Tommy sighed. “I’m being ridiculous, aren’t I?”

"You're not being ridiculous, but we won't get any work done if we bring her with, and you know it." Nikki said rubbing Tommy's shoulders. Tommy looked down at the sleeping baby and sighed.

“I know,” He kissed her forehead gently. “I hate this Nik…” Mick and Vince looked at each other. They had never seen Tommy this upset before.

"Hey T-bone, what if Athena meets us at the studio at break, then you can see her and Athena can bring her back home after, then it won't be so long?" Vince suggested bumping him gently with his shoulder.

“That would be awesome,” Tommy smiled. “Nik, is that okay?”

"That sounds like a great idea" Nikki agreed beaming at Vince. "Why don't you go tell Athena and then we can head out."

“Okay,” Tommy kissed Nikki then headed to the in-law quarters that served as Athena’s apartment now.

“He’s changed,” Vince pointed out.

"So have you, all of us living here with her has formed a tighter, more protective pack," Mick called Vince out for trying to start shit. Tommy came almost bounding in after talking to Athena, stopping anymore conversation."

“What are we all standing around for? Let’s go make some music!” Tommy beamed at all of them.

Nikki chuckled and wrapped an arm around Tommy and they all headed to the studio. The parking lot was fuller than normal, and everything was bustling.

“Place is busy today,” Vince grumbled. “Is it Sunset Strip day or something?”

“Good thing we didn’t bring G here,” Tommy pointed out. “They’d all keep her awake.” Nikki snagged a passing sound person.

"What's with all the people today?" Nikki asked. The tech looked down at their clipboard.

"Uh, Guns n' Roses are recording new tracks, and Metallica has a photo shoot, and you guys are here" the sound guy replied.

"It's like grand central station in here," Mick complained, eyeing Vince. "Stay the hell away from Axl."

“What? Why would I go near that screeching cat?” Vince asked. “I have some self control. But I can’t guarantee that he’ll stay away from me.” They headed into their studio to get ready to start recording some new stuff.

Forever Tags: @dekahg​ @marvel-af-imagines​ @feelmyroarrrr​ @nanie5​ @imboredsueme​ @gemini0410​ @aiaranradnay​ @babypink224221​ @mogarukes​ @xxwarhawk​ @sandlee44​ @shatteredabby​ @caswinchester2000​ @lauravic​ @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk​ @teller258316​ @horrorpxnk​ @tommyleeownsme​ @marvelismylifffe​ @mrslogansixxpixx​

Motley Crue Tags: @primal-screamer​ @waywardprincess666​ @twistnet​ @saint-of-los-angeles​  @motleyfuckingcruee​ @sharon6713​ @kawennote09​ @2dead2function​ @nikkisixxwiththebass​ @iamtiber-andtiberismusic-deacti​ @jayprettymuchomw​ @charlyallise​ @you-know-im-a-dreamer​ @sweet-dreams-on-butterfly-wings​ @arianareirg​ @the-normal-potato​ @nikki-sixxtynine @jjjjjjjoshdun​ @just-a-normal-fangirl18​ @stella20131991​ @tarahell​ @wowilovenikkisixx​ @i-want-to-shoot-myself​ @motleycrueee​ @sams-serialkiller-fetish​ @getbackhonkycatt​ @are-you-reddie54321​ @scarecrowmax​  @anyasthoughts​ @bandaids-not-groupies​ @ilovetomkeiferslips​ @kaitieskidmore1​ @useyourillusion​ @xpoisonousrosesx​ @slash-me-up​ @hauntedapricoteggsclam​ @punkrock-lobster​ @lucyboytom​ @ozzy-dumbass-of-darkness @reigns420​ @solopadawan​

[mediocrity-at-best]

Skeptical Belief

 Fandom: Sanders Sides

Prompt: Ghost hunting

Warning: Deceit, Remus, demon-thing

Pairing: Primarily platonic Analogical; background romantic Intrulogical, Anxceit, Royality, Remile

Words: 3,715

@sanderssidescelebrations

​Note: they do talk about temperature in degrees fahrenheit. For reference, 32 degrees fahrenheit is the temperature at which water freezes and is equal to 0 degrees celsius

It was two in the morning, and Logan watched Remus spread their sleeping bags out on the dusty floor, open and layered one on top of the other. Logan would’ve complained, said that they were taking up more space than using them as they were meant to would, but it was getting increasingly cold (colder than it should have been, maybe) and if he didn’t sleep next to his space heater of a boyfriend, he might get hypothermia and die.

