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luvfy0dor · 1 year ago

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Henlo

You know who it is, we all know, henlo

I feel like I’ve been here a lot recently

Just starting off with saying I loved the Dazai piece. It was really cute. Dad Dazai trying his best, made my heart melty

But I think you know why I’m here today

On this day

Honestly the day doesn’t entirely matter but I’m here on THIS one

With the dad Fyodor thought I promised

Cuz here I was thinking to myself. I feel like Fyodor definitely wants his child or children having some connection to Russian culture, since that’s a part of them too, regardless of their other parent’s nationality or background, he definitely wants his included. (Tho his partner could totally do the same)

So I was wondering, would you like a piece of him either teaching his children Russian or making Russian food for them? Or really sharing any Russian cultural thing with them at all. Honestly whatever one is easier for you to write or go into detail with, they’re all equally cute.

Cuz if his child or children develop a connection to that, I feel like that would make him a lot happier than maybe he would fully show.

I hope this ask sparks the creative brain juices in a fun way

Also considering sending a Halloween themed request at some point idk… oh but who knows!We’re here rn and having fun with this, that’s all we need at the moment

Also real glad you enjoy my messages lol. I will absolutely keep sending. Take as long as you need

-the person here attempting to give everyone baby fever because it’s funny

This blog’s Dad Fyodor anon

"da!" - Dad!Fyodor x GN!Reader ੈ✩‧₊˚

Warnings; Google translate Russian, not much reader involvement, very minimal proofreading happened

Description; Dad!Fyodor teaching his child about Russian culture! It incorporates ideas from the first dad!Fyodor part.

A/n; YESYESYES I one hundred percent agree, I think about this on the regular OMG I hope I depicted this well bc my knowledge on Russia isn't all that extensive lol, if you have any corrections, do tell me!! : ) Also I'm gonna be so fr I had NO idea what to name this so we're rolling with da I guess.............

Headcannons !! ༊*·˚

★ He teaches his child/children classical Russian music when they're old enough to play more difficult pieces. Until then, he'll settle for twinkle twinkle little star.

★ Introduces his children to ballet.

★ His children have a variety of Russian-originating toys, such as Matryoshka/Russian nesting dolls, rocking horses etc.

★ Brings his children to Russia at least once, specifically to Moscow (irl Dostoevsky was raised in Moscow, so we're gonna assume BSD Dostoevsky was too) to experience the culture first hand.

★ Teaches his children the foundations of the Russian language. He would like them to fluently speak it one day, though.

★ Cooks Russian food for them like I mentioned and included in the first part.

★ They learn about Russian history from their father, anywhere from Peter the Great to fur trade and all that jazz

Scenario !! ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

(as always, p/t is parental title, d/n is daughters name)

Your head leaned against your fist while you watched your husband and daughter focus on their current activity. D/n carefully picked the colors and pigments she would use to color in the white spaces on her paper, and Fyodor just tried to keep things inside the lines. You could see the little girls tongue slightly sticking out from between her lips in concentration, making you smile.

Your daughter went to pick her next color, chosing a pink crayon to fill in the nose of the cat. "Papa, what'd you say your hat was called again? The one you always wear." She clarifies, even though there was really only one hat that Fyodor would wear at all. His eyes don't leave his thin paper as he replies, "A ushanka, and it's from Russia, malyshka." He answered, pushing some of his hair out of his face and behind his ear. "Russia." She says, the sound not unfamiliar, but not common to her either. "Where's that?" She tilts her head upwards, putting her crayon down to signify her attention on her papa. He puts his down too and rests his arms on top of one another.

"Quite far, but it is in both Asia and Europe. That's how big it is, it stretches over two continents." He says, a smile on his face. Her eyes widen a little. "That is really big. Have you been there before?" Her head tilts and she shifts a bit in her seat. "I grew up there, in the city of Moscow." He says, happy with her clear interest in his motherland.

"We should go there for a vacation one day!" She says, a grin on her face. He laughs a little bit and nods. "I agree, we definetly should." He agrees, fantasizing about it in his head. "Is that why you talk like that?" She questions her fathers accent, skittering around the table and climbing onto his lap. He smiles gently and nods. "Yes, it's called an accent, malyshka. I learned English, but Russian is my mother tongue. There are a lot of different pronunciations for certain sounds in Russian." He tells her, his hands fidgeting with the young girls hair. He parts it into three sections and starts to braid it.

"Is everything different there?" Fyodor hums, thinking as he weaves her hair into a gorgeous French braid. "Well, it definitely very different, but I don't think I would say everything." He says. "There are more historical differences than anything, if I do say so myself." She hums in understanding. "Papa, can you teach me some Russian?" She asks, turning her head to look at him with puppy dog eyes, even though she really didn't need them. He smiled and nodded.

"What should I teach you?" He softly questions, looking into the young girls eyes. She thinks for a moment, tapping her pointer finger on her chin. "I don't know! Whatever you want." She says, just excited to hear another language. He chuckles softly. "я не знаю, что тебе сказать" (I don't know what to tell you) he responds, a small grin on his face. Her eyes widen, almost as if she never believed he could speak a different language. You giggle a bit at her reaction.

"What does that mean?!" She excitedly asks, her mind seemingly blown over this. "It simply means I don't know what to tell you." He speaks. "But I can tell you the simple stuff. Like 'да' means yes and 'нет' means no. Hello is 'привет' and goodbye is 'до свидания'."

The young girl takes a mental note of these words. "привет, papa! I think I said that right." She says. You proudly watch the scene go down. Fyodor gives you a similarly prideful smile. "Yes, you did wonderful, malyshka." He praises her, patting her shoulder. "I'll have to teach you more one day." She nods vigorously, very obviously wanting him to. "Yes! And then we can have secret conversations, no one else will know what we're saying!" She snickers, making him smile.

A/n; I hope this is alright!! I loved this request a whole lot. Oh, also, feel free to send in that Halloween request even though it's November now lol

"Oh, ofcourse. That will probably be rather far in the future, though." He says, removing her from his lap and gently patting her back. "That's okay. If I learn more I'll know more words." She states the obvious. "And I'm gonna learn from the best russian ever." She beams, making Fyodor grin. "That's right, sweetheart."

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mangomonk · 1 year ago

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call me whenever

↳ summary: remus is a clingy lightweight ↳ content: fluff, mentions of alcohol, established relationship from i caught myself, rock band!muggle ↳ a/n: i love writing remus x winnie, i'll prob keep writing more oneshots of them out of order if y'all have any scenario requests!

"Merlin, why do Muggle contraptions always have so many bloody buttons—"

"Did you finish putting her number in? It's 34—"

"Hello?" Winnie asks uncertainly into the receiver.

A pause. And then an overly bright voice, shouting into the phone. "WINNIE! SWEETHEART, JUST THE PERSON I WAS LOOKING FOR!"

"Sirius, you don't have to shout, I can hear you perfectly fine," Winnie sighs, wincing away from the receiver.

"Oh, really?" Sirius sounds genuinely bemused.

Winnie hums. "Where are you calling me from? I don't recognize the number."

"One of those phone-telly boxes," Sirius says. Winnie has to bite her tongue to prevent herself from correcting him. "Anyways, we were— oof." His voice cuts off mid-sentence with a grunt. "I mean, I was wondering if you were home and free right now?"

Winnie hesitates warily. "I am both home and free."

"Brilliant," Sirius sighs. "Do you think you could come and pick up Remus? He's had one too many Firewhiskey's and he's always been such a lightweight—" His voice cuts out for a moment amidst a lot of shuffling. "—and I think he's one wrong look away from biting mine and James's head off— oof."

"Is he with you now? Can I talk to him?"

The shuffling stops abruptly. A pause, before Sirius speaks up again, his voice a little wheezy. "No, he's not out here. Or with me right now."

Winnie's brows shoot up. She bites back a small smile, now able to imagine the two of them squished in a little phone booth. "You guys are at the pub downtown, right?"

"That's the one."

"I'll be there in fifteen," Winnie says, already looking around for her keys.

"Brilliant, we'll— I'll see you then!"

Winnie is about to hang up when she can hear Sirius grumbling on the end of the line. Knowing him, Winnie bets that he left the payphone hanging. "I don't see why you couldn't just send her an owl."

Another voice, heart achingly familiar. "She's afraid of the owl's claws."

Sirius huffs. "You could've just called her yourself then."

"Didn't want to bother—" The line cuts out.

Winnie puts the phone down, smiling widely as she grabs her keys.

— — — — —

When Winnie enters the crowded pub, she spots him immediately. He's slouched on a barstool around a table, head resting in his hand and his long legs kicked out under him. Contrary to Sirius's description, he doesn't look like he's about to murder anyone. He's watching James waving his hands animatedly at Sirius, the corners of his lips twitching.

Winnie steps around the room, careful to hide from his view before she moves behind him. "Come here often?" She whispers into his ear, grinning already.

Remus straightens, his head whipping over to her with such speed that she's a little worried for his neck. Up close, Winnie can see that his cheeks are flushed a rosy pink so pretty that dimly, she wishes she was an artist so that she could capture this view of him. She thinks she could write a song about his pretty flush. "Winnie," he says, mouth curving into a smile, her favorite kind — white teeth flashing, dimples showing. Her heart is squeezing so painfully in her chest, but she's sure that Remus has no idea what he's doing. Remus has never been big on PDA, so Winnie's a little surprised when his big hands start reaching for her hands.

"Hi lover boy," she says, letting him pull her towards him.

"How was your rehearsal?" He's holding both of her hands now, his thumbs rubbing circles against her skin.

"It went well," she says, smiling. "Hi guys," Winnie says to the others.

"Hi darling," Sirius drawls, lips twitching behind the rim of his glass. "You came right on time — another minute and he would have had our heads." James snorts, nodding in agreement.

Remus ignores this, his brown eyes not leaving hers as his fingers reach the sleeve of her turtleneck. "Is this new? I like it," he says, smile turning dopey. "You look lovely, cariad."

Winnie's cheeks go pink, half because of how he's looking at her, pretty eyes soft with unabashed adoration and affection, half because she can see Sirius and James's mouths go slack.

"Merlin, you're in deep, Moony," Sirius exclaims.

Next to him, James makes a gagging sound. "Please spare us and take him home," he begs, but he's grinning. His grin falters when Remus turns to shoot him a withering glare.

"Right, I heard you were in need of a ride home," Winnie says, trying to keep a straight face when Remus turns back to look at her, his expression softened from his previous vitriol.

He's gone puppy-eyed, his eyes big and brown as they stare up at her hopefully. "Let's go home?"

Saying bye to the boys is quick work. Sirius is practically shoving them out of the pub with James making gagging sounds behind him.

As they walk to the parking lot, Remus's arm winds around her waist, his hands fiddling absentmindedly at the knitted material of her turtleneck. It feels as though ever since she's come, he hasn't stopped touching her — not that she minds, of course. When his fingers brush against her skin accidentally, it sends a shiver up her spine.

"Cold?" He asks, already stopping in his tracks to shrug off his jacket. Winnie doesn't bother saying no or pointing out that it's a warm night. Remus has always been endearingly bossy when he's sober — she can only imagine him now refusing to budge until she takes his jacket. Plus, she likes the smell of his jacket. And with the way he can never quite look away from her when she's wearing it or one of his lumpy jumpers, she reckons he gives them to her for his sake too. Remus drapes his jacket over her shoulders, his fingers tugging at the collar.

"Thank you," she says, smiling up at him fondly.

"Were you busy?" He's tugging her even closer now, his arms bracketing around her as he straightens the shoulders of his jacket.

"Never too busy for you," she says meaningfully, reaching up to fluff at his hair affectionately. Remus seems to melt into the action as she threads her fingers into his sun-kissed hair, his warm cheek settling against her palm. His eyes have gone sleepy and soft on her, his lip jutting out stubbornly. God. She wants to kiss him senseless. "You can call me whenever. Owl even, if it keeps its claws off my furniture."

Remus's brows knit together for a moment before his face falls. "You heard?" He asks, lips twitching into a deep frown.

Winnie laughs, squeezing at his cheek. "Sirius is not exactly subtle or good with Muggle technology."

"I didn't want to bother you," Remus admits, letting his head drop forward against her shoulder. He's really too tall for this, but somehow he manages to slouch enough so that he can rest his forehead against her shoulder. "But I wanted to see you."

His honesty makes her stomach do loops. "Yeah?" Winnie hums softly, impossibly endeared. She runs her thumb over his splay of freckles, faint now against the warm tan of his skin. "I always want to see you too, so call me whenever, okay?"

Remus's hands find their way to her waist. "Yeah, okay," he mumbles into her shoulder. He turns his head, his face pressing against her turtleneck. She can hear him inhale deeply. "I don't like this," he grumbles, one hand reaching up to tug gently at the high neck of her shirt.

Winnie blinks. "You just said you liked my shirt," she says accusingly, a little offended now.

"I did," he agrees solemnly, pulling back away from her just enough to look at her with big, sincere eyes. Saccharinely innocent. Then his eyes dart down to shoot her shirt a baleful look, his lips jutting out in the closest thing she's ever seen him get to a sulk. "But now it's in my way."

Winnie can feel her face flush, but she tries to hide it with an arched brow. It fails, clearly, because she can see the way Remus drinks in her flustered expression, his sulk disappearing immediately, lips hitching smugly. "Yeah? Well I guess you'll just have to deal with it because I like this shirt," She grumbles mulishly, pulling away in embarrassment but Remus gently grabs her hands again and sets them firmly on his shoulders. Winnie's stomach is doing flips now.

"I think I can find a way around it," Remus murmurs distractedly, nosing against her jaw and already hooking a finger into the neck of her turtleneck and tugging it down gently to reveal the nape of her neck.

Winnie can't help the happy sigh she breathes out when his lips ghost against her skin, his hair tickling her ear. He presses a firmer, open-mouthed kiss against her collarbone, his fingers still dipping into her shirt. His other hand rises to cradle the back of her head gently, his long fingers threading through her hair as he noses along the nape of her neck, lips soft and ticklish. "My heart," he mumbles against her skin fondly. Affection blooms in her so violently, all she can do is grasp at his shoulders. When she tilts her head back a little to give him more access, she can feel his lips curve into a smarmy smirk. The bastard. ""Shall we go home?"

— — — —

my masterlist!

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whiteheartlight · 5 months ago

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hey I wrote a fic while my internet was down about the world's grumpiest Toa while he and the others were traveling back to Mata Nui with the Matoran. please let me know if you enjoy. Onewa is such a bastard. but a bastard with nuance?? I've always thought he and Vakama should get to talk after the Visorak arc

It would actually be pretty cool, Onewa thinks, if Nuju didn't manage to concuss himself so bad while he did it.

He was up there where he needed to be, that's the thing. And Onewa's not afraid of heights like Whenua is, but when that bird smashed through the window of their airship and tried its damnedest to get Vakama by the waist, Onewa did think to himself, for a moment: I'm a Toa of Stone. Maybe the others should handle this.

Nuju might have intuited that thought, or maybe he had just been itching for some action after being stuck on a ship with the rest of them for weeks on end, but one way or another, he pulled out those ice spikes and practically leapt out the window to go after that over-sized set of knives on wings.

“Can't we just let the poor thing go?” Whenua had called, clinging queasily to a nearby support pole as the wind rocked over him. “It was probably hungry!”

“So it gets to eat Vakama?” Matau replied. “Or do you think it needs two of us?”

“If we let it go it could go after the Matoran spheres,” Vakama called over the wind. “We need to at least knock it out of the sky!”

“I'll handle the draft it's riding!” Matau shouted, leaping out the window and spreading his wings. He dipped hard before he caught the wind and came back up towards the bird, one hand curving through the air as he redirected the draft.

Unfortunately, he didn't redirect himself to avoid it. The bird panicked at the sudden change, flapping hard to try and course-correct, and Onewa heard Matau go “oh, whoops” before a metal wing was slicing towards his own. Matau disengaged his wings to avoid the blow, and he instantly started to plummet.

Onewa grabbed him neatly by the back of the armor from the side of the ship.

“Can you watch it, Matau?” he snarled at him. “What a stupid fucking stupid way to die that would have been.”

“Aw, were you worried?” asked Matau, making a fake pout.

“There would have been a whole village of Matoran with no one around because you weren't paying attention. Do you even care about that?”

