#I ALMOST threw up on the bus the motion sickness was crazy.. not looking forward to doing that on the way home

[phagodyke]

made it to lunch without throwing up or killing myself at work can I get a hell yeah

jesus christ I look peaky

[borednwriting-blog]

hey savior. (i);

(do not own this gif!)

author’s note: ok so i decided to start the series at this period of time, i really put a good thinking and decided this was best since we will get into the readers past later on, hopefully y’all LIKE THIS! ily. and i love natasha :-)

warnings: well, idk, fighting? cursing? and bad writing

word count: 2193

“You ready, James?” I asked the former soviet assassin on my right and got his glare in return. “Заткнись.” Was all he shot back before he was off to his dramatic entrance. Chuckling, I made sure the team was ready to catch Jasper, since James will be too preoccupied with trying to kill his favorite soldier. Seeing as James jumped to the hood of their car, getting his tight grip on Sitwell and throwing him off the car. Natasha jumped to the front seat, moving Steve and the other guy away from James’ shootings. Seeing as Jasper was rolling on the road, I stopped his moving body by putting my foot on his chest. “Hi honey,” I smiled innocently at him. “Welcome back.” I motioned with my hands for the team to grab him far away from here.

Looking forward at the scene in front of me, I saw how Steve move the gear to stop the car, making James fall from the hood and landing on his feet, his metal arm dragged along the asphalt. “Did I or did I not say he’s a drama queen.” I whispered to myself as I loaded my gun walking towards the scene. Shooting at the car from behind I saw their gazes turn to me as well, Natasha’s expression catching my attention a bit more than the others. To say she was shocked, would be underestimating it. Looking behind me I saw our jeep driving faster towards their car making me move aside to allow them to crash into their car. I saw how Steve took both of his partners close to him, breaking the door and shielding their other side with his shield, softening their crash on the road.

Looking at James, we started moving towards the team to gear up for the events that were about to happen on this bridge. “Remember, you get cap and I get her. No funny business.” I warned him as he took the grenade launcher and shot towards Steve, making him rise above the ground and fall off the bridge while all of us continued to shoot towards the cars Natasha and new guy were hiding behind. Shooting back at us, James shot a grenade towards the car he saw Natasha behind, making her jump onto the other side of the road into the traffic that was surprisingly still quite going. Launching another grenade towards Natasha, the car blew up and flew off the bridge along with her, using her grappling hook to get a grasp on the top of the bridge, lowering herself to the ground and taking a spot right beneath the end of the bridge. Knowing her next move, I made my way to get off the bridge and landed right behind her as she shot James at his mask, ready to hide behind the bus only for her to meet my gaze. “hey savior” I showed her a smirk as I threw a punch towards her face. She stumbled backwards as scooted down on one leg, moving her other one towards my feet for my body to meet the ground. Groaning I kicked her side and went ahead to pin her to the ground. Seeing as she struggled she mumbled away “Do you really want to do this?”

“What, did you expect a thank you?” I held a stronger grip on her hands and she fought against it, shoving her head forcefully towards mine. Losing my grip on her she took the opportunity to fire at me her widow’s bite making me fully lay down on the ground. Awakening from the feeling, I saw James throw a grenade towards a car and blowing it up, Natasha coming from behind him and choking him with one of her metal rope. Standing up, loading my gun and aiming it towards her, I saw how he threw her off of him and aimed his rifle at her having her to throw at his metal arm one of her metal discs to electrify him. Escaping him, he made his way towards her only to meet my voice, “I told you she was mine.” I shifted my head towards him, popping my sore nape earning an angry glare from him. “Didn’t seem like you had this under control.” He propped his hands better on the rifle, missing his chance as I shot towards her, hitting her. “Sorry.” I remarked cynically as he ran towards the car that was right behind the car she was panting and leaning on. Hearing his loud stomp, she looked at him, terrified of his next move. He aimed at her his rifle and as if she was saved by the bell, Steve ran towards James, distracting him from her. As they fought, I walked towards her, my gun pointed at her head. “Stand.”

I ordered her and she leant against the car to help her stand in front of me. “I’m sorry.” I swear I could see her eyes tearing up, as if she could show some emotion during this time. “Doesn’t matter now, move.” She stood still. “I told you to move.”

“I don’t take orders from a 14-year-old.”

“Yeah, that’s not exactly how you treat your elders.” I heard a voice behind me and dodged his punch that was thrown at me from behind. Looking at new guy, I rolled my eyes as I threw my leg towards his abdomen and he caught it in his hands, trying to turn my body around and for me to fall on the ground. Before I hit the ground I shot my other leg at his knee, making him slouch down. Taking him by the collar of his shirt I shoved my head at his own and got away from him grip on my leg, hearing his groan on his way to the ground as I got my hair off my face.

“That is some strong 14-year-old ‘Tasha.” He mumbled and I looked at her devastated state. Grabbing her shoulders, getting her ready for the entire HYDRA team to captivate them all.

I looked around for James, worrying when I couldn’t spot his metal arm anywhere in the crowd. I turned my attention to what was happening behind me and saw him leaning behind a car, very dramatic. Walking towards him, I stood right next to his legs and nudged them a little. “Hey, drama queen, we need to go.” He gave me the most confused expression I ever gotten from him, making me kneel down next to him.

“Did you know?” He whispered and looked straight into my eyes. “Know what James?”

“About him.” I looked towards what he shifted his gaze to and saw Steve putting his hands behind his head. “He’s Captain Ameri-“

“He called me Bucky.” I felt his confusion rise within his bones and saw how he was about to rip the skin off his face, getting a little crazy from the thought he might know this man but remember nothing about him.

“Bucky, huh? That’s cute.” I tried to lighten the mood up, “maybe you two were boyfriends.” He sighed at my ridiculousness and looked at me as I stood up. “Whatever, Bucky, right now we need to go.” I held my hand out for him, help him stand up but he ignored my offer, standing up by himself as I mumbled a silent okay and started to move.

I knew everything HYDRA did with James, he did too. So seeing this reaction from him when he recognized someone from his past, creeped me out. Maybe it was because I cared for him, as I was working beside him for almost two years now, or it was just sinking in how insane was the way they handle things. None of that mattered, I was a trained assassin and I wasn’t about to go rogue and prove them right when they call me weak every single time. Showing emotion means weakness, caring for people is just opening the door to weakness and allowing it to get in, that was one of the first things I was taught. Stay cold, stay sharp. No matter how wrong it felt, I was already here, and I had to finish my mission.