So spreading out the sleeping bags would do.

“If we die here, I am going to kill you,” Dee said. He was curled into Virgil’s chest, who was on the far side of Remus. The cold must be pretty awful for him. It shouldn’t have been so cold.

“No one else who came into this house has died from any sort of paranormal experience,” Logan said for the umpteenth time since they had arrived at the house. “In fact, it’s impossible to prove that anyone has ever died from the paranormal because we have yet to even prove its existence. Which is the exact reason we are here.” Logan slid under the blankets on the outer edge of their giant blanket-pillow-conga-line. The eight of them had all come with separate sleeping bags, but it was seeming more and more like preserving body heat and stealing each others’ was going to be the priority.

“Logan, do you even believe in the paranormal?” Roman demanded from across the room. He was sitting in the blankets next to Patton who was on Dee’s far side. “It doesn’t seem like a very logical thing to do.”

“Yes, Roman, obviously I believe in the paranormal, otherwise I would not be trying to prove it exists. You know, I already explained to you why we are doing this. Do you live to ignore me?”

“No,” Roman said, offense coating his voice. “I live to love Patton.” He grabbed at Patton sides to make him shriek.

“I’m just glad we’re all hanging out together,” Patton giggled, wiggling away from Roman’s fingers. “It’s been so long, and even if it is in a dirty old house, well, at least we’re all here.”

“Aw, Patton, that’s so sweet,” Emile gushed. He was on the other side of Roman. Remy was pushed to the farthest edge from Logan, and about as happy about this whole thing as a honey badger. Honestly, Logan could not have told you why they all decided to come; only two of them were invested in the investigation (Remus and Virgil), two wanted to hang out with everybody (Patton and Emile), and Dee, Roman, and Remy were actively against coming here.

Still, they’d all shown up, and now they were all part of Logan’s very first filmed investigation. He’s been wanting to do it for a while, for science. (It’s only breaking and entering if you’re not doing it for scientific purposes, it’s only bullshit if you don’t record the results.) Virgil, just as determined to catch a ghost on camera as Logan was, had brought one of his good, professional cameras for them to use. Logan was eternally grateful for his best friend’s support.

Remus was invested because, despite what the others thought, he was actually very supportive of what Logan liked. He also wanted to break and enter and provoke a spirit, but in the name of science, so did Logan. So they were pretty damn well aligned on that front.

“Patton, I thought you would be against breaking the law,” Remy said, sounding snappier than usual. Logan sometimes wondered if Remy was psychic; he had an uncanny ability to foresee how things would turn out, and he often gave random pieces of advice for no discernable reason. (He once told Logan he might save what he was working on. Logan had, simply because it was good to save your documents often. Not two minutes later his laptop crashed and lost all the progress he’d made after the save. It was totally inexplicable.)

“I mean, nobody’s lived here in a long time,” Patton said. “And the worst thing in the house is probably just some cockroaches.”

“Cockroach? Where?” demanded Remus. “I’ll take care of it.”

“There better not be any cockroaches in here,” Roman said. “I will walk right out of this house and take that van all the way back to the city. I am not waking up with bugs in my hair.” Roman shivered so dramatically it pulled the blankets off Logan. He yanked them back, goosebumps already breaking out over his skin. It was too cold in this house for October, and especially when the low for the night wasn’t even supposed to dip to thirty.

Logan jotted the information down in his notebook and then began adjusting Virgil’s camera.

“Don’t worry, Ro. I’m sure none of the bugs are going to come near us,” Patton murmured.

“Yeah,” Virgil added. “They won’t want to get too close to your snoring.” Dee snorted and Roman gasped.

“You take that back, Dark and Stormy! I do not snore!”

“Whatever lets you sleep at night,” Virgil said. “Even if you keep the rest of us awake.”