“Spirits, Onewa, I would have quick-caught myself. Don't be a stuck crab about everything.”

“You two both focus!” Vakama called sharply, and Onewa swore before hauling Matau back in to safety. The bird swooped past them again, enormous talons reaching for either one of them before it darted back out again. He probably did need to focus, but honestly, in that moment, he felt so angry he could scream.

Look, it's not just been this, okay? Ever since Vakama got back from his stupid fucking solo trip that he still won't even tell them about, the others have been wearing on his nerves like they're getting paid good widgets to do so. He doesn't even really know why. They're just all... the same. They're all the same beings they always were. Weren't they supposed to change over time? Not just Vakama putting his shadows to rest, or Matau toning down the sarcasm, or whatever you want to call what any of them have been through. Wasn't there supposed to be a moment where he looked around and realized that they were all – you know �� professionals?

Aren't they supposed to feel like real Toa?

Instead they're here, on a busted old airship, trying to caravan a pack of comatose Matoran across unexplored waters because they couldn't save their real homeland. It seemed to strike him in the chest for a second, as the shadow of the bird's wings passed over him. No matter how many times he thinks it, it always punches him. He always thinks to himself Lhikan expected more from us.

He was thinking it again when Nuju distracted him by finding his footing along the side of the ship. Onewa couldn't even see what support beam or structuring he was standing on, but, with his ice spikes in the side of the ship's metal to steady him, Nuju got up.

“Oh, wow, he's up there,” said Whenua, and then promptly covered his eyes with his hands. “Be careful!”

“Matau, be ready to catch him if he falls,” Vakama ordered, and Matau bounded back into the sky. Nokama had a selection of clouds pouring down a fence of rain, bringing the predator bird towards Nuju, there on his feet, and he pulled an arm free, striking it through the air like he was giving a command. Onewa saw the light catch brilliantly on the heavy ice that formed along the creature's wings, sending it swerving, shrieking, and then falling. It came close to Nuju, who leapt away gracefully, back towards the entrance of the ship –

And, in one unfortunate push from the bird's spiraling wing, cracked his head hard against the edge of the open window.

“Oh!” groaned both Whenua and Nokama at the same time, everyone shifting towards Nuju in a collective alarm. Vakama grabbed Nuju's shoulders from the front while Matau swooped back inside to grab him from behind. He was only limp for a second or two, a white hand staggering up to grab at his head, but they had all heard that metal clunk of his cerebral casing connecting solidly with the harsh edge.

“Is it cracked?” asked Onewa tersely, coming to stand at Vakama's shoulder, hand out-stretched with nothing to do. Vakama was looking at Nuju's casing with a forger's eye, searching for any fractures.

“I don't think so. It'll be the inside we should worry about. Nuju, you need to sit down.”

Nuju was trying to get onto his feet without needing support, but not having much luck at it.

“I'm fine,” he snapped, voice shaky. “I handled it.”

The attitude is what's really getting Onewa mad, now that they're all here, crowded around Nuju. Onewa scoffs, shaking his head at him. “Seriously? You could have fallen too. We couldn't have just handled that from inside the ship? A couple ice darts wouldn't have taken it down the same? Oh, you were just aching for a fight.”

“Onewa,” warns Nokama, trying to get Nuju to at least lean back on them. “Not now.”

“Don't worry, sister, I think the odds of him remembering any part of today are pretty slim after our resident genius's latest idea.”

“Nuju, sit down,” Vakama insists, pulling his shoulders. Nuju's being such a pain. Is this how Toa act?

“I don't want you all touching me!”

“We're trying to stop you from falling. Let us get you checked over and then we will all back off, I promise.”

Nuju grabs at his mask again, groaning, but he doesn't let them lower him. He grips at the wall and then shoves Matau's arm off him. “Brother, just one second,” Nokama's telling him gently. “You're okay, we've got you.”

“I'm fine, get off!”

“Oh, by the spirits, Nuju,” Onewa hisses, something molten rising up in him. “Just sit down and shut up.”

Nuju's legs give out from under him so fast he nearly smacks his head a second time, but Matau scoops him up with a yelp. Pale blue eyes pierce Onewa with a fury that needs no words, but as his mouth fails to glow, Onewa realizes he can't talk.

Something races down his spine. He didn't mean to command him like that. Or maybe he did – the intention was there, it has to be, for his mask to work, but he didn't mean –

Nokama grabs Nuju's wrist before his hand can come up to strike back with ice. He grabs her wrist in return, mask contorting, but then something goes blank in his eyes and he sways, just trying to breathe. He hit his head hard.

“Onewa, go cool off,” Vakama orders shortly.

Oh, yeah, of course the Fire Toa's going to handle this. Their fearless leader.

Onewa scoffs and turns his back on his siblings, feeling four sets of eyes on him as he goes.

He shouldn't have done that. But this is it. This is... this is destiny, he supposes.

It doesn't feel right in his chest. Nothing has for weeks.

“You come to kill me, ice-weaver?”

Onewa's adjusting the shape of his whetstone carefully in his hand, its form shifting like water beneath his fingers, when he hears the steps approaching him.

Honestly, he's impressed Nuju knows about his little hiding spot. At the back of the landing bay, on the bottom of the ship, the tow cord stretches out towards the airships connected to their own. The windows around it are meant to allow Matoran to check that the cord is intact and undamaged, but it also makes a nice viewpoint. The other ships bob along through the air behind them, and at this time of evening, the sun comes through everything like its trying to cram the light inside. He likes the white noise of the nearest blade spinning through the air too – whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, low and heavy.

“Nokama's trying to talk him down,” comes a voice that isn't Nuju's. “He was more sullen than angry. I think he's embarrassed. It wasn't very kind of you.”

Onewa turns to level Vakama with a look, taking in the sight of him crouching to meet Onewa's gaze, still outside the bubble of the tow cord area, which is not tall enough for a Toa to stand in. Onewa shakes his head and pulls out his proto pitons, setting them on his lap.

“There's no difference between embarrassed and angry for a Ko-Matoran. He'll have his revenge, and I'll take it. End of story.”

“You lost your temper with him.”

“My real punishment is right now. Nokama really knew who to send to give me the most grief, didn't she?”

“She didn't send me.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Come on, you know she's focused on Nuju right now.”

Onewa snorts. Okay, that's fair. She takes care of all of them in a lot of ways – probably more than she should – but she does pick favorites sometimes. He doesn't care, though. He doesn't want her coddling and he loves his sister no matter who she's standing up for.

“Look, Onewa,” Vakama says, taking in a deep breath. “I understand entirely that you have extra doubts about everything since what I did with the Visorak, but – ”

“Can it,” Onewa cuts him off, curving his whetstone along the underside blade of his piton. He loves that slide of protodermis on stone. “If you could get out of your head for more than five seconds you'd remember that I'm not treating you any differently than I always have. Honestly, that whole drunk-on-power shtick might be the most interesting thing you ever did in your life. No more big sad eyes. Just bright red rage.”

Vakama scowls at him. “It was monstrous.”

“I can't tell you how little I care about your pity party. Seriously, if I tried to find the words – ”

“Alright, alright,” Vakama sighs, sitting down beside him. “Well, you're certainly treating the others differently.”

Onewa examines his piton in the light. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Sure,” Vakama answers flatly. “Onewa, one way or another, couldn't we try getting off on a better foot? All of us?”

Onewa finds that pretty funny. “A tiny bit late to be asking, don't you think?”

“Now's the time. We're going somewhere new. Leaving old enemies behind. Old shadows. Speaking for myself, I can acknowledge I'm in a much better headspace to be...”

“Less aggravating?”

Vakama pins him with a look. “Whatever you need me to be.”

“How noble.”

“Onewa. You controlled Nuju today. He's going to have your head. You can't be treating the others like that. I don't know why you'd choose Nuju of all people to pick on, but whatever I need to do to help you – ”

“Did you ever meet Toa Rooka?” Onewa asks.

Vakama stops short, evidently turning this change of topic over in his head. “No,” he replies. “Saw him from afar, you know how it would go. Rooka, of course, was – ”

“Larger than life?”

“In a number of ways,” Vakama agrees. When Onewa doesn't answer, he presses on. “You knew Rooka?”

“I saw Rooka die,” Onewa says.

Vakama goes quiet. “I didn't know that.”

Onewa nods at nothing, frowning out the window.

“How did it happen?” Vakama prompts him.

Yeah, he still remembers that answer in vivid detail, no matter how the years pass. Onewa presses his thumb hard into his wrist, below his vambrace. “Dark Hunters. Long before Nidhiki started crawling around or anything, just... the war, or its remnants. I was out in the fields where the fighting had happened, part of a search and rescue thing that the Mangai were leading. All the Hunters were supposed to have cleared out, but... I wandered onto them. Had my carver's tool in my hand. I remember coming over this crest and seeing him there, more gold than brown in the sun like he was. They put an axe through most of his throat, and the ichor sprayed like crazy. He didn't make any noise or anything. I think I said his name, so I'm lucky they didn't hear me. Or maybe I said 'Toa.' I think I just said 'Toa.'”

Onewa shifts in place and shrugs. “Anyway, some of the others must have been patrolling with him, because Naho and Lhikan were already looking for him before he was gone. I didn't go fetch them or anything, but they saw me sitting on top of the rocks, watching. Naho started cleaning up Rooks, and Lhikan came and got me. He picked me up – and you can imagine how much I would tolerate that normally, but I let him that day – and he took me home. Checked on me, afterwards, and then, he just never stopped checking on me.”

He can see the second Vakama becomes tempted to cut in with some anecdote about how Lhikan was always so caring like that, wasn't he, and Onewa cuts him off sharply.

“So I'm saying you aren't the only one who lost him, Vakama.”

“I never said I was,” Vakama shoots back, with a little of that Fire Toa heat.

“Yeah? You act like it sometimes. Now you know. And whatever, okay, you were stuck in your head, that's fine. But if you could stop acting like this is the fire-spitter show for two minutes, it would help me out, thanks very much.”

“It's always something I'm doing wrong, isn't it?”

“And here we go, right on schedule.” They glare at each other for a second before Vakama reels himself in, puffing out this hot, annoyed breath and crossing his arms over chest.

“So, what? You're saying you're just grieving, then, and that has you tearing into Nuju for no reason?”

“First of all, the reason was that he's insufferable. But no, that's not what I'm saying. I'm saying – it's been on my mind – I just thought you should know that I miss him too.”

“Oh.”

Onewa twists his vambrace around unhappily. “Yeah, fucking 'oh.' And I know that I've been an ass too. And now there's a lot to adjust to, and I don't know, Vakama. I only ever started following you to whatever degree I did – or sticking with any of the five of you – because I thought it's what he would want. But now look at us. Are we really getting anywhere? I'm supposed to believe we can lead a whole society of Matoran now? I don't understand why he picked us. Any of us, sometimes. But I loved him too.”

Vakama sighs and spreads his hands in an open gesture. “I know you did, Onewa. I know you're not actually... I don't know. Unkind.”

Onewa scoffs, shaking his head. “Really? How would you know that?”

Vakama frowns. “Well, I know you're not.”

“And you're so sure?”

“Yes,” says Vakama simply.

Onewa drops his hands into his lap, frowning back at him.

“Onewa,” says Vakama. “I would rather be your brother than your enemy. We all would.”

“So you're asking me to start being nicer and then we're good?”

“I'm asking you to follow me,” Vakama replies, which is pretty fucking bold, considering what they were just talking about.

“Why should it be you?” Onewa asks. “What have you ever done to deserve my loyalty? Two weeks ago you ran off on your own back to Metru Nui! Why would it ever be you?”

“Are you so opposed to it?”

He's not, Onewa realizes, turning irritably back to his other piton. No. He thinks Vakama could do it, actually. He saw him there at the end of the Visorak, coming back to them as himself, somebody upright and certain, if worn. He saw a leader.

“Maybe you're just not used to following, to being part of a team,” says Vakama, softer. “Which is fine. But here we are, Onewa. You're looking at your future and realizing we're all going to need to be leaders, together. We're going to need to be united. And not just to save our own tails when trouble comes, but because...”

His hand moves towards the other ship in the sky behind them, and Onewa stares out at it. He knows. There are hundreds of Matoran there who will need all six of them. United. There are Matoran who might need someone to carry them somewhere safe, and then to look after them. And that's him, somehow, him and these others. Because Toa Rooka and Toa Lhikan and the others are all gone, and Onewa and these five beings here with him – they're what's left. No other options, not anymore. Onewa and his brothers and sister.

“Deep down, I think that starts your heartlight flashing in a way you're not used to,” Vakama continues. “So maybe instead of telling us you're nervous, or scared – ”

“Watch it, fire-spitter.”

“ – you lash out. But Onewa, the reason that it should be me – just so we're all on the same tablet – is because that's the leader the others chose. And I have not done anything to deserve that. In fact, I've done plenty to be banished from your sights forever. But here we are. Call it destiny, or Lhikan's hope for us, or even say it's only because this is the fire-spitter show, I don't care. Here we are. I never want to be five minutes late to helping you because you didn't call for me, Onewa. I want to be your brother. I'm asking that you fall in line at my side – and all of our sides – and start accepting what we are now stepping into.”

“Well.” Onewa looks down at his pitons again, touching the cold metal for a second. “Maybe I don't know how to do that.”

Vakama hums at him. “I think you do.”

Say what you want about Vakama, but truthfully, this is that Fire Toa bravery they always talk about coming out to play, because in that moment, he has the nerves to put his stupid fucking hand on Onewa's shoulder.

“By the way,” Vakama adds, as he claps his armor and then starts to rise. “You're more gold than brown in the sun, too. Think I know where you got that from. I can't be Lhikan, but I'd be happy to check on you instead. Whatever happens, you won't be alone. We all want to be in this with you, no matter what comes next. Believe it or not, brother, but... we have your back.”

Onewa covers his mask for a second, sucking in a deep breath.

“This is real, huh? This... I'm really stuck with all five of you forever. Lhikan's really dead. It's the five of us. Mata Nui. You lot are stuck with me!”

He can grasp that Vakama's trying to be a cool and collected leader who came to give him words of wisdom, but really, when he breaks and start cracking up... Onewa thinks it's a good sound. Been a long fucking time since he heard Vakama laugh like that, bent over himself and covering his mouth. Or maybe never. Maybe he never knew Vakama when he was full of laughter. He shakes his head and turns away from his brother.

“I have your back too,” Onewa says. “At the end of the day, at least.”

“Yes,” Vakama says, smiling at him. “I know that. I'll see you later, Onewa.”

Then he's gone. Self-righteous forger.

Onewa looks back at the other ship again, the spheres that hold his people gleaming just a few bio away, and he's no tower-loving Ko-Matoran with a penchant for star-gazing of any kind, but in that moment, well... when he closes his eyes and lets himself imagine, he thinks he sees the future.

Yeah, Nuju's going to kick his ass. But there will be good things too. And bad things. And mistakes. And triumphs. The six of them will navigate it together.

He knows what Vakama means to do before he does it.

Maybe Onewa always knew it would be the price. He doesn't know how any part of him was ready for this, but somehow, he is. He sees Vakama reaching out his hand, and he doesn't feel scared. He isn't surprised. He's ready.

Vakama touches the Matoran sphere. A light begins to change him. When it's done, he's not Toa Vakama anymore, and Onewa feels the others staring at him and the spheres in silence. Onewa steps up beside him. He puts his hand on the next sphere over.

thanks for reading <3

#bionicle #onewa #vakama #white light writes #oh yeah and i ignored Nuju's clicking because the retcon is DUMB there i said it

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prettywordsyouleft · 7 months ago

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Every Damn Time

Pairing: Park Jinyoung x female reader

Genre: emotional angst-fluff

Tropes: established relationship

Warnings: mentioning of declining health of side character, main protagonist is expressing their fears over it.

Word count: 659

Author’s Note: I wrote this back in January, when this situation happened to calm myself down from the fright of it all. Naturally, this piece is a little personal.

Jinyoung barely had a moment to react, and yet he did so instinctively. Catching you before you knocked both of you to the ground, he went to laugh and asked why you were so greedy for his embrace, only to stop himself when he felt your body shudder.

Instantly, he was on red alert. “Y/N, what’s wrong?”

“Need you,” came out with a choked sob, and Jinyoung rearranged his hold on you.