I stood there, in the room when they brainwashed him again the moment he showed some signs of remembering. Keeping a tough face as I heard James scream, looking the way his body trembled at every ten seconds break they gave him, and his screams filling up the room right as they start again. I looked at Pierce, he was annoyed. Annoyed that one person could not only ruin his whole plan but also distract one of his best men. He was pissed, no doubt. When they all brought James to his room, I quickly followed them, staying with him and making sure he was alright. Wetting a damp towel in cold water, I moved it around his head as he was still hissing from the “treatment session” that happened only minutes ago. I felt bad, I wasn’t supposed to feel bad. Maybe it was his hopeless face as they stuck needles and electricity through his head, maybe it was the fact that Pierce would never stop there, maybe it was the way Natasha looked at me when she saw I was alive.

I grew to hate her, sticking to the fact that I had to avenge all of the people that died at that facility. After she got in, trying to rescue us, she made them secure us even harder. The interrogated us, killed us one by one when someone was showing signs of disobeying. I saw Anna, the girl I grew so fond of since young age, shot right in front of my eyes. And I was to not cry, mourn, nothing. I needed to continue training, sleep four hours a night and wake up as if everything was alright. Not long after that the headmaster in charge told us we were training for a big mission, HYDRA one.

Was I surprised? Never. The red room seems like a place to work with exactly people from HYDRA. Seeing as they were training children to kill, innocence and hope was never part of our routine. What they didn’t tell us, me, is that I would watch every other person that survived their massacre, burn as they tried to complete the mission. “Congrats,” a guard man came towards my covered in ashes physique, weak and drained, “you showed us you really are the one to take her place.” Sick bastards.

Of course. They lost their best spy, assassin, to the good guys, of course. Of course they would start a new training system to overcome their grief and loss of the great Natalia Alianovna Romanova, of fucking course. Of course when she showed up they starting to speed up their plans, knowing HYDRA and their wicked plans and how quickly they will start working now that SHIELD is almost done building what they need. They needed someone good for the mission and they wanted me to carry her name, but I could never. Never take the name of the person who made fake promises, who was the reason all of the people I ever knew were dead.

Shaking myself back to reality, I saw James with his closed eyes, chest rising and the only thing that was heard in the room was his soft breathing. Taking the towel off his face I looked at him, the first time I see him at such peace. It has been two years, and I couldn’t understand how I was feeling towards it all. A sense of guilt and sadness was building up inside me, eating me bit by bit while I looked at James, remembering the events on the bridge. He was sent to kill him; he didn’t do it. I was sent to kill her, and I couldn’t do it. We were both puppets that were controlled by a system that was here to destroy, we were both human but they took all of our humanity. Only for it to come today, hitting us at different times. I was sure James would kill her, I needed to make she wouldn’t cross him and when she did I had to make the shot, knowing I could kill her right there but I didn’t, aiming at her shoulder instead her head. I pushed a few of wet strands of hair James had on his forehead, remembering how he came close to his humanity for a second, when his old best friend called him by the name he didn’t hear such a long time.

I was confused, teenagers are allowed to be confused, it comes naturally that age. But I couldn’t let it overflow me, distract me from what I was supposed to be doing. I was supposed to obey to orders and complete the missions I was assigned to fulfill their plan. I didn’t know back then what the bigger picture was, didn’t know that I would take a stand in the opposite side. I didn’t realize that soon enough I would be pointing my gun at Pierce.

**post-reading note: you have no idea how hard it is for me to write this as if the reader HATES natasha. there is definitely a reason why the reader is smol and i personally don’t see the bucky x reader as ROMANTIC at all. u will see soon enough he will get so big brotherly defensive it is c u t e! also bucky said shut up at the beginning**

[girlwsoftsound]

Deal || Ross MacDonald Oneshot

Word Count: 2,599 Warnings: Smut & Fluff galore. Summary: Ross has a plan for you when you get a few minutes to yourselves on the tour bus. Author’s Note: Got a prompt for tour bus smut and Ross eating the reader out. So...I mixed the two. I think it turned out pretty fun. Hope you think so, too. Please feel free to send more requests here! Enjoy!

Tour bus shenanigans were a given.

That much, you came to know for a fact. Whenever the drive would become mundane, or Matty would grow stir crazy, or George picked up a new gadget from the city to amuse himself, some nonsense would occur. Usually, it kept the bus lively. Other times, it made catastrophe. Coming off of one of those near-catastrophes involving George almost breaking the tour bus window, the boys were taking a day off from the usual antics. It was fine by them, and incredibly fine by the bus driver and Jamie, but for you? It simply left you bored.

You were Ross’ girlfriend of more than ten months, and for most of those ten months, you were lucky enough to accompany the boys on their tours. You loved when pranks happened, because even though you loved spending time with Ross and could never grow tired of it, pranks kept things fresh. When they were not happening, you could feel the energy sucked out of the air. It dampened your mood almost every time without fail. When you walked over to Ross’ bed and found him texting, he knew exactly why the frown on your face was there. Sighing, he scooted over and brought you close to him.

“Slow day, huh?”

“I feel like throwing something at George just to make sure they’re alive,” you grumbled, and it caused Ross to laugh against you. “Today’s boring.”

Kissing you tenderly, Ross peered into your eyes. “I have an idea of how I can help maybe make it not super boring.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Are we talking pranks or shenanigans?”

Ross kissed you again, this time deeper to help you get the point. The sheer force of passion behind the kiss was enough for you to understand his words, and more. A shiver went down your spine, his eyes practically begging you to follow his plans. “I was thinking something more along the lines of some more personal shenanigans.”

With a smirk, you pushed at his chest. “Ross! As much as that would fix my problem, I think it would be pretty obvious if we started trying to shag in this little bed with all the boys literally just down the bus.”

Ross shrugged. “We could be quiet.”

“Ross.”

“Alright, I could be quiet,” teased Ross, throwing you a wink. “Look, I think we are supposed to stop off somewhere for food soon. Play it cool and say you don’t feel well, I’ll stick on board with you to ‘help’. That’ll give us at least twenty minutes. Plenty of time.”