“Hey!” As the battle raged on, drawing in Remy and Emile too, Logan carefully set up whatever equipment he could reach without leaving the warmth of the blankets.

“What’re you doing with that?” Remus asked, pointing to the spirit box Logan was fiddling with.

“Making sure the calibrations are correct. It should pick up any voices that we can’t hear, assuming it all works. There is, unsurprisingly, little scientifically conducted research on the paranormal.”

“I do so love when you talk dirty to me, Lo,” Remus sighed, looking at Logan in a way that he could only describe as adoring. Logan flushed.

“If anybody is going to be talking dirty,” Dee interrupted, “it will be me and I will be talking about how disgusting our blankets are after touching this floor.” He dragged one finger across the floorboards and then held it up, gray even in the poor lighting. “Disgusting.”

“Shut up,” Virgil said. “I’m doing laundry when we get back and you know it.”

“I don’t want you to touch this muck, either.” Dee wiped his finger off on Remus’s blanket. “God, we’re all going to get infected and die.”

“Oh, it’s not that bad,” said Emile. “Plus, nothing can compare to what happened last time we went out on one of Logan’s adventures.”

“Scientific venture,” Logan corrected him, taking a sip of water before capping the bottle and placing it next to his pillow.

“Covered in cow shit,” Remy countered.

“And mud,” added Roman.

“Not to mention-”

“I thought it was fun,” said Remus. He pulled Logan to lay down on top of him. “We got to roll down a hill.”

“And got covered in literal shit,” Roman said.

“You screamed like a baby,” Remus said fondly. He rubbed Logan’s arms. “You’re freezing, Nerdy Wolverine. Are you okay?”

“It is quite cold,” Logan said. “But I assure you, I am capable of handling the cold.”

“Are you sure you’re okay, Lo?” Emile asked. It was the first time all night he’d sounded genuinely concerned. “It’s kind of stuffy over here.”

“It’s what?” Logan asked at the same time a cold draft hit his skin and a shiver wracked his body. He pulled himself up from Remus to grab the thermometer sitting a couple feet away. “Emile, what does the thermometer read?” There was a moment of silence as they shuffled around to reach it.

“It’s about sixty-five,” Remy said.

“I swear it feels hotter than that,” Emile added. “Let me see that.”

“That’s insane,” Logan whispered. He tapped on his thermometer a few times as though it were a broken remote. Then he began writing in notebook again.

“What is it, L?” Virgil asked, propping himself up on an elbow.

“This thermometer says thirty-five,” Logan said. “There is no way it should be that much hotter less than twenty feet away in an enclosed room. This is-this is impossible.” Remus took the thermometer out of Logan’s hand and took a look.

“Now it says forty,” he said. Logan spun to see, wrote more down.

“Pass it to Virgil,” Logan ordered, not looking up. “Emile, pass that one this way.” The thermometers made their way across the room, getting readings from each person as they went. Thirty-five at Logan, forty at Remus, forty-five with Virgil, all the way down to sixty five where Remy was. It was not possible to have so much variation in such a small area. There weren’t even any warm air currents due to the chill outside and the heating hadn’t working in almost two decades.

“I need to look at the heating and cooling units,” Logan muttered. “The electricity, possible drafts. With a stretch of logic, this could maybe not be paranormal, but it would take so many factors to line up that it is almost entirely unprobable.” He looked up from his notebook, felt the smile on his face that he couldn’t stop. “This could be real, scientific data of an anomaly at least, if not something supernatural.”

“Do it in the morning,” Patton said. “It’s already late, you don’t need to stay up any longer, kiddo.”

“But something could have changed by the morning. For accurate, scientific data, I need to do it now.”

“Nope,” Remus said, wrapping his arms around Logan and rolling him to the inside of their blankets. “We already stayed up all night last night-”

“Ew. I did not need to know that,” said Roman, gagging.

“-and I’m exhausted, but I can’t sleep without my teddy bear.” Remus squeezed Logan and Logan was engulfed in his warmth. “You’re not allowed to get up.”

“Remus,” he protested.

“Nope. Nighty-night.” Remus laid on top of him.