He pulled you firmly against him, caging your shaking body so you felt protected and safe. And that was enough to unleash your emotions. It killed him to have no clue why you had entered his home and ran to him like this. He wanted to rage in your honour, ask who did this to you, uncover every little detail so he could put together a plan. So he could be the one to solve this and never let it make you break like this again.

But as he continued to hold you, rocking your body and letting out soothing noises, his mind came down from the height it had gone to.

Jinyoung had been working late yesterday and into the early hours of today, which wasn’t unusual for him, and he had almost sent you a message out of habit but realised the time was late. He remembered frowning when he had seen your last active time stamp to be after one am, yet he considered you probably had struggled to sleep and then fallen into slumber eventually.

But now he wasn’t so sure. What had kept you up so late into the night? He had his suspicions, and you finally confirmed them a moment later. “She fell.”

“How?”

“I’m not sure. I was in bed and woke to a loud bang. I thought it was one of the cats and went to check, but the TV had crashed into the wall and she was completely dazed,” you said quietly, not objecting when Jinyoung gently led you to the couch and pressed you down until you sat before he crouched down in front of you.

“She’s completely fine, well, a few bruises are going to come up, but I was just so scared. I keep having these moments where I get complacent with Mum’s illness and then she declines and something like this happens and I just—” Tears welled in your eyes and he reached forward to brush them aside, your watery gaze connecting with his. “It’s only going to get worse.”

“With time. Your mother has plenty of time still.”

“I feel like I’m going out of my mind. I could barely sleep worrying something would happen as she rested. I’ve made plans to move my things out to the study nook so I can be right there if she needs me. I’m going to have to monitor her closely. It all feels so overwhelming.”

“You should have rung me. I would have come over immediately. “

You sighed, nodding softly. “I wanted you there.”

“You needed me,” he corrected, and you nodded a second time.

“I always need you. I worry the strain I’m holding will end up breaking you when I lean on you.”

Slapping a shoulder, Jinyoung cracked a grin. “Why do you think I built these up?”

It delighted him when a small, exasperated smile curled up your lips. “You fool.”

“You need me at any time of the day or night, and you know I’ll be there.”

“Really?”

“What are boyfriends for if they can’t promise that?”

“To look pretty and carry heavy things?” You pretended to ponder, and Jinyoung tsked loudly before reaching for your hands, rubbing the coolness out of them.

“I don’t ever want to let you stress to the point of crashing into me like that again. But if it does happen, I’ll catch you, okay?”

“You’ll catch me?” you repeated, eyes wide with emotion.

His throat felt tight as he nodded. “Every damn time.”

_________________

[GOT7 Masterlist] | [Main Masterlist]

#kwritersworldnet #kdiarynet #park jinyoung fiction #park jinyoung fanfic #park jinyoung scenarios #park jinyoung fluff #park jinyoung au #jinyoung fanfic #jinyoung scenarios #jinyoung fiction #jinyoung fluff #got7 fiction #got7 fanfic #got7 scenarios #got7 fluff #kpop fiction #kpop scenarios #kpop fanfic #prettywordsyouleft

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horangboosadan · 1 year ago

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ROCK WITH YOU [8/10]

episode eight: so let me listen to all your emotions

pairing: idol!lee chan x gender neutral!actor!reader

genre: established relationship, fluff, angst, best friend!jun, actor au, smau, on screen lovers off screen besties, intentional lowercase

synopsis: after the release of your most recent drama, the world decides that you and your co-star/best friend would be the perfect couple. the influx of positive reactions are great for your career, his career, and the drama. however, it tears at you to lie to your fans and appear dishonest towards your boyfriend. being a k-pop idol, revealing your relationship can come with unforeseen consequences. how do you tackle the onslaught of people who want the inside scoop of you and your co-star, and your boyfriend in denial about his jealousy without compromising either relationship?

wc: 2.1k

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the sound of the code being punched and the melody that sings when it's correct jolts you out of your half-sleep state. the creak of the door opening and the click of it closing has you shake your head. the soft footsteps making their way in your direction has your brain hurt as your mind filters through a million thoughts that have so far kept you from sleeping since you came home.

maybe it’s for the better―you get a chance for your circadian rhythm to adapt back to where it��s supposed to be.

“i brought food,” says chan as he enters the living room. he smiles; a huge grin that seems to lighten every load on your shoulders and clear your mind of whatever fears were coursing through it. the grin stays all the way over to the couch, only disappearing as he leans down to press a kiss to your lips. “i missed you.”

“i missed you, too.” you return his smile. “and i love you for bringing food because i haven’t really eaten anything all day.”

he sets the bag of food on the coffee table and seats himself next to you on the couch. “thought so. i wasn’t sure you’d even be awake.”

“somehow, i was too exhausted to even sleep,” you say. you’re half joking, but you’re aware of the slight nervousness in your voice. chan usually picks up on it, but you’re not sure if he’ll chalk it up to exhaustion or realize that there is something on your mind keeping you from resting.

“then we eat and go to sleep. we both need it.” he kisses you, and starts to take the food out of the bag.

your heart hammers in its cage. there’s a nagging feeling at the back of your mind telling you there isn’t anything to worry about, that you’ve been seeing things in his messages because you want to, because you know you won’t stand up for your own discomfort when it comes to the whole leaning into a romantic interest in jun. however, the moment chan says anything, you’ll do something. maybe seungkwan and vernon were wrong.

yet, there’s that pit in your stomach that keeps telling you that chan isn’t his normal self. his unusual long time in answering texts, his lack of trying to find time to actually talk after your first week away, his short answers, and his sudden lack of emojis whenever he said ‘i love you’ or ‘i miss you’. a part of you wants to tell yourself your just reading into it, that your exhaustion is taking over, but your gut says differently.

you’ve always trusted your gut.

“tell me about your trip,” says chan as he hands you a pair of chopsticks, already broken apart and ready to use.

you shake your head. “hmm, it was nice. a lot of bad weather, but that was the reason we shot there in the first place, apparently. the cast is nice, the crew was nice, and everything went very smoothly, but mostly i couldn’t enjoy myself due to a lack of sleep and breaks. i had a few on set, but my role is big enough that i didn’t have as much time to sit down as i wanted to.” you stop talking by starting to eat, figuring it can be a good excuse to not say anything else.

chan doesn’t say anything, but he’s looking intently at you. his gaze makes you feel loved, but it also feels piercing, as if he can see right through you. see your worries. see your exhaustion. “eat up, okay? you look like you need a good nights sleep.”

“thanks for the compliment," you say and huff jokingly.

“i didn’t mean it like that!” he says quickly. he takes your free hand with his and uses his thumb to caress the back of your hand. “you always look good, okay?”

you pout and look down. you both know it’s an act, but you like doing it. you like having him dote on you, which is exactly what he proceeds to do as he cups your face with both hands and lifts your head so you look at him. “you’re the most gorgeous, beautifulest, prettiest, handsomest, whatever adjective you want, person in the world.” with each adjective, he presses a kiss to your lips, and he continues after until you stop pouting and your lips draw into a smile.

“and even more so when you smile,” he adds and kisses you again.

it helps. it helps you regain energy, and it helps some of those worries slip away. whatever this jealousy thing is―if vernon is correct―you know that you’re not going to lose chan because of it.

all the tension in your veins seeps out. the thought of how much chan loves you, of how much you love him, fills them with warmth instead. a soft, cuddly warmth that doubles when chan puts an arm around you and drags you into his side.

you eat like that for a while, snuggled up together. chan feeds you bites of food, and you’re pretty sure you’re gonna fall asleep. however, as the food runs out, your worries haven’t disappeared enough for you to let go of them.

“i’ll clean up, okay? just get ready for bed and i’ll see you in there.” chan lets go of you. the warmth of his arm disappears and he gets up to start gathering the trash.

he doesn’t get far before you grab his hand and pull him back down onto the couch. “not yet,” you say.

chan laughs and pulls you in for a hug. “you missed me that much?”

you lightly punch at him, not letting go of the hug as you nod. maybe you are holding him back for another reason, but you did really miss him that much. so much you don’t want to let go of him, so much that you couldn’t be happier with the knowledge that you have all of tomorrow to spend together.

“yeah, i did,” you say as you pull out of the hug, “but there is something else.”

chan cocks his head. “something’s wrong?”

you grimace and shrug. “i don’t know.” the words won’t come. you don’t want to startle him, to scare him, to have him withdraw because he doesn’t want to discuss it. what if seungkwan’s right and he feels stupid for his feelings and therefore won’t talk about them? but you’ve been together for two years already, you know how to be honest with each other.

“okay, so, i just need to know how you feel about this whole dating rumor between me and jun,” you say. “i know you said you’re fine, but i want you to be completely honest.”

“i’m fine.” chan smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “i mean it. it’s fine. i know that it’s not true, and whatever the world may think, i know the truth.”

you want to believe him. you want to just say, ‘okay, let’s go to bed’, but you know he’s not telling the truth. “you don’t have to be fine with it.” you swallow, trying to keep your voice level, clear, and without the shake to it you can hear so well. you’re an actor, you should be able to do this, but somehow, without a camera, you never manage to. “i mean it. you don’t have to be fine with it. i wouldn’t be. i would hate seeing you with someone else. i would hate it even more if everyone wanted you to be with someone else. babe, i get jealous of you flirting with carats on lives and fancalls.”

the silence is loud. chan avoids your gaze, looking instead at his hands as he fiddles with the strings of his hoodie. you take his hand, intertwining your fingers and squeezing. “it’s okay.”

his voice is barely above a whisper when he speaks. “it’s stupid,” he says, and your heart breaks.

“it’s not stupid.” you use your other hand to lift his head up to look at you. “i am telling you, whatever you’re feeling, it is not stupid.”

“i don’t like it. i don’t like feeling this way, i don’t like seeing everyone talk about you, i don’t like all the comments about the two of you. they even asked on my live, about you and jun. i think i did well not to make it obvious, but i hated it. but it’s so stupid to feel this way when i know you and jun, and i know you’d never think of each other that way.” he sniffles. a tear runs down his cheek. you wipe it away. “seeing people talk about you as if you’re with someone else makes me feel like i don’t matter.”

you pull him close in a tight hug. he buries his head in the crook of your neck. “baby, i’m sorry,” you say. his arms tightens around you, holding you as close as possible. you don’t pull away, waiting for him to decide when he doesn’t need a hug anymore.

it lasts for what feels like forever and the blink of an eye at the same time. a mixture of feelings spread out through your body. you can’t tell what it is, can’t tell how you’re feeling as chan pulls out of your hug. somehow, you know what you want to do next;

make sure all these rumors and theories and whatever they are stop.

“i love you, you know that, right?” you ask. you lean your forehead against his.

“i know. i love you, too.” he kisses you. you kiss back, keeping him close before he pulls away.

it’s still a short kiss, but it has you remember all the things you love about him. the way he smiles, the way he talks, the way he dances, the way he laughs. all the things that had you fall for him in the first place, the reason why it hurts you so much to see him hurting.

when you pull away, you only have one thought on your mind.

“do you wanna tell the world?”

it’s a big question. going public about your relationship could jeopardize your careers. it will have more consequences for his as an idol than yours as an actor, and it would put you both in the limelight for something other than what you want to be there for. you’ve worked hard to keep your relationship private, to keep your private life out of the public eye. but that one kiss and this whole conversation made you realize that you love chan enough to risk it.

chan pulls away. he takes your hand in his and intertwines your fingers. “i want everyone to know how much i love you,” he says. “but are you sure?”

you shrug. “i don’t know what might happen if we do, but you’re hurting so much because of all this talk about me and jun that i don’t know how else to battle it. there’s still so much of it that im not sure if it will blow over when the drama ends.” you take a deep breath and smile. “and i love you so much that i’m willing to risk whatever consequences may come.”

“really?” there’s something hopeful in his voice, something ready to agree. “you’re absolutely sure?”

“yes. i love you and i want the whole world to know.” you kiss him. “it’s not like we’d be announcing it right this second, and we can still think about it, but maybe that’s the next step.”

chan grins. “i love you, too.” he presses a kiss to the back of your hand, fingers still entwined. “does this mean i can openly flirt with you at all times?”

“i guess.” you laugh. “but the deal is you stop overusing that smirk emoji.”

“i love that emoji. it gets the point across.”

“well, i don’t need it to know what you’re trying to say, though. i know exactly what’s on your mind.” you smile, a giddy feeling now coursing through your veins. “also, you have to stop saying sleep whenever you don’t actually mean to sleep.”

chan fakes a shocked look. “what? you want me to say sex every time? even in front of other people?”

you hit him lightly. “i don’t want you to talk about it in front of other people at all,” you say and start to get up from the couch. “c’mon. let’s clean up, go to bed, and maybe i’ll have enough energy to sleep tomorrow.”

chan pulls you back down by your hands still entwined. “we can always sleep now,” he says, and kisses the corner of your mouth.

there is no one in the entire world you love more then lee chan, and he continues to make you love him more every single day. even with the nervous tension that comes with revealing your relationship to the public, the prospect of your future together looks brighter than ever.

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boo talks

a written chapter for a change. they finally talked! i really like this chapter but my god is the change between doing texting and actually writing it out hard at times (i think i rewrote this like three times before i was happy with it, and im still not actually sure im happy with it...) anyways, im currently on christmas break from uni (finally done with exams and at least one went well and we'll see), which may mean more one shots and hopefully a christmas themed one? idk, but i hope...

#caratlibrary #caratsland #svt smau #dino smau #seventeen x reader #dino x reader #seventeen #svt #chan x reader #lee chan #dino

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t0ast-ghost · 5 months ago

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Here’s my thoughts on Star Trek V: The Final Frontier

There’s swear words, star trek, and spoilers oh my!

Start it up:

- “The planet of galactic peace.” Somehow. I don’t believe that.

- This guy on his horse looks like death

- “Let us explore it together.” Come take my hand. Let us take ibuprofen together.

- It’s hard to dislike Sybok when he smiles like that so they have to add in a somewhat evil laugh

- Epic music is a go (Music by Jerry Goldsmith)

- “‘You’ll be able to relax’ you call this relaxing? I’m a nervous wreck. If I’m not careful I’ll end up talking to myself.” Kirk convinced him to come here and now he has to watch his idiot husband climb a rock

- Kirk knows Spock and McCoy are there to catch him when he falls but goddamnit if they aren’t both really tired of his shit

- No but seriously what is with science fiction and thinking ‘yeah there’s a race of cat people’ looking at you too doctor who

- Caithlin Dar is awesome already.. I don’t trust Talbot (edit: haha too bad they’re characters don’t really do anything anyway)

- Scotty narrating is my favourite actually

- UHURA IS AWESOME

- are Uhura and Scotty dating?

- “Admit it. We’re lost!” “All right, we’re lost. But we’re making good time.” Didn’t know I needed Sulu and Chekov to go hiking together but I do

- “Yes uh- yes, we’ve been caught in a blizzard.” *Chekov starts blowing into the microphone* god I love them. He just went with it!

- Bones ringing the triangle out of spite and love

- The husbands sitting down and eating beans. Why would they make star trek about literally anything else

- Coming back strong with the extra wh sound (it was in the last movie when McCoy said whales)

- The trivia panel is telling me that one of the goofs is Kirk calling Tennessee whiskey bourbon and it looks like something Spock would write

- McCoy laughing and talking about Spock’s Vulcan metabolism and Spock indulging by saying he’s also half human and McCoy responding with “well it certainly doesn’t show” to which he knows Spock’ll take as a compliment. Yes I do need old married mcspirk.

- “You know, you two could drive a man to drink.” Then Kirk with all the innocence and nonchalance in the world says, “me? What did I do?” “What did you do? You really piss me off, Jim.”

- McCoy is lecturing Kirk cause he can’t take anymore of his almost dying bullshit

- “I knew I wouldn’t die because the two of you were with me.” “I do not understand.” “I’ve always known I’ll die alone.” I’m about to cry because this is true. He dies in a distant future without either of them. Thinking about it they all somewhat die alone. Maybe Spock was there for McCoy but we never see his death. And Spock dies in an alternate past :(((

- “It’s a mystery to me what draws us together…Other people have families.” “Other people, Bones, not us.” They are each other’s family.