You rolled your eyes. “And what about our food?”

“I’ll ask Adam or whoever to order some for us to go,” he said. You were still not fully convinced. Fucking on the tour bus simply sounded risky. You never did it on the bus simply for that reason. Sure, you let Ross occasionally play with you late at night if you shared your bed, but it never went further than that. There was a reason you waited for hotels. But, Ross did have a point. Twenty minutes was plenty of time, and with the bus being empty, you could be as loud as you wanted. Saying you were sick would not be hard to pull of either, given you had gotten over a cold a week and a half before. The boys listened to you and Ross then, why wouldn’t they this time?

Sighing, you kissed Ross. “Fine. But if we get caught, you’re taking the heat from Jamie, not me. I’m not going to be the butt of everyone’s jokes from here on out because you felt horny on a lazy day.”

Giddy and ignoring your words, Ross nodded. “It’s a deal.”

And so, the plan was set. Sure enough, about twenty miles later, the bus came to a stop in front of a southern cooking restaurant. The boys all eagerly stood up and got their things together so that they could go. Jamie met them towards the front. He looked them over, and frowned when he saw Ross and you were missing. The boys followed his gaze back, where Ross stumbled out of his bed frowning.

“Hey guys, can one of you order for us? I think {Y/N}’s cold is coming back.”

Following the plan, you threw in a beautifully executed fake sneeze. Ross was impressed, but stopped himself from saying something. The guys at the other end of the bus seemed just as convinced it was real as he had hoped. Jamie sighed.

“Let her know we hope she feels better,” he said softly, “and text whomever to get you your food. We should be back in about a half hour, but we can come back if you need us.”

Ross nodded. “Of course. Thanks, guys.”

Everyone sent Ross a soft smile and a few waves as they, one by one, piled out of the bus. Ross watched from the window nearest him as they all, including the bus driver, made their way into the shop. He waited until the door shut behind them to let out a cheer followed by a triumphant laugh.

“WE DID IT,” he yelled, pulling you out from his bed to kiss you smack on the lips. “You were so good! How the hell did you pull off that sneeze?”

Laughing, you shrugged. “It wasn’t that hard. Jeez Ross, I’ve never seen you so excited for sex.”

“It’s not every day I get to spend some time alone with the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met,” he let you know as he sauntered closer to you. You blushed as he began kissing up your arm, moving upwards until his lips met your neck and found their happy resting spot. They worked over you, nipping and pressing soft kisses to make you weak like they were so trained to do. You grew weak in the knees fast. You had to grip the side of the bed simply to keep from falling.

“Ross,” you gasped, pausing him in the middle of leaving what was sure to be a prominent hickey on your collarbone. “Ross, we should sit o-or lay down somewhere.”

Nodding, he looked around the bus. It was small, but Ross knew exactly where to go. He motioned for you to jump up on him, and as soon as you did and secured yourself with your legs around him, he made his way over to the stairs to the second floor. You had rarely been up there. That was where Jamie slept, and where they stored a lot of their luggage. It was uncrossed territory as far as you were concerned. It was a shock to see that, past Jamie’s bed and the usual bags, a grand bed sat behind a curtain. It spanned the entire width of the bus, and looked far softer than what you were used to. You opened your mouth to complain, but Ross quickly captured your lips to draw you silent. There was an eternity to explain to you the origin of the big bed, but you two only had about a half hour. Time was of the essence.

You were put down on the edge of the bed once Ross grew tired of carrying you. Wasting no time, he stripped down to only his underwear. You smirked at the sight and reached for him with grabby hands. It made him laugh.

“No no, you don’t get to touch yet,” he instructed with a playful wag of his finger. “You wanted to be entertained, correct?”

“You’re not going to give me a lap dance, are you?”

Ross barked out a laugh. “No! God no, I’m trying to attract you, not send you running. No, I’m going to make you feel good first. C’mere, scoot to the edge of the bed.”

Following his words, you moved forward until you were on the very edge. You sat and watched as Ross moved forward and helped you take off your blouse and bra, tossing them off to the side. After a second to admire you, he knelt down and helped you rid yourself of your jeans and underwear. Placing a kiss to your abdomen, he let out a moan that sent chills down your spine.

“God, you’re beautiful.”

Blushing, you pushed gently at his shoulder. “It’s my job.”

Ross smiled. He carefully guided you to scoot back on the bed until your head was hitting the pillows. Once there, he spread your legs so that he could settle himself between them. With a lick of his hand, he lowered it down to you to first tease your clit, and then slip a finger inside you. You gasped at how forward the movement was, but it started to feel too good for you to protest. Before long, you started to grind your hips against his finger, and later his second finger, to gain more friction and pleasure. It was in the moment that you let out a big moan after Ross managed to hit a wonderful spot within you that you felt glad you both had waited until the bus was yours and yours only. If the others heard you this loud, you wouldn’t be able to look at them for weeks.

Just as you felt yourself nearing having to cum, Ross stopped and pulled his fingers out. It made you frown, but you quickly changed your spirits when you saw what he had in mind instead. After repositioning himself, Ross’ mouth was on you. Man, did it work wonders. He had you gasping and writhing in seconds. With the addition of his beard, which you had loved seeing getting longer and more scruffy, you were losing it. The scruff mixed with his expertise was better than any drug. Ross’ tongue on your clit thrown into the mix, and you were gone. 

Gasping, moaning, bringing yourself every bit closer to Ross and his oh-so-thrilling beard as possible, you found yourself arching your back with a loud cry. His lips did not leave you, not until your breathing came slowly back to normal and he could feel your usual sign of running your fingers in his hair to stop. His lips navigated back up to yours then. You grinned into the kiss.

“How long do you think we have?”

You bit your lip. “Ten, fifteen minutes maybe.”

Something electric entered Ross’ eyes. “Want to have a little fun?”

“I-I don’t know about you, but I think this is pretty damn fun so far.”

“Ride me.”

Your eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

“I want you to ride me,” he repeated, “and when you do, I want no holding back. You hear me? I know you, you even did this as I ate you out. No holding back. If you’re good, and we have time...maybe, just maybe, I’ll finish you by eating you out again. Deal?”