“Night, everybody,” Patton added. “Sweet dreams.”

“You can’t control your dreams. Unless you’re a lucid dreamer, and that’s pretty rare, but anyway,” Emile said, curling into Remy, “I hope it’s a refreshing sleep.” Agreeances of either sentiment were echoing through the room, and then the lights were dimmed and they were all trying to sleep.

Everyone except for Logan and Virgil who had come here to catch a ghost, goddamnit. They were going to stay up even if it involved lying about it. So Logan began doing complicated math in his head, hoping that would keep him awake until he could get to his water bottle for his energy drinks. A full night’s sleep could come later; they had a mission.

About thirty minutes later, Logan carefully sat up and shifted to look at some of his equipment. It was a couple degrees colder, but nothing else of note had happened. Logan reached over and poked Virgil’s shoulder. Virgil stayed still just long enough to make Logan think he’d fallen asleep, and then he slowly started moving.

“You were making me doubt your dedication,” Logan whispered. Virgil shushed him and gently pulled Dee off his chest. As soon as Virgil moved out of the way, Remus and Dee rolled into each other, which conveniently created just enough space for the pair to sit on the outside of their blanket train.

“Dee’s a light sleeper, I had to be sure he was out,” Virgil said. “He’d definitely kill me for staying up again.”

“Well, he can complain about it tomorrow once we have a spirit on film and evidence to back it up.” Logan reached for his water bottle. “What do you-uhm.” He couldn’t find his drink. Logan looked toward his pillow where he’d put in, but there was nothing there. “V, my drink is gone.”

“Where’d you put it?”

“Right there.” Logan motioned. “Did you move it?” he asked, staring at the spot. Virgil sighed.

“Why would I?” he whispered, not nearly as bothered as Logan by the bottle’s disappearance. Then again, it wasn’t Virgil’s bottle. “Remus probably did, though. That’s the exact kind of thing he’d do to undermine the integrity of the investigation.”

“I do not appreciate you quoting me at me out of context about my own boyfriend,” Logan said, “though it is nice to know you listen.” He searched the room with his eyes. “You don’t see it anywhere, do you? I need to know where it went.”

“Uh,” Virgil muttered, searching now too. “There. By the T.V. stand.” He squinted, a little more concerned. “You should probably ask Remus if he moved it.” Logan shoved Remus’s shoulder just enough that he would answer. There was a fine line between coherent and able-to-remember.

“Um, Remus, did you move my drink?” Logan asked, eyes fixed on the bottle.

“No,” Remus mumbled, mostly asleep and definitely not in any state to be moving things without alerting Logan. He pulled Dee a little closer.

“Huh,” Logan said, and pointed the camera at the bottle. He shared an excited glance with Virgil. Carefully, he removed himself from the sleeping pile and crept across the room. He could voice over this part later. For now it would be better to catch anything happening around him with the night vision on the camera, and try not to wake the others for what could be nothing.

“Logan, get back here,” Virgil hissed. “You don’t know how that got over there.”

“There’s only one way to find out,” Logan retorted, picking up the bottle. He inspected it closely and, to his bewilderment, found an ashy handprint. “Look at this.” He presented the bottle to the camera before passing it to Virgil. A shiver worked through Logan’s body and it was hard to say whether it was from fear, anticipation, or the cold.

“What the fuck?” Virgil whispered. “L, what the fuck?”

“It’s proof,” Logan said, voice shaking. “It’s-” A creak sounded from the next floor up, like someone stepping on the old floorboards. He froze, looked at Virgil.

“We’re investigating that,” Virgil said.

“Don’t forget the camera,” Logan said. They pulled on their boots and Logan grabbed the spirit box and thermometer. Virgil lifted the camera and nodded at him. Taking the lead, Logan set off for the stairs. They ascended silently, listening for any other errant noises. At the top, another creak sounded. They froze, watching intently. Virgil nudged Logan’s arms and mimed talking.

“Hello? Is anybody there?” Logan asked. They waited with bated breath for an answer, but none was forthcoming. “Let’s just keep going, see what’s up here that we could’ve missed earlier,” he muttered to the camera. They went forward at a snail’s pace, hoping for anything to happen.