- SPOCK ROASTING A MARSHMALLOW (not sure why they call it a ‘marsh melon’)

- This is the silliest thing they could have possibly put in a movie (this is like a comfort fic but a movie and I am so here for it)

- “God, I liked him better before he died.” McCoy is getting nasty and Kirk is now like ‘well time to sleep’

- “Life is not a dream.” “Go to sleep, Spock.”

- Why is the head Klingons outfit so cunty. Why’re the Klingons so silly?

- They caught Spock in his jammies

- “Well gentlemen, it seems shore leave has been cancelled.” They can’t go on ONE DATE

- Why’re they huddled together on the ship like that?

- “‘All I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by.’” “Melville.” “John Masefield.” “Are you sure about that?” “I am well versed in the classics, Doctor.” “Then how come you don’t know Row, Row, Row Your Boat?” Spock makes the most frowny and tired face imaginable. I think McCoy was justified in biting back there cause imagine you wake up, get in a shuttle, and then get corrected. All I’m saying is Spock was being a bit of a know it all (wouldn’t have him any other way)

- “*laughs* I don’t think I’ve ever seen him happier.” McCoy is so jolly in this one

- The yeoman with Kirk’s jacket is played by Shatner’s daughter

- HE ACTUALLY HAS A SHIRT THAT SAYS ‘go climb a rock.’ omg

- That fucking outfit oh my goodness

- “What’s the matter, Jim?” “I miss my old chair.” And then it switches to Spock who’s going :[

- Love how the Klingons all know who Kirk is. Like he’s THAT important

- Aww Kirk can’t write his diary :((

- Their silhouettes are so cute (34:06) (also they look like how aliens coming out of a spaceship look, I just think that’s neat)

- McCoy has to turn on the lights like, ‘stop sulking in the damn dark.’

- “Imagine that, a passionate Vulcan.” What McCoy? You want Spock to be more passionate?

- “This is Captain Pavel Chekov speaking.” He’s so silly for that. But also it’s probably best he doesn’t say ‘acting captain’ as that would arouse suspicion cause as everyone knows the captain is always the first to go on dangerous away missions

- What’s going on? Why is Uhura dancing ? What.

- What. Was. That. Scene. Why.

- “Spock.” “Yes, captain?” “Be one with the horse.” “Yes, captain.” Oookay

- “Hold your horse, captain.” Good one.

- Spock just. He just nerve pinched that horse.

- Spock does not know how to deal with seeing his estranged brother again (yeah I was spoiled) so, “you are under arrest for seventeen violations of the neutral zone treaty.” Is what he went with

- Sybok complimented and then winked at Kirk HE IS TAKEN

- “We’re going to forego the tractor beam and fly her in manually.” “Manually?” “How often have you done this?” “Actually it’s my first attempt.” Personally wouldn’t trust anyone else to attempt that other than Sulu. He is THAT bitch (/pos)

- EXPLOSION!!!!! CRASHHHH

- whooo space stuff! Sorry the photon torpedo just missing as the enterprise went into warp was cool

- Spock’s got a gun!

- McCoy comes out of the ship and is so confused and looks to Spock and Kirk

- Ohhh no. Sybok is gonna do his thingy magic thing to Sulu and Uhura with Scotty watching ‘em from above

- “What you have done is betray every man on this ship.” “Worse. I have betrayed you. I do not expect you to forgive me.” “Forgive you? I ought to knock you on your goddamn ass.” “If you think it would help.” “You want me to hold him, Jim?” “You stay out of this. Why, Spock? Why?” Lots to think about in this dialogue. But I think McCoy offering to hold Spock is him going ‘Jim you’re overreacting can’t you see he’s already remorseful?’ I could be misreading but if you understand it as the idea of McCoy holding him down is so redundant because Spock is strong enough to get out of his grasp easily but probably wouldn’t resist in this moment then it’s just like aughhhhhh

- Also Kirk asking Spock to shoot someone is bad enough. But the fact that it was his brother…

- Kirk is in disbelief. He didn’t know his own husband has a brother (half brother technically. Same Spock same.)

- “Stop it, Jim! Spock could no more kill his own brother than he could kill you. If you want to punish him for what he’s done, why don’t you throw him in the brig? Besides, we’ve got bigger problems to deal with.” Bones not only defending Spock, but also getting them back on track

- Apparently both Gene Roddenberry and William Shatner didn’t like that Sybok was Spock’s brother. Roddenberry didn’t think that Sarek would have a child with another woman (I kinda agree but also Pon Farr would’ve made him become engaged to a Vulcan before he met Amanda, so it’s not completely unthinkable). And Shatner didn’t like it cause it was too much like ‘a soap opera plot line’ but they went with it so that Spock’s actions made sense with the way he acted towards Sybok. I personally like that Spock has siblings he never told anyone about. It’s funny.

- lmao this time Kirk gets to stand on top of Spock to reach something (See patterns of force)

- Spock talking about himself in the third person because he doesn’t want to admit that he couldn’t get out of the brig

- “The bond between these three is strong, difficult to penetrate. This will be quite a challenge.” IT’S CAUSE THEY’RE MARRIED

- It’s funny that- canonically - Sybok can sense a really strong bond between them

- Kirk and McCoy’s ass I mean- oh look it’s Spock. With rocket boots!

- Spock holding onto Kirk and McCoy for their dear lives

- “I believe I overshot the mark by one level.” “Nobody’s perfect.” McCoy keeps saying this to Spock and I think it’s healing. Also flirting.

- They’re lit really nicely

- McCoy is NOT having this “Sounds like brainwashing to me.” You’re so right, back OFF Sybok

- (drawable moment 1:08:17)

- “Your pain is the deepest of all. I can feel it. Can’t you?” OH WAIT WE GET TO SEE MCCOYS PAIN WHAT

- I have no words for this scene. Holy Shit.

- Forced therapy

- Oh they all get to see each others pain cause they’re connected

- Spock gets to see his own birth… why. What.

- young Sarek 😧😳😳😳

- “So human.” YOU FUCKED THE HUMAN SAREK. God he’s such a bitch.

- SPOCK FOR THE WIN!! He’s not leaving

- MCCOYS STAYING WITH HIS HUSBANDS!!! YEAH LETS GOOO! (Personally I don’t think McCoy would go with Sybok at all, but I wasn’t sure what the writers were gonna do and I was scared they would make him leave)

- I know we’ve moved on from this but maybe Sarek saying that Spock was human was like saying ‘he’s got your eyes’ like comparing Spock to Amanda in appreciation. We’ll never know but it’s still a bitchass thing to say.

- Kirk has a plaque with ‘To boldly go where no man has gone before’ what a nerd

- They’re really hot in their uniforms

- hi god

- Kirk wants to ID god. Fair enough.

- There’s McCoy in the corner. Losing his religion

- “I doubt a God who inflicts pain for his own pleasure.” YEAH McCoy’s not standing for this shit

- Oh so Sybok wasn’t the enemy. Yeah that’s a good ending for his character. Saying bye to sock and asking for forgiveness

- “Beam up Spock and Dr. McCoy now.” “Now, just a damn minute-” Kirk said that so fast so that his husbands couldn’t argue with him

- “I am a foolish old man.” “Damn you, sir. You will try.” Spock ain’t fucking around. Also he picked up a couple of words from McCoy

- “I thought I was going to die.” “Not possible, you were never alone.” Throw me out an airlock I need some air

- SORRY the immediate moment after that was SO MUCH WORSE “Please, captain. Not in front of the Klingons.” THEY WERE ABOUT TO MAKE OUT SLOPPY

- “Cosmic thoughts, gentlemen?” “We were speculating. Is god really out there?” They were having a nice quiet conversation and it’s a shame they didn’t show it :(

- KIRK TALKING ABOUT SAM??? Oh no he was implying it was Spock

- this ending- I’m not okay.

Unfortunately I really enjoyed this one. William Shatner made a movie that was so shippy and was oblivious to it the entire time.

I know it took a really long time for me to post this one because I wanted to watch undiscovered country first, I haven’t watched it yet but I felt I needed to finally edit and post this one. I hope you enjoyed my silly little thoughts.

Star trekking across the universe. Get that stuck in your head.

Masterpost

#star trek #star trek v: the final frontier #james t kirk #captain james kirk #spock #s'chn t'gai spock #leonard bones mccoy #doctor mccoy #sybok #nyota uhura #hikaru sulu #pavel chekov #montgomery scott

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beanghostprincess · 1 year ago

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Sanuso incorrect quotes!!

(some are slightly suggestive)

Sanji: When you said 'Magic in Bed', I wasn't expecting this... Usopp: *pulls out card from deck* Now, was this your card? Sanji: Oh damn-

Sanji: Just be careful, Usopp! Usopp: *heading out the door* I'm always careful, Sanji! Usopp: It's everything around me that's careless.

Usopp: I want to wake up with you every day for the rest of our lives. Sanji: I wake up at 4:30 AM every day to make breakfast. Usopp: I want to see you at some point every day for the rest of our lives.

Usopp: I fell— Sanji: From heaven? Usopp: No, I literally fell— Sanji: In love with me the moment you saw me? Usopp: MY ARM IS BROKEN! Sanji: Okay, but do you think I'm pretty? Be honest.

Usopp: Okay, but if you're not gay then why are you always holding my hand and kissing me and telling me I’m your boyfriend? Sanji: Dude- It's satire! Usopp: THAT'S NOT WHAT SATIRE MEANS!

Usopp: We both look very handsome tonight. Sanji: You know, if you'd just said that I looked handsome, I would have said, "So do you." Usopp: I couldn't take that chance.

Usopp: Hey, wanna take a shower with me? Sanji: I have a gun in that nightstand beside the bed. If I ever say no to that question, I want you to take it out and shoot me because I’ve obviously gone crazy.

Usopp: We should get you to a doctor for a check up immediately. What if it happens again, and there isn’t anyone around to help you? What if it’s congenital? Oh my God! Was it me? Did I hurt you? Sanji: …You realize any other person that made their partner pass out on bed would simply feel really proud of themselves, right?

Sanji: Is something burning? Usopp, leaning seductively on the counter: Just my desire for you. Sanji: Usopp, the toaster is literally on fire.

*Usopp comes home absolutely drunk, undresses, and stands in Sanji’s bedroom.* Sanji: Mon trésor, are you.. coming to bed? Usopp: No thank you, I’m sure you’re lovely but I have a girlfriend. Usopp: *Lies on the ground and falls asleep* Sanji: ...

Sanji: The stars are so beautiful... Usopp: They're just giant balls of gas. Sanji: You know what, if you're just going to ruin this, then- Usopp: And yet none of them are as huge as my love for you. Sanji: Oh...

Sanji: *banging a pen on the table out of frustration* Usopp: Stop that. How would YOU feel if I banged you on the table? Sanji: I— Sanji: I don’t know the correct answer to that question.

Sanji: When we started dating, you know what Usopp often said to me? Nami: Please stop flirting with other people?

Usopp: So, what’s Sanji's type? Nami: Brown eyes, kind, oblivious, good sense of humor, turtle lover. Usopp: Sounds kind of like me. Too bad we’re just friends. Nami: Did I mention oblivious? Usopp: Yeah, why? Nami: Okay, just making sure.

Zoro: Hey, what’s up? Usopp: The sky. Zoro: No, I meant like, what are you doing? Usopp: Oh, Sanji. Sanji: *highfives Usopp* Nice one, mon amour.

Robin: Wow, you and Usopp are home early from the movies. What happened? Sanji: We got kicked out because Usopp wouldn't stop yelling diving scores as people jumped off the titanic. Usopp: That last guy had a solid 8, I'm telling you!

Nami: I like your top, Sanji! Usopp: I have a name, you know. Sanji: *sighs* Why. Why are you like this.

Nami: Who do we know that has handcuffs? Usopp: Well Sanji and I- Sanji: *elbows Usopp* Usopp: ...wouldn't know.

Sanji: sapnu puaS. Nami: What?? Usopp: What language is that. Sanji: Turn your phone 180 degrees <3 *Sanji was removed from the groupchat*

Usopp: Sorry, I'm late to the party. I've been doing things. Sanji, entering in an unbuttoned shirt: I got caught up doing things too. Chopper: Wow, Usopp was late too! What a coincidence!

Usopp: Where are you going? Sanji: To get MYSELF a gift cause somebody didn't get me one! Usopp: I told you I did! Its coming here on Friday! Zoro and Nami, knowing full well that Usopp got Sanji an engagement ring: *eating popcorn*

Sanji, holding a rock: Usopp just gave this to me and said "I feel like you deserve the moon but all I can give you is a rock". Nami: If you don't marry him, I will.

Zoro: So, are you two dating now? Sanji & Usopp: Yes. Zoro: Why? Sanji: I happen to find Usopp very appealing. Zoro: Yeah, I can understand that. I'm trying to figure out what's wrong with Usopp.

Usopp: *yawns* Sanji: Yeah, being that pretty must be tiring. Usopp: Then you must be exhuasted. Nami: Will you two shut up? Some of us are lonely and have their girlfriends very far away.

Usopp: Come on, Nami. Nobody actually believes that Sanji is in love with me. Nami, to The Crew: Raise your hand if you think that Sanji is helplessly in love with Usopp. *Everyone raises their hand* Usopp: Sanji, put your hand down.

Usopp: Sanji annoyed me today so I told him that I can’t wait to see what they have planned for our special day tomorrow. Nami: There is nothing special about tomorrow. Usopp: But there is something special about watching the color leave his face as panic takes over.

Usopp: This food is too hot... I can't eat it. Sanji: You’re very hot, and I still eat you. Everyone at the table: *silence* Nami: YOU GUYS ARE DISGUSTING! Zoro: One dinner... I just want ONE DINNER!

#these were funny to make ngl #i love them so much they're both stupid #shout out to nami and zoro being always there #also transfem sanji if you squint #usopp always tops here bc i like bottom sanji personally but like in my head they're always switching #one piece #black leg sanji #usopp #nami #roronoa zoro #tony tony chopper #franky #nico robin #sanuso #one piece incorrect quotes

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goosewriting · 10 months ago

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“Have we met?” - Part 2

summary: Fives keeps finding himself coming to see reader, so they decide to confront him.

relationship: Fives x gn!reader

warnings: hmmm angst :^), mentions of characters’ deaths, implied brainwashing?, comfort at the end

word count: 1.7k

A/N: i'll do everything in my power to bring this man back time and time again >:')

prompts used (source): - it hurts me, just how much i ache for you - i feel your absence in everything that i do alone, in every place i go without you

Navigation: Part 1 | Part 2 (you're here!)

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

— — —

→ PART 2: When you came back to him

Several days go by without you and Fives interacting much. He’s mostly focussing on his missions, and you’re focused on your work as well, trying to distract yourself from the pain of being away from your beloved by taking shift after shift. The nights are long and cold for you, and you can barely sleep. You wonder if he feels the same at all.

One evening, a ship comes back in such a bad state, they call all hands on deck to repair it. So you go down to the hangar to work on turning whatever is salvageable from the wreck back into a working part. After taking one last sip of your caf (it was going to be a long night), you set the cup away and crawl under a panel, looking at the messy wiring. It isn’t long until you hear some steps approaching and stopping beside you.

You climb out from under the ship and see none other than Fives, just standing there, helmet tucked under one of his arms. He looks unsure and kind of tense. You lean onto the ship’s frame.

“Hey, handsome,” you greet him with your usual pet name.

“Hi,” is all he replies. You rise your brows at him, asking for him to continue, but he doesn’t. For a moment, all you two hear is the sounds of machinery and indistinct chatter of the hangar.

“So,” you stretch out the word. “What brings you here this fine evening?”

“I’m… honestly not entirely sure myself,” Fives responds, looking around as if he only now realised where he was without knowing how he got here. Then he heaves a sigh. “I found this in my last mission and had the sudden urge to bring it back for you, for some reason.”

He digs around in one of the pouches on his belt with his free hand and takes out a little rock. Offering it to you, he holds out his open palm, and you almost burst into tears right then and there. Back when you started dating, you had jokingly told Fives that on his next mission he should bring back a souvenir for you. And since then, he’d always do that, bringing you rocks or trinkets he found. Once he actually gave you one of his old armour parts, a shoulder pauldron, that got absolutely obliterated in an explosion because he hadn't had the time to get you anything better. You kept it anyway, because it was a reminder to both of you that even after going out there and risking his life, you were here waiting for him to come back to you.