Well shit. How could you possibly deny that deal? Nodding, you kissed Ross deep until he moaned. “Get on your back then, bitch.”

Ross’ eyes went wide. “Is that dirty talk? Coming from you? Fuck, you must really want your end of the deal.”

You smirked. “Did I stutter, Ross?”

“N-No-”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

What was he waiting for? Rolling off of you, Ross went flat on the bed. Crawling on top of him, you helped him out of his boxers and tossed them aside. While tossing them, you reached for his pants and grabbed from the pocket of them a condom. Ross smirked.

“How did you know that that was in there?”

“Was it too big of a stretch to think you wouldn’t come up here unprepared after all the planning we did?”

He smiled. “You’re speaking a lot for some girl who wants her present.”

“It’s a present now?”

“Well, it’s only going to come after you follow directions, so I think it’s a present.”

You rolled your eyes. “Shut up and let me put this thing on you.”

“Where did the dirty talk go?”

“Shut the fuck up, Ross.”

Ross laughed. “Okay love.”

After finally getting the condom on, and teasing him with a few strokes just to get at him for being snarky with you, you finally gave in and settled down onto him. The moan Ross let out instantly went matched by you, to his delight. He raised his brow at you.

“Are you making this a competition?”

You laughed, grinding down on him to elicit another moan out of him. “I’m only following orders, love.”

“Fuck you.”

“Um, I think you’re fucking me, love.”

Stopping any further words, you started to ride Ross. Each bob up and down was marked, as he wished, with some sort of noise. It was dirty, raunchy, and way louder than any time you had ever had sex with Ross. It also was more intense than any other time. Ross was meeting your movements with thrusts almost every single time, groaning and grinding and begging for you not to stop. His movements, fueled by your noise, were intoxicating. You felt close, but you could tell he was closer. Grinding down a bit harder, you ran your hands along his chest and, in your most sultry voice, beckoned Ross to give in. He all but growled in response. A few more thrusts, and you felt his orgasm rush over him.

You rode him until you knew he grew too sensitive. Once he was able to think straight again, he brought you down to kiss him, languid and blissed-out. You pulled away from it with a smile.

“I think you owe me something, MacDonald.”

Ross chuckled. “Fine. Get on your back then, bitch.”

“Using my own dirty talk against me?” You kissed his nose. “Impressive.”

As soon as you were off of Ross and laying down, Ross assumed his old spot between your legs. He grinned up at you and rubbed gently on the inside of your thigh. “Are you ready?”

You sighed happily. “I cannot wait.”

“Brilliant.”

Diving down, Ross’ lips met you and went without any build up. You gasped as his tongue worked your clit and open mouth kisses brought his beard rubbing against your inner thighs. If Ross had thought you were quiet before, there was no such lack of sound this time. Your hands weaved their way into his hair, tugging at it especially when he picked up speed. Wishing to really make this time a gift, he scooted you forward and put his hands on either side, keeping your hips pinned down. It drove you wild. That coupled with the closer proximity left you in shambles. Yelling his name, you came, and came hard. You heard Ross faintly chuckling as soon as he pulled away, as if he were impressed. If anything, you were the one was impressed with him.

“I need to fake that I’m sick more often.”

Ross smiled. “I think I can agree to that.”

“We should probably get rid of all this and clean up before the guys get back. They’d never let us live if they found us like this.”

“Probably.”

“What?”

Rubbing your leg, he leaned his chin on your knee. “Nothing. Just thinking about how much I love you.”

A fierce blush washed over you. “I love you too, Ross. I don’t know if I said it enough when you were blowing my mind a bit ago, but I do.”

“I’m really glad you joined us on the tour.”

“I am too, ya’ big sap,” you teased. “Let’s do this again sometime, huh?”

Nodding, Ross moved forward to kiss you. “Let’s.”

[my-one-love-is-music]

Forget Me Not chapter 17

Guess who was super motivated yesterday and wrote this chapter in one sitting??? Gosh, I've been on a roll today, but I'm so happy to share updates so yay!!!

Keith and Shiro finally sit down and talk to each other thank God. Which also means new developments are coming so I hope y'all are excited. ^.^

(Also if anyone would be interested in following me on twitter let me know, because I've been thinking about making one so that there's somewhere else I can talk about fic and give updates on my schedule and what's being worked on.) 

Also on AO3!

               Keith sighed as he stepped out onto the upper balcony of the Castle. The light breeze that ruffled his clothes was more than welcome and he closed his eyes at the sensation of his hair being ruffled. He was incredibly exhausted after the long training day that they’d had, but they had managed to form Voltron in the end after all the work that they’d put in. Thanks to Allura’s help anyway. He was glad that several of the exercises were over though. Especially the one where they were trying to join their minds together with the headsets.

               He didn’t entirely mind that other people were rooting around in his head since most of his memories were blocked and there was really nothing incriminating in there, other than Pidge’s true identity, but no one managed to figure that one out. Or, they’d just refrained from saying anything. He wasn’t sure which, but figured that it didn’t really matter at this point. What had bothered him about the whole situation were the few wisps that he’d gotten from Shiro’s memories.

               Albeit, most of his memories were left unseen and Keith was sure the other Paladins didn’t know many of the details, but it was apparent how well the two of them had actually known each other. The longing looks that they’d shared and the handholding nearly had him blushing in the training room and now that he was remembering the images, he felt his cheeks heat up from embarrassment. He never would’ve guessed that the two of them could’ve been so public with their affection and unashamed if anyone caught them together or even saw them sharing a kiss.

               It was a relief that the few things he did see hadn’t triggered a negative reaction. He wondered if that had to do with the fact that his amnesia wasn’t entirely natural. If it was, he doubted that he would’ve experienced the things that he had while in the healing pod. He probably would’ve been healed by the pod anyway.

And then there was the fight with the Gladiator.

               He’d seen Shiro freeze after he was thrown aside and onto Lance. Keith really wanted to convince himself that he was only protecting him because he needed to and they were all working on their trust anyway. But the truth was, is that his body had acted on its own. Moving to instinctively protect Shiro from the threat and recognizing that he was in trouble. He really couldn’t live in denial anymore. He knew Shiro. Had known him. He wasn’t entirely sure what tense was appropriate considering he couldn’t remember anything about him other than what he’d gathered from his memories.

               “There you are.”