And then a door swung open with a terrifying creak.

“Need some oil on them hinges,” Virgil said, voice higher than it normally was. Logan gulped, staring.

“We’re going in, right?” he asked.

“Definitely,” Virgil said. He had a white-knuckled grip on his camera, and Logan shivered. He glanced at the thermometer: twenty-eight. Shit.

“It’s getting colder,” he said, inching closer to the door. Virgil snorted.

“I had no idea.” Logan heard his teeth chatter together, and then he shoved the door the rest of the way open. It whined the whole way, longer than even the squeakiest of hinges usually made noise, and then the door stopped. The room was empty save for two dark shoe prints. It looked like the same thing that had been on Logan’s water bottle.

He took a step closer. Virgil grabbed his arm like a vice. “Did anyone ever die in a fire here?”

“Henry Smith,” Logan said on autopilot. “1899. The entire house was destroyed. They rebuilt this one decades later, but the original was in this exact spot.”

“Okay. Okay,” Virgil said. He released Logan’s arm. “This is probably Henry Smith, then. Let’s do this.” Logan watched as Virgil steadied his shaking hands and then took one step into the room. Virgil followed.

“Come in,” said a disembodied voice, just low enough to send shivers down Logan’s spine and settle a feeling of wrong in his chest. His breath was knocked from his lungs and puffed in front of his face, visible.

“Oh, shit,” Virgil whispered. The shadows moved in a sort of humanoid shape, reaching out for them. “Oh, shit!” Virgil yelled at the same time Logan shouted, “Fuck!” They both were pulled out of the room by their shirts. Remy was standing there, madder than Logan had ever seen him.

“Run,” he snapped and raced for the steps. Virgil was on his tail, Logan half a step behind. There was a fourth pair of footsteps behind them, too close for comfort. Logan thought he could feel a hand ghost over hair, what the fuck.

They clambered down the steps in a frenzy, not making any effort to be quiet, Virgil and Logan screaming. They hit the landing and launched themselves for the front door, at which point Virgil stopped, door held open.

“The others,” he gasped.

“We’ll get them,” Logan snapped, shoving the equipment into Virgil’s hands. “Get these outside before they get broken.” Virgil didn’t hesitate. Logan and Remy dived back for the living room, and Logan was glad to see they were all awake already.

“Lo? Is everything okay?” Remus asked. Logan grabbed his water bottle and Remus’s shoes.

“Who was screaming?” Patton yawned.

“We pissed something off, we need to leave. Now.” Logan pulled Remus up and then Dee. “Move, move. Come on, hurry up.” A dark laugh echoed down the stairs. Patton squeaked, and then everyone threw themselves into overdrive. They managed to get out the door in less than a minute. All the blankets were still in the house, but Logan was not half as concerned about the blankets as he was the evidence Virgil was cradling.

“Let me see what we got, let me see,” he muttered. Virgil was already playing the camera back.

“What just happened?” Emile asked, hands shaking ever so slightly. Logan motioned him over to see the small screen of the camera. They all crowded and watched as Logan crept up to the water bottle, watched Virgil and Logan both freeze, their mouths move.

“Where’s the sound?”

“I don’t know,” said Virgil frantically. He fiddled with the settings, smacked the camera gently against his hand a few times, but nothing happened. “That’s not right.”

“It’s-it’s fine. You’ve still got the spirit box, right?” Logan asked. Virgil nodded. They focused back on the screen, watched as Logan went up the stairs, watched as they both stopped moving again. They watched as the door opened by itself.

“Holy shit,” Roman whispered. They got closer to the door, watched as Logan almost stepped in, watched as Virgil stopped him. They watched as, in the room behind Logan, shadows moved along the floor, far too purposeful for comfort.

“I didn’t even see that,” said Virgil, sounding sick. Logan felt a hysterical giggle rise and swallowed it. He kept watching as they went into the room, as the shadows really started moving then, slithering toward them. He watched as they both stumbled out backward, watched as a face with red eyes and sharp teeth and a bone-chilling smile flashed in the darkness. Then they watched as the film corrupted and the file disappeared from the camera.