And he had, every single time. Except that this time, he came back, just not to you.

Seeing that you're just staring at the rock in his hand, Fives clears his throat.

“You know what, nevermind,” he mumbles, about to put the rock back into his pouch. “It was silly anyway.”

“No, wait,” you stop him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to space out. I’ll take the rock.”

You take it into your hand to inspect it, turning it around in your fingers against the light. One half is of a brick red, while the other partially transparent, of a milky blue with specks of green and gold. It looks a bit like a galaxy, and the thought brings a smile to your face. Clutching the rock in your fist, you bring it to your chest and look up at Fives with a genuine smile.

“Thank you,” you say, tilting your head to the side slightly. “It’s been a while since you brought me one of this colour.”

“Right…”, he says and starts studying your face, but then his hand shoots up to his head as he takes a sharp breath through his teeth.

“Are you okay?” You reach out to him, but he takes a step back.

“I-I’m fine,” he says through gritted teeth, trying to calm his pained breaths. “Sorry to interrupt you while you’re working. I better get back.”

“See you around, I hope?” you ask, hugging yourself.

He leaves with a nod, but you could have sworn you heard him say “me too” under his breath.

This goes on for a couple of rotations; Fives suddenly appearing at your workstation in the hangar looking like he’s lost, or entering your workshop only to come to a sudden halt, as if he forgot why he’s there right after passing the door. Often he'd have a little trinket for you. Other times he’d just come by to say hi. But every time you try to bring up something from your past together, his head starts hurting and he leaves.

At some point, you decide you've waited long enough. You'd get nowhere by just waiting. After all, he was coming to see you. Even if he didn’t know why himself. So now it’s time to go to him instead. You've wooed him once, surely you can do it again… right?

On a particularly frustrating day at work, after trying to design a new electrical panel for a ship and not being able to make it work after what felt like a hundred tries, you decide you need to get out and move a bit to clear your mind. You’re still grumbling and thinking about the panel, turning it over and over in your mind’s eye, trying to find the problem. All the while, your legs are walking on their own, and it’s not too long before you find yourself at the barracks of the 501st.

Standing in front of the door, you sigh, thinking back to how many times you had sneaked in and out of here. Officially, clones weren’t allowed to have romantic relationships, but you knew there were actually a handful on this ship. And everyone who was in on it kept the secret. The 501st was well aware of your relationship with Fives, and they had always been supportive, Rex included. You’re sure the Generals also suspected something, but they never said anything, for which you were thankful.

Unsure of what you even wanted to do here in the first place, you’re about to turn around and leave when the door suddenly slides open and you’re met with Fives, sans armour. He’s only wearing his blacks, a bag hanging from his shoulders; he’s going to the gym.

“Oh, hi there,” he greets you with a small smile. “Were you looking for someone?”

Screw it, you think.

“Actually, yes. You,” you answer and gesture towards his bag. “Leave it, we need to talk.”

— — —

Entering to your room, you sit down on your bed, and Fives sits down on a chair next to it.

“I’ve been wondering for a while now,” you start, fidgeting with your fingers in your lap. “Do you remember what happened on Ringo Vinda?”

The question takes Fives by surprise, but he makes an effort to try and think back to those events. He tells you what he knows, from the start of the mission to seeing Tup shoot General Tiplar, his memories ending when the Kaminoans put him under for a routine check-up.

“I had this recurring nightmare for several days after I came back,” Fives ends his retelling with a frown. “I kept seeing Tup on Kamino, in the room next to mine. He was dying and there was nothing I could do to stop it.”

You reach out to hold his hand, but as his head starts spinning again, he retracts his hand from yours at first. But this time, he reaches back for your hand with a groan, and brings it to his face so you cup his cheek.

“Every time when I’m with you, it hurts,” Fives speaks in a whisper. “My head is screaming at me to get away from you. And at the same time, it hurts me, just how much I ache for you.”

He tightly closes his eyes to refrain from crying, but the tears are already rolling down his cheeks. You feel incredibly helpless.

“Why can’t I remember who you are?” he asks, his voice breaking, just like your heart. “I don’t remember seeing your face or hearing your voice before, yet I feel your absence in everything that I do alone, in every place I go without you… I find myself looking for you wherever I go.”

By now, you can’t hold it back any more and take both his hands, pulling him to sit beside you on the bed, and hug him. This time he hugs back, and he's shaking.

“I don’t know what happened to you, Fives, but it’s okay,” you say into his shoulder, gently stroking up and down his back. “You’re back here with me. We’ll be fine.”

By the way he’s shaking, you can tell he’s trying to choke back a sob.

“It’s just you and me, sweetheart, just let it out.”

Fives starts crying properly, holding onto you for dear life, his face buried between your neck and your shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, Fives,” you say, your own tears staining his blacks. “I wish I knew what to do. I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too,” he breathes as he pulls back slightly to look at you, and for the first time since he came back to the Resolute, it feels like he’s finally properly looking at you like he used to; eyes filled with love and a little bit of mischief.

You lean in, your hands at the nape of his neck, and pull him in for a kiss. It's sweet, almost shy, like he's kissing you for the first time. He sighs into it and pulls you even closer, tilting his head to deepen the kiss.

Once you break for air, both of you panting, you lie down on the bed, pulling him down with you so he’s on top of you, and you hold his head to your chest.

“Can I stay here tonight?” Fives asks, and you can’t help the light chuckle that escapes you.

“Of course.”

You spend the next minutes in silence, just basking in each other’s presence.

“Will you tell me about us?” he asks after some time. “How we met, and how I definitely charmed you?”

You laugh, running your fingers through his hair.