               He looked up and found Pidge watching him from the doorway.

               “Here I am,” he said, smiling at his friend.

               She walked out and joined him at the railing. “Feeling a little overwhelmed by everything that happened today?”

               He sighed. “A bit. It’s just…I can’t really deny it anymore can I? The way that Shiro looks at me and the very real fact that the two of us have a history. A history that I know nothing about and can’t do anything so that I can learn more about it.”

               “You did seem a bit shaken.”

               Keith shook his head and smiled ruefully. “I think shaken is putting it mildly. It’s almost as though as soon as I find some sort of equilibrium or comfort in the craziness that keeps happening, something new just pops up to throw me off of everything. First, it was the few things that popped up when we were trying to join our minds. They were just wisps from Shiro, but they held a bit of a punch with my lack of memories and all of that. And then when I went to defend him during the fight with the Gladiator…I just don’t understand it sometimes.”

               “I wish I could help, but I really can’t. Have you tried the healing pods?”

               “Yeah. I got in one yesterday after we fought off the Galra. Obviously nothing happened, but Allura and Coran are going to try and help me by making some adjustments with the features to see if that makes a difference. I’m not sure if it will, but I’m willing to give anything a try.”

               “Anything, huh? Have you tried actually talking to Shiro?” Pidge asked, propping her chin in her palm.

               Keith turned around to lean against the railing and looked up at the sky. “What do I even say to him? How am I supposed to start a conversation? My name’s Keith and I know that we were in a romantic relationship that I can’t remember at all, but I’d really like to know more about you and what happened. Is that really the best opener?”

               “It’s better than you sitting out here and moping by yourself considering it doesn’t look like your memories are going to come back on their own. I think you should talk to him. He’d appreciate it in any case. And the two of you can set some boundaries and expectations so that he knows not to hope for any more than you’re willing to give at this point.”

               He shut his eyes. “It’s cruel how intelligent you are,” he groaned.

               Pidge laughed. “Why do you think that it was so easy for me to sneak into the Garrison? Honestly, you’d think that after basically securing your computer and all the evidence that would’ve gotten you locked away, you’d know by now that I’m not just a pretty face.”

               “Looks like I’m a bit slow on the uptake,” he said, looking over at her. His grin softened into a smile. “Thanks, Pidge.”

               She waved away his comment. “Shiro’s down on the observation deck. Go to him,” she said, jerking a thumb over her shoulder.

               “Do I have to?”

               “Yes. Now go,” she said, pushing him back toward the doors.

               Keith huffed a laugh, but did as she instructed. He stuffed his hands into his pockets as he walked through the endless hallways, smile slipping from his face as his thoughts took over. Everything felt so different from the day before when he’d run into Shiro after his time in the healing pod. He didn’t know what type of reaction he’d get, but he figured it would be a positive one at least. That’s what his optimism told him until he found Shiro, staring out one of the large windows at the sunset beyond.

               He took a breath and stepped forward, taking the first plunge. “Shiro?”

               Shiro’s head whipped around and he stilled when he saw Keith standing there watching him. “Oh. Keith. Did you need something?”

               Keith saw his body tense, almost as though he meant to get up and walk over to him, but forced his body to abort the motion. Keith rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and looked to the side.

               “I was wondering…well hoping…if we could…” he sighed. “I wanted to know if we could talk.”

               Shiro furrowed his brow and stood up to walk over to him. “About what?”

               “Everything between us, I suppose?” He scowled at his own wording and peeked up at Shiro through his eyelashes. “There are just a lot of things that I don’t understand and would like to have a better idea where the two of us stand. And it’s unfair to you if you keep expecting something different from me, but I’m not here to give you what you think that is. If that makes sense, anyway.”

               “Yeah. I think that would be really helpful actually. Why don’t we go back to the lounge where it’s more comfortable? I could grab us a couple of drink pouches from the kitchen.”

               “That’d be great.”

               The two of them turned and walked back down the hallway side by side. Silence enveloped the space between them and Keith kept his eyes trained on the floor in front of him. He felt like he should try and say something, but wasn’t unsettled by the silence or their close proximity.

               “I’ll meet you in the lounge,” Shiro said, breaking off when they approached the kitchen and he ducked inside. Keith nodded at his words and continued down the hallway until he pushed through the door to the area they’d been in that afternoon. He took a seat on the round couch and leaned his elbows on his knees. This talk was going to be so supremely awkward, he could already tell.

               Shiro threw one of the drink pouches at him as he walked in and took a seat on the opposite side of the couch so they were facing each other. Keith took some time fiddling with the straw in his pouch to try and get his thoughts in order and figure out what to say.

               “I feel like I should probably have something in mind as to how to start this conversation, but I’m coming up empty,” he finally admitted. “It’s not every day that someone finds out they have a boyfriend they had no idea even existed.”

               Shiro chuckled. “I can imagine. I could hardly believe that I was in the shack when I woke up. I thought that it was some sick dream that the Galra had put together to mess with me. It seemed too good to be true that after everything, I was finally back with you. And turns out it was too good to be true. Because you had no idea who I was.”

               “And I still don’t. Not really anyway,” he sighed. “I guess I could start with yesterday and the healing pods.”

               “I thought you said that nothing happened with them yesterday.”

               “Well they didn’t fix anything, but…while I was in the pod I was conscious of being inside my own mind. There’s some sort of barrier that’s keeping my memories locked away. I don’t know what it is or how to get rid of it, and can’t even begin to imagine what exactly caused it to be put there, but it’s stopping me from knowing who I am and who you are to me.”

               A light flush dusted Shiro’s cheeks at Keith’s last statement, but he thought over what he told him without focusing on the statement. “How much do you have a problem with me telling you? Let me rephrase that. How much detail do you think I can give without it negatively influencing you?”

               Keith shrugged. “I’m not sure, but at this point, I’m willing to try anything. And when I do get my memories back, I’ll know if you’re lying anyway.”

               Shiro eyed him appreciatively and nodded once. “Okay. I think I might have some idea of where that mental barrier came from. When we were captured by the Galra during the Kerberos mission, you were dragged away. I don’t know what happened after you disappeared, but I do know that Samuel was immediately taken away since he was so old and Matt and I were taken somewhere else. Obviously, I never saw you again since you ended up back on Earth, but I think that wherever they took you means that they did something to your memories.”