“What the fuck?” Virgil said numbly, looking at the camera. He clicked through his memory card. Everything was gone. “What the fuck?” He glanced at Logan.

“The spirit box,” Logan said, lurching for Virgil’s pocket. “The spirit box.” He pulled it out and rewound it to when the creak came from the second floor. It was all there, if staticky, up until Virgil said, “Okay. Okay. This is probably Henry Smith, then. Let’s do this.” The squeal it emitted then was so loud and unexpected that Logan dropped the spirit box - and watched it shatter on the concrete. It almost felt like it had been smacked out of his hand.

“I don’t understand half of what just happened,” Roman said slowly. “What did just happen?”

“How did you know where we were?” Virgil asked Remy, totally ignoring Roman. “Or that we were about to die.”

“You think I was dumb enough to go to sleep with you two idiots in the same place? No, ma’am. I learned my lesson with you two. Can’t trust y’all to go to the grocery store without almost dyin’.” Remy’s southern accent was rearing its head. Logan wanted to be offended, but Remy wasn’t wrong. Still, that didn’t negate that he was acting funny-like he was lying. “Now y’all better get in that damn car. We’re leavin’.” He stomped to the car and yanked the driver’s door open. Emile slid into the passenger seat. Logan collected the shards of his spirit box, useless as it was now, and climbed into the van. Remus settled in next to him, wrapping his arms around Logan.

“You’re freezing,” he muttered. His mustache tickled Logan’s face. “Are you okay?”

“We got actually evidence of a ghost, real video of things that happened, and it’s all gone,” Logan said. “I am the opposite of okay.”

“I know, Lolo,” Remus said. He pulled them a centimeter closer together. Any more and Logan would be sitting on Remus’s lap. “But at least you have your water bottle, right?” Logan startled, examined the water bottle he was, in fact, holding. It still had what looked like an ash handprint on it.

“I-yes, at least I have that.” Logan smiled. “Thank you, Remus.”

“Anytime,” Remus said, kissing Logan. The van started and Logan glanced out the window just in time to see that terrifying face leering at them from the second floor. He made panicked eye-contact with Virgil in the mirror.

“We’re coming back, right?” Virgil whispered in Logan’s ear from the seat behind him.

“Obviously,” Logan whispered back. Remus smiled dreamily.

“I can’t wait until we all die together,” he said. Logan snorted and leaned into him.

“At least it will be together,” Virgil whispered.

“Yes, at least there’s that.” Logan finally fell asleep for the first time in two days on the drive back into the city. It was almost morning, and none of them would be doing anything before noon, but Logan could sleep now and maybe when he woke, he’d find a new way to catch a ghost. It was just a matter of belief.

[thestupidhelmet]

oh my god please share your headcanons for the zodiacs of the gang. i'd love to hear them

I thought the most about Jackie and Hyde’s. They’re significant for a story (future fic) I might never post. But I also came up with possibilities for other T7S characters in the story, too, just in case. I’ll go into detail, however, about only Jackie and Hyde.

Donna: Aries sun. Libra moon. Taurus rising.

Eric: Libra sun. Cancer moon. (I didn’t come up with a rising sign for him.)

Kelso: Gemini sun. Aries moon. (I didn’t come up with a rising sign for him.)

Fez: Cancer sun. Pisces Moon. (I didn’t come up with a rising sign for him.)

Hyde: Sagittarius sun. Scorpio moon. Aquarius rising.

Jackie: Pisces sun. Virgo moon. Leo rising.

To me, these combinations fit Jackie and Hyde’s characterizations on the show and, particularly, how they are in the fic I wrote. In astrology, sun signs are influenced by a person’s moon and rising sign (and other planetary positions, but that’s irrelevant to this post). The descriptions below may, therefore, seem to contradict one another; but at the start of my future fic, the characters’ experiences have shaped and changed who they are, and these changes are reflected in how their sun, moon, and rising signs temper one another.