“Sure thing, I’ll tell you everything.”

~~~~~

🐥 taglist: [link to join in my pinned post!] @dybynyght, @galaxtic-writings, @kalea-bane, @soka-writes-things, @padawancat97

#goose feathers #sw clone wars #the clone wars #clone trooper x reader #star wars clone wars #fives x reader #arc trooper fives x reader #clone trooper fives x reader #sw fives x reader #star wars x reader

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illuminatedquill · 9 months ago

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Ghost Stories #01

Feat. Sabine Wren & Hera Syndulla

Story Context: Sabine tells Hera about her decision to be trained as a Jedi and is met with a cold reception.

"You're going to do what?" asked Hera, her voice almost a shout at the end.

Sabine blinked, taken aback at the Twi'lek's response. It was certainly not the one she had been expecting. They were sitting in the Ghost's communal area; outside, the constant buzz of machinery and maintenance tools from the ship crew could be heard as the old freighter underwent some much-needed repairs.

Feeling uneasy, Sabine leaned back in her seat and folded her arms. "I thought you'd be supportive," she said.

Hera massaged at her temples, grimacing. "And why would you think I'd be supportive of you being a Jedi?"

Feeling defensive, Sabine countered, "You were supportive when Ezra did it. And Kanan, too, when he decided to take up that mantle again. What makes me so different?"

"That was then. This is now," Hera replied. "This is not a good idea, Sabine."

Sabine narrowed her eyes at Hera. "Ahsoka seems to think so. You know, the actual Jedi."

"Former Jedi," Hera corrected. "And believe it or not, Ahsoka thinking so doesn't make me more convinced."

"What, you have an issue with her, too? You guys always seemed friendly to me."

"That was before Malachor," Hera shot back. "Where has she been all this time during the war? She hasn't said anything to anyone. She's different now. Less . . . I don't know, just less of herself, it seems."

Sabine couldn't argue with that. Talking with her master sometimes felt like trying to conversate with a rock. Whatever happened at that Sith Temple seemed to have robbed Ahsoka of her spirit; she seemed listless on some days, adrift from herself and others.

Desperately casting around for a change of subject, Sabine asked, "Where's Jacen?"

"With his grandfather on Ryloth," said Hera. "Don't try to change the subject, Sabine."

"Fine," Sabine snapped. "I don't understand why you're so hostile about this. It's my decision. I'm an adult. What are you going to do when Jacen starts showing an interest, huh?"

"I don't know!" Hera shouted, throwing her hands up. "I'm not - I'm not strong enough, okay?"

Sabine cocked her head at her friend. "What do you mean, 'not strong enough'?"

Hera hung her head. Hands clenching into fists, she suddenly banged them on the table. Sabine jolted in her seat from the abrupt display of anger.

"Hera?" asked Sabine quietly. "What's going on?"

"Kanan. Ezra. Ahsoka. And now - you," Hera muttered. "Maybe someday, even Jacen. I'm so sick of losing people. I'm not strong enough to lose you, too."

"Losing - what? You're not going to lose me like you did with Kanan, Hera. I promise. Ahsoka came back, too, even if she's not the same as before! She's still fighting! And Ezra's still out there."

Hera turned her face back to Sabine. The younger woman felt her heart twist, seeing the cascade of tears on the Twi'lek's face.

"You're already gone, don't you get it? I've lost you. Once you decide to take that mantle - when you add 'Jedi' to your name, it's over," Hera whispered miserably. "That's the truth of this galaxy, Sabine. Jedi die."

Sabine shook her head. "Kanan died. I know that still hurts for you. But I'm still here and I promise Ahsoka isn't going anywhere either. Neither is Jacen. I'll make sure of it myself. And I will bring Ezra back," she added fiercely.

Hera smiled bitterly. "It's better if you leave him out there. Even better if he's dead. Because if Ezra isn't dead, then that means the Force isn't done with him yet. That means Ezra is destined for more suffering. For more sacrifice and heartbreak."

The Twi'lek leaned forward, her eyes glassy with bottomless pain. "Leave him be, Sabine. Don't go looking for him anymore. If you love him at all, you'll let him go."

Sabine was silent. Then, in an icy tone, she replied, "You don't mean that, Hera. I know you don't."

Hera looked away, blinking rapidly. Then, quietly, she said, "You're right. I'm sorry."

She didn't know what to say to comfort Hera. It's clear her friend had been harboring some deep conflict over the fate of her Jedi loved ones. Sabine belatedly realized that her deciding to be a Jedi was, to Hera, probably adding to that conflict.

To that buried pain.

Jacen was destined to follow in his father's footsteps someday. Maybe Hera saw Sabine as a safe option - that she would never take up the mantle and responsibility one day and could be relied upon to never break her heart the same way that Kanan and Ezra did.

Sabine wondered if she ever had nightmares about burying her one day. Or Jacen. Or Ahsoka. Outliving them all.

She wanted to hug Hera in that moment so badly. But something in the Twi'lek's demeanor told her that it wouldn't be welcome.

She stood up and made to depart. "I'll let you get some rest, Hera. We'll talk later."

Still not looking at her, Hera gave the barest of nods in acknowledgement. Sabine turned to go -

"Sabine."

She paused at the hallway leading to the docking bay.

"Follow your heart. I'll always believe in you, no matter what."

Without turning around, Sabine said, "Thanks, Hera."

"Don't thank me," came the sad reply. "You're going to be a Jedi now. Just like Kanan and Ezra. I don't get to keep you anymore."

Sabine was quiet. Listening.

"You belong to the Force now. I know you'll do well. You always have. It's in your nature to rise and meet whatever challenges come your way."

Sabine felt touched by Hera's words, yet there was a chill in her blood from the solemn way she uttered them. Finally, she worked up the nerve to turn around and face her directly.

Hera just gazed at her, but not seeing her at all - seeing through her, was the better term.

Like she wasn't there.

Like she was already a ghost.

"You have an important role to play now, Sabine. And, just like the other Jedi I loved, you'll play it . . . to the very end."

*Author's Note: Hello! So, this is just a seed of a story. Sometimes, when I'm brainstorming ideas for Sabezra fics, I'll have these conversations/scenes between characters pop up in my head, out of context. I don't know if I'll ever include these in future fics but I've decided to just start writing them down and posting them here just to keep track of. I always have ideas bouncing inside my head for stories regarding Sabine, Ezra, and the Ghost crew in general, so there will be more of these little fic-lets, I guess the term is? Except these aren't really full-fledged stories. Just short scenes.

Anyway, the genesis for this is pretty simple: I've always been interested if Hera feels conflicted about all the Jedi in her life, seeing as though they've all been met with terrible fates. I find it odd that Hera in the Ahsoka series seems all onboard for Jacen training to be a Jedi, considering what happened to his father and Ezra (and Ahsoka, to a degree). As a mother, she has to feel some trepidation about encouraging Jacen to be a Jedi - especially in that day and age. And now with Sabine - someone who is like a daughter to her - resolving to take up the mantle of a Jedi, I wanted to write out a scene where all those buried negative feelings bursts forth. I'm realizing that this is probably veering Hera into out-of-character territory, but it makes for a really good, dramatic, and angsty conflict between her and Sabine.

#sabezra #sabine wren #ezra bridger #hera syndulla #star wars rebels #ezrabine #star wars #ahsoka show #sabezra fanfiction #ghost stories 01

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andydrysdalerogers · 3 months ago

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Cross-Checked ~ Chapter 22

Andy Barber x OFC Leighton "Leia" Andrews

Summary:

Andy Barber is having the best year of his life. His game is on point. It’s gets to play with his best friend and his fiancé just... dumped him?!.

Reeling from a sudden change in status, Andy decides it’s time to just focus on hockey. Until his best friend's sister comes out with news that rock the entire organizations world.,

Andy has always carried a torch for the untouchable Leighton but in her hour of need, is now the time to shoot and score or risk getting cross - checked again?

Warnings: Cheating (but not by the MCs); slow burn; friends to lovers eventually; SMUT!; pregnancy; jealousy; handsome goalies, evil exes...

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS. Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Banners by me!

Previous: Chapter 21 It's the Playoffs, Baby!

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 22 - This Is MY Family

Andy

You ever had a dream you couldn’t wake up from? It starts like a normal dream but then it turns into a nightmare. I feel like that’s where I am right now. Why? Why can’t these fuckers just go away. I take a deep breath, remembering that my girls are in the house, and I don’t want to scare them.

“Why are you here?”

Monica scoffed. “Since when do you talk to me like that?”

“Since you won’t leave my family alone. I’ll ask again, why are you here?”

“Your family?” Bret growls. “No, you’re playing pretend with my family. They are mine!”

“Like fuck they are.” I narrow my eyes at them. “Tell me what you want and then get the fuck off my property, or I am calling the cops for trespassing. You both were already told you’re not welcome here.”

Monica smirks. “Fine, I’ll be blunt. I want you to leave my daughter and granddaughter. I’ll give you $2 million to walk away.”

“And why the fuck would I do that?” I laugh.

“And,” she continues as if I didn’t speak, “I won’t release these.” She has an envelope in her hand. “You can have these; I have more copies.”

I open them to see photos of myself, passed out, with pill scattered around. Another of me, looking higher than a kite. “What the fuck? These photos are a lie.”

“The press won’t know that,” Bret snarks. “At least not in time. Who knows when these photos were taken as well. You could have been stepping out on your pregnant girlfriend.” He shrugs with a sinister smile. “Hate for Leia to find out.”

“You motherfucker!” I get ready to lunge but Monica steps in front of him. “You might want to rethink that action. I’ll give you until Friday to make the correct choice.”

Friday. Three days from now. I have a game right in the middle of that. Avery has a check up on Friday. I’m starting to spiral. No, they won’t take them away from me, my girls are mine. “You can all get fucked.” I start to walk away but the next words stop me in my tracks.

“Fiona sends her regards.”

Don’t turn around. Don’t give them what they want, I chant in my head. I keep walking until I get to the front door. I make sure to watch as they drive away before I activate the camera. “Sweetheart, let me in.”

Twenty seconds later, the door flies open and she’s in my arms. “Andy,” she whimpers. She presses her face against my chest. She’s trembling.

“I’ve got you, my queen. Don’t worry.” I kiss the top of her head. “Everything is alright.” I hold her to me, relaxing into her warmth.

“What happened?” She looks up at me and I see her beautiful eyes.

“Nothing. Nothing is going to happen. Promise.”

“Tell me,” she presses.

I dodge her request. “Where is Avery?”

“Asleep in her crib. Andy, just tell me.”

“Not right now, love.” I pull her into a kiss which I deepen immediately. I haven’t been able to have her since the doctor cleared her. We immediately were on the road and rules are rules: the team sleeps alone. I let my hands drift down to her ass and squeeze, causing her to moan. I lick into her deeper. Fuck I need to have her. I pull back enough to breathe and grasp her under her thighs.

“Andy, what are you doing?”

“I need you, Leia. I need you so fucking bad.” I sit on our couch with her in my lap. God I can feel her hot pussy on my ever-growing cock, and she squeals as I rock her back and forth. “Can I have you?”

“Yes,” she gasps. I want you too. She starts to kiss my neck as I run my hands up her legs. She has her dress still on and all I can feel miles of smooth skin. Once I reach the apex of her thighs, I feel her tremble in anticipation. “Andy, please.”

Oh fuck. I love when she begs for me. “You like that, pretty girl?” I feel her nod. “Be a good girl and use your words.” I smell her neck and I can still smell my favorite perfume on her skin. I grow harder and she gasps, feeling my length against her heat.

“Andy, please, fuck me.”

I would be an asshole to refuse a beautiful woman. I pick her up and lay her down onto the couch. She giggles and I brush a lock of her hair away from her face. “Do you know how beautiful you are?” She shakes her head and I growl. “You are the most gorgeous creature in the world. Minus our daughter,” I add as an afterthought. I kiss her slow and soft.

“Stop teasing Barber. She’ll be awake in like 30 minutes.” Leia nips at my bottom lip and I growl at the pain. “Move your ass.”

“Oh, that’s how it is?” She gives me a cheeky smile and I’m done. I sit up and pull off my hoodie and t-shirt in one go. I lift Leia up enough to pull off her dress, leaving her in just panties. And not just any panties. They are the cotton and lace ones I had picked out for her. I bite my lip to stifle a groan. I lean back down and take one of her nipples in my mouth, sucking gently. I know she is sensitive because of her milk but I also know that it drives her wild. Her hand is in my hair, holding me to her as I lick and play with her.

“Fuck Andy, I need to feel you,” she groans out.

“I’m right here, love. Tell me what you need.”

“I need to feel your tongue on my pussy.”

“Good girl.” I slide down her body and take her panties with me. She’s already wet for me, the fabric damp with her arousal. “Such a pretty pussy, baby. I love the way you taste.” I lick up her folds and moan at her taste. I lick her until I move to her clit and gently suck on it. Her body arches up and I hold her hip to bring her down. As I work her, I can feel her body trembling.

“I’m gonna cum. Shit, Andy, I’m-” I feel her release go through her body. I take everything that she gives me. I feel like I could die a happy man from her release. I bring her down slowly and release her sensitive clit. I come off of her to undo my pants, but she scrambles up and pushes me to sit. She leans over and whispers in my ear, “I’m going to swallow you whole.”

Oh, dear god, I think I might die.

She yanks off my jeans and boxers, letting my cock spring out, hard and leaking for her. She licks me from the base to the tip like a fucking ice cream cone. I moan, loudly because, fuck is it good. She suckles the tip before taking me all the way down her throat. I put my hand in her hair, but I don’t push. I don’t need to push. She works me and its fucking perfect. She reaches for my balls and starts rolling them in her finders. “Ah, fuck, Leia, baby, I’m going to cum.” But she doesn’t stop.

I grab her by the throat gently and push her back. “Stop being a brat. I don’t want to cum in your mouth, my queen. I want my cum in your cunt.”

“The doctor put in the IUD at the last appointment,” she tells me, a glint in her eye.

“And you’re just telling me now? Naughty girl.” I pick her up and throw her onto her stomach on the couch. “Ass up, my queen. Looks like you need a spanking.” I haul up her hips and rub her soft skin before dipping in between her folds.

She whines and I laugh before I spank her. “Fuck, Andy!”

“Yes, my queen.” I smack her other cheek and dip my finger into her, feeling her squeeze my fingers. “You like it, don’t you?” I smack her again and I can feel her arousal drip down my hand. She nods and I grin, I smack her one more time before I remove my fingers and guide my cock into her. She sucks in a breath as she takes me in. We’ve only had sex a couple of times, but I already know that she likes this position the best.

I slowly pump into her, holding onto her hips. “Fuck baby, you feel so good. Nice and tight and warm. Wanna live here in you.”

“Andy, that cock is stretching me out so good. So big,” she pants. “Harder, please. I won’t break, I promise. Please.” I slowly pull out of her, letting her feel every vein and ridge of my cock before I slam back into her. Her resulting cry sounds so good. I do this a few times before I hear, “dammit Barber just fuck me.”

Whatever my queen wants, she gets.

I start to fuck her hard and quick. I start to feel that familiar spark in my spine. I want to explode in her but not until she reaches her peak first. I reach down to stroke her clit. “Come on, my queen. Let go. Tell me you’re there.”

“Andy, Andy, yes!” Her body squeezed my cock so hard I can’t move as she reached her climax. As I start to feel her loosen, I thrust a few more times before I moan my release and collapse on top of her. Our breathing starts to even out and she begins to giggle. “Best welcome home ever.”

I start to laugh as I roll us so I’m spooning her in my arms. I kiss her and feel her start to relax and her breathing slow. The reality of earlier starts to come back and my anxiety starts to rise. What was I going to do? I needed to make this right. The fact that Fiona is somehow involved made my blood boil. I had one ace up my sleeve, and I knew I needed to use it.

A small whimper came from the baby monitor. Leia began to stir but I whispered to her, “I’ll get her.” I gently climbed over her and went up to my daughter’s room. I found her about to start wailing. “Oh, princess, are we messy? Are we hungry?” I picked her up and cradled her. She immediately started to relax and open her big, beautiful eyes at me. “There she is; my princess.” As I walked over to her change table, I knew what my next step was. As I put her down, I grabbed my phone.

Andy: I need to meet with you

After I changed Avery, I picked her up and to calm her soft cries. “Papa will always take care of you, my sweet princess. Everything is going to be ok. I love you and your mama so much. I promise, nothing will happen to my family.”

The morning before the game, I went into the city to an old cafe that we used to frequent as teenagers. I looked over at Luke, who I’d clued into what was going on. His face was neutral. “Do you think I’m doing the right thing?”

“This needs to end. We lost our mother the day we lost dad. I won’t allow Leia to be bothered by this anymore.” I pulled up to the diner and took a breath. “Never thought I would have to see this asshole again.”

“Me neither.” We walked and walked into the back corner both. The man sitting there took the lollipop out of his mouth and smiled.

“Hey cupcake. Long time. “

Taglist:

@patzammit @texmexdarling @slutforchrisjamalevans @firephotogrl74 @tinkerbelle67 @before-we-get-started @bunnyforhim @alexakeyloveloki @sunnyhummingbee @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @peaceinourtime82 @saucy-sassy-sparkly @kmc1989 @kandis-mom @lokislady82

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daisybianca · 2 years ago

Text

pairing: pierre gasly x femalereader

summary: pierre comforts you after the worst nightmare ever.

warnings: fluff, mentions of death and blood scenes, anxiety

YOUR WEAK AND unsteady voice was all Pierre could hear and pay attention to at the moment. "I watched you getting crashed by the car, you face and hands c-covered in blood," Your voicing breaking audibly on the word 'blood', "Then I-I ran to you but they g-grabbed me and wouldn't let me enter the…" You were interrupted as your tears overcame you again.

Pierre hushed you and tucked your head under his neck, rocking you back and forth as best as he could lying down and still tangled in the blanket.

He knew what you had been trying to say. That he witnessed him getting killed on the track. And he also knew that was one of your worst nightmares.

You adored it when Pierre did what he loved most to do... but still. You were so, so scared for your boyfriend.

Pierre thought that it would be utterly unendurable if the situation was reversed and he was the one being forced to witness your death. But that would never happen anyway.

"Don't worry, love, it was just a dream. Just a dream, that's all. I'm okay. Nothing is going to happen because I'm always very, very careful." He reassured you, but knowing that you would have an objection to his statement, Pierre corrected myself. "Yes. I am careful. I promised to be when we first met and I always keep my promises. Especially when it comes to you."

You nodded in agreement and tried to stop the flow of tears, your body still pressed tightly against hus.

Not that he minded of course.

No, not one bit.

Hia hands continued their patterns along your back, his lips still kissing along your hair.

Soon, your tears would stop and you would lapse back into slumber, and he would remain alert, insuring no more bad dreams could enter your mind tonight.

It's the least he could do.

And, as you slept, he found himself praying to whatever God was listening to let his (y/n) make it out of this mess and never have such a dream again.

You deserved as much.

●○•°•○●

requests are always open for my wags <3

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my-autism-adhd-blog · 11 months ago

Note

Do my symptoms align with autism?

I’ve been looking into whether I might be autistic recently. I’m not self-diagnosing. I just suspect I might have autism, and I wanted to put this here to see what other people think.

Reasons why I think I am:

1. Stimming

This is definitely the main one. I think I stim way more than a neurotypical would, even when I was a kid. I pace, I walk in circles, I spin around over and over and over and over again and I don’t really get dizzy. I especially like to listen to music while doing this.

Before spinning in circles, I used to pace around in circles with my hands clenched together. It sort of helped me focus and think and daydream.