               “That’s not exactly descriptive,” Keith said, taking a sip of his drink.

               “I can’t really be descriptive when I don’t know what they did to you. But we might be able to get our hands on some Galra tech and figure out how to get rid of your mental block.”

               “I hope so. And you don’t remember anything else from your time with the Galra?”

               “Not right now. I guess we’re both kind of messed up, huh?” Shiro asked.

               “Yeah. A true match made in heaven,” Keith said, rolling his eyes.

               Shiro snickered and Keith smiled, pleased that he could draw that type of reaction from him.

               “Oh! You wanted to talk boundaries too, right?” he asked, cocking his head.

               Keith nodded. “Yeah. I just…this seems kind of silly, but…I feel bad that you’re sort of put out by this whole situation. And I’m sure that you remember being able to be more affectionate with me which I can’t really do right now because…yeah.” He cleared his throat nervously. “I just-“

               “Keith,” Shiro said softly. “There’s no reason you should feel bad about this. I know that you don’t remember our relationship and I don’t expect you to do anything. You don’t owe me anything. Those things…kissing and handholding…I’d want you to do them because you want to, not because you feel obligated to, due to our relationship. I’d be more than happy just being friends with you right now. It’s more than just partners and fellow Paladins, but our group is all we’ve got out here in space.”

               Shiro was smiling, but Keith could see the sadness in his eyes. He took an unsteady breath and let it out slowly. He felt so awful about this whole situation. He wanted to be able to be there for him and offer some sort of comfort, but nothing could replace what Shiro was obviously missing. He just didn’t want to end up hurting him because of this.

               “I’d be more than happy to be your friend, Shiro.”

               He smile widened and was so bright that it took Keith off guard, but he returned it with a hesitant one of his own. His eyes fell down to his drink in his hands that he’d barely touched.

               “I’m going to head to bed now,” Shiro said abruptly and stood from his seat. “Knowing Allura, she’ll probably wake us up early again tomorrow to test our reflexes.”

               “Yeah. See you later, then. I’m going to stay here and finish this,” he said, raising his drink.

               Shiro nodded and walked from the room. When the doors slid shut again, Keith hung his head and sighed. This was going to be a lot tougher than he thought it would. Shiro had said that he would be fine with them being friends for the moment, but he couldn’t help but question that. He figured that if he’d been in a very open and accepted relationship with someone, he wouldn’t just be able to accept going back to this stage. He’d feel bitter and sad and he’d miss it.

               But Shiro seemed like more than a nice enough guy and he knew that he would probably appreciate having a friend in him, especially with how uncertain he felt about everything at the moment. He liked talking to Shiro because he was easy to talk to. He didn’t know how he felt about confiding in him yet and was glad that he had Pidge to help him on that front. She’d probably prove to be one of their best assets, her skills with technology aside.

               He brought his drink to his lips and sucked the rest of it down quickly before crushing the plastic in his hand and standing from the couch. It wouldn’t do him any good to think and brood about these things at the moment. The best he could hope for and the best that he could do was move forward and think about the day ahead. Nothing else mattered besides staying alive in the fight against the Galra. Everything else would come in time and the best case scenario would be that he got better in the future.

               Keith walked from the lounge area and nearly jumped out of his skin when he looked up to find Pidge standing in front of him.

               “Pidge! What are you doing here?” he asked, forcing himself to relax.

               She adjusted her glasses and peered up at him. “I just wanted to come and see how everything was going. Although you seem to be very alone right now.”

               “Yeah, Shiro left a couple of minutes ago, but we sat down and talked.”

               Pidge watched him expectantly and raised her eyebrows, smirk tugging at the edges of her lips.

               “What?” he asked warily.

               She huffed. “I’m waiting for details! What did you talk about?!”

               “Oh,” he cleared his throat. “I told him about my experience in the healing pod yesterday and how that didn’t do anything to help clear up my amnesia and he told me a few of the details of when we were captured during the Kerberos mission.”

               Pidge gaped at him. “And that didn’t have a negative effect on you? Hearing about things that you couldn’t remember?”

               “No. Thankfully, anyway. But just hearing about these events that I’m involved in isn’t going to just help the amnesia clear up.”

               She nodded and her brows drew together in thought. “Okay. What else?”

               “We just talked a little bit about boundaries between the two of us,” he coughed. “And Shiro said that he’d like the two of us to at least be friends right now.” He felt his face heat up slightly and knew that he was blushing if the look on Pidge’s face was anything to go by.

               “I told you that there was nothing to worry about. Everything went fine. This’ll probably mean that things will go a bit more smoothly, too. I know that we already formed Voltron today and everything, but it could still help make the process a bit better. We don’t even know what our success rate is like since we haven’t had any time to work on our combat skills as a giant robot or faced any enemies yet.”

               Keith stared at Pidge as her mind raced through several possibilities. He wasn’t even sure if she was aware that she was saying all of that out loud, but was amused by it nonetheless.

               “Hey, Pidge.”

               “Huh? What?” she asked, head snapping up to look at him as he broke through her thoughts.

               “We can worry about all of that later. For now, let’s just get some sleep. We had a long day today.”

               Pidge smiled. “You go ahead. I’m going to go down to my makeshift lab and do some more work.” She turned to walk off, but Keith grabbed the back of her collar, pulling her along behind him. “Hey! Keith!” she exclaimed.

               “You’ll have plenty of time to work in your lab tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after that. For now, it’s time to get some sleep.”

               He heard her grumble something behind him, but couldn’t quite make out what he was. Instead of replying he just snickered and kept dragging her behind him.

[islandofkiwi-blog]

Time’s Mirror Episode 2 - A Web Series by Steven Embers

Chapter 2

 School is a cunning trap set in place by a higher power to repress young peoples’ individuality, I theorized morbidly to myself as I strolled down the nearly empty halls, three minutes to the bell, searching for my first period class. I felt trapped inside this brick box, this place that presumed to be a citadel of learning, but felt more like a factory of assimilation. It was an assembly line of teachers unscrewing the heads of their students and filling them with the government’s mandated material. And the more you learned, the more you became like a “functioning” member of society. They made it seem like you were becoming a free thinker, but how were you supposed to think freely with all their rules running through your head?