Hyde

Sagittarius sun (excerpt from astro.com): “Sagittarius people need plenty of freedom, because they want to experience as much of life as they can. They are unhappy when tied down to a routine, and happiest when starting off on something new. […] Many Sagittarians are keenly interested in philosophy and the world of ideas, and they also love to have a good time and are fun to be with.“

Scorpio moon (excerpt from justastrologythings.com): “Their emotions usually go to extreme highs and lows, almost consuming them. This gives Scorpio Moons a deep understanding of human emotions, making them have an almost uncanny sense for the moods of people around them. […]

“The dark intensity of this sign might not be apparent on the surface, however. Scorpio Moons tend to hold their feelings rather than outwardly express them because they know that not everyone can handle their intensity. As Scorpio is ruled by shadowy Pluto, these people tend to be very secretive and it may be hard for them to express their feelings in words. In order to truly open up to someone, a Scorpio Moon must have a very strong sense of trust with the other person. This can take a very long time, but once it happens, the Scorpio Moon will be extremely loyal and honest. If that trust is ever broken, however, the Scorpio Moon may never forgive the person. […]

“It is also common for Scorpio Moons to detach themselves from situations or try to control others in order to protect their vulnerability. If they are not self-aware, they may lash out to others or develop feelings of resentment and jealousy.”

Aquarius rising (excerpt from justastrologythings.com): “Anything that involves the advancement of society will grab the attention of an Aquarius Ascendant. […]

“It’s difficult to surprise an Aquarius Ascendant. They’ve seen everything, or at least strive to make you think so. Truth be told, they frequently appreciate surprising others. Not that they are naturally flashy, but rather they like to subtly shock others. A few Aquarius natives born with Aquarius on their Ascendant can also be slightly disparaging and provocative. […]

“They frequently feel like they are outsiders, and their capacity to watch and conclude is almost uncanny. […]

“The rising sign shows how people respond to new circumstances, and with Aquarius Ascendants, they may be a bit reluctant when it comes to change, which may give a false representation of their progressive nature. There’s an inflexibility with Aquarian risings, and, now and again, a habit of forcing their opinions on others.“

Jackie

Pisces sun (excerpt from justastrologythings.com): “These people are spiritual, selfless, and focused on their inner goals. They also are very attuned to their emotions, as feelings basically define this zodiac sign. It is common for Pisces-born people to be in tune with their emotions as well as the inner feelings of others. They have an exceptional intuition and are often thought of as dreamers. […]

“These people are charitable and spiritually oriented. They are very compassionate and can easily sympathize with others. However, Pisceans may have trouble distinguishing fact from fantasy as they mix their dreams with reality. A Pisces is likely to wear rose-colored glasses. […]

“Pisceans are aligned with their emotions and can easily relate to the troubles of others. These people feel things deeply and are misunderstood often. They aren’t neccessarily pushovers, but they are quite sensitive at times. Nevertheless, Pisceans excel in their imaginative nature and take joy in helping others.“

Virgo moon (excerpt from justastrologythings.com): “Virgo Moons have emotions that are analytical in nature. They appreciate structure, detail, and organization, as routines help them think more clearly. For the most part, people of this sign find emotional security when things are tidy, planned, and structured. […] They feel good when they help their friends, often guiding them through problems and offering practical solutions.

“Virgo Moons prefer to focus on tangible things rather than dream about ‘what could be. They are known to be practical, health-conscious, and skeptical, people who analyze their thoughts and feelings rather than deeply “feel” them. There is a sense of humility to this sign, as Virgos are likely to be just fine with working behind the scenes.”

Leo rising (excerpt from justastrologythings.com): “Leo rising individuals really want to be noticed. They emanate an uncommon energy and attraction that grabs others’ interest. Occasionally this is because that they are noisy individuals who give careful consideration to their own appearance (particularly their hair!); other times it’s because of a regal attitude that just grabs attention from others.

 “[T]hey consider how their friend group and the situations they are in affect their own personal image. Frequently, Leo risings feel as though they are in front of an audience, even in the security of their own homes! […]

“This sign is inclined to rash choices, temper tantrums, and excesses. Nevertheless, they have an abundance of staying power, drive, and their optimism shields them from getting into a bunch of trouble. The craving to direct the plans in their circle can some of the time add up to bossiness within this sign.”