I do the spinning thing multiple times a day, and if I’m forced to go a few days without it, I get antsy and a little frustrated. (When I spin, I do it on the hardwood floor, keeping my balance by placing my hands on the back of the couch, and doing it on carpet is a lot harder. This is my favorite “type” of stim, so if I’m on a vacation where we’re at a hotel without hardwood floors, that’s why I can’t do it sometimes. But then I will anyway on carpet because I just have to.)

I do tend to rock when I’m by myself — or, swaying is more like it, but yeah, rocking too. I’ll sway a bit more than I will rock.

I’m literally pacing in circles as I type this out lol.

2. Hyperfixations/special interests

(Are those the same thing, or two different things? Please correct me if they’re classified as different things.)

I have what I’d call special interests — gender, Amphibia, Dork Diaries. I look up genders and try to learn as much about them as possible, everyday.

For Amphibia and Dork Diaries, I usually just read fanfic or write my own. The other thing I do a lot is daydreaming, though, and those are the top 2 things I daydream about. I’m constantly in my head, and I’m usually daydreaming in the back of my mind, like, all day. (About those two things.)

The thing about my hyperfixations are that I don’t talk to other people about them. (I don’t like talking in general, really.) I just keep them to myself and learn about them/daydream about them by myself. I never felt a need to share and I don’t infodump on people.

3. Fidgeting

I’m not sure if this is the same as stimming, but I’m separating these two.

Usually when I’m sitting still, I’m fidgeting. I’ll be tapping my pencil or foot 90% of the time. I do it a lot, and I don’t even notice sometimes when I do.

I don’t know where to put this either, but I also bite my nails. I don’t just bite them either, I pick them off. It calms me down and helps me relax or gives me something to do when I’m nervous or just plain bored. (I’m well aware this isn’t healthy, please don’t attack me in the comments section.)

4. Procrastination (executive dysfunction?)

I know lots of people procrastinate, but I think what I experience lines up more with executive dysfunction. (Which I’ve learned is also a trait of ADHD, so I don’t know if I have that instead.)

It’s so so hard to focus on a school task or something that’s boring. Or even something that’s exciting, like writing on a fanfic or book, I procrastinate on so much. I set plans to do things but I don’t get them done. Even when it’s something stupidly easy to do, sometimes I just don’t do it. And when it’s hard, when I don’t even know where to start, it’s nearly impossible to start. (I usually force myself to get it done anyway, with big projects, but with smaller things and little homework assignments, I don’t always do. Then I kick myself for it later.)

5. Routine

I eat the same food every day for lunch, at school. (Uncrustables sandwich, yogurt, applesauce, and/or yogurt with m&m toppings I can put it in.) At home, I eat different foods for lunch — I make my own cheese burrito when we have soft shell tacos and shredded cheese. If that isn’t available, I make cheese sandwiches. If that isn’t available, sometimes I remember other things that are quick and easy to make for lunch — like pizza rolls. And if I don’t have that either, sometimes I’ll just skip lunch entirely. Or eat a small snack that doesn’t require effort to make whatsoever, but it’s usually not enough to qualify for “lunch”.

I don’t wear the same clothes everyday, but I never go shopping. I could wear the same clothes for years and be fine with it (as long as I’ve not outgrown them). The only time I get new clothes is when I see a shirt I really like. Which is usually Stitch (Lilo and Stitch, anyone?)

It’s really hard to break routine.

So there’s this thing at my school, where you can tutor/help out at an elementary school for service hours, and eventually get a scholarship to a 2-year college. The scholarship thing is major.

It took me months just to email the teacher and ask when I could come in. I’m probably severely behind on my volunteer hours. And the stupid thing is, now it’s not even hard. I just went on the first day, and it was established that I would do it every day, so there wasn’t a way I could back out anyway. And now I go and it’s no problem. It’s so stupid.

6. Social Situations

I might have social anxiety, I don’t know. I get anxious at the thought of new situations, having to meet new people, etc. I heavily dislike talking to people I don’t know. It’s why I prefer not to talk to the cashier at McDonald’s, or rehearse what I’m going to say at the restaurant.

When people ask, “Hi, how are you?”, I answer “Good, how are you?” They say something back, maybe mention a tiny bit of what’s going on in their lives, and then it’s over. For that, I have a pre-recorded answer. For other situations, as I’ll mention later, I’m actually mostly comfortable.

I speak pretty softly, and sometimes I have to force myself to a louder volume.

7. I prefer to do things on my own

I’m independent in a lot of ways, unless I need help. (And, um, not financially independent or anything, I still live with my parents.) And even when I need help, like with homework, it’s hard to let other people help me sometimes. I prefer doing things on my own.

Reasons why I think I’m not:

1. I’m fine at social interaction.

I usually pick up on social cues, and communication has never been much of an issue for me. (Sometimes I will sort of freeze up or trail off when talking, and suddenly my brain won’t make my mouth say things. Aside from that, I communicate well.) I understand that bad social interaction was a pretty big indicator of autism, but I’m not bad at it, really.

Actually, the one difference from this is that I do have pretty bad eye contact. I try to look at people’s eyes when talking because it’s polite, but then I look away, and then I look back, and then I look away, and I don’t know how long I’m supposed to maintain eye contact before looking away again. I don’t like it.

I am deaf, and I wear Cochlear Implants for me to hear. My social interaction is affected by this, as noisy situations are notoriously difficult for me to hear in. I’m asking “What?” multiple times a day lol. Sometimes I can’t hear a word the other kid is saying in school, and I just smile and nod because that’s all I can do, because it’s just too noisy. (I’m throwing this out here in case it’s something you might need to take into consideration, but it is completely unrelated to any potential autism.)

2. I don’t have hypersensitivity (I don’t think so)

Loud sounds don’t really bother me, nor do bright lights, or textures, or certain flavors or whatever. I eat the same thing a lot because of routine, not because of uncomfortable flavors or food textures. I think there have been times when everything was just a little too much. Then I usually find the nearest bathroom to calm myself down in. I don’t know if this is overstimulation or not, tho. Or if it’s specific to neurodivergency, or just me being an introvert and getting overwhelmed by people. And it’s not that often at all.

3. Very little aggression

I know that like a lot of things, autism is a spectrum. One of the symptoms is aggression, and I have very little of that. Usually when I’m frustrated with homework and my mom’s trying to help, I’ll get snappish with her (and then apologize later, because she wasn’t doing anything wrong and only trying to help).

Sometimes I do feel really mad, but I just grit my teeth and deal with it internally instead of lashing out. Like arguing in my head until I’ve calmed down and moved on.

4. Meltdowns/Shutdowns

I’m fairly sure I don’t have either of these. I think that’s also a major autism thing, one that I don’t have.

Things That I Can’t Put Into a Category Because I Don’t Know Whether It’s Indicative of Autism or Literally Just a Me Thing:

• Repeating words and phrases: I don’t do that out loud, but I will in my head

• Vocal stims: I very rarely do these, and if I do hum or make a noise, it’s usually entirely involuntary, usually because I was excited. I don’t mean to

• Repeating words: I very rarely do that also, but it has happened before. (It happened today once, when we were playing a game. Nothing came of it, it wasn’t weird, I just repeated a word my mom said — I can’t remember what it was, not a bad one though)

• Facial expression: I don’t think I have a blank-face that many autistic people do. I’m often smiling when I’m happy, or laughing at things that are funny. (Which aren’t even that funny to other people. Sarcasm makes me laugh a lot. I laugh a lot more easily than other people do.) I feel like occasionally it is hard to force myself into a facial expression if I’m not feeling that way

• Unusual posture: I literally just looked this up. I’m basically running through all of the autism symptoms and explaining mine, and this is one of them. I think I might have unusual posture. One of the things is shifting all your weight into one leg, and that’s something I definitely do, especially when I have to stand still. (And whenever I have to stand really still, and I’m not putting all weight into one leg, sometimes my knees will lock, and it’ll make me light-headed. I almost passed out one time from doing that. Never again.) I don’t really know if my posture is unusual aside from that. It might be and I just never noticed. Or it might not. I don’t know.

• Clumsiness: I never considered myself clumsy, but my brother has told me that he thinks I am. (Considering he’s my younger brother and says a lot of stuff to annoy me, take this with a grain of salt.)

• Oh, speaking of: metaphors. I think for the most part I understand them. Like grain of salt. And if I don’t, then I look it up.

• Sarcasm: kind of hit or miss with me. Sometimes I think my brain knows the other person is being sarcastic, because there’s just no way they’re serious about what they just said. But my brain makes me treat it like they are being serious, especially if their tone sounds serious. It’s hard to tell sometimes. But when I do get sarcasm, when their tone sounds obviously sarcastic, then usually it’s funny and makes me laugh

• I don’t like being away from home for a long time. Even a week gets me extremely homesick, and it feels like it’s getting worse as I get older. Maybe because I know I’ll have to move out eventually, or move away to college. Moving away for college, or moving out and far away, TERRIFIES me. This may not be an autistic thing, but I don’t know, so I put it here. Maybe it’s because my routine and my whole life would be upended. I don’t know.

• Speaking in monotone: Much like my facial expressions, I feel like I speak pretty “normally”. I don’t have a monotone voice usually. (I feel like sometimes I do, though? Not often)

• Putting pressure on the front of your feet: Apparently that’s a thing. I don’t think I do that. I don’t think I’ve done that in the past

• Decision-making: Related to the executive dysfunction thing. I think I put off big decisions. (I‘ve only somewhat-but-not-really decided which college I’m going to. And I might change my mind.)

• Sometimes when I try to joke, people think I’m being rude. I don’t know if that’s a tone issue on my part, or if the joke is in poor taste or seems more mean than just a joke (when I only ever intended for it to be a joke). Also for clarification, none of my jokes are ever racist or homophobic or anything, and I never try to be mean when I joke

• Special object: I don’t think I have one, unless you consider my phone. I don’t go anywhere without it lol. But like little things to fidget with, that bring me comfort, I don’t really have that. I just fidget with my hands, I guess.

• Verbal Instructions: Those are really hard for me to follow. If I only have verbal instructions and not readable ones, you can bet it’s a lot harder to get the thing done. I usually need a lot of clarification or things repeated to me, although that’s partially due to deafness. (I don’t think entirely, though.)

Other things about me that may or may not be relevant/important for you to know:

- I am aroace (no sexual or romantic attraction for anyone)

- I think I’m aplatonic too, and mostly anattractional (or grey-attractional, if that’s a thing). Online friends are easier for me than irl friends. I don’t even know what qualifies as a friendship

- I’m deaf (but I already explained that). I do hear with my Cochlear Implants, but I know it’s not that exact same as hearing people. I don’t know if that’s why I’m not as hypersensitive to loud sounds, or if I’m just not hypersensitive at all. (I don’t think this is something you could help clarify, though, seeing as it’s specific to me.)

I have taken a few autism tests and gotten answers like “you have moderate autism symptoms” or even “high symptoms” sometimes. For ADHD, the test answers ranged from “No” to “Potentially” to “Moderate ADHD”. (Don’t worry, I know that the tests aren’t meant to be substituted for the real thing. I just took them to try and see where I fit, if there were any indicators, etc.)

I am planning to talk to my mom soon and see if it’s possible for me to get a diagnosis. Things aren’t too hard for me right now, but I am getting older and I genuinely don’t know how I’m going to live on my own — which isn’t entirely related to this, but I feel like if I need help, I should get diagnosed as soon as possible. (If I have it at all.)

Basically, my reason for posting this was to get a second opinion, especially from people who are autistic themselves. Does this sound like autism or ADHD or something else entirely? (Is it possible to have both that have symptoms that cancel each other out?) Am I just neurotypical, but like, weird?

I want to be clear, I know you can’t diagnose me and I should see a professional. I just wanted a second opinion, in case it’s just me overthinking everything.

Also, I’m so sorry for this being so long. It’s probably a pain to read. I’m just trying to be as specific as possible.

Hi there,

I’m sorry I’m just getting to this. My goodness this was a long inbox! Lol.

This was very thorough and detailed, so it was nice to read. Nice formatting too.

I would say some traits align. But like you said, I’m not a professional. So I can’t really say. I’m curious about what my followers think too. Hopefully some chime in.

I would recommend writing what you told me here down to bring with you during an assessment, if you have one. This will be very helpful when determining a diagnosis. As it’s very detailed and thorough.

Hopefully this helps. Thank you for the inbox. I hope you have a wonderful day/night. ♥️

#inbox #inbox reply #inbox is temporarily closed

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 2 years ago

Text

North To The Future [Chapter 3: Everlong]

The year is 1999. You are just beginning your veterinary practice in Juneau, Alaska. Aegon is a mysterious, troubled newcomer to town. You kind of hate him. You are also kind of obsessed with him. Falling for him might legitimately ruin your life…but can you help it? Oh, and there’s a serial killer on the loose known only as the Ice Fisher.

A/N: I hope you are all having a magical holiday season!! My birthday is Dec. 24th so I’m always extra excited for this time of year. 🎅🎄☃️🍾🎁🥳

Chapter warnings: Language, alcoholism, addiction, murder, boy bands, and discussions of sex. Do you know that Tom Glynn-Carney is the lead singer of an alt-folk-rock band called Sleep Walking Animals?? I do and it’s ruining my life!!

Word count: 5k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: @elsolario @meadowofsinfulthoughts @ladylannisterxo @doingfondue @tclegane @quartzs-posts @liathelioness @aemcndtargaryen @thelittleswanao3 @burningcoffeetimetravel @b1gb3anz @hinata7346 @poohxlove @borikenlove @myspotofcraziness @travelingmypassion @graykageyama @skythighs @lauraneedstochill @darlingimafangirl @charenlie @thewew

Please let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist! 💜

“Dad, do you have an extra parka that I could borrow? Like, permanently?”

He furrows his brow at you as he scrapes his plate clean with a fork: meatloaf, mashed potatoes, gravy, peas, Rice-A-Roni. He’s curious; he’s concerned. “Yeah, ladybug, sure. Why?”

“I have a friend who needs one.”

“You’re going out again tonight?” your mom inquires, cautiously optimistic. She slathers her roll with I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter. It’s Thursday, and exactly one week before Thanksgiving.

“Twice in two days!” your dad says. “I’m proud. I’m very proud. You work too much, you know. Which friend is it? What size is she?”

“He,” you correct.

Your mom’s butterknife abruptly stills. “He?”

Your dad is grinning. “Uh oh,” he says.

“He’s a friend,” you reiterate. “And he’s new to Alaska and not properly equipped. That’s it.”

“Is this friend married?” your mom asks.

Great question! No one knows! “Probably not, Mom.”

“Is this friend sexy?” your dad says, then he and your mom bust out laughing. You wait patiently for them to tire themselves out. “Okay, how big is he? Around Trent’s size?”

“Smaller.”

“Let me see what I have…” He lumbers down the hallway towards your parents’ bedroom and reappears moments later with a black L.L.Bean parka. He hands it to you. “Here, this should work. It fit me fifty pounds ago, so it should be nice and roomy on your sexy friend.”

“Your sexy single friend,” your mom amends.

“You’re the worst,” you tell both of them, smiling. “You will rue this day once I reveal myself to be the Ice Fisher and claim you as my final victims.”

Your mom shudders, but your dad chuckles and pats your shoulder three times. That’s how he says I love you. He hasn’t been your dad your whole life, only for about as much of it as you can remember. When you were born, your mom was married to a man named Jesse. He was charismatic and clever and talented and, from what you can gather, a lifelong addict. There was some untold amount of suffering that your mom endured and then one February morning when you were five years old, Jesse washed up on the shore of the Gastineau Channel. This is not something that you carry around as a tragedy—you barely remember anything about Jesse, and you and your mom are surely better off without him—but you do carry it. It is a sort of ancestral memory that travels with you like a suitcase. When you enter a room, you can tuck it away for a while, store it in a closet or under a couch; but when you leave that room, the suitcase always leaves with you. There’s a box full of Jesse’s old journals up in the attic. No one ever reads them, your mom won’t even acknowledge them; but perhaps getting rid of those journals would be like throwing out the best parts of the man she once believed was her soulmate, the parts that he drowned in vodka and Valium and heroin. Perhaps it would be like killing him all over again.

Your dad says: “Have fun tonight, ladybug.”

“Yes,” your mom murmurs, gazing down into her cup of tea, cloudy like the Juneau sky; it clears so rarely you can hardly ever see the Northern Lights. “But don’t go anywhere alone.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“He said what?!” Heather gasps.

“That he likes me. That he really likes me.” You’re in Heather’s usual booth at Ursa Minor. She has a Sex On The Beach; you’re restlessly spinning a blackberry Bacardi Breezer between your palms. The parka your dad gave you is squished beside you in the booth. For reasons that remain unclear to you, Trent and his friends are—loudly, annoyingly, howling out peals of laughter like hyenas—assembling a drumkit in one corner of the room. Aegon has yet to appear. The Christmas lights glow like stars. The staircase that leads up to the rooftop patio—only really useable three or four months out of the year—is adorned with sprigs of holly.

“And what did you say back?!”

You wave your hands around helplessly. “I don’t know, I just…kind of…like…left.”

“You left,” Heather says flatly. “You actually met a guy that you are into—a miracle! water into wine! loaves and fishes!—and you have this completely deranged romantic moment in a Taco Bell, and then you follow him back to his apartment where he lets you pet his adorable golden retriever and admits that he likes you, and then you…leave?!”

“Yes. Exactly.”

“What is wrong with you?” Heather says. “Did you party a little too hard in vet school? Blackout a lot? Are your remaining brain cells lonely? Are your parents first cousins?”

“Look, I have reasons.”

“Let’s hear them. Wait.” She takes a sip of her Sex On The Beach, ruminative. “You, being the sensible and risk-averse person that you are, don’t want to gamble on falling madly in love with some maybe-murderer glorified homeless man who could pack his figurative bags and disappear tomorrow.”

“That’s some of it. Not all of it.”

“What’s the rest?”

You shrug, drinking your Bacardi Breezer, pretending to be distracted by the other Ursa Minor patrons. Kimmie is at the bar flirting with some barely-twenty-one college student who’s wearing a University of Alaska Southeast hoodie. Trent is hooting as he wallops his friend Rob with a pair of drumsticks. Shania Twain’s Honey, I’m Home drifts pluckily from the stereo.

Heather bangs her Sex On The Beach against the table like a judge’s gavel. “The rest?”

You sigh and confess in a vanquished rush. “If nothing happens, then I can always comfort myself with the thought that the sex might have been terrible anyway. Maybe he would have passed out halfway through. Maybe he’s never heard of the clitoris. But if I sleep with him and it just so happens to be earth-shatteringly amazing, then…”

“Then it’ll hurt that much worse when he leaves.”

“Right. I’ll be like a traumatized Vietnam veteran. I’ll never be free of those flashbacks.”

Heather’s eyes are kind, sympathetic, twinkling with the reflections of Christmas lights. “My good bitch, this is a clusterfuck.”

“I’m not disagreeing.”

“You really don’t know anything about him? Hometown, family, ex-wives, credit score, criminal record, horoscope sign…?”

“No,” you say. “I think he might be from Miami. And that’s literally all I’ve got.”

“If only there was some way to instantly uncover a person’s entire personal history and social life.” Heather slurps down her Sex On The Beach until there’s nothing left in the tall glass but clinking cubes of ice. “There’s this thing called Google, I saw it on 60 Minutes. But no one around here has internet. Not in their houses, anyway. Like, maybe the Wells Fargo office has internet, but I don’t think they’d let you use it to research the slutty rando boozer who just slinked into town.”