           And the politics. The pecking order and the formation and generalization of human beings into cliques: supposedly constructed and run by the students, but was, in fact, surprisingly similar to the nonsense that went on in the “real world.” It was all a plot to ensure the proper orientation of new blood into the work force. Or maybe high school never really ended; maybe the class structures that teenagers and those who instruct teenagers can conceive and operate is the limit of human organization.

           Maybe I was just crazy. No; I was probably crazy. Most definitely probably crazy.

           I was spiraling and forced myself to go to Physics. What I wanted was individuality, and I felt like I would never achieve that if I stuck around any longer. I knew what I liked about myself and also what I wanted to change, eventually. What I wanted to know now was that I fit into a bigger picture and I wanted a hint at what that picture was. I wanted my life to have some kind of meaning.

           A meaning beyond Physics. Mr. Smith, the science guru at our school, was a good teacher. Some might call him a great teacher. He had such a passion for his job, which was very clear right from that first day of the new semester. He bounced around the room trying to teach us something about aerodynamics, because he wanted us all to become rocket scientists and bring humanity to Mars. He made it his mission to ensure that we would succeed in our college careers and he was always talking about our “future endeavors.”

           “Future endeavors,” however, annoyed the living daylights out of me. For some reason, it was a well-known fact that what you did today always led up to “something else.” It was that way as soon as you start kindergarten and through grade school and all the way up to right where I was then, and there was supposedly going to be another four years of this leading-up-to-something nonsense.

           I was starting to wonder why it takes somewhere between twelve and twenty years of schooling to start making a difference in this world. It was perplexing to me that we were expected to dedicate so much time to preparing for the future when we could be doing something productive right now…

 Okay, that was the longest rant ever. This story isn’t about my views on the American education system and I’ll try not to insert any more of my bitter philosophy. The rest of the day went like this…

 I slept through the History slideshow presentation; smiled at the pretty, blonde, foreign exchange girl in Spanish whose name was either Melissa or Anissa or something that the teacher pronounced different every time; added to my 3-D cube doodles in English; ate a sandwich at lunch; threw notes across the room to my friend, Derrick, in Math; tried to sketch a picture of the pretty blonde from Spanish in Economics, resulting in the revelation that I have no talent for drawing; hid in the bathroom for most of Gym; and took the bus home, nearly missing my stop because I was dozing off.

           I had decided that I wasn’t going to find the answers to my questions in the robot asylum, so I went through the motions like my teachers and friends expected of me and I indulged in the basic pleasures of a simple school day. Home was really the place for self-actualization, anyways; it was quiet and familiar and people weren’t making out against the walls. Plus, my mother was there.

           I had a very unconventional relationship with my mother. “Unconventional,” being the best, single word to describe a relationship with her, because she didn’t have a conforming approach to parenting. The best way to describe her was that she was a lioness who, after feeding her cub and raising him until he can stand for himself, kicks her kid out of her pride and goes right back to the hunt.

           Her hunt was a never ending journey to tell the perfect story; she was an author and she was constantly looking for a new adventure to inspire her. And the insane, restless feeling that I felt earlier that morning reminded me creepily of the quality that I sometimes resented in her.

           As the lion’s cub, I was treated like an animal at times: forced to act out strange scenarios for her writer’s madness. Most of the time, she ignored me to focus on her writing and let me do my own thing, but when she needed help visualizing anatomic positions or she had the sudden urge to do something outside the house, she found some way to turn me into her personal test subject/butler. Since she was a stay-at-home mom there was no end to the experimentation, but I learned to appreciate having her around because she would call me in sick or even finish my homework for me if she really wanted my time. She made sure I knew how to think for myself and when I needed it, I was able to pick at the interesting misfires of her creative brain.

 As soon as I opened the front door of my house I could hear my mother tapping away at the keyboard in her office. It was a nostalgic, rhythmic sound that had haunted me ever since I was a kid; I remember falling asleep on the carpet next to the fireplace in the office just listening to the sound of the crackling flames and the mechanical keys of a typewriter drumming a tune, with every beat breathing life into a story.

           At that particular moment, however, it spelled bad news for my quest for self-fulfillment, because once my mother was focused in her writing, it was hard to peel her away without a well-reasoned argument. And sometimes even food and sleep weren’t satisfactory reasons.

           I left my backpack at the base of the stairs and then knocked on the open office door. The room was organized so that the first things that you saw were bookshelves and the bindings of a hundred books, and the second thing you saw was the woman with her back angled towards the window, her desk positioned so that the rising sun could peek over the computer monitor to remind her it was time to go to bed.

           I didn’t expect her to turn around to look at me, but she did, and she spoke with a kind of grace that surprised me, considering she was prone to biting people’s heads off when they bothered her during work.

           “Oh. Hey, Bailey,” she said. Her long, golden wheat colored hair fell onto her face as she turned her head and she pulled it up so that I could see the lines under her eyes and on her brow. She wound her hair into a ball and stuck a pencil through the weave to hold it in place. Then she spoke gently, almost like these were the first words she’d spoken all day: “How was school?”

           I hardly ever had small talk with my mother, but I played along. “Oh, you know, all work and no play. Are you working for a deadline right now?”

           “Mm, no.” She shook her head. “Well, not really. I promised Mayor Johnsten that I’d help him draft a speech for this coming town hall meeting.” She paused and touched her hair to make sure it was staying put.

           “If I can give you any advice it’s to never bet a favor on pocket Jacks.” My parents sometimes played poker with the influential people around town. For being a reclusive writer, my mother was surprisingly well-connected.

           “He told me to ‘make it pop.’ What do you think he means by that?” she asked aloud, but she was looking back at her computer screen. “How am I supposed to make increasing the spending budget for garbage disposal ‘pop?’ And why is he still trying to get this bill to pass for greener grass? God, he’s probably just screwing with me; I hate men, sometimes.”

           She was beginning an inner dialogue that was looking to escalate pretty quickly. I still had no idea what I wanted to say but I knew I had to start before I lost her to her thoughts.

           “Hey, Mom?” I started with a pitiful uncertainty that made her swivel around in her chair to fully face me with a concerned look in her coffee-colored eyes.

           “Yeah,” she said attentively. “What’s up?”