The metal bells on the front door jangle. You turn—too quickly, too eagerly—to see who enters. It’s not Aegon; it’s Joyce. She stops by the bar to get a can of Surge and then slides into the booth beside you, lifting her book out of her purse and laying it on the table. Across the room, a cackling Trent drops a cymbal on the floor and thus attracts the judgmental stares of everyone in Ursa Minor. Dale, looking tired and irritable, scowls at him as he pops open a fresh Miller Lite for Kimmie.

“Hey,” Joyce says, then is promptly absorbed into the fantastical world of the half-naked, horse-riding man on the front cover of her book.

“You need to find out if Aegon’s a Gemini,” Heather tells you. “That would be absolutely disqualifying. Two weeks spent dating a Gemini and you won’t need the Ice Fisher to end it all, you’ll be ready to strangle yourself with your bare hands.”

“Yeah, totally, I’ll get right on that. Um, what is Trent doing?”

Heather rolls her eyes. “His band is performing tonight.”

“His band? Trent has a band?”

“He has something that he alleges is a band. Dale agreed to let them have their highly anticipated world premier here tonight. I think he’s regretting it already.”

The electric guitar. The electric guitar in Aegon’s apartment. “Who’s in this band?”

“I’ll be honest with you, I didn’t care enough to ask any follow-up questions.”

“Huh.” You watch Trent and his friends as they finish setting up the drumkit, the amps, two microphone stands. Trent spies you and waves, beaming. You wave back halfheartedly.

Like a storm, like a meteor, Aegon crashes through the front door and slams it shut behind him, engulfed in a whirlwind of frigid arctic air. The bells jingle shrilly. He’s wearing a black and white striped long-sleeve shirt, ripped jeans, and his battered jade green electric guitar. His white-blond hair is in disarray. There’s snow all over his Doc Martens combat boots. His eyes scan the room, settle on you, stay there. He smiles knowingly, mischievously. And then he goes to join the rest of the band.

“Oh no,” Heather says. “Oh God. Oh no. He’s hot. Look, Joyce, look. He’s hot.”

Joyce glances up briefly. “He’s okay.”

“He’s hot,” Heather moans. Trent greets Aegon with a fist bump and a bear hug. Rob, even-keeled and stocky and hoisting on his bass guitar, gives him a placid nod. Heather reaches across the table to seize your hand. “Come on. I want front row seats to your willpower’s funeral.”

There is a crowd gathering: you and Heather and Kimmie, Trent’s gang of friends, assorted locals, even Joyce wanders over with her ring finger keeping her spot in her book, as if she might lose interest in these peculiar real-world happenings at any moment and need to retreat back into the oasis of fiction. Trent plops down behind the drumkit and gives the toms a few experimental whacks with his drumsticks. Rob warms up too, plucking at the strings of his bass guitar with his sturdy fingers. Aegon plugs in his guitar and tunes it, a bright green pick between his teeth. Satisfied, he grabs the pick and takes his place at the forefront microphone stand.

“Check one, check two,” he says, tapping the mic. “How’s everyone doing tonight?”

There are tepid claps and whistles. Kimmie squeals enthusiastically. Aegon doesn’t seem to notice her. His eyes—a deep and calm blue, not steely or translucent, not icy or sharp—flit to you. You react before you can think too much, before you can troubleshoot or veto it. You mouth: You look great. Aegon grins, toothy and effervescent.

“Dear lord, that was quick,” Heather mumbles.

“Anyone in the mood for an appletini?” Aegon says, then laughs as the crowd roils with confusion.

“What the hell’s an appletini?” a cantankerous middle-aged logger asks his wife.

“Tonight we have a very special cover for you folks,” Aegon announces. “If I don’t know you already, my name is Aegon and I’m here with my good friends Rob and Trent. It’s the first-ever public performance for our little band, which we’ve named Boat #27 after the commercial fishing vessel we were destined by fate to meet on.” He strums his guitar once. The notes ring out rough, powerful, magnificent. “Special thanks to Ursa Minor owner Dale for making this possible and for letting me have like eighty rum and Cokes on my tab. Alright, let’s roll.”

Aegon begins playing, and it takes you a few seconds to recognize the opening chords: it’s Everlong by the Foo Fighters. The bass and drums join in. Rob is self-composed, so unpretentious you could forget he’s there. Trent assaults the drums with a childish, frenetic sort of energy. Aegon’s fingers move artfully across his electric guitar’s fretboard, confident and nimble.

Heather informs you, regretfully, as if it’s catastrophic news from halfway around the planet, an earthquake or a famine or a hurricane: “I think he knows his way around a clitoris.”

“Goddammit,” you whimper miserably.

“Hello, I’ve waited here for you, everlong…”

In this moment, Aegon sounds very much like a rockstar. He looks like one too: hair shagging in his eyes, combat boots stomping, face flushed and halfway between euphoria and agony. There’s black eyeliner smudged around his eyes and glitter on his cheekbones. He mostly keeps his eyes closed or faraway as he sings, but there’s one line when his gaze finds yours and locks there.

“Breathe out, so I can breathe you in, hold you in…”

“Oh snap,” Heather says. “Do you think you should take a pregnancy test after that?”

“Please shut up.”

“Look, I can read palms too.” She grabs your hand. “I see many Cobainbies in your future.”

When the song ends, the bar erupts into cheers, more convincing this time. Even Dale claps. “Thank you, thank you,” Aegon says. “Have a great rest of your night. We’ll be back soon, I promise.” He unslings his guitar, sets it on top of one of the amps, and begins walking over to you. Kimmie intercepts him, yammering at lightspeed and asking about his jade green guitar, his favorite bands, his boots, his hair. Trent finds you instead.

“Hey,” Trent says exuberantly.

“Hi,” you reply. “Awesome show tonight.”

Heather adds: “Yeah, I’m sorry I mentally muted you as you were explaining this to me.”

“Man, it was da bomb!” Trent says. “You have no idea how long Rob and I have been trying to find somebody who could be our frontman, and then Aegon came out of nowhere, I mean it was like he dropped out of the sky, and he was just perfect…”

As Trent rambles, your attention strays to Aegon. He’s nodding politely at whatever Kimmie is saying, but he’s looking at you. He turns away when he catches you watching him. Trent, eternally eager to impress, ventures off to the bar to procure you another Bacardi Breezer. He gets preoccupied talking to Dale, a sort of idol for him; Dale was a park ranger for years before giving it up to open Ursa Minor, and Trent has been feverishly submitting applications to the U.S. Forest Service. It’s easier work than trolling, more consistent, less backbreaking. You’re still staring defenselessly at Aegon.

“You know what’s interesting?” Heather says, following your eyeline. “He’s ignoring Kimmie almost as much as you’re ignoring Trent.”

“He’s ruining my life,” you groan, rubbing your face with both hands. “I’ve known he exists for four days and he’s ruining my life.”

“Uh oh. I think he’s coming over. Time for another Sex On The Beach.”

“Wait—!”

Heather hurries away. Aegon, having abandoned a patently disheartened Kimmie, appears like stars out of cloud cover. He’s tipsy, but nothing more than that. It is as close to sober as you have ever seen him. “Hey.”

“So you did lie to me,” you tease, nodding to where his guitar rests on the amp.

“Yes,” Aegon admits. “But that was a necessary lie.”

“Is any lie truly necessary?”

“Oh, undoubtedly,” he says. “I needed to know what you really thought of me before your judgment was compromised by the whole cool, tortured rockstar thing. Every chick in this room is looking at me differently now than they were yesterday. Except you. You look exactly the same.”

“I hope that’s a good thing.”

“It is.”

Trent returns with a pomegranate Bacardi Breezer for you and a Heineken for himself. Heather comes back with a fresh Sex On The Beach. Rob is trying to chat with Joyce by making fun of her fantasy novel; Joyce is calling Rob stupid with words that are too big for him to understand. Rebuffed by Aegon, Kimmie has pivoted to chatting with Trent’s friends Matt and Gary, who are both entirely enchanted.

“Okay, okay, important question,” Trent asks you. “Fight Club or The Sixth Sense?”

“The Mummy.”

“ER or the X-Files?”

“The X-Files, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Aegon agrees.

“Microsoft or Apple?”

“Apple,” Aegon says instantly.

Trent laughs. “You have some kind of vendetta against Microsoft?”

“No.” Aegon glances at you, smiles, winks. “I just really like apples.”

“Totally,” Trent says uncertainly. “Lots of Vitamin C. Backstreet Boys or Boyzone?”

“Oh, no question, Boyzone!” Heather exclaims. This begins a fierce debate. As they battle it out, you find yourself watching Aegon again. The sounds of Ursa Minor bleed away, the conversations, the giggling, the clinking bottles and glasses, the resumed Shania Twain hits. You are aware of nothing else but these things: the gravity of his voice, his large expressive eyes, that stubborn lock of hair that always escapes from behind his ear, the way he gestures with his hands, the fullness of his cheeks when he smiles.

Absentmindedly, as he is arguing the merits of I Want It That Way, Aegon scratches his forearm and pushes up his shirt sleeve. There, in the crook of his elbow, is something that puzzles you: it is a cluster of small dark patches like bruises, knots of scar tissue that are probably years old. Before you can ask, you realize what they are. They’re track marks. You hear his voice in your hushed skull: I’ve been better than I am now. I’ve been worse.

Aegon catches you watching; your face is horrified, but more than that it is wounded. He rolls his sleeve back down and shakes his head subtly enough that no one else will notice. What he means is clear. Please don’t say anything.

It hits you like a bullet, like a blade: not the past, but the future. He is going to die one day. You all are, of course, but unless Aegon changes he’ll be first. The thought is nonsensical, excruciating. You don’t want to lose him. You don’t want to imagine a world without him in it.

“I have something for you,” you tell Aegon suddenly, interrupting what Heather was saying. You dart to the booth and return with the parka that your dad generously donated. You hand it to Aegon.

“No way!” he says, admiring it. “How? Why?!”

“It’s my dad’s old one, it doesn’t even fit him anymore, so don’t feel weird about it. It cost me less than a Bacardi Breezer. But it’ll keep you from getting hypothermia.”

He dons the parka and models it, hands in his pockets, then on his waist; everyone agrees that it looks very fashionable. “I’m going to go try it out,” Aegon says. “After a quick detour.” He departs to get a rum and Coke from the bar. With his drink in hand, he ascends the steps that lead up to the rooftop patio, which is very much out of commission at the moment.

“Aegon, it’s closed!” Trent calls after him. “Hey! Aegon! Well…what can you do.” He shrugs, blasé now that the cause is lost, and smiles at you. “Ricky Martin or Jennifer Lopez?”

Heather detonates: “JLo, clearly!”

Five minutes later, Aegon comes flying down the steps and pulls you away from the group. Trent almost interjects; Heather stops her brother and diverts him with a passionate diatribe about New Kids On The Block, which Trent reveres unequivocally. “You have to come up to the roof with me,” Aegon says, low so no one else will hear.

“What? Why?”

“You just have to. Right now. You’ll see.”

“Um…okay…?”

You get your own parka off the coatrack. Then Aegon, wildly impatient, takes your hand and half-leads, half-drags you up the wooden staircase. The luminescence of the Christmas lights and clamor of voices disappear behind you as you step out with him into the cold, dark, mid-November air. The snow crunches beneath your boots. The wind is sharp and brutal, harsh enough to crack skin like ice.

“What—?”

“Look!” Aegon insists ecstatically, pointing up into the sky.

And then you see it, what the clouds and fog of Juneau hardly ever leave visible: the rippling curtain of green and blue and purple, fluid like silk, soundless like eternity. The aurora borealis. The Northern Lights.

Aegon is laughing, spinning around, gazing up into the sky with speechless, awed wonder. He flops down onto the snow, bathing in the otherworldly light. After a moment’s hesitation, you lay down beside him. The sky is remarkably clear. You can see stars, the crescent moon, the shadow of the Milky Way.

“This place is so fucking beautiful,” Aegon sighs, his breath white mist in the air. Then he looks over at you. “Thank you for the parka. This would be really painful without it.”

“Thank you for saving me from Trent.”

“Are you not into tall, beefy, obviously hot football stars? Is that not your type?”

“Tragically, my type seems to be alcoholic Greek guys.”

He smiles, the star-fire radiance of the Northern Lights on his face. “Oh no. You poor thing.”

“I know. I’m destined for annihilation.”

He turns towards you, rolling onto his side, and like a mirror image you turn towards him. The snow shifts to accommodate the shape of your body, shoulders and ribs and hips. You and Aegon study each other as the universe wheels by, mesmerizing and yet indifferent. That unruly lock of white-blond hair rests on his cheek.

“Aegon?”

“Yeah.”

“What the hell are you running from?”

“I can’t tell you,” he says. “I mean, I could lie to you. I could give you a million different reasons. But none of them would be true. I don’t want to lie to you. I’d rather say nothing.”

“You’re married,” you try.

“No,” he replies, chuckling, thinking it’s absurd.

“You have, like, twelve kids and are fleeing child support payments.”

“No kids. Not that I know of.”

“You’re a demon who got in trouble and was put on demon probation and as an opportunity to redeem yourself you were sent here from the underworld to ruin my life.”

“No. Me ruining your life is just one brilliant coincidence.”

You reach out through the cold night, tuck the escaped lock of hair behind Aegon’s ear, caress his cheek—smooth, yielding, strangely delicate—with your hand, roughened by a lifetime in this unforgiving alcove of the world. And then Aegon closes the space between you to touch his lips to yours.

What shocks you is not that he does it, but how soft the kiss is, how slow. He’s gentle and careful, not reckless, not insistent; he’s warm while Juneau is freezing, freeing while so much of existence feels like a cage. He’s a key that throws doors wide open. He’s a harmless, weightless fire like starlight. His hands explore your face, your hair, tentatively, as if he expects you to stop him. His tongue leaves remnants of his rum and Coke in your mouth, bitterness and sweetness and spice. There are pounding footsteps on the staircase; you break the kiss not a second too soon.

“Hey,” Heather says as she opens the door, flinching against the cold. “Unless you plan on sleeping up here—or, uh, whatever you’re doing—you’ll want to come downstairs now. Dale is closing up the bar.”

Ursa Minor is in chaos: people are hustling to get one last drink, arranging rides, saying goodbyes, making plans, gathering their things. Aegon fetches his guitar and then joins the melee at the bar, begging Dale for another rum and Coke.

Dale is bellowing over the commotion: “Alright, the rock concert is over. Everyone better be out of here by 10:00, I’m exhausted, I gotta wipe everything down and go home.”

“One more!” Aegon pleads. “Please, Dale, my man, hook me up!”

“Fine,” Dale surrenders. “Just one more…”

“And a Heineken for me too?” Trent says hopefully. Dale groans in exasperation.

“Are you coming?” Heather asks you as she, Joyce, and Kimmie head for the parking lot, parkas donned and zipped. You hesitate and then push through the mob to locate Aegon.

“Do you need a ride?”

“Huh? No, I’m good,” he says. He’s mostly paying attention to the rum and Coke that Dale is mixing. “I’m more than good. I’m great, Appletini, don’t worry about me. Yeah, Dale, can you make that a double…?”

You leave him, a little annoyed, a little anxious, and follow your friends outside. Within ten minutes, your Jeep Cherokee is pulling into your parents’ driveway. You enter to find your mom and dad still awake and embroiled in a heated Scrabble game at the kitchen table. You shower, change into comfy oversized pajamas, and lay on your bed staring up at the ceiling. The walls are covered with posters from your middle school days, your high school days, your college days, your current days: NSYNC, Will Smith, the Spice Girls, Destiny’s Child, Hanson, Winona Ryder, Heath Ledger, Ryan Phillippe, Ricky Martin. You would have chosen him over JLo when Trent asked…if you had cared enough to answer.

The phone rings once, twice, goes quiet. Someone must have picked up downstairs. Thirty seconds later, your mom knocks on your bedroom door and then opens it a crack.

“Hey, Mom. What’s up?”

“There’s some boy on the phone for you. I told him I wasn’t sure if you were still awake, just in case you wanted to avoid him. He sounds annoying.”

Oh great, Trent. “Thanks, Mom. I’ll handle it.” She disappears and your hand fumbles to grab the phone on your nightstand. “Hello?”

“Hey,” says Aegon.

You bolt upright in bed. “Heyyy. Stalker.”

“I am not a stalker,” he objects, slurring. “I am an…uh…an investigator. Yes. I investigate. That’s what I do. Not stalk. Investigate.”

“Okay. How did you investigate your way into calling me?”

“I asked Dale if he knew your parents’ phone number and he had it in his address book.”

“Top notch, the CIA is missing out if they don’t recruit you.”

The smile is gentle and hazy and warm in his voice. “You want to come over and watch the X-Files with me?”

“What, right now?”

“Yeah. Right now.”

In his apartment. On his couch. Just the two of us. Alone. Well, alone except for Sunfyre, who hardly counts as a chaperone. “I’m not going to sleep with you.”

“Oh, no, you misunderstood. I said X-Files, not—”

“Okay, great, as long as you’re aware. I’ll be over in fifteen minutes.” You hang up the phone.

When Aegon greets you in the doorway of his apartment, he is wearing a pink San Diego hoodie and green plaid pajama pants. He staggers when he walks; there are three small empty bottles of 99 Whipped on the counter, along with two mugs of hot chocolate, dutifully topped with whipped cream and chocolate shavings. “Yours is the one in the blue mug. It’s booze-free, I swear. I double-checked like five times.”

“Are you a Gemini?” you demand.

“No,” he replies, bewildered. “Aquarius.”

“Well, that’s a relief.”

You retrieve your hot chocolate and sink into Aegon’s couch. It’s threadbare and sagging, but surprisingly comfortable; he sits all the way at the other end, leaving a full middle cushion of No Man’s Land between you. Sunfyre leaps up to fill the gap, resting his cone-embellished head on your lap. His stitches are healing beautifully; you’ll take them out next week. On the tv is a rerun of the X-Files. Fox Mulder is, somewhat predictably, ranting about a government conspiracy. You are watching, but you are also wondering if this was a good idea. It feels like you know Aegon—completely, inexplicably—but you don’t really. He’s just some stranger, a drunk stranger, a drunk former-addict stranger who you are beginning to suspect you love.

Lyrics from The Distance come back to lurk in the corner of the room like a ghost: She’s hoping in time that her memories will fade.

“What are you doing for Thanksgiving?” you ask Aegon.

“I don’t know, probably making a turkey for me and Sunfyre. He loves the organs, the ones that come in that little plastic baggie they shove up inside the carcass.”

“Charming. But you can’t be alone on Thanksgiving.”

“I’m usually alone on Thanksgiving, I’m used to it.”

“You don’t make friends in all those glamorous cities sprinkled across America?”

“Not the kind of friends who would invite me home for Thanksgiving.”

You stare at the tv, sipping your hot chocolate, scratching Sunfyre’s floppy ears. You are hyperaware of the precise amount of space between you and Aegon. You are alarmed by how natural it would feel to make it disappear, like Northern Lights blotted out by fog.

“Look,” Aegon says, breaking the tension. “What you told me on the phone…that’s not why I called you. That’s not what I’m expecting from you right now. I don’t want to do anything that you’re not totally cool with. And I can see that you’re not cool with it. So nothing is going to happen. Completely off the table. Zero percent chance.” He’s nervous, you realize; you’ve seen him frantic, and you’ve seen him angry, but it’s the first time you’ve ever seen him nervous. “What I mean is that I don’t want you to be sitting here stressing about what you think is on my mind. So I’m telling you flat out, that’s not what I’m thinking.”

“What are you thinking?”

He smiles, opens his hands futilely, looks down at his bare feet. “I can’t tell you. But I promise it’s not that.” Then an idea occurs to him. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking that you shouldn’t be alone on Thanksgiving.”

“Are you finally inviting me to your house? Because I invite you to mine constantly and my house sucks.”

“I am officially inviting you to my house. Sunfyre can come too, my parents adore dogs.”

“Is your dad going to be waiting for me in the living room with a shotgun?”

“No. He’s not that kind of dad.”

Outside, there is a swelling whirl of sirens. They build and build as they approach the apartment building, then fade as they shoot off into the darkness towards the lakes: Crystal Lake, Moose Lake, Dredge Lake. Aegon goes to the window and pulls aside the curtain. Then he looks back to you. The lights of the passing police cars paint his face in shades of ruby and sapphire, ocean and blood. “I think they found another body.”

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