           It seems to me that, in the moment right before you begin to talk about something that you have rolled over continually in your mind, you finally realize some inspiration for the truth. And with the truth being so very often trivial compared to how much time you spent worrying, continuing to ask about the matter would seem foolish. I didn’t realize any truth in that instant, but I still experienced the feeling that my question would just make me look stupid.

I managed to push through my insecurity and I understood that it didn’t matter what I had to say or if it sounded crazy because the same thing that made my mother give me her full attention would force her to be non-judgmental. A mother is a nature-ordained psychiatrist for her child.

           “Mom,” I started again, “I think I want to quit school.”

           It clearly was not the statement she had been expecting, but her eyes flashed curiosity. She formed a chin rest with the back of her hand elevated by her elbow on her knee and she leaned forward. “Go on,” she prodded.

           “Well,” I began, and my thoughts began to take form. I took a seat in the plush chair in the corner of the room. The distance that separated me from my mother made it a bit easier to talk because there wasn’t the looming fear that she would lean over to hit me.

           “I don’t think school is doing anything for me – most of the things we talk about in class I already know, and anything I don’t know I can learn by myself in less time than by doing this early morning, full-time student job. So I want to quit. My time could be much better spent and I want to quit.” Not my most eloquent.

           She gave a fake nod and added some respectful silence like she was actually considering my plight, but responded quickly.

           “Counter-proposal:” she offered, “No.”

           I sat with a dumb look on my face and she made sure to speak first before I could protest. “Here’s why: Do I believe you could be using your time better? Yes. Do I believe you have the discipline to sit down and learn the things you’re supposed to? Maybe. Do I believe that quitting school is the answer to solving your boredom and sleep deprivation? Ab-so-lu-te-ly not.

           “I can’t lecture you about how lucky you are in this world to even have access to education, because that’s something you would have to go out and see for yourself. But Bailey, before you can go out and see you have to have some degree of self-awareness and knowledge. And that’s where high school comes in.

           “Even if you think you can learn everything on your own, high school is still a place where the classes you take can make you very well-rounded. You can learn how to conceptualize mathematic functions that change over time while at the same time considering the brilliance of the master bard. You can find historical evidence of cyclical class warfare on the same day you dissect an animal just so you can see for yourself what it looks like on the inside. More importantly, you have time to discover who you are and what you like and the people with whom you want to share your life. It looks bleak now, what with all the busy work and long days, but it’s up to you to find value in your daily life. That’s not going to change if you decide to pack up now and become one of those people who film themselves sticking things in places they shouldn’t so they can put it on the internet.

           “And let me be honest with you, Bailey, unless you have a million-dollar idea that you’re able to complete before you graduate you’re probably going to have to go to college to get anywhere in this world, so finishing high school while it just requires you to show your face in the classroom isn’t so bad.”

           As I expected, she killed my not-terribly-well-thought-out idea pretty quickly, but what happened next was a little unexpected because after I said “Okay, fine. I just don’t understand why I’m expected to spend the next six to seven years of my life preparing for my future when I’m ready to grab it now.” she smiled a smile I had rarely seen. Like she was proud of me.

           Her voice came out softer, less of a pacifying reprimand and more of a pleased whisper. “You want to drink from the cup of life, and stop waiting for someone to spit in it.”

           It wasn’t the metaphor I was looking for, but it seemed to fit. She read the look of agreement on my face and responded properly.

           “So what was your game plan, Bay? If I had told you that you could stop going to school, what kind of adventures would you seek?”

           “I don’t know,” I admitted. “Write poetry; learn music; I’d try to make people’s lives a little bit more enjoyable.”

           Her eyes reflected so much of the reckless abandon that I felt. I could see the same passionate longing that made me squirm, and I knew that she had been in my exact position at some point earlier in her life.

           She spoke from experience as a writer, as a creator of ideas, “The biggest thing I’ve learned from my writing career is that you need to live among your audience to truly understand their situation. That’s how you get a perfect story, a perfect song, a perfect rhyme: by being a part of the culture of the people you want to influence. If you want to write for the individual you live in New York. If you want to connect with lonely, cold people you live in Canada. And if you want to hit the masses you go to school.” There was a beat before she chuckled and I grimaced.

           “I can see that you’re on to my ulterior motive, but this part is serious.” She slid her chair smoothly over the hardwood floor towards me. Her citrus scent washed over me, and her normally brown eyes looked an earthy shade of red as she leaned in and crossed her hands on my knees. “Whatever you decide you want to do, do it for you. Because the perfect life comes from doing something that you love.”

           She watched me reflect for a moment and then pushed herself back to where she had been when I first knocked on the door, saying “Of course, I use the word ‘perfect’ pretty liberally, but you get the point. Now go make your Momma some tea, would you?”

           I nodded silently, but I still had this feeling like something was missing and I hadn’t gotten what I wanted from the conversation.

“I just don’t feel happy going through the motions,” I said and I started to walk away, but my mother stopped me one last time.

           “Bailey,” she said. “Teenage angst – or whatever it is you want to call what you’re going through right now – manifests itself in one of two ways. Either you feel like you hate yourself or you feel like you hate the world around you. You usually don’t hate either of these things, though, you hate being content. And that’s good; that’s normal.

           “Contentment and satisfaction might sound like the same thing – they’re different words for being happy – but they have some delicate nuance to them. Satisfaction is like hiking three miles to watch the perfect sunrise over the ocean: it’s sometimes hard to find footing in the dark, but when the light breaks the horizon you can find happiness after your struggle. Contentment is like sitting in a fishing boat at midday on a stagnant lake: the mosquitoes are swarming but you’re still casting your fishing rod into the water, because what the hell else are you going to do? You’re still happy, because your friends are all inside your tiny little boat, tossing their lines into the water right along with you, and you all wait anxiously for someone to get a catch that might rock the boat a little bit. But that’s not the way a boy should be living, Bailey, you should be chasing your fish with a stick of dynamite.

           “Don’t be content with the life you’ve been given, Bailey, be satisfied with the life you make for yourself. All you can do right now is try and find a way.”

           She looked back down and started typing again, having inspired herself with her speech. I thought she was going to say something more, but she had entered work mode and I didn’t need to disturb her again. She had given me what I was looking for. A thousand more questions had opened up to me, and I left her office reflecting on the life I had been given, and how I could make it better.

TO BE CONTINUED!